"Yes, starving. After all that, when he was just getting a little happy, you had to come again, and—and now he's there."
She looked fixedly at the prison, then with angry fires flashing in her dark eyes: "I hate you, I hate you," she cried.
In spite of her growing emotion the lady forced herself to speak calmly: "Hate me if you will, but hear me."
"No," went on Alice fiercely, "you shall hear me. You have done this wicked, shameless thing, and now you come to me, think of that, to me! You must be mad. Anyhow, you are here and you shall tell me what I want to know."
"What do you want to know?" trembled the woman.
"I want to know, first, who you are. I want your name and address."
"Certainly; I am—er—Madam Marius, and I live at—er—6 Avenue Martignon."
"Ah! May I have one of your cards?"
"I—er—I'm afraid I have no card here," evaded the other, pretending to search in a gold bag. Her face was very pale.
The girl made no reply, but walked quickly to a turn of the gallery.