"Not to speak—of what you saw at Alençon."
"Yes. I promise that," she said slowly at last.
"Or let De Folligny speak?"
Another silence. And then from thinned lips.
"I—I will use my influence—to keep him silent."
The firmness of her tone assured him. He caught up her hands and pressed them softly to his lips.
"I knew you would, Olga. I knew you were bigger than that. I thank you—I will never forget—"
But before he could finish she had snatched her fingers away from him and was laughing softly at the tea-caddy.
"Now, if you please," she said composedly, "we will speak of pleasanter things."
She opened a long silver box on the table and took a cigarette, offering him one.