She released her fingers quickly and went to the window, looking over the rooftops in a long significant moment of silence.
"And de oder woman——"
She spoke the words distinctly, and yet he thought he must have misunderstood.
"Piquette, I——"
"What 'appens between you an' your brother's wife?" she asked quietly.
He had no reply and while he hesitated she turned slowly and faced him.
"I know, mon petit," she said with a smile. "I 'ave known it from de firs'. You love 'er. C'est dommage. It is a pity. She is ver' beautiful, dey say."
"I am a fool, Piquette."
"You are not de firs' in de worl'——"
He sank on the edge of the bed, wondering at his own confession.