"An' make Jeem 'Orton suffer too——!" cried Piquette wildly. "What for you t'ink I tell you dese t'ings, Madame? You mus' go wit' 'im to Paris."
"No. I can't."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know yet. I must think."
"You will do what 'e ask of you."
"No."
"You mus' see 'im."
"No. Don't ask me, Madame——"
There was a knock upon the door into the corridor—repeated quickly. The two women exchanged glances, Moira bewildered, Piquette dismayed. She had remained too long.
"Monsieur Quinlevin——!" she whispered.