Lory sat up and watched him. He rang the bell.
“See that man off the premises,” he said to the servant, “and then beg Mademoiselle Lange to be good enough to return here.”
Denise kept him waiting a long time, and then came with reluctant steps. The mention of Corsica seemed to have changed her humour. She sat down, nevertheless, in the chair, placed there by Fate.
“You sent for me,” she said, rather curtly.
“Because I could not come myself,” he answered. “I did not want you to see that man. Or rather, I did not want him to see you. He is not one of your people—quite the contrary.”
And de Vasselot laughed with significance.
“One of yours?” she suggested.
“So it appears, though I was not aware of the honour. He described you as 'that woman.'”
Denise laughed lightly, and threw back her head.
“He may describe me as he likes. Did he bring you news?”