"I have! Oh, I may be weak, but listen! listen! In the old days when the world was religious and people observed Lent, there was always Mi-Carême, was there not? Well, I have fasted, and now I must feast."
They gazed at each other; the one aglow with anticipation, the other with curiosity.
"You have sent for him—at last?"
"I have sent a telegram with these words: 'Meet me at midday on Tuesday in the Place de la Concorde.—MAXINE.'"
"And this is Friday," said Jacqueline. "In four days' time you will see him again!"
"Again!" Max spoke the word inaudibly.
"And—when you meet?" Jacqueline's blue eyes were sharp as needle-points.
Max colored to the temples. "Ma chérie, I have not even thought! All I know is that youth comes but once, and that youth is courage. I have been a coward—I am going to be brave."
"You are going—to confess?"
Max said nothing, but with her woman's instinct for such things, Jacqueline read assent in the silence.