"Feeling any better, my dear?" he asked her by and by. She turned upon her side and looked at him with eyes pathetically round.
"I should be all right if I could get away from England, Mr. Faber. Do you think that you can take me?"
"Of course, I'll take you, Maryska. Where would you like to go to, my dear?"
She thought upon it, biting the sheet with fine white teeth. Her white cheeks flushed with the effort.
"I would like to live in a city where there are many lights—in Paris, I think. He liked Paris. He said it was a bit of a hell, and he liked it. I told the wolf man with the whiskers that, and he said, 'Oh, hush, hush!' Why did he say that, Mr. Faber?"
"Because, my dear, he's a clergyman, and your father was what we call a Bohemian. They don't say such words amongst our people. You mustn't be offended with them, Maryska; you must try to do what Gabrielle tells you."
She looked up, her suspicion on an edge.
"Are you going to marry Gabrielle?"
"Why, how can you ask me that?"