"We won't speak of the things which are dead, Maryska," he said at length. "The men you name are like the beasts; it is well to leave them in their kennels. Your life begins again with me. I'll take you to Paris directly you are able to bear the journey. Can I say more?"
"Will you, Mr. Faber? I could bear the journey any time—now, this minute, if you would take me."
"My dear child, you are not fit to go. We must nurse you many days yet."
"That's what the doctor says. He never liked doctors. They were all—yes, knaves, he said, and the other word which Mr. Silvester hates. Why should I be kept here for these men?"
"Because this time they are right, my dear. It's too cold for anyone to go out of doors. What's more, the sailors are on strike, and so we couldn't go if we wished. You'll be well when the thaw comes, and then I'll take you."
"Will Harry Lassett come too?"
It troubled him to hear the reiteration of this idea. The anxiety with which she regarded him, her eyes so big and round, her breathing so laboured, her cheeks so flushed—this anxiety added not a little to his own.
"Why do you bring that young gentleman into it?" he asked her. "How can he go with us? Hasn't he got his duties to do here, my dear? What would Gabrielle say if she heard it? Wouldn't she be put out, don't you think?"
The round, dark face assumed an air almost of cunning. It was evident that she knew just what Gabrielle would say, but was unmoved nevertheless.
"What does 'engaged' mean in England? When he and I were in Paris, a lot of them came to the studio. They would be engaged for a little while, and then there would be others. Jeannette Arrn had three lovers while I was there—Henri Courtans was the last. Was she engaged to him?"