And what forbade me, you ask? Well, perhaps I'd heard a smash of glass last night, and perhaps I hadn't; but I do believe it was that porter's foolish remark about "votes for women" which put me off more than anything else. So I drew back a step and answered her with more respect than ever.
"I'll see that nobody insults you while I am your servant, madame. If I may make a suggestion, I would advise you to leave this town."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"And where should I go, Britten?"
"Back to Paris, madame—they won't interfere with you there."
"But my husband—my dear husband?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Perhaps Mahomet will come to the—er—em—to you, madame."
It was her turn to laugh; but I soon learned that my suggestion was no good to her, and for a very simple reason.
"Ah," she said, "men are strange creatures, Britten. When we will, they will not; and when we will not, why, then they give us jewellery. I can't go back to Paris. If I do, a police officer goes with me."