"Where is Rose?" he demanded.
"Rose," replied Madame, lightly, "has gone away."
"I know that," he flashed back. "I realise it every day and every hour of my life. I asked where she was."
"And I," answered Madame, imperturbably, "have told you. She is simply 'away.'"
"Is she well?"
"Yes."
"Is she happy?'
"Of course. Why not? Beauty, health, talent, sufficient income, love— what more can a woman desire?"
"Aunt Francesca! Tell me, please. Where is Rose?"
"When I was married," answered Madame, idly fingering an ivory paper knife, "I went to live in a little house in the woods."