"I did not say the girl was a thief, or a murderess," returned Marthe quickly. "No, I 'll not tell you what I mean,—not if you were to ask me on your knees,—not if you were to beg it with your last breath."
Ange laughed a little.
"Well, well, dearest, perhaps I shall guess. Good-night, and sleep well."
"As if I ever slept well!"
"Poor darling! Poor dearest! Is it so bad to-night? Let me turn the pillow. Is it a little better so?"
"Perhaps." Then as Ange reached the door:
"Angel!"
"What is it then, chérie?"
Mlle Marthe put a thin arm about her sister's neck and drew her close.
"After all, I will tell you."