“In Paris, madame. In the Rue St. Honoré, where I was born. Oh, if she should die there! If she should——”
Mrs. Greyne raised her hand, commanding silence.
“You wish to go there?”
“If madame permits.”
“When?”
“To-morrow, madame.”
“To-morrow? This is decidedly abrupt.”
“Mais la bronchite, madame, she is abrupt, and death, she may be abrupt.”
“True. One moment!”
There was an instant’s silence for Mrs. Greyne to let loose her brain in. She did so, then said: