"Madame, I trust that your husband is not endeavoring to avoid me."
Charmian got up and sharply clapped her hands. The Arab boy, Bibi, appeared.
"Bibi, ask monsieur to come," she said to him in French.
"Bieng, madame," replied Bibi, who turned and walked softly away.
During the two or three minutes which elapsed before Claude came in Charmian and Gillier said nothing. Gillier, who, under the influence of excitement, was losing his veneer of good manners, moved about the room pretending to examine the few bibelots it contained. His face was flushed. He still kept his hands in his pockets. Charmian sat still in her corner, watching him. She was too angry to speak. And what was there to be said now? Although she had a good deal of will she was clever enough to realize when its exercise would be useless. She knew that she could do nothing more with this man. Otherwise she would not have sent for Claude.
"V'là, Mousou!"
Bibi had returned and gently pointed to his master, smiling.
"Bon jour, Gillier!" said Claude, as the Frenchman swung round sharply.
"Bon jour!"
They shook hands. Claude looked from Gillier to his wife.