“Do you mind not saying anything about this affair,” he asked, “as long as Miss Dunois wishes it?”
“Should I not tell my father?”
“Not even to him,” replied Thessalie gently. “Because it won’t ever happen again. I am very certain of that. Will you trust my word?”
Again Dulcie looked at Barres, who nodded.
“I promise never to speak of it,” she said in a low, serious voice.
Barres took her down stairs. At the desk she pointed out, at his request, the scene of recent action. Little by little he discovered, by questioning her, what a dogged battle she had fought there alone in the whitewashed corridor.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” he asked.
“I don’t know.... I didn’t think of it. And when he got away I was dizzy from the blow.”
At her bedroom door he took both her hands in his. The gas-jet was still burning in her room. On the bed lay her pretty evening dress.
“I’m so glad,” she remarked naïvely, “that I had on my old clothes.”