“Why?” he asked.
She looked straight ahead with a strained glance and for a minute or two did not reply. At last:
“You remember Fortinbras mentioning the name of Camille Fargot?”
“Oh!” said Martin.
“That’s why,” said Corinna.
“Is he at Brantôme?” asked Martin, with brow perplexed by the memory of the ridiculous mother.
“No, I wish to God he was.”
“Are you engaged?”
“In a sort of a way,” said Corinna, gloomily.
“I see,” said Martin.