“Yes,” I said, hoping that she would reveal to me something more, however vague. “Tell me about it, darling. Do, Roseye.”
“Tell you!” she echoed with angry resentment, putting me from her firmly and staring at me. “No, never!” Then a second later she turned towards the curtained window and shrieked:
“Ah! look!—that accursed woman again! Why do you allow her to come here—if you love me, Claude!”
“She is not here,” I declared firmly. “It is all your silly imagination!”
“She is!” cried my love wildly. “You are lying to me! She’s there! Over there! Kill her—Claude—or she will kill you—ah! that Woman with the Leopard’s Eyes!”
Chapter Fourteen.
False or True?
One bright crisp afternoon in mid-December, Roseye, wrapped warmly in her furs, sat beside me in the car as we sped through Leatherhead on our way out to Burford Bridge, where we had decided to have tea.