It was
not for me. Oh no! It was not for me that I--It was not fear! There!"
She finished petulantly: "And you may just as well know it."
She hung her head and swung the parasol slightly to and fro. I thought a
little.
"Do you know French, Miss de Barral?" I asked.
She made a sign with her head that she did, but without showing any
surprise at the question and without ceasing to swing her parasol.
"Well then, somehow or other I have the notion that Captain Anthony is
what the French call _un galant homme_. I should like to think he is
being treated as he deserves."
The form of her lips (I could see them under the brim of her hat) was
suddenly altered into a line of seriousness. The parasol stopped
swinging.
"I have given him what he wanted--that's myself," she said without a
tremor and with a striking dignity of tone.
Impressed by the manner and the directness of the words, I hesitated for
a moment what to say. Then made up my mind to clear up the point.
"And you have got what you wanted? Is that it?"
The daughter of the egregious financier de Barral did not answer at once
this question going to the heart of things.
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