He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. I MUST. I hold a warrant from Mr. " "Where did he get it?" inquired Wood, in surprise. "Neither man nor woman shall apply that term to me. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper.
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