“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. I believe he’s divorced. ” “I resent!” “I was only sorry I’d been so stupid.
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