"Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. ” “No,” he said, and tried again: “but I must tell you quite definitely that I feel it to be my duty to forbid any such exploit. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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