She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. ‘Well,’ began Captain Roding, looking at Melusine, ‘you know those nuns of yours took up Valade—I mean, Gosse—and put him to bed to mend his wound, and I posted a guard outside his room so he couldn’t escape, for Gerald told you all that. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. “Damned Rascal!” he said. ” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now. “Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?” “No. You never can tell. That’s as far as we go. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe.
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