’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. Your maid would not be of the least protection. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. We did not know where to send … in case you died. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. ‘But I’ve known that for years.
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