Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. He called a waiter. . . ‘s as mad as any of you, in spite of all his respectability; not a bit of him straight anywhere, not one bit. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. I saw him ride away with that other fellow.
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