Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. But after the first shock came a warm glow of relief. She sensed that he was looking for her. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. The last piece was Scheherazade.
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