“I think we are growing sensible,” he said. 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. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. ’ ‘You see,’ Melusine explained between mouthfuls of food, ‘poor Marthe had promised to my father that she will say nothing.
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