“Don’t worry, Julian. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. We mustn’t make it so. “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance.
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