‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “You are absurd,” she declared. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. This way there will be not so much shame, and the vicomte will let them remain.
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