"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Can’t you see that Valade is an extremely dangerous man?’ ‘Do you think I am afraid of that pig?’ Gerald gave her a little shake. Let me have more light, that I may behold him.
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