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Of late - since joining the Binet Troupe - he had acquired
the habit of smoking. The others had gone, some to take the air
and others, like Binet and Madame, because they felt that it were
discreet to leave those two to the explanations that must pass. It
was a feeling that Andre-Louis did not share. He kindled a light
and leisurely applied it to his pipe. A frown came to settle on
his brow.
"Explanation?" he questioned presently, and looked at her. "But on
what score?"
"On the score of the deception you have practised on us - on me."
"I have practised none," he assured her.
"You mean that you have simply kept your own counsel, and that in
silence there is no deception. But it is deceitful to withhold
facts concerning yourself and your true station from your future
wife. You should not have pretended to be a simple country lawyer,
which, of course, any one could see that you are not. It may have
been very romantic, but... Enfin, will you explain?"
"I see," he said, and pulled at his pipe. "But you are wrong,
Climene.


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