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I was sitting at Mrs. Rond's tea-table having afternoon tea with her. She had sent one of her girls over to the cottage to tell me she wished to see me "alone" ... "on a matter of great importance." The cats, who had trailed her eldest daughter, Editha, across to our place, followed us back again with sailing tails in the air. Mrs. Rond poured me a cup of strong tea.

I have been told that M. de Fontenelle had been the tender friend of Madame du Tencin, that M. d'Alembert was the offspring of their intimacy, and that Le Rond had only been his foster-father. I knew d'Alembert at Madame de Graffigny's.

From this cape a high point of land bears south 20° west, about twenty-five miles distant. In the range between these two eminences is the opposite point of the bay, a very low ground, which has been variously called Cape Rond by Le Perouse, and Point Adams by Vancouver.

I have been told that M. de Fontenelle had been the tender friend of Madame du Tencin, that M. d'Alembert was the offspring of their intimacy, and that Le Rond had only been his foster-father. I knew d'Alembert at Madame de Graffigny's.

Rond of the incredible doom that had fallen upon me, the unspeakable betrayal. "Poor Penton!" I cried. "Poor Penton!" At last I sympathised fully with him. Ashamed, in my slowly gathering new man's pride, I did not go in to see Mrs. Rond.

The sun for three days seemed to be in a total eclipse, the sea was discolored and the ground bore a wintry appearance from the white crust of fallen ashes. Carib natives who lived at Morne Rond fled from their houses to Kingstown.

The janitor of the Morgue, remembering Gerald Burton's five-franc piece, and perchance looking forward to another rond, was wreathed in smiles. Eagerly he welcomed the two strangers into the passage, and carefully he closed the great doors behind them. "A little minute," he said, smiling happily. "Only one little minute!

I had dreamed deliciously all night of Hildreth ... was strangely not unsatisfied when I woke again to the hell of the reality her letter had plunged me into. Mrs. Rond ... of course I finally took her into my confidence, and told her the entire story....

She had a numerous menage of daughters; and a horde of cats as pets. Whenever she walked away from her house the cats followed her in a long line, their tails gaily in the air, like little ships sailing. Mrs. Rond smoked incessantly, rolling her own cigarettes, from packages of Plowboy tobacco.... Her conversation was crisp, nervous, keen.

A hundred and thirty-six battalions, or approximately 180,000 men, of the so-called "citizen soldiery" were under arms; their lines extending, first, along the Boulevards from the Bastille to the Madeleine, then down the Rue Royale, across the Place de la Concorde and up the Champs Elysees as far as the Rond Point.