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"So you took those steps of the archevêché." "Chère, we'll tell you! Yvonne and me, avter all those many 'appy year' with you, we think we want ah, chérie, you'll pardon that? we want ad the laz' to live independent! So we go ad the archbishop. And he say, 'How I'm going to make you that? You think to be independent by biccoming Sizter' of Charitie of Mercy of St. Joseph?
Several of the prisoners who posed as Jews with this same motive were detected and reprimanded; but Elkan felt, with the new grim sense of humour that meditation on Yvonne Rupert and the world she fooled was developing in him, that he was as little of a Jew as any of them. This elopement to America had meant a violent break with his whole religious past.
It contains no ideal heroes: what was it Yvonne had once said? "Every marriage is either a delusion or a compromise."
On ahead some two hundred metres farther Yvonne Lebeau's little figure, with her ragged skirt pulled over her head and her bare feet pattering in the mud, was seen crossing one of those intermittent patches of light formed by occasional flickering street lamps, and then was swallowed up once more by the inky blackness beyond.
"No-no-no-no-no! We'll wait!" "We'll wait, Yvonne." The sister went. Chester smoothed out the pages, but then smilingly turned them face downward, and Aline said: "First, Hector will tell us who's there." Hector was Cupid. He came again, murmuring a name to Mlle. Corinne. She rose with hands clasped. "C'est M. et Mme. Rene Ducatel!" "Well?
"But Isabel is too intelligent to have her head turned by the first handsome man she meets!" Yvonne looked as though she found her sister rather hopeless. "Dear, you really must be sensible!" Laura pleaded. "It's not as if poor Lawrence had tried to flirt with her. He never even thought of asking her for tonight till I suggested it!" This was the impression left on Laura's memory.
"Some one more like me," suggested Yvonne. "Or you." Her face was a study in untroubled innocence. Laura eyed her rather sharply. "But Lawrence isn't a marrying man. He won't marry till some woman raises the price on him." "You speak as if between men and women life were always a duel." "So It is." Laura made a small inarticulate sound of dissent. "Sex is a duel.
"My dear, are you sure?" "Quite," said Isabel. Mr. Stafford sighed. "I must speak to Yvonne. 'How hardly shall they..." He took a note out of his cash box. "Can't you make that do ?" he was beginning when a qualm of compunction came upon him.
With whip, spur, and imprecations I plied my steed, a prey to such excitement as I had never known until that moment not even in the carnage of battle. I had no plan. My mind was a chaos of thought without a single clear idea to light it, and I never so much as bethought me that single-handled I was about to attempt to wrest Yvonne from the hands of perchance half a dozen men.
A few ragged flakes fell from the black vault above, or were shaken down from the crusted branches. The cab stopped with a jolt. Yvonne was trembling as Rex lifted her to the ground, and he hurried her into the house, up the black stairway and into their cold room. When he had a fire blazing in the grate, he looked around.
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