I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. Here are their letters. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. ’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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