Courtlaw rose to his feet. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. You will stop at once. ’ ‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. To-morrow I am going to Paris. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. I'll try to think better of him in future. But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again.
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