"Yes," she replied, "he is in Paris."
I was amazed at her nonchalance.
"Has he told you nothing?"
"Perhaps Sir Marcus Ordeyne would like to see his letter," she
said, ironically.
"You know perfectly well that I would not read it," said I.
Judith laughed again, and rolled her handkerchief into a little
ball between her nervous fingers.
"Forgive me," she said. "I like to see the _grand seigneur_ in
you now and then. It puts me in mind of happier days. But about
Pasquale--the only thing he tells me is that he is not able to
execute a commission for me. He told me on the night he drove me
home that he was going to Paris, and I asked him to get me some
cosmetic. Carmine Badouin, if you want to know. I have got to
rouge now before I am fit to be seen in the street. I am quite
frank about it."
"Then you know nothing of Carlotta?" I cried.
"Carlotta?"
"She eloped with that double-dyed, damned, infernal villain, the
day after I saw you."
Judith looked at me for a moment, then closed her eyes and turned
her head away, resting her hand on the table.
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