"
To this Lanyard, hastily verifying her statement by running an eye
through the passport, found nothing more appropriate than a wondering
"Mon dieu!"
"So you see, everything is arranged. What have you to say?"
"Only that mademoiselle sweeps one off one's feet."
"Do you complain about that? You no longer doubt my devotion, my
gratitude?"
"Do not believe me capable of such stupidity!"
"That is very well, then. Now I must run." Liane Delorme threw away her
cigarette and rose. "I have a thousand things to do.... And, you
understand, we leave as soon as you are dressed?"
"Perfectly. By what train?"
"By no train. Don't you know there is a strike to-day? What have you
been reading in those newspapers? It is necessary that we motor to
Cherbourg."
"That is no little journey, dear sister."
"Three hundred and seventy kilometres?" Liane Delorme held this
equivalent of two-hundred and thirty English miles in supreme contempt.
"We shall make it in eight hours. We leave at four at latest, possibly
earlier; at midnight we are in Cherbourg. You shall see."
"If I survive.
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