CHAPTER XXVII. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. You love money. Unless they remind him now and then not to.
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