He lighted a cigarette while she arranged her hair, standing before the mirror, in a corner so dim she could hardly see herself.

She took pins from the little Bohemian glass cup standing on the table, where she had kept it for three years.

He looked at her, passing her light fingers quickly through the gold ripples of her hair, while her face, hardened and bronzed by the shadow, took on a mysterious expression.

She did not speak.
He said to her: "You are not cross now, my dear ?" And, as he insisted upon having an answer, she said: "What do you wish me to say, my friend?
I can only repeat what I said at first.

I think it strange that I have to learn of your projects from General Lariviere." He knew very well that she had not forgiven him; that she had remained cold and reserved toward him.