You would, perhaps, be offended if I were to tell you exactly what I felt when I saw you at the Casino!" "I do not suppose I should be offended," said Sylvia softly.
"I felt, Madame, as if I saw a lily growing in a field of high, rank, evil-smelling--nay, perhaps I should say, poisonous--weeds." "But I cannot go away now!" cried Sylvia.

She was really impressed--very uncomfortably impressed--by his earnest words.

"It would be most unkind to my friend, Madame Wolsky.

Surely, it is possible to stay at Lacville, and even to play a little, without anything very terrible happening ?" She looked at him coaxingly, anxiously, as a child might have done.
But Sylvia was not a child; she was a very lovely young woman.

Comte Paul de Virieu's heart began to beat.
But, bah! This was absurd! His day of love and love-making lay far, far behind him.