10/31 Cursing him for an ill-conditioned fellow, I walked back to the fire, laughing. In a twinkling he followed me, his face dark with rage. 'VENTRE-SAINT-GRIS!' he exclaimed, thrusting himself close to me. 'Is not a man's house his own ?' 'It is, for me,' I answered coolly, shrugging my shoulders. 'And his wife: if she likes to pick dirty rags at this hour, that is your affair.' 'Pig of a spy!' he cried, foaming with rage. |