I shall obey the voice of my conscience in the matter, and I shall wait until we hear again from La Boulaye.

That is the message I am about to return him by his servant." The Vicomte watched her fling out of the room, and his weak face was now white with anger.

He rapped out an oath as he turned to the window again.
"Mad!" he muttered, through-set teeth.

"Mad as a sun-struck dog.

The troubles she has lately seen have turned her head--never a difficult matter with a woman.