“I doubted my luck, at least. , like to forget all about it—even their names. Immediately she had spoken of the loose button he knew that henceforth he must show no concern over the disposition of that coat. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Oh, peste, he will ruin all. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house.
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