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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Grey Cloak"

She succeeded in composing her features by the
time he arrived at her side.
"Madame," he said, quietly, "whither were you bound?"
She looked at him blankly. For the life of her she could not tell at
that moment what had been her destination! The situation struck her as
so absurd that she could barely stifle the hysterical laughter which
rushed to her lips.
"I . . . I will return to the chateau," she finally replied.
"The count was annoying you?" walking beside her.
"Thanks to you, Monsieur, the annoyance is past."
Some ground was gone over in silence. This silence disturbed her far
more than the sound of his voice. It gave him a certain mastery. So
she spoke.
"You said 'Madame'," tentatively.
"Such was the title D'Herouville applied." And again he became silent.
"Did he tell you my name?" with a sudden and unexpected fierceness.
"No, Madame; he did not speak your name. But he knows it; while I, who
love you honorably and more than my life, I must remain in ignorance.
An expedition is to start soon, Madame, and as I shall join it, my
presence here will no longer afford you annoyance."
"Wherefore this rage, Madame, shining in your beautiful eyes, thinning
your lips, widening your nostrils?"
Madame was in a rage; but not even the promise of salvation would have
forced the cause from her lips.


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