He stopped abruptly. ‘Hilary was right. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. So good an opportunity may never occur again. "I'll tell you why," he said.
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