Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/68

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

felt dizzy, as though he might fall at the feet of this pale girl, and weep, weep out of very joy; or take her by the hand and lead her away from all the tumult of Paris, to the ocean shore in Normandy, where the people pursued their daily routine without hurry, watching their days disappear, carried off on the backs of the great waves, without sorrow or regret.

So ran the thoughts of Monsieur Lepetit-till the fragrant aroma of fried liver, stuffed with truffles, broke his reveries. The merchant of the Halles was master again, then a smile spread over his face. He dismissed the waiter. Behind his glasses, the little beady eyes gleamed with a lustful fire.

"Tell me, my dear young ladies," he asked, getting up from the divan, "which of you is going to say a gentle good night?"

When both girls remained silent he took Mary by the hand and led her promptly to the door.

"Tell Mademoiselle Monique that I hope she will soon recover. As for your friend here-She'll be under perfect care." And before Mary could utter a word, the door closed between them.

Anna rose, but Lepetit barred her way, his heavy body forcing her against the wall. At the other side of the door Mary began to hammer the panel with her fists. A passing porter seized her by the shoulders and forced her back into the room. Deadly pale, Anna stood aside. The porter, in his red uniform, bowed solemnly.

"Throw this filth out!" Lepetit roared.

"Oui, Monsieur," replied the porter. As he bent deferentially, his starched shirt front creased and his tight coat crackled like crisp fire in hell.