“Is this hansom for me?” she said. "Good-bye, Mac. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. She knew it. . If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan.
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