She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. Your servant, Mr. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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