"Oh, it's all right, Augustin," said she, "I've only been a fool."
There seemed nothing else to do, so I kissed her again.
"Fancy, Biarritz with mother!" she moaned. Then she turned on me suddenly, almost fiercely. "But what's the good of asking anything of you? You're afraid of mother still."
I drew back as though she had struck me. A moment later her arms were round my neck.
"Oh, never mind, my dear," she sobbed. "Don't you see I'm miserable? Of course, I must go with her."
I had never supposed that any other course was practicable. The introduction of myself into the business had been but a move in the game. Nevertheless it marked the beginning of a new position for me, as rich in discomfort as, according to my experience, are most extensions of power.
