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 he didn't want to marry her himself. There was no more than a guest room for good old Rhoda in the house he was painfully building for himself.

He mounted the stairs at a run, no longer timid in this pretentious building, and found the door to Léon's apartment wide open. Doubtless the servant had descended on some errand. With a casual knock he walked in and crossed the lobby to the salon. This room he had never entered without experiencing the same sensation of a psychic presence, which, for convenience, he had decided to attribute to Noémi Janvier. A woman of such vibrant energy, he told himself, couldn't help leaving an electric charge behind which would remain potent for many months.

His mind on guard against this psychic force, he was all the more startled when he beheld a strange girl seated on the piano, swinging her legs either impatiently or nonchalantly, he couldn't make out, for her face was as smooth and expressionless as a stone.

For a moment he stood transfixed, then hastily excused himself for so rudely intruding, and stood ready to retreat, if desired.

"Entrez donc, Monsieur. You are looking for my brother?"

"I was looking for M. Vaudreuil."

She nodded her head. "C'est le même."

"But I didn't know he had a sister!" exclaimed Grover.

"No?" The implication which Grover read into her