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 Surely you recall, she adjured him, that you drove Jaime out of my house one night?

I drove him out!

Who else? she demanded indifferently, as if the subject no longer interested her.

I drove him out! he repeated with growing indignation.

It seemed advisable to help himself liberally to the cognac which accompanied the coffee. This act was facilitated by the fact that Imperia served cognac in large crystal goblets which made it convenient for Ambrose to pour out ten drinks at once.

You drove him out, she repeated implacably. I shall never forget that horrible night, although I have forgiven it. . . . The magenta lines which formed her lips twisted into a taut smile. . . . After all, she went on, lighting a cigarette, after all, that is not why I am lonely. Jaime, naturally, returned the next week. What could I do but take him back? His jealousy was entirely natural. He adores me. I could not blame him. In his place, perhaps, I would have behaved even worse, isn't it?

Ambrose thought it highly possible that she would do, but he refrained from saying as much.

After all, Ambrose, you must know that is not why I am lonely. . . . How soft and musical her voice