Page:Twilight of the Souls (1917).djvu/86

78 gesture of sheer twentieth-century artisticity. Constance had to laugh in spite of herself.

"And Henri?" asked Constance.

Emilie suddenly turned very red:

"What do you mean?"

"What does Henri do?"

"He does . . ."

"Nothing? . . ."

"No. He does something. But don't ask me to tell you."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't understand. Henri is making money, a lot of money."

"What at?"

"I can't tell you, Auntie. It's not my secret, you see: it's his."

"Is it a secret?"

"Yes, it's a secret."

"Then I won't ask."

"It's a secret . . . to the others. Perhaps not . . . to you."

She was burning to let it out.

"I don't ask you to tell me, Emilie."

"I'll tell you . . . if you promise me not to tell anybody else . . . not a soul! Henri is . . . a clown!"

"Emilie! No!"

"Yes, he's a clown."

"No! . . . No!"