No one would pick her up
unless to break her into smaller atoms and toss her away again.
The freedom he allowed her after all was wonderful. It was because
he disdained interference.
But there was a line not to be crossed--there must not even be an
attempt at crossing it. Why he cared about that she did not know.
"You must be like Caesar's wife," he said rather grimly, after an
interview in which he had given her a certain unsparing warning.
"And I am nobody's wife. What did Caesar's wife do?" she asked.
"Nothing." And he told her the story and, when she had heard him
tell it, she understood certain things clearly.
Mademoiselle Valle was an intelligent, mature Frenchwoman. She
presented herself to Mrs. Gareth-Lawless for inspection and, in
ten minutes, realized that the power to inspect and sum up existed
only on her own side. This pretty woman neither knew what inquiries
to make nor cared for such replies as were given. Being swift to
reason and practical in deduction, Mademoiselle Valle did not make
the blunder of deciding that this light presence argued that she
would be under no supervision more serious. The excellent Benby,
one was made aware, acted and the excellent Benby, one was made
aware, acted under clearly defined orders. Milord Coombe--among
other things the best dressed and perhaps the least comprehended
man in London--was concerned in this, though on what grounds
practical persons could not explain to themselves.
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