Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain.
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