We had better have it over. In after years you can return to your own country—to your friends. Her cargo is nearly shipped. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. You dear, dear girl. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines.
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