“I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. " The attendant did not understand him. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. I rather want them.
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