‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. It’s one of their worst traits, one of their very worst. Both of them.
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