‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. “Girls.
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