well; he had been groomed into that sort of thing or had it in the blood.
"We work together still?" he asked.
"Why not?" she answered.
A hubbub of angry voices raised itself behind my back. It was one of the contretemps that made the Salon Grangeur famous throughout the city.
"You forced yourself upon me. Did I say anywhere that you were responsible? If it resembles your particular hell upon earth, what is that to me? You do worse things; you, yourself, monsieur. Haven't I seen . . . haven't I seen it?"
The Duc de Mersch looked swiftly over his shoulder toward the window.
"They seem to be angry there," he said nervously. "Had not something better be done, Miss Granger?"
Miss Granger followed the direction of his eyes.
"Why," she said, "we're used to these differences of opinion. Besides, it's only Monsieur Radet; he's forever at war with someone or other."
[177]
