She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. ” She refused. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. All she had found was the love of this dog. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow.
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