"
Owen took breath; he had told his story, or as much as was necessary,
omitting the fact that he was an accomplice in the love-making which
had led to attempted suicide.
"You don't think I was right?"
"Well, Sir Owen, you see, I don't think mademoiselle will ever go
back to the stage."
"You think that, Merat? Well, then, the only thing to save her from
religion is marriage. I don't mind telling you, nor is there any
need to tell you--you must know--that I have always wanted her to be
my wife, only she would not marry me, and for some reason impossible
to get at."
"Mademoiselle is like nobody else; _elle avait toujours son idee_."
"_Parfaitement, comme disent les paysannes de chez vous, d'une bete
qui ne ressemble pas au troupeau et qui allait toujours._"
"_Oui, mademoiselle a eu toujours son idee_. So Sir Owen thinks it
was fear of going back to the stage that persuaded mademoiselle to--"
"Something like that, Merat. She liked Mr. Dean."
"But you are first in her thoughts, Sir Owen."
"That isn't astonishing. We have known each other so long. Now, after
what has happened, perhaps she will think differently about
marriage, do you understand, Merat.
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