He
suggested the revivified corpse of a fine gentleman that had been
unnaturally swollen. I had disliked him at the Cercle Africain; now I
detested him heartily. The idea of Lola entering the vitiated atmosphere
of his life was inexpressibly repugnant to me.
Contrary to her habit, Lola sat bolt upright on the stamped-velvet
suite, the palms of her hands pressing the seat on either side of her.
She caught the shade of disgust that swept over my face, and gave me a
quick glance that pleaded for toleration. Her eyes, though bright, were
sunken, like those of a woman who has not slept.
"Monsieur," said Vauvenarde, "my wife informs me that to your
disinterested friendship is due this most charming reconciliation."
"Reconciliation?" I echoed. "It was quickly effected."
"_Mon Dieu_," he said. "I have always longed for the comforts of a home.
My wife has grown tired of a migratory existence. She comes to find
me. I hasten to meet her. There is nothing to keep us apart. The
reconciliation was a matter of a few seconds.
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