“They may all fall in the Beaux Arts; you said yourself that two struck the Quai d’Orsay⁠—”

“Mere accident⁠—”

“Jack, have pity on me! Take me with you!”

“And who will there be to get dinner?”

She rose and flung herself on the bed.

“Oh, I can’t get used to it, and I know you must go, but I beg you not to be late to dinner. If you knew what I suffer! I⁠—I⁠—cannot help it, and you must be patient with me, dear.”

He said, “It is as safe there as it is in our own house.”