"Odd's life, no," replied Blakeney, with a laugh. "Only as far as Lille--not Paris for me. . .beastly uncomfortable place Paris, just now. . .eh, Monsieur Chaubertin. . .beg pardon. . .Chauvelin!""Not for an English gentleman like yourself, Sir Percy,"rejoined Chauvelin, sarcastically, "who takes no interest in the conflict that is raging there.""La! you see it's no business of mine, and our demmed government is all on your side of the business. Old Pitt daren't say 'Bo' to a goose. You are in a hurry, sir," he added, as Chauvelin once again took out his watch; "an appointment, perhaps. . . . I pray you take no heed of me. . . . My time's my own."He rose from the table and dragged a chair to the hearth.
Once more Marguerite was terribly tempted to go to him, for time was getting on; Desgas might be back at any moment with his men. Percy did not know that and. . .oh! how horrible it all was--and how helpless she felt.
