” She whispered. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. He's the only native I trust in these parts. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. Perhaps I am still mad.
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