But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. Especially when they wear cologne. " The desperate eagerness to go with him—and she dared not voice it! She watched him until McClintock joined him and the two made off toward the south. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows.
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