She gathered up her train, took her long white gloves in the other hand, and ran down the stairs, her heels clicking on the wood, her buckles glittering.

At the bottom she turned and said to me: "'Remember, Helene, you can go to bed.' That was it monsieur." And now violently the rancour of Helene Vauquier's feelings burst out once more.
"For her the fine clothes, the pleasure, and the happiness.

For me--I could go to bed!" Hanaud looked again at the description which Helene Vauquier had written out, and read it through carefully.

Then he asked a question, of which Ricardo did not quite see the drift.
"So," he said, "when this morning you suggested to Monsieur the Commissaire that it would be advisable for you to go through Mlle.
Celie's wardrobe, you found that nothing more had been taken away except the white lace coat ?" "That is so." "Very well.

Now, after Mlle.