Allah's blessing, with Zoug-Zoug's! What fame you've got now--dompteuse, and the sweet scandal! The journalist had found out Zoug-Zoug at last, and Ian Belward had talked with the manager of the menagerie.
Andree shuddered and put the letter in her pocket.

Now she understood why she had shrunk from Gaston that first night and those first days in Audierne: that strange sixth sense, divination--vague, helpless prescience.

And here, suddenly, she shrank again, but with a different thought.

She hurriedly left the room and went to her chamber.
In a few moments he came to her.

She was sitting upright in a chair, looking straight before her.