"
"It is a distinction to aid her in her charities," he replied.
I could not at all conceive what was meant. The packet hung in
my hands like lead. There was a mystery I could not solve. I would
not for an instant think what he meant to convey by a look--that
her choice of him to carry back my gift to her was a final repulse
of past advances I had made to her, a corrective to my romantic
memories. I would not believe that, not for one fleeting second.
Perhaps, I said to myself, it was a ruse of this scoundrel. But
again, I put that from me, for I did not think he would stoop to
little meannesses, no matter how vile he was in great things. I
assumed indifference to the matter, laying the packet down upon my
couch, and saying to him, "You will convey my thanks to Mademoiselle
Duvarney for these books, whose chief value lies in the honourable
housing they have had."
He smiled provokingly; no doubt he was thinking that my studied
compliment smelt of the oil of solitude. "And add--shall I--your
compliments that they should have their airing at the hands of
Monsieur Doltaire?"
"I shall pay those compliments to Monsieur Doltaire himself one
day," I replied.
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