of it all. If it hadn't been for his clumsiness, I should never have known the existence of this woman.... But how did he come to have that card in his pocket?"
The idea of a voluntary indiscretion did not occur to her. She had never dreamt that Leonor could feel for her any emotion of tenderness. Besides, no man except Xavier had yet existed in her imagination. There was Xavier on the one hand; and on the other there were the others.
Meanwhile she went on reflecting. Love, jealousy, grief quickened her natural intelligence.
"There were several letters in the pocketbook addressed to M. Varin. That's natural. But why this card addressed to that woman? He must know her too. She must have given it to him because of the view of Martinvast Castle, I suppose...."
She could not succeed in reconstructing the adventure of this post-card. There was some mystery about it, which she soon gave up the hope of solving.
"But all I have to do is to ask M. Leonor. How simple! But then I shall have to tell him
