THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
Isidro. But before dawn I and my ship will have sailed—”
“No, no,” she broke in. “You must not. You cannot leave—”
The woman in her rebelled at the thought that he could find it possible to do what he promised.
“Must and can are strong words.” He smiled coldly. “There is no must or can upon the San Isidro but mine. The convenances of St. James’s Square are not those of the Spanish Main, madame.”
But the evil she had wrought in this man’s life, though she had wrought it unconsciously, gave her a new humility. She had done and dared much already. She would not go back.
“I pray you, monsieur, in the name of that mother you once swore by—in the name of all the things you hold most holy—I pray that you will heed my prayer. Take, at least, the Señorita de Batteville upon your vessel. Take us from the faces of the men at the cabin door who leer and grin at us with a too horrid import.”
A frown crossed the Frenchman’s features.
“These men will be upon the Saucy Sally.”
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