Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. He heard the woman talking again. Stop it. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. . And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well.
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