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‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. South America was big; but ten thousand islands, scattered all over the biggest ocean on the map! Nearly all of them clear of the ship lanes and beaten tracks! The best thing he could do would be to call up the Quai d'Orsay and turn over the job to Lecocq. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. Womanhood is sacred to me.
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