A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other.
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