He seemed to go on speaking of her against his will.
"Her going to Lacville was a mere accident," explained Paul de Virieu,
quickly. "She was brought there by the Polish lady, Madame Wolsky, of
whom you must have heard her speak, whom she met in an hotel in Paris,
and who disappeared so mysteriously. It is not a place for a young lady
to be at by herself."
Bill Chester tilted back the chair on which he was sitting. Once more he
asked himself what on earth the fellow was driving at? Were these remarks
a preliminary to the Count's saying that he was not going to Switzerland
after all--that he was going back to Lacville in order to take care of
Sylvia.
Quite suddenly the young Englishman felt shaken by a very primitive and,
till these last few days, a very unfamiliar feeling--that of jealousy.
Damn it--he wouldn't have that. Of course he was no longer in love with
Sylvia Bailey, but he was her trustee and lifelong friend. It was his
duty to prevent her making a fool of herself, either by gambling away
her money--the good money the late George Bailey had toiled so hard to
acquire--or, what would be ever so much worse, by making some wretched
marriage to a foreign adventurer.
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