CHAPTER III. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. I told him instantly and shamelessly that the play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds. Do not imagine that I cannot do so, as well as I can this Gérard. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly.
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