"If you imagine it is _that_"--deep reproach was in her gaze--"I must explain. Have you heard of a journalist called 'Valentin Vance'?" "Yes." "Well, I sent him a challenge to-day, and he answered that I must find a deputy." Pariset sat dumfounded. Twice he essayed to articulate, without producing so much as a mono-syllable. At last he stuttered: "You are mademoiselle Suzanne Duvivier? I had no idea." "How stupid of me. You have read his article?" "Well--er--I have still not had time to read it very attentively. But I have heard a good deal about it." "Ah! Then you do not wonder at my resentment?" she cried. And, though the twins forbade her to jeopardise his life, she hoped to hear him gallantly offer to fight monsieur Vance. This was just what Pariset could not do. After his boasted avidity to execute the service, he must wear an air of funking it. His embarrassment was intense; constraint fell upon them both. Disillusion clouded her eyes. She had begun to like him so much, it grieved her to see him turn tail. After some very painful seconds he faltered: "You are disappointed in me?" "Disappointed?" "Oh, yes. I seem to you a braggart who has backed out of his boast. Yet I assure you I am not to blame. You seek the one service in the world that I am utterly unable to perform." "Monsieur," replied the girl coldly, "your parental duties are so obviously paramount that it is unnecessary to remind me of them." "Oh, as to that, one does not expect more than a scratch in a duel, so it is not from parental reasons that I say it can't be done. The reasons are physical. I cannot meet monsieur Vance because ... I shall sink lower in your esteem with every word ... I cannot meet him because ... enfin, Valentin Vance is I!" "You?" She had started to her feet. "My pen name." The silence was awful. She leant on the back of the chair for support. Then, with a dignity that he felt to be superb, she said: "Monsieur, as a tenant I thank you for your co-operation; as a communist, I ask permission to retire." "Ah, I implore you to listen!" raved Pariset. "It is strange," she added, more spontaneously, "that, since you found me so hideous on the lecture platform, you put yourself out to be so agreeable to me at the registry office."