William Le Queux,
Whoso Findeth a Wife
“ Here, as I pen these last few lines of my strange story of England’s peril, my own betrayal, and my wife’s fond love, Ella, with sweet, glad smile, moves forward to stroke my hair with soft, caressing hand. The odour of sampaguita pervades her chiffons, stirring within me memories of the past. We are together in the room I know so well, with its great windows overlooking the leafy Avenue. It is warm, the sun-shutters are closed, and from somewhere outside the gay air, “Si qu’on leur-z-y f’rait ça” is borne in upon the summer wind. ”
