She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account.
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