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She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. “Let us escape,” she said. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. It must be somewhere hereabouts. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. “May I tell Nigel to come and see you again? I am not here to do his love-making for him, you know. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights.
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