” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. ” “Except,” said Constance, surveying her work with her head on one side, “to keep the matches from the litter. If such a thing in connexion with him had been possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. Things happen to women—proper women—and all they have to do is to take them well.
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