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A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. It was the size of my palm. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. Ann Veronica decided she would have to go on with Capes another day, and, looking up, discovered him sitting on a stool with his hands in his pockets and his head a little on one side, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. It was painful to want him so much. I have never spoken of these things to any human being. He got off on it. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect.

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