"When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. You must let me do whatever I can for you. For the love of Heaven, Jack, don't move!—Don't alter a muscle, if you can help it. It is not at all comme il faut. What was his problem, she thought to herself. It shall never be said that I raised my arm willingly against a woman. I want him as my friend.
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