She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. But at the word “home” she turned again. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. I told her it was the end. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. "The danger's past," whispered Bess.
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