Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. “Number 13, please, cabman. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. ‘Is it soft, the way you seize me from behind? Parbleu, my heart it is flown from my chest! Boom, boom, it goes, even now. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement.
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