Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. “The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. E. I ——” He stopped short. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Papa has sent me to be religieuse. The fascination of the idea of throwing himself upon his knees and crying out all that was in his heart! As his eyes began to focus objects, he saw one of her arms extended upon the counterpane, in his direction, the hand clenched tightly. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. His tone was rough, almost threatening.
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