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Michelle had begged her to do it. She could not hide her face. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic.
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