That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. ” “He seems like such a nice boy. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. But I may yet live to thwart them. You act your part capitally, but it won't do.
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