Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. Kneebone he's not here. I’ve tried to use my authority. ‘Just around it, Hilary, that’s all. You are my wife, and I am determined to claim you. The door to the room in question was closed.
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