By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. He yelled but he had no breath to support his own voice. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. The Disguise 261 VI.
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