Here was a thundering blow. . “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Fired with wrath, Spurlock recounted the Canton episode. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said.
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