I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. You are the High Priestess of Life. You're always complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. The action did not pass unnoticed by Sheppard. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Leave the room! leave the house, Sir! and enter it again at your peril. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly.
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