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No.... I was making a mental picture of you. I thinkI think I can paint you now. I want to paint you in that velvet cloakwhat colour do you call it?it is like copper in the firelightwith the sable just touching your throat at one side just as it is now and falling off the other shoulder. Will you let me? Oh! I want my brushes in my hand now. His eyes suddenly blazed with the inspiration of the moment as they devoured her. Quickly she drew the folds of the cloak closer around her neck. She felt as though a scorching wind had swept over her, a sirocco of passion came from him to her. She shrank back a little, yet even as she instinctively did so she wondered why. Her husband flagrantly neglected her, most of her friends had consoled themselves[110] for their husbands shortcomings, and had not she almost determined to seek the love which she craved outside her home? She met his eyes, and she was half attracted, half repelled by their light. She liked him, she felt his magnetism drawing her, and yet something which she could not quite understand bobbed quickly up to the surface of her mind and surveyed them both with a certain contempt. So she was a little cruel in her reply to his enthusiasm.
She laughed a little uncertainly and a faint flush rose to her cheeks.
You are a very sweet and fascinating woman, he said suddenly, and I am sorry that we ever did anything so vulgar as to use your portrait for a book cover.... Good-bye.
Leave em and come and dish up these curls. That old beast hasnt sent my new set. Look, Polly, this is Mr. Jacks sister. Isnt she lovely?
We are all cynical nowadays. How is it you have escaped? How have you managed to keep on believing in people and things?
I had such luck last week. I was walking along the High Street in Moulton and I caught sight of a pair of vases. I thought that powder blue could be nothing less than Chinese. They had blue and white reserves on them. You know what that means. I got them for a mere song, and theyre beauties. Since I last saw you I have bought....
Just had some. I hope you are quite well, Lady Currey?
He plays such a good, steady game. Upon my word, I like to watch him. I say, Claudia, if it were he, instead of this painter chap, I wouldnt mind. But, then, hes Gilberts friend, isnt he?
Life had not been any too cheery during those last weeks at Le Touquet, but at Wynnstay Claudia felt as though she were in prison.
No.
Hes looking very tired, said Claudia lightly. Last night he did go out with me to a party at the Ritz, but he was too tired to talk. I am sure the woman who sat next to him must be going about saying that the new K.C. is the dullest man in London.
Ill ask you a question. Do you believe that love between a young normal woman and man can exist without passion?