I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. ‘So I shall do so. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk.
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