” “Isn’t it. . “Thank you—for coming,” he said. He was not a sailor. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. His fingers closed upon her hand. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. ‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. Spurlock halted in his tracks. And I have no more the pistol. She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. I can be that man, the one I know you want. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession.
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