In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. “That’s all. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother.
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