She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. Some doting parent had taught him well. “I wondered.
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