“I’m being honest with you. He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. Maggot. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. To-morrow they will all be contradicted. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. ’ ‘But, Hilary—’ ‘Don’t you begin, Lucilla, for I won’t stand for it.
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