"Is there another bottle of beer there?" said Jim, without moving, too
settled even to stir an eye-lid.

"Yes--I think there is," said Robert.

"Thanks--don't open it yet," murmured Jim.

"Have a drink, Josephine?" said Robert.

"No thank you," said Josephine, bowing slightly.

Finding the drinks did not go, Robert went round with the cigarettes.
Josephine Ford looked at the white rolls.

"Thank you," she said, and taking one, suddenly licked her rather
full, dry red lips with the rapid tip of her tongue. It was an odd
movement, suggesting a snake's flicker. She put her cigarette between
her lips, and waited. Her movements were very quiet and well bred; but
perhaps too quiet, they had the dangerous impassivity of the Bohemian,
Parisian or American rather than English.

"Cigarette, Julia?" said Robert to his wife.

She seemed to start or twitch, as if dazed. Then she looked up at
her husband with a queer smile, puckering the corners of her eyes.
He looked at the cigarettes, not at her. His face had the blunt
voluptuous gravity of a young lion, a great cat. She kept him
standing for some moments impassively. Then suddenly she hung her
long, delicate fingers over the box, in doubt, and spasmodically