remarks, she sat down, separated from him by the width of the room and
with her back to the light, a strategical position she ought to have
taken up before. But here she was at the disadvantage of facing him
and a scrutiny of which she had not thought him capable. With his legs
stretched out, his hands in his pockets, his eyes apparently half shut
but unquestionably fixed on her, he was really behaving rather badly.
She had never been stared at like this before and she told herself
that under the shelter of his marriage he had grown daring, if not
insolent; but at the same time she knew she was not telling herself
the truth: he was simply in the position of a thirsty man who has at
last found a stream. It appeared, then, that his wife did not
sufficiently quench his thirst.

Rose carefully did not look his way, but she experienced an altogether
new excitement, the very ancient one of desiring to taste forbidden
fruit simply because it was forbidden; this particular fruit, as such,
had no special charm; but she was born a Mallett and the half-sister
of Reginald. She had, however, as he had not, a substantial basis of
personal pride and a love of beauty which was at least as effectual as
a moral principle and she had not Francis's excuse for his behaviour.
She believed he did not know what he was doing; but she was entirely
clear-sighted as to herself and she refused to encourage the silent
intercourse which had established itself between them.

Caroline was in the midst of a piece of gossip, Sophia was
interjecting exclamations of moderation and reproach, and Mrs. Sales
was manifestly amused. Her chromatic giggle was as punctual as
Sophia's reproof, and Rose drew closer to the group made by the three,
and said, 'I'm missing Caroline's story. Which one is it?' And now it
was Francis who laughed.