“I thought you weren’t keeping up to the mark. It was. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. Mrs. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne.
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