Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. with you. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness.
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