For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. You might be able to use the picture some day. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. A dressing-room then. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. Some of the meetings are wonderful! Such earnest, beautiful women! Such deepbrowed men!. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you.
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