"This she-devil has got hold of the sack. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. Montague Hill. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief.
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