She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn.
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