"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. To-morrow I am going to Paris. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. She could not run, her limbs were frozen. Her back stiffened. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony.
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