‘Not at all ladylike. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. " "My coat, please. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. ’ She gave him a straight look.
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