At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. “Don’t be a hypocrite. But ——” A look checked him. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Between her and the fair, far prospect of freedom and self-development manoeuvred Mr. ’ ‘Don’t be stuffy, Hilary,’ admonished his betrothed. “Ugh!” she said. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. 112 Sheila needed an early riser: a girl around the house to help cook and clean and walk the dog. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence.
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