“Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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