"Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. ’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. Not at all. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. htm or 26596-h.
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