But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips.
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