Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number. ‘Oh, the Frenchie. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence.
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