"She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. ” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. Bête, she told herself fiercely. “I don’t have time for this. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. Something about this woman rather reminds me of our hostess. I'll keep a look out that nothing happens. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me.
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