Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. Capes most trying. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. There never is much left for me.
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