Likewise her own
appearance, she felt, was against them as regarded their desire to avoid
observation. She would have to take to those mousey colours that did not
suit her, and wear a veil. She hated the idea of a veil. It came from
the East and belonged there. Besides, what would be the use? Unless he
wore one too. "Who is the veiled woman that Phillips goes about with?"
That is what they would ask. It was going to be very awkward, the whole
thing. Viewed from the distance, it had looked quite fine. "Dedicating
herself to the service of Humanity" was how it had presented itself to
her in the garden at Meudon, the twinkling labyrinth of Paris at her
feet, its sordid by-ways hidden beneath its myriad lights. She had not
bargained for the dedication involving the loss of her self-respect.
They did not talk as much as they had thought they would. He was not
very helpful on the Carleton question. There was so much to be said both
for and against. It might be better to wait and see how circumstances
shaped themselves. She thought his speech excellent.
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