. . Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. ‘Never mind that now. And what on earth do you want to darken your eyebrows and use so much make-up for at your age? You’re exactly twenty-three, and you’re got up as much as a woman of forty-five. The dog approached timidly, his tail going furiously. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table.
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