There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. And she was as shrewd as they come. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. She began to act. ” 243 She felt a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and pride well up in her cheeks, flushing them.
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