“I wondered. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. It runs about gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall.
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