She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don't often come together. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone.
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