These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. He could lose himself for hours at a time. “Thanks, Cathy. She had underestimated his animal ability to sense weakness. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. She opened and read it at once. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels.
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