Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. "She has fallen into the villain's hands. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. I went to the theatre that night. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment.
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