her small, childish face looking sullen and vindictive.
“I know you want to catch me out,” came her cold, rather resonant voice. “But I don’t care, I don’t care how much you catch me out.”
She turned and was gone again. She had been wearing a loose dressing-gown of purple silk, tied round her waist. She looked so small and childish and vulnerable, almost pitiful. And yet the black looks of her eyes made Gerald feel drowned in some potent darkness that almost frightened him.
The men lit another cigarette and talked casually.