Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent.
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