For each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. Strict Catholics, and loyal to the backbone. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him.
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