She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding.
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