‘You could not tell it,’ said Melusine, ‘unless you were as close as we. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. He seated himself before it. . He waved a hand toward the sea. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. He was alarmed when she returned to the stage and her eyes passed over him in the audience.
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