Miriam gazed dumbly from one to the other, finding herself admiring and wondering more than ever at their independence and strength. "You see the woman's so absolutely self-respecting." "Much more so than we are!" "Out of doors she's a model of decorum and good style." "We're ashamed when we meet her." "We are. We skip into the gutter." "We babble and slink!" "Indoors she's a perfect landlady. She's been awfully good to us." "A perfect brick!" "She doesn't drink; she's most exquisitely clean. There's nothing whatever to--to indicate the er--nature of her profession." "Except that she sits at the window." "But she does not tire her hair and look forth." "Or fifth." "_Fool._" Miriam giggled. "Really Miriam she _is_ rather wonderful you know. We like her." "Henriette is devoted to her." "And so apparently is her husband." "Her _husband_?" "Yes--she has a husband--he appears at rare intervals--and a little girl at boarding school. She goes to see her but the child never comes here. She tells us quite frankly that she wants to keep her out of harm's way." "How amazing!" "Yes, she's extraordinary. She's Eurasian. She was born in India." "That accounts for a good deal. Eurasians are awful; they've got all the faults of both sides." "East is East and West is West and never the two shall meet." "Well, we like her." "So we have decided to ignore her little peccadilloes." "I don't see that it's our business. Frankly I can't see that it has anything whatever to do with us. Do you?" "Well I don't know; I don't suppose it has really." "What would you do in our place?" "I don't know ... I don't believe I should have found out." "I don't believe you would; but if you had?" "I think I should have been awfully scared." "You would have been afraid that the sixth." "Or the seventh." "Might have wandered upstairs." "No; I mean the whole idea." "Oh; the idea...." "London, my dear Miriam, is full of ideas." "I will go and get the suppe." Jan rose; her bright head and grey shoulders went up above the lamplight, darkening to steady massive outlines, strongly moving as she padded and fluttered briskly out of the room. The rich blur of the room free of the troubling talk and the swift conversational movements of the two, lifted and was touched with a faint grey, a suggestion of dawn or twilight, as if coming from the hidden windows. Mag sat motionless in her chair, gazing into the fire. "... Wise and happy infant, I want to ask your opinion." Miriam roused herself and glanced steadily across. The outlines of things grew sharp. She could imagine the room in daylight and felt a faint sharp sinking; hungry. "I'm going to state you a case. I think you have an extraordinarily sharp sense of right and wrong." "Oh _no_." "You have an extraordinarily sharp sense of right and wrong. Imagine a woman. Can you imagine a woman?" "Go on." "Imagine a woman engaged to a man. Imagine her allowing--another man--to kiss her."