She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. ” “Then I,” she said, “have too much character. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. “I’d give anything to kiss your neck.
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