She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. We aren’t afraid; we don’t bother. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. The end of the world seemed at hand. You’d make a good Devil. “It’s not. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities.
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