She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. "Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself. A cold shiver came over her. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky.
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