But I must summon my janizaries. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. The inn was a military haunt. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. He kept that, but the rest. She saw his face change, how he regretted. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible.
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