Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. But I'm not worrying about that. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. I believe you have had it pulled down, have you not?” “The Misses Pellissier!” he exclaimed. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip.
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