The fire still burned brightly. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. The rest.
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