Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. But you—you have a good face. His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress.
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