The temptation would be great.
Thank Heaven, it was not teasing her. She would
resist it, of course. But--
What if Stanley Baird should lose interest? What
if, after he lost interest, she should find herself without
money, worse of than she had been when she sold
herself into slavery--highly moral and conventionally
correct slavery, but still slavery--to the little general
with the peaked pink-silk nightcap hiding the absence
of the removed toupee--and with the wonderful
pink-silk pajamas, gorgeously monogramed in violet--
and the tiny feet and ugly hands--and those loathsome
needle-pointed mustaches and the hideous habit of
mumbling his tongue and smacking his lips? What
if, moneyless, she should not be able to find another
Stanley or a man of the class gentleman willing to
help her generously even on ANY terms? What then?
She was looking out over the sea, her bank-book and
statements and canceled checks in her lap. Their cottage
was at the very edge of the strand; its veranda
was often damp from spray after a storm.
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