“It is part of the irony of life,” he said. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. . She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. He recalled with exasperating perplexity her clear, matter-of-fact tone as she talked about love-making being unconvincing.
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