armament of cunning, vigilance, invention, suspicion, and distrust.

He relinquished them without a sigh, barely conscious of the spoliation.
After all, she was of his trade, herself mired with guilt; she would never
dare betray him, the consequences to herself would be so dire.

Besides, patently,--almost too much so,--she admired him. He was her hero.
Had she not more than hinted that such was the case, that his example, his
exploits, had fired her to emulation--however weakly feminine?... He saw
her before him, dainty, alluring, yielding, yet leading him on: altogether
desirable. And so long had he, Anisty, starved for affection!...

"I am sure you must be dying for a smoke."

"Beg pardon!" He awoke abruptly, to find himself twirling the sharp-ribbed
stem of his empty glass. Abstractedly he stared into this, as though
seeking there a clue to what they had been talking about. Hazily he
understood that they had been drifting close upon the perilous shoals of
intimate personalities. What had he told her? What had he not?

No matter. It was clearly to be seen that her regard for him had waxed
rather than waned as a result of their conversation. One had but to
look into her eyes to be reassured as to that. One did look, breathing
heavily.... What an ingenuous child it was, to show him her heart so
freely! He wondered that this should be so, feeling it none the less a just
and graceful tribute to his fascinations.

She repeated her arch query. She was sure he wanted to smoke.

Indeed he did--if she would permit? And forthwith Maitland's cigarette case