“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. ‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. John picked it up and put it in her hands. Suddenly he felt Ruth swing violently away from him, and he wheeled to learn the cause. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. He kissed her once on the lips with a passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given no sign.
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