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“I can’t keep away from you. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men.
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