Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. "But it won't do. Mr. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. \" The thick girl with the blue- black hair spat.
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