of her, advising her thuswise: Take no credit to yourself for your actions. You've only done what you couldn't help doing. You did not resist temptation when you refused Randolph Pettijohn. Quite the contrary.
As a consequence of these revealing reflections, Mary felt more humble as she entered Craig's, and, after nodding to one or two acquaintances, sat down at an unoccupied table. She determined 'not to wait for her father, whom she had invited to join her. He was constitutionally incapable of keeping an engagement on time. In fact, he had no sense of time at all, but, in self-defence, he often laughingly assured her that this trait was so typical of his race that he almost regarded it in the light of a sacred obligation to encourage it in himself.
As Mary lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth, she was conscious of voices behind her.
Sylvia had no business to take her in.
Sylvia's only getting what she deserves. Look how she's been carrying on with Rumsey Meadows . . . Mary recognized Sergia Sawyer's voice.
Do you think she notices?
No, if she did, she'd have Lasca's life. She's very handy with a gun. Didya ever hear about . . . ?
Why, Mary wondered, as the conversation became too low for her to catch its drift, was she for ever hearing this woman's name? She began to cherish a certain curiosity in regard to this exotic
