The artificial heat of the big stoves in the rooms with the low ceilings only irritated her, and she felt herself growing more ample from lassitude of the flesh.

This particular autumn it seemed to her that she could not get through another winter without something going wrong, without a crisis of some sort.

She felt the need of excitement, of change.

She had the desire for pleasures undefined.
Then George Masson came, and the undefined took form almost at once.
It was no case of the hunter pursuing his prey with all the craft and subtlety of his trade.

She had answered his look with spontaneity, due to the fact that she had been surprised into the candour of her feelings by the appearance of one who had the boldness of a brigand, the health of a Hercules, and the intelligence of a primitive Jesuit.