Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her black somber eyes were opening and closing rapidly, as if alternately magnetized by some ugly vision and sweeping it aside.
Price watched her with deep interest and deeper anxiety.

"A good many women go to the devil," he said.

"But you are not that sort." "Oh, I don't know.

I never could get up enough interest in another man to solve the problem in the usual way--but there are other resources--I--well--" "What ?" Price sat up very straight.
"Oh, dance ourselves into tuberculosis," she said lightly, and dropping her eyelashes.

"And tuberculosis of the mind, certainly.