for the love of beauty, you know." With his dark face and with the perpetual smiles playing about his grimness, Mr.Blunt appeared to me positively satanic.

Mills' hand was toying absently with an empty glass.

Again they had forgotten my existence altogether.
"I don't know how an object of art would feel," went on Blunt, in an unexpectedly grating voice, which, however, recovered its tone immediately.

"I don't know.

But I do know that Rita herself was not a Danae, never, not at any time of her life.