As he was coming in that evening he passed her in the hall. She
was clad in what he called a bathrobe, and what she called an
Arabian _burnoose_, of black embroidered with dull-gold
crescents and stars, showing a V of exquisite flesh at her
throat. A shred of tenuous lace straggled loose at the opening
of the _burnoose_. Her radiant hair, tangled over her forehead,
shone with a thousand various gleams from the gas-light over her
head as she moved back against the wall and stood waiting for
him to pass. She smiled very doubtfully, distantly--the smile,
he felt, of a great lady from Mayfair. He bobbed his head,
lowered his eyes abashedly, and noticed that along the shelf of
her forearm, held against her waist, she bore many silver toilet
articles, and such a huge heavy fringed Turkish bath-towel as he
had never seen before.
He lay awake to picture her brilliant throat and shining hair.
He rebuked himself for the lack of dignity in "thinking of that
freak, when she wouldn't even return a fellow's bow.
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