" "And you my warning," retorted Wild. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened.
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