“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. "By all means," rejoined Quilt.
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