Twilight Sleep
took her back to the old days, when his perpetual disorder, and his persistent belief that he could al- "ways put his hand on everything, used to be such a strain on her nerves!
"Pictures?" she gasped.
"Rather. The nigger himself, in turban and ritual togs; and a lot of mixed nudes doing leg-work round a patio. The place looks like a Palm Beach Hotel. Fanny Lindon's in a stew because she's recognized Bee in the picture. She says she's going to have the man in jail if they spend their last penny on it. Hullo—here it is, after all."
Pauline shrank back. Would people never stop trying to show her disgusting photographs? She articulated: "You haven't seen Fanny Lindon too?"
"Haven't I? She spent the morning here. She told Amalasuntha everything."
Pauline, with a great effort, controlled her rising anger. "How idiotic! Now it will be spread to all the winds!" She saw Fanny and Amalasuntha gloatingly exchanging the images of their progenies' dishonour. It was too indecent . . . and the old New Yorker was as shameless as the demoralized foreigner.
"I didn't know Fanny had been here before me. I've just left her. I've been trying to persuade her to stop; to hush up the whole business before it's too late. I suppose you gave her the same advice?"
Wyant's face clouded: he looked perplexedly at his former wife, and she saw he had lost all sense of
