The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. At second hand it would be unendurable. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. The manager twisted his moustache. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off.
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