A wave of heat
ran over her body. It was like the heat which follows on a received
slap. One of the illustrateds deleted its voice from the general chorus.
Cuckoo was aware of this, and looked up again to find two eyes fixed
upon her with an expression of thin distaste that was incapable of
misinterpretation. A second illustrated ceased to sing, two heads were
inclined towards one another, and the "t'p, t'p, t'p" of a low whisper
set the remaining two ladies at their posts as sentinels on the lady of
the feathers.
Cuckoo put her hand to her face to pull her veil a little lower down. By
accident she tugged too hard, or it had been badly fastened to her hat,
for one side got loose instantly and it fell down, revealing her face
frankly.
The "t'p, t'p, t'p" sounded again, multiplied by two. Cuckoo, thrown
into confusion by the malign behaviour of her veil, caught awkwardly at
the dropped end with an intention of readjusting it, but something in
the sound of the whispering suddenly moved her to a different action.
She snatched the veil quite off, set her feet firmly against the thick
Turkey carpet, raised her eyes and stared with all her might at the four
ladies, hurling, as a man hurls a bomb, an expression of savage defiance
into her gaze.
Pages:
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589