Here surely was a tigress, trapped and resentful.
Above her stood a little man in the shining black gaiters and great goggles of a chauffeur.
He was talking and smiling. The young woman sat beneath him, her tense arms binding her knees, her eyes down.
But this was not the usual drama when the Serpent and the Woman meet. Here the Serpent was taunting Eve, not tempting her. So much her face betrayed.
Ernie watched the picture-play with absorbed interest. A great while ago he had known both actor and actress intimately, and still took an impersonal interest in them and their doings.
Then the little man's voice came to him across the stream, sharp and strident. He had a peculiar swaggering motion of the head and shoulders as he spoke, truculent yet furtive, that Ernie knew well; and all the time his eyes were wandering uneasily about the Brooks, searching for enemies.
"You'll ask me to marry you next!" he sneered. "ME marry YOU!"
The young woman rose, ominous and passionate. She stood in her tan-coloured gabardine, like some noble barbarian at bay, a creature of the earth and elements, yet conquering them.
She seemed to tower above the little man, and in her hand was the orange turban like a sling that swung heavily to and fro.
Ernie watched the scene with fascinated eyes, and, most of all, that bright slow-swinging thing that sagged so dreadfully.