"Oh, you've noticed that, have you? Yes, I take it for my complexion—like my stepmother."
"That's so, she does drink Evian, doesn't she? She scarcely touches wine…. How exquisite she is—don't you think? She is one of the loveliest women I have ever seen."
"I quite agree," he said slowly. "Thérèse will stand a good deal of looking at. Exquisite—that's the right word. There is only one thing about her that isn't exquisite."
"What is that?" she asked him curiously.
"Her hands."
She gave a quick understanding nod.
"I know—I've thought that, too. They don't seem to go with the rest of her, although she takes such perfect care of them."
"A psychologist chap once told me," he remarked after a thoughtful pause, "that hands like that—you mustn't misunderstand me, he was only speaking of the type—were the hands of the successful cocotte."
CHAPTER XVII
She was so silent he began to wonder if he had shocked her, though that didn't seem likely, she was such a sensible girl.