In the half-light of the room Martin could see her profile—could feel the intensity of her womanhood; and it caused him to forget, momentarily, her companion. Holding her throat that way, the way her breast rose under her satin gown, the unnatural silver in her dark hair caused Martin to speculate—to wonder at his own abreaction. He felt awkward and indecisive, yet withal, an inconsiderate urge and tightness under his collar. He could scarcely restrain himself from walking over and speaking. But he stayed quiet instead, and felt hot and cold at each thought, and finally decided he would just go away from sheer itching. When at last the woman did turn to look at him he continued to stare at her for a moment the same way he had done with the young man. Then he found that his thoughts were going down the satin dress to the slim waist and hips that seemed to be moving under his watery eyes, and down at last to her stockings.
“It isn’t her legs,” he thought. “It’s her stockings and every damnable, secret place they lead to.” Looking up again he saw her young clear lips, tattooed; and, he imagined, caps of equally bright color under her dress. Her eyes were the most beautiful of all of her, and yet the worst; for Martin, in amazement that they should translate his idiom so perfectly, felt that they were turning him inside out so that each thought and desire could be read plainly. However, there was something else about the woman that made him want to go away, or come, or do anything as long as it was she who sent him away, or took him in.
“I’m mad,” he said. “She’s nothing but a brood-mare. A wild, teasing brood-mare stamping for me. But I wish I had her in the grass where she should lie.” And he turned his flushed, wet face toward Roberts who was approaching.
“At whom are you looking?” asked the adviser, suspicion in his tone.
“I was watching,” Martin answered.
“Where are you looking?” persisted the adviser.
“I believe I should go home,” said Martin briefly.
Roberts looked around in the direction of Martin’s stare and smiled without amusement.
“Come along,” he said, sighing and taking his friend by the arm. “Either one was inevitable, I suppose.”