Physically he attracted her. Divested of his coat, his chest swelled impressively beneath a pink-striped silk shirt. When he lifted an arm, the clinging sleeve moulded itself to an admirable biceps. As he strode to and fro the stuff of his thin summer trousers shaped itself to legs that might have proved enviable to Sir Willoughby Patterne himself. His wide-lipped mouth disclosed an excellent outfit of large, white, strong teeth. His jet-black hair curled engagingly at his temples and over his generous pink ears. She liked his big, muscular, mobile hands....
She started suddenly, to discover that he had concluded and was facing her with an expectant expression, and sat up and smiled faintly, with embarrassment, trying to remember what it had all been about.
From the window, May Dean drawled languidly: "Is that the finish?"
Quard waved an arm. "Curtain!" he said; and sat down.
"My Gawd!" observed May thoughtfully.
He laughed uncomfortably: "As bad as all that?"
"It'd make a wonderful chaser," Maizie commented without lifting her eyes from the counterpane.
Quard turned desperately back to Joan. "What do you think of it, Miss Thursday?"
"I think so too," she said with all the animation she could muster. The other women laughed aloud. She flushed and added: "I mean, I think it's wonderful. I don't know what a chaser is."
"A chaser, dearie," Maizie explained in tones of acute commiseration, "is an act put on in the continuous houses to chase out the chair-warmers and make room for more."