The apparition at the window of the restaurant was her first revived activity.
CHAPTER II
On August the tenth Tarr had an appointment with Anastasya at his studio in Montmartre. They had arranged to dine in Montmartre. It was their seventh meeting. He had just done his daily cure. He hurried back and found her lounging against the door, reading the newspaper.
“Ah, there you are! You’re late, Mr. Tarr.”
“Am I? I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not very. Fräulein Lunken⸺”
“She—I couldn’t get away.”
“No, it is difficult to get away, apparently.”
He let her in. He was annoyed at the backwardness of his senses. His mind stepped in, determined to do their business for them. He put his arm round her waist, and planting his lips fully on hers, began kissing her. He slipped his hands sideways beneath her coat, and pressed an athletic, sinuous hulk against him. The various bulging and retreating contact of her body brought monotonous German reminders.