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He's had enough."
She went on, a slim green figure, moving slowly and reluctantly
toward the drawing-room, her head held high, a little smile still
on her lips. But, alone for a moment, away from curious eyes, her
expression changed, her smile faded, her lovely, irregular face took
on a curious intensity. What a devilish evening! Chris drinking
too much, talking wildly, and always with furtive eyes on her.
Chris! Oh, well, that was life, she supposed.
She stopped before a long mirror and gave a bit of careless
attention to her hair. With more care she tinted her lips again
with a cosmetic stick from the tiny, diamond-studded bag she carried.
Then she turned and surveyed the hall and the library beyond. A new
portrait of Natalie was there, hanging on the wall under a shaded
light, and she wandered in, still with her cigaret, and surveyed it.
Natalie had everything. The portrait showed it. It was beautiful,
smug, complacent.
Mrs. Valentine's eyes narrowed slightly.


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