ad thought of her he had never thought of her as mercenary. It
wasn't that. He had found out what it was. Watching her at play with
Reggy's fire (for to the inconspicuous observer the young man had
flamed sufficiently), it had struck Straker that she herself was
flameless.

It was in the nature of Reggy's perfection that it called, it
clamored for response. And Philippa had not responded. She hadn't
got it in her to respond.

All this came back vividly to Straker as he watched her now on the
terrace, at play with the fiercer conflagration that was Laurence
Furnival.

She was cold; she had never kindled, never would, never could
kindle. Her eyes did, if you like; they couldn't help it--God made
them lights and flames--but her mouth _couldn't_. To Straker in his
illumination all the meaning of Philippa Tarrant was in her mouth.
The small, exquisite thing lacked fulness and the vivid rose that
should have been the flowering of her face. A certain tightness at
the corners gave it an indescribable expression of secrecy and
mystery and restraint. He saw in it the almost monstrous denial and
mockery of desire. He could not see it, as he had seen Nora
Viveash's mouth, curved forward, eager, shedding flame at the brim,
giving itself to lips that longed for it. Philippa's mouth was a
flower that opened only at the touch, the thrill of her own gorgeous
egoism. He read in it the triumph of Philippa over the flesh and
blood of her race. She had nothing in her of the dead. That was the
wonder of her. The passion of the dead had built up her body to the
semblance and the promise of their own delight; their desire, long
forgotten, rose again, lightening and darkening in her amazing eyes;
the imperishable instinct that impelled them to clothe her in their
flesh and blood survived in her, transfigured in strange impulses
and intuitions, but she herself left unfulfilled their promise and
their desire.

Yes--that was what her mouth meant; it was treacherous; it betrayed
the promise of her body and her eyes. And Furnival was feeding his
infatuation on the meanings of her eyes and of her body--meanings
that were unmistakable to Straker.

As if she had known what the older man was thinking of her, Philippa
rose abruptly and turned her back on Furnival and began to make
violent love to old Lady Paignton. Her eyes challenged Straker's
across the terrace. They said: "Look at me. I will be as beautiful
for this old lady as for any male th