There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. He looked at her, hurt. ’ The possibility was indeed remote, for there had been no trouble with France since the Peace of Versailles had been signed six years ago. “It was a phase,” she said. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her.
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