the pomegranate lining. Perhaps she would give the robe to her and later the gold earrings to go with it. The girl was looking at her, wondering what next, but Simone, controlling herself, merely gave her a matter-of-fact pat on the stomach as though she were a baby.
"I would like to take you to Paris when I return. I will ask Cocteau to write a ballet for you and one of Les Six to compose the music. I will dress you in fine white muslin with a huge blue sash. Lanvin will make it, and you will have a large leghorn hat with roses. You will be a grand success. You will drift in a boat in the Bois lagoon at night and there will be Japanese lanterns to light the way because the stars are held back by the trees overhanging the banks. Or, if you prefer, you will drive slowly in a carriage in the velvet light of the chestnut blossom candelabras. You will put your head on your beloved's shoulder and the only sound will be the clop-clop of the hooves."
She's thinking about Paul Vermillion, thought Lucy. She's done that with him.
"Perhaps," Simone continued, "you will want lights and music, say that of the mad Russians of whom there are many in Paris, or you will wish to sup at Maxim's, all red and gold and silver, or—" "Stop, stop! I can hardly wait!"
"You will be the rage of Paris. The artists will paint you—"
"You mean in patches and points and heavy black lines?"
One could see why the girl, playful, gay, would be irresistible to Paul. With a sudden fury of longing for him, she assailed with violent caresses a startled Lucy from whom came a small scream, as that of a bird pounced on by a cat.
After the initial shock, Lucy observed Simone's insidious assaults as though it were a demonstration in dance by Master, wondering apprehensively whether she would be marred by the small sharp teeth. Involved caresses that came to no real conclusion. I don't like this, I don't like this at all, it's silly. A woman, acting like a man without being a man.
Her tensity relayed unresponsiveness and Simone jumped up. "You are just a child. I thought differently." Her tone was insulting.
Nine o'clock, cooperated the understanding clock, and Lucy stood up.
"Oh my goodness, I forgot. I really have to go, I've an appointment."
"Stay—telephone."
"I can't—there isn't any phone there."
