Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered. No good at all. You must dispose of the goldsmith's note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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