She wondered if Monck had made provision for this or if all arrangements would be left in Peter's capable hands.
Monck spoke with insistence as one who meant to have an answer.
She could not have said wherefore, but she was sorry for Monck—deeply, poignantly sorry.
"Some women don't go in for that sort of thing," commented Monck dryly.
Tessa continued to smoke and dance, posturing like a nautch-girl in front of the wholly unresponsive and unappreciative Monck.
"It seems reasonable—from a man's point of view," said Monck.
Other men felt the same uncertainty in connection with Monck.
She smiled at Monck, and her smile was as a shining cloak hiding her soul.
"And the jackals and the scorpions and the dear little karaits," said Monck.
Not being Monck, I propose to hear what he has to say and then kick him out.