“'So much the better,' thought Margot, and suddenly she felt extremely elated. When she had sent off the letter she had anticipated a far more trivial consequence: he refuses to show it, wife gets wild, stamps, has a fit. So the first suspicions are roused and that eases the way. But now chance had helped her and the way was made clear at one stroke. She let the book slip to the floor and smiled as she looked at his downcast twitching face. It was time to act, she supposed. Margot stretched herself out, was aware of a pleasant tingling in her slim body and said, gazing up at the ceiling, 'Come here.' He came, sat down on the edge of the couch and shook his head despondently. 'Kiss me,' she said, closing her eyes. 'I'll comfort you.'”