” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. Cathy threw Mike a look. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm.
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