The Flesh And the Devil
“Nineteen, she reminded herself, and she over fifty, it mattered not by how much; she could have been his mother, almost his grandmother. But the child was becoming too expensive and must go. The fact grieved her less than it would have done a few weeks earlier, and considerably less than when, three months ago, she had first taken him to bed; his good looks were of the florid type that quickly palled, and they could only excuse his bull-like lack of finesse for a limited time. Now, his injured ...pride was of less importance than her straitened means.
She studied her own face with renewed attention, her gaze assessing, and her yellowish eyes stared back at her as coldly from the glass.
Her olive-toned skin was still fine, thank heaven; in this soft light the fretting mesh of wrinkles scarcely showed, and the one grey lock in her still sleek dark hair looked like an affectation rather than a prefigure of old age.
The thinness she had always regretted was an asset now, keeping her jaw firm, her neck unlined— almost unlined: it still looked well enough under a necklace.MoreLess
She studied her own face with renewed attention, her gaze assessing, and her yellowish eyes stared back at her as coldly from the glass.
Her olive-toned skin was still fine, thank heaven; in this soft light the fretting mesh of wrinkles scarcely showed, and the one grey lock in her still sleek dark hair looked like an affectation rather than a prefigure of old age.
The thinness she had always regretted was an asset now, keeping her jaw firm, her neck unlined— almost unlined: it still looked well enough under a necklace.MoreLess
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