His drastic criticism had been like water on a duck's back.

It inspired amusement and nothing else.

It was his remark that Martin Gray had chucked her and found some human real person that had stuck, and this, with the efficiency of a surgeon's knife, had cut her sham complacence and opened up the old wound from which she had tried so hard to persuade herself that she had recovered.

Martin-Martin-what was he doing?
Where was he, and where was that girl with the white face and the red lips and the hair that came out of a bottle?
The old overwhelming desire to see Martin again had been unconsciously set blazing by this tactless and provoked man.

It was so passionate and irresistible that she could hardly remain at the table until the replete Cornucopia rose, rattling with beads.