His faith in that was absolute.

If there had been a last question in his mind, it was wiped away because she called him Jeems.

Yet this room seemed to give the lie to his faith.

Fascinated by his discovery of things, he drew away from the door and stood over the dressing-table in front of the mirror.
Marette had not prepared the room for him, and her possessions were there.

It did not strike him as sacrilege to look at them, the many intimate little things that are mysteriously used in the process of a lady's toilette.