You're a big, insulting"-- here she hesitated and used no word at all--"or you wouldn't talk that way." She had secured her hat and jacket and slipped the latter on over her little evening dress.

Some wisps of wavy hair had loosened from the bands at the side of her head and were straggling over her hot, red cheeks.

She was angry, mortified, grief-stricken.

Her large eyes were full of the anguish of tears, but her lids were not yet wet.

She was distracted and uncertain, deciding and doing things without an aim or conclusion, and she had not the slightest conception of how the whole difficulty would end.
"Well, that's a fine finish," said Drouet.