Her gown hung closely to her lissom and rather full form.

A singular expression of excitement, of titillation, almost wild, a softer expression almost dreamy, died out of her face.

Lane saw Swann lead Helen up to a small table beside the Victrola.

Here stood a large pitcher of lemonade, and a number of glasses.

Swann filled a glass half full, from the pitcher, and then, deliberately pulling a silver flask from his hip pocket he poured some of its dark red contents into the glass.