“Hainault was Celeste’s friend, and Celeste was Annabel’s enemy,” Courtlaw said. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. . No means were neglected to accomplish this end.
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