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Book, page 311 / 370 metallic naked. The gold-threaded gauze slipped at her side. Aaron could not help watching the naked-seeming arch of her foot. It was as if she were dusted with dark gold-dust upon her marvellous nudity. She must have seen his face, seen that he was _ebloui_. "You brought the flute?" she said, in that toneless, melancholy, unstriving voice of hers. Her voice alone was the same: direct and bare and quiet. "Yes." "Perhaps I shall sing later on, if you'll accompany me. Will you?" "I thought you hated accompaniments." "Oh, no--not just unison. I don't mean accompaniment. I mean unison. I don't know how it will be. But will you try?" "Yes, I'll try." "Manfredi is just bringing the cocktails. Do you think you'd prefer orange in yours?" "Ill have mine as you have yours." "I don't take orange in mine. Won't you smoke?" The strange, naked, remote-seeming voice! And then the beautiful firm limbs thrust out in that dress, and nakedly dusky as with gold-dust. Her beautiful woman's legs, slightly glistening, duskily. His one abiding instinct was to touch them, to kiss them. He had never known a woman to exercise such power over him. It was a bare, occult force, something he could not cope with. Manfredi came in with the little tray. He was still in uniform. "Hello!" cried the little Italian. "Glad to see you--well, everything all right? Glad to hear it. How is the cocktail, Nan?"
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