She clung to it desperately, as other women cling to jewels, knowing that when this is gone no more will follow.

When the child was born Milly Pardee wanted to name her Myrtle but her husband had said, suddenly, “No, call her Maxine.”

“After whom?” In Mrs. Pardee’s code you named a child “after” someone.

He had seen Maxine Elliott in the heyday of her cold, clear, brainless beauty, with her great, slightly protuberant eyes set so far apart, her exquisitely chiselled white nose, and her black black hair. She had thrilled him.

“After my Uncle Max that lives in — uh — Australia.”

“I’ve never heard you talk of any Uncle Max,”