Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. So you are Prudence Remenham. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off.
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