CHAPTER FIVEGisela put out her hand and touched the soft sable rug that covered her knees. Then with the tips of her fingers she explored the tight-fitting velvet bodice and the furs that encircled her neck.
It was hard to believe that she was really wearing such things, clothes that clung to her with a soft silken sheen and which were scented with a sweet haunting perfume that accompanied her wherever she went and seemed to make a background for her thoughts and feelings.
Could it really be true that this was herself – Gisela, the neglected, unfortunate girl who spent so many nights and days of her life in tears, who must wince away, not once but a dozen times a day, from the blows that were aimed at her, who must listen without replying to a thousand invectives disclaiming and abusing
