He was also taking in the room.

It was close kin to the room in which he had left Miss Grierson: ornate, undistinguished, and very expensive.

He noted one slight difference: a tiny hallway giving on the corridor, its inner door now opened.
But the greatest difference was what he saw over Maggie's smooth white shoulders: a table all set with china and glass and silver, and arranged for five.
"Maggie, what's this game you're up to ?" he demanded.
"It's none of your business!" she said fiercely, but in a low tone--for both were instinctively remembering Miss Grierson in the adjoining room.
And then she added proudly: "But it's big! Bigger than anything you ever dreamed of! And you can see I am putting it across so far--and I'll be putting it across at the finish! Compare it to the cheap line you talked about.

Bah!" "Listen, Maggie!" In his intensity he gripped her bare forearm.

"This is bad business, and if you had any sense you'd know it! Don't you think I get the layout?
Barney is your cousin, Old Jimmie is your uncle, that dame in the next room and this suite and your swell clothes to help put up a front! And your sickness that wouldn't let you go to the theater is just a fake, so that, not wanting to disappoint them entirely, you'd have an excuse for having supper here--and thus adroitly draw some person into the trap of a more intimate relationship.