What had she cried out that night in the dark with her chin tilted up and her arms thrown out?
"I shall go joy-riding in that huge round-about.

If I can get anybody to pay my score, good.

If not, I'll pay it myself, whatever it costs.

My motto's going to be 'A good time as long as I can get it, and who cares for the price!'" Martin helped the porter to his feet, stanched his flow of County Kerry reproaches with a ten-dollar bill and went back into the Crystal Room.
He had gone there half an hour ago with a party of young people to kill loneliness and forget a bad hour of despair.

His friend, Howard Oldershaw, who had breezed him out of the reading room of the Yale Club, was one of the party.