Drouet had a habit, characteristic of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed or pretty women on the street and remarking upon them.

He had just enough of the feminine love of dress to be a good judge-not of intellect, but of clothes.

He saw how they set their little feet, how they carried their chins, with what grace ands sinuosity they swung their bodies.

A dainty, self-conscious swaying of the hips by a woman was to him as alluring as the glint of red wine to a toper.

He would turn and follow the disappearing vision with his eyes.