Never!" "Remember, Matilda.

You have sworn." And relieved of that menace, she leaned back.
The taxi drew up before the Dauphin.

A grenadier-lackey, who seemed bulk and brass buttons and braid of gold, handed them out with august white gloves.
"Pay the fare, Matilda," ordered Mrs.De Peyster.
Mrs.De Peyster's bills, when she had a servant with her, were always paid by the attendant.

Matilda did so, out of a square black leather bag that was never out of Matilda's fingers when Matilda was out of the house; it seemed almost a flattened extension of Matilda's hand.
They entered the Dauphin, passing other white-gloved lackeys, each a separate perfection of punctiliousness; and passed through a marble hallway, muted with rugs of the Orient, and came into a vast high chamber, large as a theater--marble walls and ceiling, tapestries, moulded plaster and gilt in moderation, silken ropes instead of handrails on the stairways, electric lights so shaded that each looked a huge but softly unobtrusive pearl.

The chamber was pervaded by, was dedicated to, splendid repose.
Mrs.De Peyster, Matilda trailing, headed for a booth of marble and railing of dull gold--the latter, possibly, only bronze, or gilded iron--within which stood a gentleman in evening dress, with the bearing of one no lower than the first secretary of an embassy.
"A suite," Mrs.De Peyster remarked briefly across the counter, "with sitting-room, two bed-rooms and bath." "Certainly," said the distinguished gentleman.