The restaurant was still full of people, the hum of conversation almost drowning the music.

Every one glanced curiously at Lady Carey, who was a famous woman.

She carried herself with a certain insolent indifference, the national deportment of her sex and rank.

The women whispered together that she was "very English." In the lobby she turned suddenly upon Mr.Sabin.
"Will you take me back to my hotel ?" she asked pointedly.
"I regret that I cannot," he answered.

"I have promised to show Felix some of the wonders of New York by night." "You can take him to-morrow." "To-morrow," Mr.Sabin said, "he leaves for the West." She looked closely into his impassive face.
"I suppose that you are lying," she said shortly.
"Your candour," he answered coldly, "sometimes approaches brutality." She leaned towards him, her face suddenly softened.
"We are playing a foolish game with one another," she murmured.