off--as a tried man-of-the-world. And at her given moment the star
performer made a dramatic entry into the midst of them, a cloak of pale
blue brocade thrown over her scanty dress and her plumes still tossing
from the elaborately tousled head.

They greeted her with hand-clapping and laughter, and she held out her
thin arms, embracing them as old friends. In her attitude and in her
eyes which passed rapidly from one to another, there was good-humoured
understanding. She knew probably what the more immaculate among them
thought of her, and that they were there to boast about it as English
people boast of having visited Montmartre at midnight. It was daring
and amusing to be at this woman's notorious dinners. They thought they
patronized her, whatever else they knew. But in reality the joke was
on her side.

"_Allons_--to ze feast, friends."

She had seen Robert Stonehouse, and she went straight to him, waving
the rest aside like a flock of importunate pigeons, and took his arm.
"You and I lead the way, _Monsieur le docteur_."

He did not answer. He was glad that she had signalled him out. It
smoothed his raw pride. And yet he thought: "This is her way of making
fun of me." And he hated her and the scented warmth of her slim body
as it brushed lightly against his. He hated his own excited triumph.
For the first time he became aware of something definitely abnormal in
himself, as though a dead skin had been stripped off his senses and he
had begun to see and hear with a primitive and stupefying clearness.

The rest followed them noisily along grimy, winding passages and