challenge in it.

"Any baggage, sir?" asked one of the station hands.

"No." But I asked him to direct me to a hotel. He did so.

I made my way down the street. The wind had veered around and was
coming in from the sea, pure and cold. The storm-clouds were broken
and scudding like dark ships, and at times there were flashes of
radiant moonshine.

The fashionable hotel was full. So I plodded through the drifts to the
unfashionable hotel. Here I found accommodation. I dressed, sometimes
laughing, sometimes whistling, sometimes standing motionless in doubt.
Bah! It was only a lark. . . . I thought of the girl in Mouquin's;
how much better it would have been to spend the evening with her,
exchanging badinage, and looking into each other's eyes! Pshaw! I
covered my face with the grey mask and descended to the street.

The trolley ran within two miles of the Hunt Club. The car was crowded
with masqueraders, and for the first time since I started out I felt
comfortable. Everybody laughed and talked, though nobody knew who his
neighbor was. I sat in a corner, silent and motionless as a sphinx.
Once a pair of blue slippers attracted my eye, and again the flash of a
lovely arm. At the end of the trolley line was a carryall which was to
convey us to the club. We got into the conveyance, noisily and
good-humoredly. The exclamations of the women were amusing.

"Good gracious!"