Doris yawned again, then shivered.
"Go to bed, ducky," said Athalie. "I'll wait up for Catharine."
So Doris took herself off to bed and Athalie sank into the shabby
arm-chair by the radiator to wait for her other sister.
It was two o'clock when she came in, flushed, vague-eyed, a rather
silly and fixed smile on her doll-like face. Athalie, on the verge of
sleep, rose from her chair, rubbing her eyes: "What on earth, Catharine--"
"We had supper,--that's why I'm late.... I've got to have a dinner
gown I tell you. Genevieve's is the smartest thing--"
"Where did you go?"
"To the Regina. I didn't want to--dressed this way but Cecil Reeve
said--"
"Who?"
"Cecil--Mr. Reeve--one of Genevieve's friends--the man who was so
crazy to meet me--"
"Oh! Who else was there?" asked Athalie drily.
"A Mr. Ferris--Harry Ferris they call him. He's quite mad about
Genevieve--"
"Why did you drink anything?"
"I?"
"You did, didn't you?"
"I had a glass of champagne."
"What else?"
"Nothing--except something pink in a glass--before we sat down to
supper.... And something violet coloured, afterward."
"Your breath is dreadful; do you realise it?"
Catharine seemed surprised, then her eyes wandered vaguely, drowsily,
and she laid her gloved hand on Athalie's arm as though to steady
herself.
"What sort of man is your new friend, Cecil Reeve?" inquired Athalie.
"He's nice--a gentleman. And they were so amusing;--we laughed so
much.... I told him he might call.... He's really all right,
Athalie--"
"And Mr. Ferris?"
"Well--I don't know about him; he's Genevieve's friend;--I don't know
him so well.... But of course he's all right--a gentleman--"
"That's the trouble," said Athalie in a low voice.
"What is the trouble?"
"These friends of yours--and of Doris, and of mine ... they're
gentlemen.... And that is why we find them agreeable, socially.... But
when they desire social amusement they know where to find it."
"Where?"
"Where girls who work for a living are unknown. Where they never are
asked, never go, never are expected to go. But that is where such men
are asked, where such men are expected; and it is where they go for
social diversion--not to the Regina with two of Winton's models, nor
to the Cafe Arabesque with an Egyptian Garden chorus girl, nor--" she
hesitated, flushed, and was silent, staring mentally at the image of
C. Bailey, Jr., which her logic and philosophy had inevitably evoked.