of May fell straight and deep as a plummet
to the bed of the ocean of despair, there to lie long submerged. But to
one who had rejected death, life would not hold out oblivion. Life with
all its cold insistence called her once more to the surface; thence to
make for whatever beach chance should offer. Jenny, scarcely conscious
of any responsibleness for her first struggles, clutched at
suffragism--a support for which life never intended her. However, it
served to help her ashore; and now, with some of the cynicism that
creeps into the adventurer's life, she looked around for new adventures.
Her desire to revenge herself on men was superseded by anxiety to
rediscover the savor of living. Her instinct was now less to hurt others
than to indulge herself. A year's abstention from the episodic existence
spent by Irene and her before Maurice had created an illusion of
permanence, had given that earlier time a romantic charm; and a revival
of it seemed fraught with many possibilities of a more widely extended
wonder. One evening late in October she asked Irene casually, as if
there had been no interval of desuetude, whether she were coming out. To
this inquiry her friend, without any manifestation of surprise,
answered in the affirmative. It was characteristic of both girls, this
manner of resuming a friendship.

Now began a period not worth a detailed chronicle, since it was merely a
repetition of a period already discussed--a repetition, moreover, that
like most anachronisms seemed after other events jejune and somewhat
tawdry. The young men were just as young as those of earlier years; but
Irene and Jenny were older and, if before they had found it hard to
tolerate these ephemeral encounters, they found it harder still now. The
result of this was that, where once a single whisky and soda was enough,
now three or four scarcely availed to pass away the time. Neither of the
girls drank too much in more than a general sense, but it was an omen of
flying youth when whiskies were invoked to give an edge to existence.

One evening they sat in the Cafe d'Afrique, laughing to each other over
the physical and social oddities of two Norwegians who had constituted
themselves their hosts on the strength of a daring stage-door
introduction. As Jenny paused in her laughter to catch some phrase of
melody in the orchestra, she saw Castleton drawing near their table. He
stopped in doubt, and looked at her from wide, gray eyes very eager
und