lertly and pleasurably, and went to
sit beside her. Such invitations from young women holding themselves
apart in obscurity are never received without excitement and never
unanswered.

Crimson curtains of brocaded silk would have cut off the embrasure
entirely from the room had they been fully drawn, but they were not
fully drawn; one was not drawn at all, and the other was only half
drawn. Still, the mere fact of the curtains, drawn or undrawn, did
morally separate the embrasure from the _salon_; and the shadows
thickened in front of the window. The smile had gone from Lois's face,
but it had been there. Sequins glittered on her dark dress, the line of
the low neck of which was distinct against the pallor of the flesh.
George could follow the outlines of her slanted, plump body from the
hair and freckled face down to the elaborate shoes. The eyes were half
closed. She did not speak. The figure of Laurencine, whose back was
towards the window, received an aura from the electric light immediately
over the music-stand of the piano. She played brilliantly. She played
with a brilliance that astonished George.... She was exceedingly clever,
was this awkward girl who had not long since left school Her body might
be awkward, but not her hands. The music radiated from the piano and
filled the room with brightness, with the illusion of the joy of life,
and with a sense of triumph. To George it was an intoxication.

A man-servant entered with a priceless collection of bon-bons, some of
which he deferentially placed on a small table in the embrasure. To do
so he had to come into the embrasure, disturbing the solitude, which had
already begun to exist, of Lois and George. He ignored the pair. His
sublime indifference seemed to say: "I am beyond good and evil." But at
the same time it left them more sensitively awake to themselves than
before. The hostess indolently muttered an order to the man, and in
passing the door on his way out he extinguished several lights. The
place and the hour grew romantic. George was impressed by the scene, and
he eagerly allowed it to impress him. It was, to him, a marvellous
scene; the splendour of the apartment, the richly attired girls, the
gay, exciting music, the spots of high light, the glooms, the glimpses
everywhere of lovely objects. He said to himself: "I was born for this."

Lois turned her head slowly and looked out of the window.

"Wonderful view from here," she murmured.

George turn