cene.

Her hatred for Burton seemed to increase the fascination of Neville. She
did not think of them together, but it always seemed to happen that,
immediately after thrusting away the toad-like picture of the chairman,
she thought of the blue-eyed boy. Yet her relations with Neville were
ill-fated. Some days after the foul incident in the change room, Neville
took her for one of his little 'busts.' As it was one of her late nights
he called for her at a quarter past nine. They walked towards the west
and, on the stroke of ten, Neville escorted her into one of the enormous
restaurants that the Refreshment Rendezvous, known to London as the
Ah-Ah, runs as anonymously as it may.

Victoria was amused. The R. R. was the owner of a palace, built, if not
for the classes, certainly not for the masses. Its facing was of
tortured Portland stone, where Greek columns, Italian, Louis XIV and
Tudor mouldings blended with rich Byzantine gildings and pre-Raphaelite
frescoes. Inside too, it was all plush, mainly red; gold again; palms,
fountains, with goldfish and tin ducks. The restaurant was quite a fair
imitation of the Carlton, but a table d'hote supper was provided for
eighteen pence, including finger bowls in which floated a rose petal.

Neville and Victoria sat at a small table made for two. She surrendered
her feet to the clasp of his. Around her were about two hundred couples
and a hundred family parties. Most of the young men were elaborately
casual; they wore blue or tweed suits, a few, frock coats marred by
double collars; they had a tendency to loll and to puff the insolent
tobacco smoke of virginias towards the distant roof. Their young ladies
talked a great deal and looked about. There was much wriggling of
chairs, much giggling, much pulling up of long gloves over bare arms. In
a corner, all alone, a young man in well-fitting evening clothes was
consuming in melancholy some chocolate and a sandwich.

Neville plied Victoria with the major part of a half bottle of claret.

'Burgundy's the thing,' he said. 'More body in it.'

'Yes, it is good, isn't it? I mustn't have any more, though.'

'Oh, you're all right,' said Neville indulgently. 'Let's have some
coffee and a liqueur.'

'No, no liqueur for me.'

'Well, coffee then. Here, waiter.'

Neville struggled for some minutes. He utterly failed to gain the ear of
the waiters.

'Let's go, Beauty,' said Victoria. 'I don't want any coffee. No, really,
I'd rather not