d talking as she passed. A porter flung the
glazed door open. A short man in evening dress looked at her, then at
the manager. After a second's hesitation the two men in tweeds followed
her in.

The manager put his hands in his pockets, walked up to the other man and
nodded towards the door.

'_Pas mal, hein?_'

'_Epatante,_' said the short man. '_Du chic. Et une peau!_'

The manager smiled and turned to go downstairs. '_Surveillez moi ca
Anatole,_' he said.

Victoria, meanwhile, had stopped for a moment on the threshold, a little
dazed by the scene. Though it was only half-past ten, the eighty tables
of the Vesuvius were almost every one occupied; the crowd looked at
first like a patchwork quilt. The room was all white and gold like the
hall; a soft radiance fell from the lights hidden in the cornice; two
heavy chandeliers with faintly pink electric bulbs and a few pink shaded
lights on the table diffused a roseate glow over the scene. Victoria
felt like an intruder, and her discomfiture was heightened by the
gripping hot perfume. But already a waiter was by her side; she let him
be her pilot. In a few seconds she found herself sitting at a small
table alone, near the middle of the room. The waiter reappeared almost
at once carrying on a tray a liqueur glass containing some colourless
fluid. She had ordered nothing, but his adroitness relieved her. Clearly
the expert had divined her inexperience and had resolved to smooth her
way.

She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped at it. It was good stuff,
rather strong. The burn on her palate seemed to brace her; she looked
round the room. It was a peculiar scene; for the Vesuvius is a luxurious
place, and a provincial might well be excused for thinking it was the
Carlton or the Savoy; indeed there was something more outwardly opulent
about it. It suggested a place where men not only spent what they had
but spent more. But for a few men in frock-coats and tweeds it would
have been almost undistinguishable from the recognised resorts of
fashion. Victoria took stock of her surroundings; of the shining plate
and glass, the heavy red carpet, the red and gold curtains, drawn but
fluttering at the open windows. The guests, however, interested her
more. At half the tables sat a woman and a man, at others a woman alone
before a little glass. What struck her above all was the beauty of the
women, the wealth they carried on their bodies. Hardly one of them
seemed over thirty;