ed when men did.

They filled their glasses. Victoria liked champagne. She watched the
little bubbles rise, and drank the glass down. It was soft and warm. How
strong she felt suddenly. The conversation did not flag. The man was
leaning towards her across the table, talking quickly. He punctuated
every joke with a high laugh.

'Oh, I say, give us a chance,' floated from the next table. Victoria
looked. It was one of the English girls. She was propped up on one elbow
on the table; her legs were crossed showing a long slim limb and slender
ankle in a white open work stocking. A man in evening dress with a
foreign looking dark face was caressing her bare arm.

'Penny for your thoughts,' said Victoria's man.

'Wasn't thinking,' she said. 'I was looking.'

'Looking? are you new here?'

'Yes, it's the first time I've come.'

'By Jove! It _must_ be an eye-opener.' He laughed.

'It is rather. It doesn't seem half bad.'

'You're right there. I'm an old stager.' A slightly complacent
expression came over his face. He filled up the glasses. 'You don't
spoil the collection, you know,' he added. 'You're a bit of all right.'
He looked at her approvingly.

'Am I?' She looked at him demurely. Then, plunging once more, 'I hope
you'll still think so by and by.' The man's eyes dwelled for a moment on
her face and neck, his breath became audible suddenly. She felt his
foot softly stroke hers. He drew his napkin across his lips.

'Well,' he said with an assumption of ease, 'shall we go?'

'I don't mind,' said Victoria getting up.

It was with a beating heart that Victoria climbed into the cab. As soon
as he got in the man put his arm round her waist and drew her to him.
She resisted gently but gave way as his arm grew more insistent.

'Coy little puss.' His face was very near her upturned eyes. She felt it
come nearer. Then, suddenly, he kissed her on the lips. She wanted to
struggle; she was a little frightened. The lights of Piccadilly filled
her with shame. They spoke very little. The man held her close to him.
As the cab rattled through Portland Place, he seized her once more. She
fought down the repulsion with which his breath inspired: it was scented
with strong cigars and champagne. Victoriously she coiled one arm round
his neck and kissed him on the mouth. In her disgust there was a blend
of triumph; not even her own feelings could resist her will.

As she waited on the doorstep while he paid the cabman a great fear