!

The next day, Sunday, he took the Runaway out of her garage early, and
drove, earlier than the hour Roselle had mentioned, to the flat which
she shared with another woman swimming down the same stream as herself
and catching at the same straws.

She was not dressed; when a charwoman let him in upon the Sunday
morning debris of the place, Roselle's voice rang shrill and
ill-tempered down the corridor.

"Osborn, that you already? I'm not dressed; I've not breakfasted; I'm
not even awake. Just put your head in here and see."

Following the direction of the voice, he opened a door a few inches,
and put his head round. An array of women's litter confronted him
strewn on every available chair, on dressing-table and floor. The
windows must have been closed, or nearly so; the blinds were down;
there was a faint reek of perfume and spirits and stale cigarette
smoke in the room; and in two narrow tumbled beds were two women, one
whose head was still drowsy on her pillow, and Roselle, who sat up in
a pale blue nightgown with a black ribbon girdled high about the
waist, and her raven hair in a mop over her eyes.

"What a fug!" said Osborn.

"All right," said Roselle, "go away, then! I shall be an hour
dressing. You'd better wait in the sitting-room; there's a Sunday
paper there, and a fire if the woman's lighted it."

The woman was kindling the fire hastily and grumbling when he went
into the sitting-room, still in its state of early morning frowsiness.
The curtains had been pulled aside to let in the morning, but the
windows were not yet open, and empty liqueur glasses had not been
removed from the table.

"It's early for visitors," grumbled the charwoman. "I don't reckon to
come till nine on a Sunday morning, and I start with the washing-up,
and none of the rooms ain't done."

"I don't care a straw," said Osborn irritably, walking to a window. He
flung it up and heard the drab creature behind him shudder resentfully
at the inrush of raw air. He put his hands in his pockets, staring out
and emitting a tuneless whistle. All was awry, unprofitable and stale
as the cigarette smoke of which the place reeked.

Roselle was not an hour dressing, in spite of her threat. By eleven
they were away.

* * * * *

It happened that the only woman Osborn had taken down to Brighton for
the day, before he took Roselle, was Marie; and harmless as the
proceeding was, it affected him for a while as any