amount of comfort; and perhaps thirty-eight now were
successfully claiming an interest in it. Not at the end, but about a third
of the way down one side, Madame Foa brewed tea in a copper receptacle over
a spirit lamp. At the other extremity was a battalion of glasses, some
syphons and some lofty bottles. Except for a border of teacups and glasses
the rest of the white expanse was empty, save that two silver biscuit boxes
and a silver cigarette box wandered up and down it according to the needs
of the community. Audrey was sitting next to the Oriental musical critic,
on her left, and on her right she had a beautiful stout woman who could
speak nothing but Polish, but who expressed herself very clearly in the
language of smiles, nods, and shrugs; to Audrey she seemed to be extremely
romantic; the musical critic could converse somewhat in Polish, and
occasionally he talked across Audrey to the Pole. Several other languages
were flying about. The subject of discussion was feminism, chiefly as
practised in England. It was Miss Ingate who had begun it; her striking and
peculiar appearance, and in particular her frock, had given importance to
her lightest word. People who comprehended naught of English listened to
her entranced. The host, who was among these, stood behind her in a state
of ecstasy. Her pale forehead reddened; her sardonic grin became
deliciously self-conscious. "I know I'm skidding," she cried. "I know I'm
skidding."

"What does she say? Skeed--skeed?" demanded the host.

Audrey interpreted. Shouts of laughter!

"Oh! These English! These Englishwomen!" said the host. "I adore them. I
adore them all. They alone exist."

"It's vehy serious!" protested Miss Ingate. "It's vehy serious!"

"We shall go to London to-morrow, shan't we, Winnie?" said Audrey across
the table to her.

"Yes," agreed Miss Ingate. "I think we ought. We're as free as birds. When
the police have broken our arms we can come back to Paris to recover. I
shan't feel comfortable until I've been and had my arm broken--it's vehy
serious."

"What does she say? What is it that she says?" from the host.

More interpretation. More laughter, but this time an impressed laughter.
And Audrey perceived that just as she was regarding the Polish woman as
romantic, so the whole company was regarding herself and Miss Ingate as
romantic. She could feel the polite, curious eyes of twenty men upon her;
and her mind seemed to stiffen into a formidable reso