looked like a yellow lampshade. He freely admitted having danced with her more than once; he was prepared to bear witness that he had concluded no further business with the lady; he could never hope to make anyone understand how bored he had been by her talk of the high cost of practically everything,—but as to two bottles of champagne, dear but not good champagne, he would have no hesitation in telling St. Peter at the pearly gates that he would have seen the lady in tophet first—in short any man with a sense of logic would see—did they realize they were talking to the son of the Professor Thanet!—
But he paid. And that left him barely enough francs to placate the dragon in charge of his hat and stick.
After that there had been the unexpected damp coolness of the air, the green-gray of the houses, the stale slatey smell of the pavements as waiters in aprons and shirt-sleeves sluiced water over them in preparation for a rapidly approaching morrow.
As he set out for the rue Truffaut he wondered idly what had become of his companions. One by one he had lost sight of them. By now each had disappeared into a furtive side street, accompanied by some night-moth with gay wings and sore feet. "Lulu, Froufrou, Dodo—" Max would no doubt spring forth at noon, undismayed by strange walls and a pink dress over the chair, and proceed to the nearest cafe to drink coffee and jot down harmonies built up on unheard-of
