a chair, on which she had piled up coats and cloaks, from the onward
pushing of the crowd.

"Surely I know her," cried Steiner, the moment he perceived Fauchery.
"I'm certain I've seen her somewhere--at the casino, I imagine, and she
got herself taken up there--she was so drunk."

"As for me," said the journalist, "I don't quite know where it was. I am
like you; I certainly have come across her."

He lowered his voice and asked, laughing:

"At the Tricons', perhaps."

"Egad, it was in a dirty place," Mignon declared. He seemed exasperated.
"It's disgusting that the public give such a reception to the first
trollop that comes by. There'll soon be no more decent women on the
stage. Yes, I shall end by forbidding Rose to play."

Fauchery could not restrain a smile. Meanwhile the downward shuffle
of the heavy shoes on the steps did not cease, and a little man in a
workman's cap was heard crying in a drawling voice:

"Oh my, she ain't no wopper! There's some pickings there!"

In the passage two young men, delicately curled and formally resplendent
in turndown collars and the rest, were disputing together. One of
them was repeating the words, "Beastly, beastly!" without stating any
reasons; the other was replying with the words, "Stunning, stunning!" as
though he, too, disdained all argument.