Audrey had ever seen; men and women, girls and old men, even a few children
with their mothers. Liquids were of every colour, ices chromatic, and the
scarlet of lobster made a luscious contrast with the shaded tints of
salads. In the extreme background men were playing billiards at three
tables. Though nearly everybody was talking, no one talked loudly, so that
the resulting monotone of conversation was a gentle drone, out of which
shot up at intervals the crash of crockery or a hoarse command. And this
drone combined itself with the glittering light, and with the mild warmth
that floated in waves through the open windows, and with the red plush of
the seats, and with the rosiness of painted nymphs on the blue walls, and
with the complexions of women's faces, and their hats and frocks, and with
the hues of the liquids--to produce a totality of impression that made
Audrey dizzy with ecstasy. This was not the Paris set forth by Madame
Piriac, but it was a wondrous Paris, and in Audrey's esteem not far removed
from heaven.

Miss Ingate, magnificently pale, followed Tommy and Nick with ironic
delight up the long passage between the tables. Her eyes seemed to be
saying: "I am overpowered, and yet there is something in me that is not
overpowered, and by virtue of my kind-hearted derision I, from Essex, am
superior to you all!" Audrey, with glance downcast, followed Miss Ingate,
and Musa came last, sinuously. Nobody looked up at them more than casually,
but at intervals during the passage Tommy and Nick nodded and smiled: "How
d'ye do? How d'ye do?" "_Bon soir,_" and answers were given in American or
French voices.

They came to rest near the billiard tables, and near an aperture with a
shelf where all the waiters congregated to shout their orders. A
grey-haired waiter, with the rapidity and dexterity of a conjurer, laid a
cloth over the marble round which they sat, Audrey and Miss Ingate on the