A telephone bell rang in the distance, and presently a toreador stood on a
chair and pierced the music with a message of yells in French, and the room
hugely guffawed and cheered.

"Where is the host?" Audrey asked.

"That's what the telephoning was about," said Tommy, speaking loudly
against the hubbub. "He hasn't come yet. He had to rush off this afternoon
to do pastel portraits of two Russian princesses at St. Germain, and he
hasn't got back yet. The telephone was to say that he's started."

Then one of the introduced--it was a girl wearing a mask--took Audrey by
the waist and whirled her strongly away and she was lost in the maze.
Audrey's first impulse was to protest, but she said to herself: "Why
protest? This is what we're here for." And she gave herself up to the
dance. Her partner held her very firmly, somewhat bending over her.
Neither spoke. Gyrating in long curves, with the other dancers swishing
mysteriously about them like the dancers of a dream, and the music as far
off as another world, they clung together in the rhythm and in the
enchantment, until the music ceased.... The strong girl threw Audrey
carelessly off, and walked away, breathing hard. And there was something in
the strong girl's nonchalant and curt departure which woke a chord in
Audrey's soul that had never been wakened before. Audrey could scarcely
credit that she was on the same planet as Essex. She had many dances with
men whom she hoped and believed she had been introduced to by Tommy, and no
less than seventeen persons of either sex told her in unusual English that
they had heard she wanted to learn French and that they would like to teach
her; and then she met Musa, the devil.

Musa, with an indolent and wistful smile, suggested the roof. Audrey was