"Both," she answered, "but mostly it's a sort of competition with men
for the prize. I'll tell you something about us if you like--we are not
made of sugar and spice and other pleasant bits, but only of two:
prostitute and mother. Not, of course, separately, or in equal parts;
some of us have more of one, others more of the other. That girl across
the table from you is all prostitute, the married woman you were
talking to is both, quite evenly divided; your wife is a mother, even
with her remarkable eyes." She stopped his obvious inquiry:

"I am an artist, and no one has yet discovered what that is. Do you
remember the straw you used to get with a glass of soda water? You see,
often I think I'm like that, a thing for bright colors to pour through.
It's very discouraging. There is Peyton, and he'll want to dance." She
rose, slipping out of her cloak.

Lee Randon saw Fanny not far away, and he dropped into a chair beside
her. "Well," he asked, "how is it going?"

"It seems all right," she told him, with one of her engaging smiles. "I
was surprised that you talked so long to Mina Raff; I had the idea you
didn't like her." Women, he reflected, were uncanny. "Three women are
just plastered up in the dressing-room," she continued; "Sophie Tane
ruined her dress completely, and Crystal Willard has been sobbing for
an hour. Lee, there are horrid bruises on her arm--do you think he is
brutal?"

He told her not to bother about the Willards, and then rose to get a
chair for Claire Morris. "Peyton is simply fascinated," Claire asserted
lightly. "This Mina ought to have something handsome for giving him
such a splendid time. She is a lovely wench, Lee."