Linda watched Pleydon as he met Markue in the middle of the room. He
was dressed carelessly, improperly for the evening; but she forgave
that as the result of indifference. The informal flannels and soft
collar, too, suited the largeness of his being and gestures. There
was a murmur of meeting, Susanna Noda smiled appealingly; and then,
as Pleydon found a place on a divan, she at once contentedly sat on
his lap. Watching her, Linda thought of a brilliant parrot; but that
was only the effect of her color; for her face, with a tilted nose
and wide golden eyes, generous warm lips, was charming. She lighted
a cigarette, turned her graceful back on the room and company, and
chatted in French to the composed sculptor.

Linda divined that he was the most impressive figure she had
encountered; the quality of his indifference was beautiful and could
only have come in the security of being a "tremendous swell." That
phrase described all for which she had cared most. It included
everything that her mother had indicated as desirable and a lot that
she, Linda, had added. Money, certainly, was an absolute necessity;
but there were other things now that vaguely she desired. She tried
to decide what they were.

Only the old inner confusion resulted, the emotion that might have
been born in music; however, it was sharper than usual, and bred a
new dissatisfaction with the easier accomplishments. Really it was
very disturbing, for the pressure of her entire experience, all she
had been told, could be exactly weighed and held. The term luxury,
too, was revealing; it covered everything--except her present
unformed longing.