shown equally plainly that she didn't want him to remain with her alone.
He wondered how long Ramsey would be staying in Paris, and what effect
his presence would have on his intercourse with Madame de Corantin. Would
he be able to see as much of her or would she drop him in favour of
Ramsey. The thought tortured him, but it wormed its way more and more
into his brain. Bobby had very little confidence in his powers of
pleasing; it was a common experience of his to be thrown over in favour
of men much less attractive to women than Ramsey. It was true that
hitherto he had not much cared, and when he had been given the "go-by" he
had always reflected that there were as good fish in the sea, and so on;
but that wasn't the case now.

Thinking deeply, he had reached the entrance of Maxim's without knowing
it, but looking in, he turned away in disgust; he had no desire to face
the crowd inside, he wanted to think things over. He walked on up the
Boulevard de la Madeleine, and with every step his jealousy increased.
The suspicion rankled; he felt certain that Ramsey would somehow or other
manage to see her again before he could--why, he might even contrive to
do so that very evening. He knew that Ramsey would dare anything where
women were concerned. Very likely while he was walking up the Boulevard,
Ramsey was sitting in her room.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. Turning, he walked swiftly back to
the hotel; it was a little past eleven, too early to go to bed, too late
in a darkened and subdued Paris to do anything else. He wondered where
Ramsey was, and, going to the porter, asked him casually if he had seen
him.

No, he had not seen Monsieur Ramsey since he had gone upstairs half an
hour ago; he supposed he had gone to bed.