John nodded.
"That is between ourselves, you understand."
"Of course."
Rags groped on the table for her untouched champagne, and tipped the glassful down her throat.
"Baron Marchbanks requests that your companion will join his party during this number."
Both men looked at Rags. There was a moment's pause.
"Very well," she said, and glanced back again interrogatively at John. Again he nodded. She rose and with her heart beating wildly threaded the tables, making the half-circuit of the room; then melted, a slim figure in shimmering gold, into the table set in half-darkness.
IV
The number drew to a close, and John Chestnut sat alone at his table, stirring auxiliary bubbles in his glass of champagne. Just before the lights went on, there was a soft rasp of gold cloth, and Rags, flushed and breathing quickly, sank into her chair. Her eyes were shining with tears.
John looked at her moodily.