"But you're not, are you?" he persisted.
"What's that to you?"
He hesitated and changed the subject, fearful lest his tongue compromise him.
"What shall we do now? Don't say a roof garden. Let's get out of this infernal smother. I vote for a taxi ride to Manhattan Beach."
Joan assented.
Leaving, they passed Salute's table. Joan gave the dancer a distant and chilling greeting, and swept haughtily past, ignoring his offer to rise. The insolent irony of his eyes was incredibly offensive to her. They said: "I am waiting, I am patient, I make no effort, I am inevitable."
She swore in her soul that she would prove them wrong.
In the taxicab Fowey made some slighting reference to the dancer.
"He's the devil!" Joan declared with profound conviction.
But she wouldn't explain her reasons for so naming him.