"And what does that mean?"
"I am saddened to contemplate the infirmities of my countrymen, these Americans who can't rest in Paris until they find some place as deadly as any Broadway boasts, these English who adore beautiful Paris solely because here they may continue to get drunk publicly after half-past twelve!"
"Ah, then it's la barbe, is it not?" said the girl, gingerly stroking her faded, painted cheek.
"It is true: I am bored."
"Then why not go where you're wanted?" She drained her glass at a gulp and jumped up, swirling her skirts. "Your cab is waiting, monsieur—and perhaps you will find it more amusing with that Pack!"
Flinging herself into the arms of another girl, she swung away, grinning impishly at Lanyard over her partner's shoulder.
VIII
THE HIGH HAND
Evidently his first move toward departure was signalled; for as he passed out through L'Abbaye's doors the carriage-porter darted forward and saluted.
"Monsieur Lanyarr'?"