"What'll you give me for it?" he teased.
It was the first spur that her instinct of conscious seductiveness had ever known. She replied instantly:
"Anything."
"You're on. Wait for me right there."
While he was gone, a long time as it seemed to her, she stood surging with an exultant inner turmoil. A man and a girl passed close to her, unseeing in the bar of light. The girl's eyes wore a strange, sleepy expression as if the lids were almost too heavy to hold open. The man's shoulder was pressed close upon her. They disappeared. Strange scents of the night crept into Pat's brain; made her remember things she had never known. The music, softened through intervening walls, was pleading sensuously, urging upon her something mysterious and desirable. She felt her nerves like strung wires already tingling with electric forces but awaiting the supreme shock.
"Drink, pretty creature!" The gay, insinuating, mirthful voice was close to her.
"You've only half filled it," she complained, taking the glass.
"Must have spilled some. In such a hurry to get back to you," he explained. "There's plenty more where it came from if you like it."
"I don't," she gasped. The liquid, of which she had taken a generous swallow, stung in her throat. She poured the rest out upon the ground. "Here," she said holding out the glass to him.