She let out a wail. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss.
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