\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. The man asked twelve guineas, but after a little bargaining, he came down to ten. He sat down beside her just as the room became darker. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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