If she were interested in a prostitute, she didn't, with a laborious
self-consciousness, avoid that term; she was neither obviously aware of
those fragile vessels of pleasure nor ignorant of them; indeed, Lee
told himself, she was more a part of their world, however continent she
might remain, than she was of Fanny's.
Fanny, here, would have been equally fascinated and shocked; but,
essentially, she'd be hurt; and, at the same time, rebellious with the
innate resentment of the pure, the contained, for the free. She would
never have agreed to the champagne, either; they would have ordered
lemonades or claret cup; and, by midnight, gone back to the hotel. It
was now past two o'clock. There was no lessening in the vigor of the
dancing, the laughter, or in the stream of laden trays; no trace of
fatigue in Mrs. Grove. She had the determined resilience of a woman
approaching, perhaps, the decline, but not yet in it; of one who had
danced into innumerable sun-rises from the night before, destroying
many dozens of pairs of satin slippers.
When it occurred to her to gather up the petal-like folds of her cloak,
get her hands into the gloves rolled back on her wrists, it was nearer
three than two. A hollow voice on the street called the number of the
Grove automobile, the door closed smoothly on them, and again she was
absorbed into the cushions and her wrap.
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