A new thought checked her steps and she froze. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. 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. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat.
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