She seemed to read his thoughts as she laughed at him.
"You stupid boy," she said. "You don't suppose that I want to be
like them, do you? There are lots of things it's delightful to
look on at, and that's all. Isn't this fish good? I love this
place."
Tavernake looked around him with an interest which he took no
pains to conceal. Certainly the little groups of people by whom
they were surrounded on every side had the air of finding some
zest in life which up to the present, at any rate, had escaped
him. They came streaming in, finding friends everywhere,
laughing and talking, insisting upon tables in impossible places,
calling out greetings to acquaintances across the room, chaffing
the maitre d'h“tel who was hastening from table to table. The
gathering babel of voices was mingled every now and then with the
popping of corks, and behind it all were the soft strains of a
very seductive little band, perched up in the balcony. Tavernake
felt the color mounting into his cheeks. It was true: there was
something here which was new to him!
"Beatrice," he asked her suddenly, "have you ever drunk
champagne?"
She laughed at him.
"Often, my dear brother," she answered. "Why?"
"I never have," he confessed. "We are going to have some now."
She would have checked him but he had summoned a waiter
imperiously and given his order.
"My dear Leonard," she protested, "this is shocking
extravagance."
"Is it?" he replied.
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