Suddenly Mavis felt a vaguely pleasant confusion of mind, as though
the icily cold liquid, as she slowly absorbed it through the straw,
was freezing her intelligence. She could not for a few moments
understand what Dale was whispering at her ear.
"Between you and me and the post, Mav"--And he told her that,
according to his opinion, all these women parading up and down were no
better than they ought to be. They were of course, socially, much
higher than the common women of the streets, but he considered them to
be, morally, on the same level: although they did not accost
strangers, they were all willing to scrape acquaintance with any one
who looked as if he had money in his pocket. "Yes, London's a bit of
an eye-opener, old girl." Then he laughed behind his hand, and said
that she was probably the only respectable woman and virtuous wife in
the whole of the theater.
Mavis, although trying to listen, answered at random.
"Will, I do believe there's spirits in this stuff--yes, and strong
spirits too."
"Oh, bosh. It's just a refresher. Mostly crushed ice, and a few drops
of sirup."
Mavis, however, was quite correct. At the bottom of the glass, and
below the light sirupy mixture, there lurked liqueurs of which the
potency was only rendered doubtful because of their low temperature.
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