when lilian was alone in her room she thought anxiously:
"supposing he should want more brandy in the night--there is none!"
the travelling flask was now empty. (in the emergency, hot water from the lavatory-basin tap had been used to dilute the brandy. felix having said impatiently that any water would do so long as it was hot--hang a few germs!) she had noticed that he would always take a little brandy if he felt unwell from whatever cause, and this habit caused her no uneasiness, for from her father she had acquired a firm belief in the restorative qualities of brandy; even her mother would say how unwise it was to "be without" brandy, and before starting for the annual domestic holiday invariably attended herself to the provision of it. the lack of brandy settled upon lilian's mind, intensifying somehow her sense of guilt. she felt deeply the responsibilities of the situation, which became graver and graver to her--the more so as she had no real status to deal with it.
she wanted to ring the bell, but the bell was within a few yards of felix's door--he often complained on this score--and to ring might be to wake him. cautiously she stepped into the corridor, hoping to find jacqueline in the service-room at the end of the shabby little side corridor where the bell and the room-indicator were. she knew the french for brandy. the main corridor stretched away with an effect of endlessness. in its whole length only two electric lights had been left to burn. solitude and silence made it mysteriously solemn. a pair of boots, or two pairs of boots--one large, one small and dainty--here and there on a door-mat seemed inexplicably to symbolize the forlornness of humanity in the sight of the infinite. the beating of lilian's heart attracted her attention. not without an effort could she cross the magic and formidable corridor. the door of the service-room was locked. no hope! even jacqueline had a bed somewhere and was asleep in it; and brandy was as unattainable as on a coral island.
lilian felt the rough hair-lining of pleasure. the idea of her insecurity frightened her. she perceived that a life of toil, abstinence, deprivation and cold virginity had its advantages. of course, felix was not going to be ill; but if he were, and if her dreadful fears about her own condition were realized--what then? what would happen? were the moral maxims and strict practice of her parents after all horribly true? the wages of sin, and all that sort of thing ... she heard steps in the distance of the corridor. she peeped. somebody was approaching. had she time to cross and vanish into the shelter of her room? she hesitated. the visitant was a woman. it was the girl who in the baccarat rooms had talked of a hundred thousand francs in a cockney accent, the girl whom felix had described as probably a rising star in the most powerful of professions. she too had a bed, and was seeking it at last.
"i expect there's no chance of getting hold of a servant to-night," said lilian meekly, as the girl instinctively paused in passing.
the girl, staring sharply out of her artificially enlarged eyes, shrugged the shoulders of negation at lilian's simplicity.
"anything the matter?"
"i only wanted some brandy. my"--'husband' she meant to say, but could not frame the majestic word--"my friend's not very well. chill. he's had a very little brandy, and might need some more in the night." she flushed.
"come along of me. i'll let you have some." what a harsh, rasping little voice!
the benefactress's bedroom was in a state of rich disorder that astounded lilian. the girl turned on every light in the chamber, banged the door, and pushing some clothes off a chair told lilian to sit down. drawers were open, cupboards were open, the wardrobe was open. attire, boxes, bottles, parcels, candles, parasols, illustrated comic papers, novels with shiny coloured covers were strewn everywhere; and in a corner a terrific trunk stood upright. the benefactress began ferreting in drawers, and slamming them to one after another.
"i'm afraid i'm putting you to a lot of trouble," said lilian. "you're very kind, i'm sure."
"not a bit of it. i never can find anything.... i think us girls ought to stand by each other, that's what i think. not as we ever do!" her voice seemed to thicken, almost to break.
lilian felt as if the entire hotel had trembled under her feet, but she gave no sign of shock; she desired the brandy, if it was to be had. "us girls"!
"you are french, aren't you? i only ask because you speak english so well."
after a moment the girl replied, her head buried in a drawer:
"you bet i'm french. my mother sent me to a convent in london so as i could learn english properly. it was one of them boarding convents where you're free to do what you like so long as you're in by seven o'clock. they wanted a few french girls for the chorus of a revue at the pavilion. soon as i got in there i never went back to the convent, and i've never seen ma since, either. i was in that chorus for a year. oh!" she produced an ingenious and costly travelling spirit-case, and then searched for the key of it.
"i wish i could speak french half as well as you speak english."
"if i had half your face and your figure i'd give all my english to anybody that cared to have it. oh! damn the key! excuse me. here you are." she offered the disengaged flask. "now you go along and take what you want, and bring me the flask back."
she stood in front of lilian, who rose. she was as flat as milly merrislate, and neither tall nor graceful. every lineament of the pert face so heavily masked in paint and powder, every gesture, the too bright stockings, the gilded shoes, the impudent coiffure, the huge and flashy rings, the square-dialled wrist-watch--all were crudely symptomatic of an ingrained and unalterable vulgarity. lilian was absolutely unable to understand how any man, however coarse and cynical, could find any charm of any kind in such a girl. but lilian did not know that intense vulgarity is in itself irresistible to certain amateurs of women, and she was far too young really to appreciate the sorcery of mere lithe youthfulness.
"why! what is it?" lilian exclaimed, as she took the flask.
tears were ravaging the cheeks of the benefactress.
"oh! damn!" the benefactress stamped her foot, and raised her thin, loose, bare shoulders. "gambling's it. i always lose here. it's all shemmy here, and when you win at shemmy you take other people's money, not the bank's, and that puts me off like at the start. and you never win if you don't feel as if you were going to. i was at monte carlo last week, and you sh'd've seen me at roulette, taking the casino money. i couldn't do wrong. but i had to come back here, and there you are! lost it all and a lot more!" she was speaking through her tears. "cleaned out to-night! naked! you see, it's like this. gambling gives you an emotion. it's the only thing there is for that--i mean for me.... did you see that fat beast speak to me to-night in the casino? well, he said something to me and offered me ten thousand francs, and i slapped his face for him in the entrance-hall. he knew i was stony. i was a fool. why shouldn't i have done what he wanted? what's it matter? but no! i'm like that, and i slapped his face, and i'd do it again, i would!! he's scapini, you know, the biggest shareholder in both the big hotels here. i tore it, i did! and, would you believe, i'd no sooner got in here afterwards than the manager told me i must leave to-morrow morning. it was all over the place as quick as that! i've only got to go to paris to get all the money i want. yes. but i'd sell myself for a year to be able to pay my bill straight off in the morning and cheek 'em. it'll be near a thousand francs, and i haven't got ten francs, besides having the whole bally town against me." she laughed and threw her head back. "here! you go along. don't listen to me. it's not the first time, neither the last. go along now."
"i'm very sorry," said lilian. she simply could not conceive that the girl, possibly no older than herself, was standing alone and unaided against what was to her the universe. how could these girls do it? what was the quality in them that enabled them to do it?
she was in the intimidating, silent, mystery-hiding corridor again. she listened at the door, which she had left ajar, between the bathroom and felix's bedroom. no sound! in the solacing, perfect tidiness of her room, she poured some of the brandy into a glass, and then, taking her bag, returned to the benefactress.
"here's your flask, thank you very much!" she said. "and here's a thousand francs, if it's any use to you." she produced the note which felix had given to her. the money was accepted, greedily.
"if you're here in a week's time, in five days, you'll have it back," said the benefactress, looking at her wrist-watch. "no! it's too late to go and play again now!" she giggled. "tell me your name. you can trust me. i don't believe you're real, though! you couldn't be. there aren't such girls--anyhow at your age." she stopped, and gave a tremendous youthful sigh. "ah!" she exclaimed, "if only i was dead. i often dream of lying in my grave--eternal peace, eternal peace! no emotions! no men! quite still! stretched straight out! quiet for ever and ever! eternal peace! d'you know i've been like that all my life? my god!"
lilian burst into tears, agonized. the original benefactress flung herself at the other benefactress with amazing violence, and they kissed, weeping.
a quarter of an hour later the defier of scapini murmured:
"i wish to heaven i could do something for you!"
lilian answered:
"i wish you'd tell me how you stain your skin that lovely spanish colour."
and she immediately received, not merely the instructions, but the complete materials necessary for the operation.
