She immediately let the curtain fall behind him, and as he got his
hat and coat he heard her catch her breath sharply with a sound like a
little sob.
Dazed with glory, he returned to the hotel. In the lobby he approached
the glittering concierge and said firmly:
"What is the Salone Margherita? Cam you get me a box there to-night?"
IV. Good Fellowship
He confessed his wickedness to Madame de Vaurigard the next afternoon
as they drove out the Appian Way. "A fellow must have just a bit of
a fling, you know," he said; "and, really, Salone Margherita isn't so
tremendously wicked."
She shook her head at him in friendly raillery. "Ah, that may be;
but how many of those little dancing-girl' have you invite to supper
afterward?"
This was a delicious accusation, and though he shook his head in
virtuous denial he was before long almost convinced that he _had_ given
a rather dashing supper after the vaudeville and had _not_ gone quietly
back to the hotel, only stopping by the way to purchase an orange and a
pocketful of horse-chestnuts to eat in his room.
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