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"
"Oh, shut up!" some one said, almost savagely.
"Of course, there are compensations," he drawled. "At twenty you
want to take the entire bunch home and keep 'em. At thirty you
know you can't, but you still want to. At forty and over you
don't want them at all, but you think it's damned curious they
don't want you."
Clayton had watched the scene with a rather weary interest. He was,
indeed, trying to put himself in Graham's place, at Graham's age.
He remembered once, at twenty, having slipped off to see "The Black
Crook," then the epitome of wickedness, and the disillusionment of
seeing women in tights with their accentuated curves and hideous
lack of appeal to the imagination. The caterers of such wares had
learned since then. Here were soft draperies instead, laces and
chiffons. The suggestion was not to the eyes but to the mind. How
devilishly clever it all was.
Perhaps there were some things he ought to discuss with Graham. He
wondered how a man led up to such a thing.


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