"The
dancing hours want you still. Julian, you are only beginning your real
life to-night."
Julian, like a man in an excited dream, followed Valentine to the bottom
of the broad stairs, on, through the blooming masses of flowers, to the
entrance. Two or three cabs were waiting. Valentine put Cuckoo into one.
She had not spoken a word, and was trembling as if with fear.
"Get in, Julian."
Julian obeyed, and Valentine, standing on the pavement, leaned forward
and whispered to him:
"Take her home, Julian."
Suddenly Julian shouted Cuckoo's address to the cabman hoarsely.
The cab drove away.
Valentine walked slowly towards Piccadilly Circus, whistling softly,
"I want you, my honey; yes, I do."
BOOK III--THE LADY OF THE FEATHERS
CHAPTER I
THE LADY OF THE FEATHERS
The thin afternoon light of an indefinite spring day shone over the
Marylebone Road. A heavy warmth was in the air, and the weather was
peculiarly windless, but the sun only shone fitfully, and the street
looked sulky. The faces of the passers-by were hot and weary. Women
trailed along under the weight of their parcels, and men returned from
work grimmer than usual, and wondering almost with a fretfulness of
passion why they were born predestined to toil.
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