The primary mission of the band was to induce a general exultant gaiety; and the mission was accomplished, nobody understood how. Lilian exulted in the food, the wine, the glitter, the noise, the wise, humorous face of Felix, and the glances which assailed her on every hand. All care fell away from her. She forgot the future, and the whole of her vitality concentrated itself intensely in the moment. Most of the conversation at neighbouring tables was in English, and it was all about gambling, dancing, golf, lawn-tennis, polo, cards, racing, trains de luxe, clothes, hotels, prices, and women. Even in the incomprehensible French gabble that reached her she could distinguish words like "golf," and "bridge," and "picnic." Then four elegant, waisted young men appeared mysteriously from nowhere and approached certain tables and bowed with an assured air, and instantly four elegant young women rose up, without being asked, and the professional couples began to display to the amateurs the true art of the dance. Lilian had never seen such dancing. "Why are they all Spanish girls?" she innocently asked, struck by the rich, dark skin of the women. "They’re no more Spanish than you are," said Felix. "You perceive that one there. She’s at our hotel, on our floor, and I’ve seen her as blonde as a Norwegian. The dark olive is the result of strange cosmetics, and a jolly fine result, too. Nothing finer has been invented for a century. It’s so perverse. Don’t you like it?" "I think it’s lovely!" she agreed with enthusiasm, also with a vague envy. Later, when the senoritas had left their partners and resumed their interrupted meals, and the parquet was empty again, she said: "I do really think it’s awful, all this! It’s so expensive, everything; and it’s all for pleasure. The whole town’s for pleasure." In the background she had a vision of her working life, with its discipline and cast-iron hours and wristlets and fatigue and privations and penury. The click of the typewriter, the green-shaded lamps, the Tube, the cold bedroom, the washing and sewing done in the cold bedroom! The blue working frock with its pathetic red line of clumsy embroidery! "What about Margate?" Felix demanded quietly. She was nonplussed. "Oh! But that’s different!"