"Hit it in once!" cried Logan. "A parrot will not do more for an almond than he will for a commodious drab. He could take a nun and by force of living with her and surrounding her with every luxury turn her into a whore, because she would in time become only another luxury. That is what men grow into if they lose the spirit of freedom. . . . Where are we going to?" "I told the man to go to Sivwright's club. It is called The Merlin's Cave." * * * * * The club proved to be a cellar filled with little tables. There was a commissionaire at the door and a book had to be signed. The rack of the cloakroom contained several silk-lined overcoats and opera-hats. "It's going to be damned expensive," said Logan. "I'll pay," replied Mendel. "It's my fault." Two tall young men in immaculate evening dress had entered just after them. They gave out an air of wealth and cleanliness and made Logan and Oliver look common and shabby. Mendel hated the two young men. What had they done to look so well-fed and unruffled? Obviously they had only to hold out their hands to have everything they wanted put into them. . . . They looked slightly self-conscious and ashamed of themselves, and wore a look of alarmed expectancy as they went downstairs. Why did they come there if they were ashamed? and why did they expect an Asmodean lewdness of an artists' club, they for whom the flesh-markets of the music-hall promenades existed? "Real swells, aren't they?" said Oliver, overawed. The strains of a small orchestra came floating up the stairs. "Come on," said Mendel, "I want to dance." And he caught her by the wrist and dragged her downstairs. A girl was standing on a table singing an idiotic song with a syncopated chorus which a few people took up in a half-hearted fashion. The sound of it was thin and depressing. "The same old game," said Logan. "Playing at being wicked. Why can't they stick to their commercial beastliness? I should be ashamed to bring any woman into this. I am ashamed." He half rose from his chair. "Oh! don't go," pleaded Oliver, who was entranced with her first sight of what she called a gay life. It was to her like a stage spectacle. "Oh! there's that Calthrop; I suppose all those odd women with him are models." Calthrop was surrounded by admiring students, among them Morrison, sitting prim and astonished and obviously amazed to find herself where she was. Mendel began to tremble, and his heart beat violently, as he stared at her--stared and stared. She had lied to him then! She had not had to go home! She could strike him down and then come to amuse herself at such a place as this! Was she with Mitchell? No, Mitchell was not among the satellites.