'Where are we going?' asked Gladys rather doubtfully. 'Oh, ye'll see. I promised ye a treat,' answered Liz; and the trio quickened their steps until they came to a narrow entrance, illuminated, however, by a blaze of gas jets, and adorned about the doorway with sundry bills and pictures of music-hall _artistes_. Before Gladys could utter the least protest, she was whisked in, paid for at the box, and hurried up-stairs into a brilliantly-lighted hall, the atmosphere of which, however, was reeking with the smoke and the odour of tobacco and cheap cigars. Somebody was singing in a high, shrill, unlovely voice, and when Gladys looked towards the platform behind the footlights, she was horrified at the spectacle of a large, coarse-looking woman, wearing the scantiest possible amount of clothing, her face painted and powdered, her hair adorned with gilt spangles, her arms and neck hung with sham jewellery. 'Who is she? Is it not awful?' whispered Gladys, which questions sent the undemonstrative Teen off into one of her silent fits of laughter. But Liz looked a trifle annoyed. 'Don't ask such silly questions. That's Mademoiselle Frivol, and she's appearin' in a new character. It's an awful funny song, evidently. See how they're laughin'. Be quiet, an' let's listen.' Gladys held her peace, and sank into the seat beside Liz, and looked about her in a kind of horrified wonder. It was a large place, with a gallery opposite the stage. The seats in the body of the hall were not set very closely together, and the audience could move freely about. It was very full; a great many young men, well-dressed, and even gentlemanly-looking in outward appearance at least; the majority were smoking. The women present were mostly young--many of them mere girls, and there was a great deal of talking and bantering going on between them and the young men. Those in the gallery were evidently of the poorer class, and they accompanied the chorus of the song with a vigorous stamping of feet and whistling accompaniment. When Mademoiselle Frivol had concluded her performance with a little dance which brought down the house, there was a short interval, and presently some young men sauntered up to the three girls, and bade them good-evening in an easy, familiar way, which made the colour leap to the cheek of Gladys, though she did not know why. She knew nothing about young men, and had no experience to enable her to discern the fine shades of their demeanour towards women; but that innate delicacy which is the safeguard and the unfailing monitor of every woman until she wilfully throws it away for ever, told the pure-minded girl that something was amiss, and that it was no place for her. 'Who's your chum, old girl?' asked a gorgeous youth, who wore an imitation diamond breastpin and finger-ring. 'Give us an introduction, Miss Hepburn.'