He put her into his automobile with an eagerness she did not notice, so delighted was she by the sense of escape from mediocrity which the elegance and ease of the car brought her. He considered a moment, and then, with a word to his chauffeur, followed her. "Where are we going?" "I thought it would be something different to run down a way toward Coney Island." [Illustration: She was hovering before the fatal window] "I don't care." "Blue?" She nodded, her head turned to the flying shops, the cross streets, and the maze of traffic at her side. He put out his hand to take hers, but she stopped him with a warning finger. "None of that, Mr. Sassoon!" "I had no thought--" "Yes, I know; but you know the conditions!" "Why are you blue?" he asked, checking himself. "Getting near the tenth?" "That's it!" "And you haven't made up your mind yet?" he said slowly. "How can I?" she said, with an irritable movement of her foot. "Don't forget that I have something to say to you before you decide," he said quietly. "It will do you no good!" "Are you sure?" "Quite!" "Sure there is nothing I could offer you that would mean anything?" "Quite!" But, though she repeated the word with extra emphasis, she felt all at once the beginning of a dangerous curiosity. After all, was there nothing he could offer her, who had gone so long, tired of foot and discouraged of heart, that might not cause her to pause and at least experience a regret--for an enormous sum, something fantastic, which no man would offer? Yet the idea entered into her imagination and stimulated it. How many women would hesitate before a sum so great that it made no difference what people said? From which she began to wonder what might be her price to this experienced connoisseur, who had estimated and bought so many of her sex: Yes, what was his estimate of her resistance? This awoke a zest which soon dominated the lassitude of the afternoon. She must learn this price: it would be more than exciting.