Women of every description moved in this "set," their past and their means of support concerning no one so long as they were pretty and elegant and a little above the thoroughpaced _cocotte_. Among the men who were not attached as licensed escort to any lady, but who came to fish in troubled waters, was Dr. Salmoni, who at the Kellermann carnival had beaten the big drum with so melancholy a smile. Lilly always felt constrained and tongue-tied in his presence, though there seemed to be some spiritual link between them. Everyone he met came under the lash of his caustic wit, except herself, whom he considerately spared. Sometimes he seemed to be dissecting her with his keen eyes, and would whisper softly in her ear as he passed her, "What are you doing here, fair lady?" Herr Kellermann appeared pretty often, got drunk, and then made remarks about a chained beauty crying aloud for release, remarks which Lilly was careful not to notice. He found, as a rule, that towards the end of the evening he had no change in his pocket, so that Richard had to pay his bill. Such was the world in which Lilly passed her days and nights. She received mysterious communications: invitations from men to whom she had never spoken, asking her to meet them; anonymous presents of flowers--from modest bunches of violets to baskets of showy orchids; calls from ladies of doubtful character who were getting up charity subscriptions, and with a meaning smile hoped Lilly would join them--indeed, it was a never-ceasing wave of vicious desire that rolled up to her threshold. For a time she was alarmed, then she became indifferent. * * * * * Spring days came, and with them the great race-meetings, at which everyone with any pretensions to smartness put in an appearance. Since Lilly in shy queenliness had begun to reign at his side, the sporting tastes, which had been latent in Richard hitherto, awoke, and were developed with such passionate eagerness that he would not have missed a race for the world. Though he did not bet, his pockets were crammed with bookmakers' "tips," and he talked of little else than pedigrees and winning chances, Lilly, who understood nothing at all about it, cheerfully listened. One morning after she had read in the paper the results of the previous day's racing, the following passage caught her eye: "Among charming representatives of the society that does not know what _ennui_ is, we again saw the beauty of imposing type who has of late graced various functions, bringing with her an aroma of the _beau monde_, of which it is said she was once an ornament. Her favourite colour seems to be violet, and in accordance with a famous precedent, she might appropriately be dubbed 'La dame aux violettes.' At all events, we congratulate our metropolis on the acquisition of this new luminary, who is certain to add lustre to its reputation."