It was in these little things, this utter negligence of money that Crum had such engaging polish.

The ballet was on its last legs and night, and the traffic of the Promenade was suffering for the moment.

Men and women were crowded in three rows against the barrier.
The whirl and dazzle on the stage, the half dark, the mingled tobacco fumes and women's scent, all that curious lure to promiscuity which belongs to Promenades, began to free young Val from his idealism.

He looked admiringly in a young woman's face, saw she was not young, and quickly looked away.

Shades of Cynthia Dark! The young woman's arm touched his unconsciously; there was a scent of musk and mignonette.