And here they were--here _she_ was, idling uselessly at the Ritz as she
had done yesterday, last week, last month--forever, it seemed to her.
The vague protest that for some time had been growing within her against
the senselessness and futility of her manner of existence crystallized
itself now into a determination no longer to submit to it. Courageously
she was resolving that she would take the first opportunity to escape
from this boresome routine of pleasure-seeking. She was wondering if the
request that had been so unexpectedly made of her would prove to be her
way out from her prison of desuetude.
The talk of the two women with her drifted aimlessly on. Seldom was she
included in it, save when her mother, nodding to some one she knew,
would turn to say:
"Daughter, there is Mrs. Jones-Lloyd."
What did she care about Mrs. Jones-Lloyd? What did she care about any of
the people about them, aimless, pleasure-hunting drifters like
themselves. Left to her own devices for mental activity her thoughts
kept recurring to the surprising adventure she had had a few minutes
before. Thoughtfully she pondered over the mysterious message that had
been given to her. The man had said that it was a wonderful opportunity
for her to do her country a great service.
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