Sheila knew that the Eat & Shop on the corner of 53rd and Oleson was a flimsy front for an all-in-the-family whorehouse. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. ’ ‘But where then is Gosse?’ demanded Melusine. “Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation.
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