The general conception of women of her class is a painted and broken wreck.  Flossie radiated health; her eyes were clear, her nerves steady, her flesh hard and even as a child’s.  There hung about her an air of cleanliness, of freshness, of good nature, of fine, high spirits, while with every movement she exhaled a delicious perfume that was not only musk, but that seemed to come alike from her dress, her hair, her neck, her very flesh and body.

Vandover was no longer the same as he had been during his college days.  He was familiar now with this odour of abandoned women, this foul sweet savour of the great city’s vice, that quickened his breath and that sent his heart knocking at his throat.  It was the sensitive artist nature in him that responded instantly to anything sensuously attractive.  Each kind and class of beautiful women could arouse in Vandover passions of equal force, though of far different kind.  Turner Ravis influenced him upon his best side, calling out in him all that was cleanest, finest, and most delicate.  Flossie appealed only to the animal and the beast in him, the evil, hideous brute that made instant answer.

“What will you take, Flossie?” asked Vandover, as she settled herself among them.  “We are all drinking beer except Ellis.  He’s filling up with whisky.”  But Flossie never drank.  It was one of the peculiarities for which she was well known.

“I don’t want either,” she answered, and turning to the waiter, she added, “You can bring me some Apollinaris water, Toby.”

Flossie betrayed herself as soon as she spoke, the effect of her appearance was spoiled.  Her voice was hoarse, a low-pitched rasp, husky, throaty, and full of brutal, vulgar modulations.

“Smoke, Flossie?” said Geary, pushing his cigarette case across to her.  Flossie took a cigarette, rolled it to make it loose, and smoked it while she told them how she had once tried to draw up the smoke through her nose as it came out between her lips.

“And honestly, boys,” she growled, “it made me that sick that I just had to go to bed.”

“Who is the crowd out back?” asked Geary for the sake of saying something.  Flossie embarrassed them all a little, and conversation with girls of her class was difficult.

“Oh, that’s May and Nannie with some men from a banquet at the Palace Hotel,” she answered.

The talk dragged along little by little and Flossie began badgering young Haight.  “Say, you over there,” she exclaimed, “what’s the matter with you?  You don’t say anything.”

Young Haight blushed and answered very much embarrassed:  “Oh, I’m just listening.”  He was anxious to get away.  He got up and reached for his hat and coat, saying with a good-natured smile:  “Well, boys and girls, I think I shall have to leave you.”

“Don’t let me frighten you away,” said Flossie, laughing.

“Oh, no,” he answered, trying to hide his embarrassment, “I have to go anyhow.”