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Updated: May 17, 2025
They were all going now. Dorothy stood at the door, holding it open for them, glad that it was all over. Only Phyllis Desmond, the art-student, lingered. Dorothy reminded her that they had met at her aunt Vera Harrison's house. The art-student smiled. "I wondered when you were going to remember." "I did, but they all called you Desmond. That's what put me out." "Everybody calls me Desmond.
On these occasions Flanagan accompanied them. His excitability and his roisterous enthusiasm made them laugh. He was an excellent dancer, and before they had been ten minutes in the room he was prancing round with some little shop-girl whose acquaintance he had just made. The desire of all of them was to have a mistress. It was part of the paraphernalia of the art-student in Paris.
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