‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. It was as though he were personally aggrieved. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. I think John 42 will be there. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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