‘Aw – don’t be silly,’ he said, without looking at her. ‘What’re you all having?’ ‘No – this is me,’ said Lieutenant Lummis, rising insecurely. ‘What’s it to be, folks?’

But the idea of being made to drink any more now put her into a kind of panic, and this brought her to her feet. ‘No – I really must go,’ she said. ‘I’m awfully sorry – I must go.’ The two men jeered at her, and Lieutenant Pike tried physically to force her down into her seat. But, while hiding her hideous embarrassment and feigning to be amused, she managed to remain standing, saying ‘No . . . no! . . . I really must go. I’m awfully sorry. I must go. Really! . . .’

Then there was an awkward, one might almost say a nasty, silence – the panic in her breast having been made manifest to the company. She saw the two girls staring at her, crudely and with a sour expressionlessness. Lieutenant Pike had the grace to rise and say ‘Well – if you must . . .’ ‘Yes, I really must,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much. Good night! And thanks so much!’

The two men said ‘Good night’ cordially enough. The two girls said nothing. She was out in the street, stumbling along in the blackness back to the Rosamund Tea Rooms. She was aware of an involuntary swaying in her walk, and in front of her eyes was a vision of Lieutenant Pike’s face as he had said ‘Good night’ – his look of disappointment, of embarrassment, and, almost certainly, of contempt. All the sudden delight and triumph had gone out of the evening, and she was more alone than ever. She had thought to score off the Rosamund Tea Rooms, but the Rosamund Tea Rooms had scored off her. She had to go back to the boarding-house now with her tail between her legs. She knew that those four back there were at this moment talking about her adversely or scornfully.