He had already poured a large amount of whisky into her tooth-glass and filled up with water from her tap. He said God Almighty they were a stuffy bunch down there. She said he must be quiet. He must be quiet and go! Didn’t he understand?

He was quiet. He nodded with the air of a man who had cottoned on to a clever idea. He was quiet with a mad, infinitely portentous quietude. This caused him, as it were, to go to sleep on his feet as he gazed at her, glass in hand, and to sway faintly from side to side. He took another swill at his drink, and was as quiet as a contemplating Buddha. She saw that he was willing to go on standing there being quiet in this way all night.

She went out on to the landing again. She returned and said ‘Go on. Drink it up. You must go!’ He drank it up. She stuffed the bottle of whisky into his pocket and manoeuvred him towards the door. He said ‘Well – good night,’ and looked at her. She said ‘Good night,’ and smiled. He paused, and put his arms around her, in order to kiss her. She offered him her cheek to be kissed. He kissed her cheek, and then kissed her neck. Then he kissed her mouth. She said ‘Good night.’ He said ‘Good night’ and disappeared.

She closed the door and went on washing her stockings. She undressed and smoked a cigarette in bed. She was not nauseated or shocked by what had just happened. She was curiously pleased and cheerful. She had enjoyed her evening to the full. She wondered what he meant by it all, and she did not much care. She hoped he had not made a fool of himself in the Lounge, but she did not much care about that, either. It was not her business. In a curious way she felt a new woman. She put out her light and slept profoundly.

4

No arrangement had been made between them to meet again, but she had a feeling, the next morning, that she would see him at tea-time. She appeared ten minutes late for tea, half expecting to find him there; but he was not.