simply spiffing!"

And I saw him look at her with a grave and tender assurance, as a man
looks at the woman he loves when he knows that the hour of his triumph is
her hour.

And I thought even then: It's nothing. It's only that she's glad the poor
chap has pulled it off.

Then she said: "Let's all go and dine somewhere together. You don't mind,
Furny dear, do you? I'll take it home and sit up with it."

Oh, I didn't mind. We all went somewhere and dined together. We went, for
the sheer appropriateness of it, to that restaurant in Soho where I had
dined with Jevons for the first time. That was how it happened--what did
happen, I mean, afterwards, in my rooms where Jevons had left us.

We had gone back there for coffee and cigarettes. (Canterbury wouldn't
have approved of this.)

He had said good night to us when he turned on the threshold with his
reminiscence. The restaurant in Soho had aroused it.

"I say, Furnival, do you remember that half-crown you borrowed from me?"

I said I did. And that to remind me of it now was a joke in very
questionable taste.

He said, "You never really knew the joke. I kept it from you most
carefully. That little orgy of ours had just about cleared me out and the