"I don't know how I know, sir; but when I am leaving the house in the
morning I look at her from the door, and she looks at me, and then I--I
know."

"A green chartreuse, William!"


I tried to forget William's vulgar story in billiards, but he had
spoiled my game. My opponent, to whom I can give twenty, ran out when
I was sixty-seven, and I put aside my cue pettishly. That in itself
was bad form, but what would they have thought had they known that a
waiter's impertinence caused it! I grew angrier with William as the
night wore on, and next day I punished him by giving my orders through
another waiter.

As I had my window-seat, I could not but see that the girl was late
again. Somehow I dawdled over my coffee. I had an evening paper before
me, but there was so little in it that my eyes found more of interest
in the street. It did not matter to me whether William's wife died, but
when that girl had promised to come, why did she not come? These lower
classes only give their word to break it. The coffee was undrinkable.

At last I saw her. William was at another window, pretending to do
something with the curtains. I stood up, pressing closer to the window.
The coffee had been so bad that I felt shaky. She nodded three times,
and smiled.

"She is a little better," William whispered to me, almost gaily.