Inside of the Cup, the — Volume 04 by Winston Churchill
page 67 of 84 (79%)
page 67 of 84 (79%)
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I never ran across anybody like you."
He tried to smile again. "You mustn't mind me," he answered. They fell into an oasis of silence, surrounded by mad music and laughter. Then came the long-nosed waiter carrying the beefsteak aloft, followed by a lad with a bucket of ice, from which protruded the green and gold neck of a bottle. The plates were put down, the beefsteak carved, the champagne opened and poured out with a flourish. The woman raised her glass. "Here's how!" she said, with an attempt at gayety. And she drank to him. "It's funny how I ran across you again, ain't it?" She threw back her head and laughed. He raised his glass, tasted the wine, and put it down again. A sheet of fire swept through him. "What's the matter with it? Is it corked?" she demanded. "It goes to the right spot with me." "It seems very good," he said, trying to smile, and turning to the food on his plate. The very idea of eating revolted him--and yet he made the attempt: he had a feeling, ill defined, that consequences of vital importance depended upon this attempt, on his natural acceptance of the situation. And, while he strove to reduce the contents of his plate, he racked his brain for some subject of conversation. The flamboyant walls of the room pressed in on every side; comment of that which lay |
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