terms with Lubi since he had called him a _Marchand de Soupe_, an
insult which Lubi had not been able to forgive, and it was the
restaurateur's women-folk who welcomed him back to town after his
long absence.

"What an air of dissipation, hilarity, and drink there is about the
place!" said Mike. "Look!" and his eyes rested on two gross
men--music-hall singers--who sat with their agent, sipping
Chartreuse. "Three years ago," he said, "they were crying artichokes
in an alley, and the slum is still upon their faces."

No one else was in the long gallery save the waiters, who dozed far
away in the mean twilight of the glass-roofing.

"How jolly it is," said Mike, "to order your own dinner! Let's have
some oysters--three dozen. We'll have a Chateaubriand--what do you
say? And an omelette soufflee--what do you think? And a bottle of
champagne. Waiter, bring me the wine-list."

Frank had spoken to Mike because he felt lonely; the world had turned
a harsh face on him. Lord Mount Rorke had married, and the paper was
losing its circulation.

"And how is the paper going?"

"Pretty well; just the same as usual. Do you ever see it? What do you
think of my articles?"

"Your continuation of my series, _Lions of the Season?_ Very good; I
only saw one or two. I have been living in the country, and have
hardly seen a paper for the last year and a half. You can't imagine
the life I have been leading. Nice kind people 'tis true; I love
them, but they never open a book. That is all very nice for a
time--for three months, for six, for a year--but after that you feel
a sense of alienation stealing over you."

Mike saw that Frank had only met with failure; so he was tempted to
brandish his successes. He gave a humorous description of his
friends--how he had picked them up; how they had supplied him with
horses to ride and guns to shoot with.

"And what about the young ladies? Were they included in the
hospitality?"

"They included themselves. How delicious love in a country house
is!--and how different from other love it is, to follow a girl
dressed for dinner into the drawing-room or library, and to take her
by the waist, to feel a head leaning towards you and a mouth closing
upon yours! Above all, when the room is in darkness--better still in
the firelight--the light of the fire on her neck.... How good these
oysters are! Have some more champagne."

Then, in a sudden silence, a music-hall gent was heard to say that
some one w