opped at an all-night drug store and had some seltzer.
* * * * *
Vandover had about three hours' sleep that night. He was awakened by the
attendant shaking his arm and crying:
"Half-past six, sir."
"Huh!" he exclaimed, starting up. "What about half-past six? I don't
want to get up."
"Told me to call you, sir, at half-past six; quarter to seven now."
"Oh, all right, very well," answered Vandover. He turned away his face
on the pillow, while a wretched feeling of nausea crept over him; every
movement of his head made it ache to bursting. Behind his temples the
blood throbbed and pumped like the knocking of hammers. His mouth would
have been dry but for a thick slime that filled it and that tasted of
oil. He felt weak, his hands trembled, his forehead was cold and seemed
wet and sticky.
He could recall hardly anything of the previous night. He remembered,
however, of going to the Imperial and of seeing Flossie, and he _did_
remember at last of leaving word to be called at half-past six.
He got up without waking the other two fellows and took a plunge in the
cold tank, dressed very slowly, and went out. The stores were all
closed, the streets were almost deserted. He walked to the nearest
uptown car-line and took an outside seat, feeling better and steadier
for every moment of the sharp morning air.
Van Ness Avenue was very still. It was about half-past seven. The
curtains were down in all the houses; here and there a servant could be
seen washing down the front steps. In the vestibules of some of the
smaller houses were loaves of French bread and glass jars of cream,
while near them lay the damp twisted roll of the morning's paper. There
was everywhere a great chittering of sparrows, and the cable-cars, as
yet empty, trundled down the cross streets, the conductors cleaning the
windows and metal work. From far down at one end of the avenue came the
bells of the Catholic Cathedral ringing for early mass; and a
respectable-looking second girl hurried past him carrying her
prayer-book. At the other end of the avenue was a blue vista of the bay,
the great bulk of Mount Tamalpais rearing itself out of the water like a
waking lion.
In front of the little church Turner was waiting for him. She was
dressed very prettily and the cold morning air had given her a fine
colour.
"You don't look more than half awake," she said, as Vandover came up.
"It was awfully good of you to come
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