were attractive, how
vicious most of us would be! I do not say that O'Corrigan's was a
vicious place. At certain hours its patronage was of the dullest
respectability from the suburbs. Dull respectability is not supposed
to be abroad in the early hours of the morning, but it does seek at
times to hover on the edge of disrespectability with something of the
roguish curiosity of childhood. And now the respectables and the
unrespectables, a motley gathering in that garish room, amid the ugly
debris of their feasting, made an unattractive picture from which I
turned with a sense of relief to the quieter place behind us.

As we moved to a table in a secluded corner, I saw Talcott and Bob
Grant sitting with their heads close together over a litter of plates
and glasses. Grant spoke to me. As he rose and offered his hand, I
noticed in his eyes that watery brightness which comes in certain
stages of conviviality. The effusiveness of his greeting might have
flattered me had I not realized that his heart was unduly expanded by
alcohol. To see such a great, good-natured animal as young Grant thus
exhilarated was not surprising to me, but with Talcott it was
different. I had known him only as a quiet, self-possessed man who,
from policy if nothing else, I believed must be as circumspect in his
life as in his clothes. Now he spoke to me. His greeting was
perfunctory. In his eyes was that watery dulness which comes with the
later stages of conviviality. His hair was tousled, his collar
crushed, his tie awry; for whiskey muddles the clothes as well as the
brain. He nodded to me; he wondered what I was doing out so late; he
snapped his fingers and called loudly for Andrew. The summons to the
waiter was for me a hint to be gone.

Tom Marshall was greatly impressed by the fact that I knew Talcott and
Grant. When I rejoined him he seemed to treat me with greater respect
than hitherto, for he had been rather patronizing. It was surprising
to him, always so busy storming the outer works, to know that I, the
drudge of the fourth floor front, who never "went out," was so intimate
with these gallant cadets who lived in the citadel. He had come to
give me beer. Now in a faltering voice he suggested champagne, rubbing
his hands and smiling as he named it, as though it were his habit to
indulge nightly in so expensive a beverage. Remembering that he had
owed me five dollars for many months, I deemed it unwise to make an
unne