rful
cheese. Around him was the constant hum of gay conversation. Every one
save himself seemed to have friends here, and many of them. It was
indeed a very ordinary place, a cosmopolitan eating-house, good of its
sort, and with an excellent connection of lighthearted but impecunious
foreigners, who made up with the lightness of their spirits for the
emptiness of their purses. To Douglas, whose whole upbringing and
subsequent life had been amongst the dreariest of surroundings, there
was something about it all peculiarly fascinating. The air of pleasant
abandonment, the subtle aroma of gaiety allied with irresponsibility,
the strange food and wine, well cooked and stimulating, delighted him.
His sole desire now was for a companion. If only those men--artists, he
was sure they were--would draw him into their conversation. He had
plenty to say. He was ready to be as merry as any of them. A faint
sense of loneliness depressed him for a moment as he looked from one to
another of the long tables. All his life he had been as one removed
from his fellows. He was weary of it. Surely it must be nearly at an
end now. Some of the children of the great mother city would hold out
their hands to him. It was not alms he needed. It was a friend.

"Good morning."

Douglas looked up quickly. A newcomer had taken the vacant place at his
table.

CHAPTER VIII

THE AUTHOR OF "NO MAN'S LAND"

Douglas returned his greeting cordially. His _vis-a-vis_ drew the menu
towards him and studied it with interest. Setting it down he screwed a
single eyeglass into his eye and beamed over at Douglas.

"Is the daily grind O. K.?" he inquired suavely.

Douglas was disconcerted at being unable to answer a question so
pleasantly asked.

"I--beg your pardon," he said, doubtfully. "I'm afraid I don't quite
understand."

The newcomer waved his hand to some acquaintances and smiled cheerfully.

"I see you're a stranger here," he remarked. "There's a _table-d'hote_
luncheon for the modest sum of eighteenpence, which is the cheapest way
to feed, if it's decent. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. I
thought perhaps you might have sampled it."

"I believe I have," Douglas answered. "I told the waiter to bring me
the ordinary lunch, and I thought it was very good indeed."

"Then I will risk it. Henri. Come here, you scamp."

He gave a few orders to the waiter, who treated him with much respect.
Then he turned again to Douglas.

"You have nearly