nd of... He took it hastily away into his bedroom. There he washed
his hands. The fact that he had touched Zuleika gave to this ablution a
symbolism that made it the more refreshing.

Civet, poppies? Was there not, at his call, a sweeter perfume, a
stronger anodyne? He rang the bell, almost caressingly.

His heart beat at sound of the clinking and rattling of the tray borne
up the stairs. She was coming, the girl who loved him, the girl whose
heart would be broken when he died. Yet, when the tray appeared in the
doorway, and she behind it, the tray took precedence of her in his soul
not less than in his sight. Twice, after an arduous morning, had his
luncheon been postponed, and the coming of it now made intolerable the
pangs of his hunger.

Also, while the girl laid the table-cloth, it occurred to him how
flimsy, after all, was the evidence that she loved him. Suppose she
did nothing of the kind! At the Junta, he had foreseen no difficulty in
asking her. Now he found himself a prey to embarrassment. He wondered
why. He had not failed in flow of gracious words to Nellie O'Mora. Well,
a miniature by Hoppner was one thing, a landlady's live daughter was
another. At any rate, he must prime himself with food. He wished Mrs.
Batch had sent up something more calorific than cold salmon. He asked
her daughter what was to follow.

"There's a pigeon-pie, your Grace."

"Cold? Then please ask your mother to heat it in the oven--quickly.
Anything after that?"

"A custard pudding, your Grace."

"Cold? Let this, too, be heated. And bring up a bottle of champagne,
please; and--and a bottle of port."

His was a head that had always hitherto defied the grape. But he thought
that to-day, by all he had gone through, by all the shocks he had
suffered, and the strains he had steeled himself to bear, as well as by
the actual malady that gripped him, he might perchance have been sapped
enough to experience by reaction that cordial glow of which he had now
and again seen symptoms in his fellows.

Nor was he altogether disappointed of this hope. As the meal progressed,
and the last of the champagne sparkled in his glass, certain things
said to him by Zuleika--certain implied criticisms that had rankled,
yes--lost their power to discommode him. He was able to smile at the
impertinences of an angry woman, the tantrums of a tenth-rate conjurer
told to go away. He felt he had perhaps acted harshly. With all her
faults, she had adored him.