ve a friend on the French Pier. He'll put you on board. Another
night, you must come and eat supper. I have had plenty business
to-night. I have to go out again later, too. You understand what I tell
my wife? Well, the consuls have had to go home. The German and Austrian
and Bulgar Consuls went away to-night. I do a good bit of business, you
understand, with all these people, and I got to go and see a friend of
mine about it. So--will you have coffee----? I'll get you a boat first,
and you can come to-morrow night, eh?"

A girl of fifteen with a downcast disdainful countenance came in with a
tray and set it on the table. One eyelash flickered towards Mr. Spokesly
as she turned and made her way out. He looked at her entranced, noting
her slovenly dress, the holes in her stocking, and the ugly slippers
that slip-slopped as she moved her small feet. He noted these uncouth
garnitures within which she moved with the restless yet indolent rhythm
of a captive queen. His mind, as he drank the strong coffee and the tiny
glass of cognac, was in a state of unusual exaltation. Never before had
he faced an immediate future so fraught with glittering yet
unrecognizable possibilities. Mr. Dainopoulos might be a rascal, yet he
possessed the power to call up familiar spirits. As he sat there leaning
towards the table, his hand abstractedly on the bottle of cognac,
thinking deeply of his multifarious concerns, his dexterous dealings in
and out among men who slew one another daily, he resembled some
saturnine yet benevolent magician about to release a formidable genie
who would fill the room with fuliginous vapour. Mr. Spokesly felt his
scalp twitching with anticipation. He stepped across to say good-bye to
Mrs. Dainopoulos.

"I never expected this," he said simply. "I've had a very pleasant
time."

"Come to supper to-morrow," she said, smiling, "Always glad to see
anybody from the Old Country."

"Sorry your lady friend couldn't stay," he muttered. "Like to see more
of her. Well ... I'll say good-night."

He smiled as he went down the staircase behind the preoccupied Mr.
Dainopoulos. He smiled because he could see, by virtue of his exalted
mood, that the smug phrases which had always been adequate for his
emotions, sounded foolish and feeble. Like to see more of her! Did he?
It made him dizzy to think of, though, for all that. It made the simple
business of returning to that house an adventure of the soul. Nor did
the phrase "lady f