not have borne with any such intrusion. He would have called
the manager--insisted upon having the table to himself; but he
intruded his presence with only a momentary consciousness of being
in the way.

His manner with waiters was peremptory. He gave them the recognition
of the position which they occupied, but beyond that, scarcely looked
upon them as human.

"Look here," he began, "I want so and so--" he named a dish that was
unknown to the companion of the young clerk. She felt a certain
respect of him for that. Her friend had ordered the most ordinary
of food and had tried to do it in a lordly manner. There was no
lordliness about Traill. He wasted no time with a waiter; he had never
met a German waiter who was worth it. All this gave the impression
of brusqueness. The girl liked it. She looked at her friend and wished
she was dining with Traill. But Traill took no notice of her. Except
an occasional glance, he ignored them both. As soon as he could, he
ordered an evening paper and sat concealed behind it--truly British
in every outline. The music in the place was good, but no music
appealed to him. It came as a confused wreckage of sounds to his ears
as he read through the news of the evening; and when the girl rattled
her spoon on the coffee cup and the young man clapped his hands
vigorously at the conclusion of a selection, he looked over the top
of his paper with annoyance. What music had ever penetrated his
understanding of the art, had come in the form of chants of psalms
and old hymn tunes, which a constant attendance at church in his youth
had dinned into him--the driving of soft iron nails into the stern
oak. He sang these laboriously with numberless crescendos as he
dressed in the mornings.

He finished dinner as quickly as he could. The young people opposite
him were insufferably dull. Apparently they had never met each other
before and were at a loss to make conversation to suit the occasion.
Accordingly, they listened intently to the string band while the
young man smoked a long cigar, and in the natural course of things,
they applauded after each piece to show that they had heard it. Traill
bolted his meal, glad to leave them.

He came out of the restaurant and thanked God--filling his lungs with
it--for the clean air. Then he stood on the pavement contemplating
the next move. Should he go back to his rooms, read--smoke--fall
asleep? Should he turn into a music-hall? When you live alone, the
gr