"He's drunk."
And whereas Janet found sympathy for him, Sally lost that which she
had.
CHAPTER XII
The dinner was fixed some few days later for seven o'clock in a little
restaurant in Soho.
"_Don't think because I chose this place_," concluded Traill's
letter, "_that I am considering the fact that we are not dressing,
and that, therefore, it ought not to be some ultra-fashionable place.
You shall come to those another time if you wish. This particular
evening I want to be quiet, and this is the quietest place I know.
I leave the theatre to your choosing. Anything will suit me, I have
seen them all._"
Janet watched her across the breakfast-table as she folded the letter
and crumpled it into her pocket. Their eyes met and they smiled.
"I shan't be in to dinner this evening, Mrs. Hewson," Sally said
presently.
Mrs. Hewson looked up from a plate of shrimps which had been left
over from the last evening's supper. Her sharp little eyes criticized
Sally. Janet often stayed out for the evening; that was by no means
an uncommon occurrence. Art students are convivial souls; they love
the unconventionality of the evenings in each other's company.
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