The woman at the near table put up her hand to her ear, shutting off
the conversation of those with her, striving to catch a word here
and there in the endeavour to piece it together. It was about some
woman. She--was continually being alluded to. She--had done this--at
a later date she had done that. Gathering as little as she did, the
woman who listened was still strangely fascinated to curiosity.
Then at last a whole sentence reached her ears in a sudden hush of
sound.
The man took his elbows from the table, as if the climax of the story
had been reached.
"I know!" he said excitedly; "I know--the type of woman who never
breaks a commandment because she daren't, yet never earns a beatitude
because she can't; but, my God, if this isn't true--"
Then the other began his reply--
"My dear fellow--should I come and--"
She heard no more. A renewed deafening clatter of plates from the
grill drowned the remainder of his sentence.
"There's a little tragedy behind us," said the woman, leaning forward,
speaking under her breath to one of her companions. They all turned
and gazed in the direction of the table. Then the two men stood up.
One of them picked up the bill.
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