The Washington times., 1914-01-05
ScOpzright. 1918. by Frank A. Mmscy Co,

ne nduh lhG II am
at West Drayton after all. He was
fool, and 1t served him right.
In addition to having walked Heaven
knew how many miles in a hot sun, ne
had had nothing since breakfast except
the drink before starting out to play
golf. His legs felt like lead. and his
stomach cried aloud with the yearning
for food.
Coupled with the dreariness of the
outskirts of Acton, these physical dis
stand. He began to look for a taxi.
Many passed him, but they were occu-
pied, and when finally he found one his
temper was very much on edge.
He stood with the door open, one foot
on the step. Home? At that moment
he wouldn't have gone home for any
thing on earth. He didn't want silence
and Snug, tidy rooms with books that
had lost their flavor, and a haunting
desolation about the place. He craved
light and color and noise
Drive to the Savoy" he said, and
slammed the door after himself.
The starting of the car jerked him
back into his seat, and he took out his
cigarette case.
"Confound it," he cnuttered.
The thing was empty. He rammed 1t
impatiently back into his pocket and
pulled out his pipe, and then remember
ed that golf clothes were hardly the
thing to wear at the Savoy. Where the
had he been such A complete ass? II
he had taken the train back and
changed he could have been in the Savoy
at this moment. Was it good enough
TO go back now and change? He'd be
shot II he would
So he put his head out of the flying
taxi and the wind made him grab at his
cap. and then blew a speck Of tobacco
in to his eye, so that the astonished
chauffeur suddenly heard close to his
heated ILL.,
words
"Churck the Savoyt' shouted Everard.
"Gambrtnus, Regent street"
The chauffeur waved an arm and
nodded his head In sign of comprehen-
sion. and did not check his pace II was
as though he. too, were impeIled by
desire 10 get back into civilization.
1t was nearly 10 O'Clock when a raven
Gus Evarard hurried into the beer hall,
mdae bis way to a corner table, where
he was facing into the room, and gave
a quick order to the waiter.
AS vet the place was not very full
The people who made it their CLUB. who
came night after night, did not arrive
lots of foreigners with fancy hair who
talked shr1lly and gave toasts and
smoked incessant cigarettes and sub
Urban women whose eyes sparkled as
time TO time they ventured to puff, and
imagined themselves in Bohemia. as
they found themselves at the next table
TO painted girls who smoked like Chin
neys and ordered double whiskies at the
expense OF their glossy and very young
escorts.
1t was very noisy, and the electric
fans whining in corners churned up the
clouds of smoke which hung blue along
the ceiling. The general effect was not
unforelgn-the plaques painted with Ger
man flags and notices, the s1eins and
peWters dotted along the shelf at the
top OF the oak paneling, the crash and
Dustle, the Hebraic nose which was
everywhere.
Ecvery second the door opened, giving
a dark glimpse of gloomy Glasshouse
street and more people came in: girls
at 20 shillings a week. who hadn't wait
ed TO take of their makeup: nancy men
in fiat-brimmed bowlers, with black ON
their eyelashes and soft shirts, who
were obviously what they appeared TO
be; musicians from thslter orchestras
and one or two couples in evening
clothes.
Everard was entrenched behind slices
Of sausage, gherkins and picalIiIi. a
platc OF black bread, and an enormous
light book, when voice that had laugh
ter in it and enquenchable optimism
suddenly made him look up.
Hello! Leyden, by all that's great.
Good enough
The speaker was a tall, thin man with
clothes. tie that sagged away from
his collar, and a grin that caught YOU
by the neck and made yop chortle
without any reason.
Everard looked him over ana chortIed.
too. The freak was still kcamins at
him. but beyond a sort of hazv remem-
brance of having met the man some
where in another world, Evcrard could
not place him.
''Hello!" he said. What will Won
drink? l don't know who the bIazes
you are and I'm perfectly certain I've
never met you. One couldn't forget a
face like that"
Red Hair flung out a Iaugn. A pass
ing waiter dropped coffce-cup. It
emptied itself down the back OF a man
Greek. He was not His language gave
him away. He leaped to his feet with a
yell, "Sacre bon sang" He turned on
the petrified waiter, calling him a COW,
and dressing him down sharply in very
explosive French, and then sat down.
wiping himself with one hand, gesticu-
IatinC like a flexible semaphOre with
the other. His friends. who had seen
the way of everything, laid Their heads
on the table and shrieked with futile
mirth.
frightened, pausing TO remark to a col
league as he left the room: 1T was
that red=head: his laugh is like can
non shot"
Red Hair, unaware OF the fact that he
was the cause of the storm in the cof-
fee cup. pulled out the chair opposite
EVerard and sat down.
Don't tell me I've faded from the
annals of Oxford already" he said.
After such a funeral as that ] thought
We had broken all known records, es-
pecially as you"
"Oh. BY Jove, yes" broke out Ever
ard. ''Your face comes back to me
through the fog of years"
Him, it generally does, especially at
night time. Children dream about IL"