“It is the end of an age,” he said, as he set it down again, and rose deliberately to his feet.
Mendes glanced at him curiously.
“Yes, it is the end of some things,” he answered composedly. “Are you off?”
“I have an engagement,” said Alistair dryly.
The two men shook hands quietly, but not without cordiality. Each of them had found something in the other to respect.
Alistair was leaving without bestowing more than a nod on Molly, when she surprised him by getting up.
“You don’t want me?” she said, with the husky accent which came into her voice when she had been drinking a good deal.
“No,” said Alistair, puzzled.
“Then good-bye.”
She held out a beringed hand, and Alistair took it nervously, inly afraid of a scene. Then he went without looking back.