“A bottle of maçon,” said Ned, and, giving his order, saw with the tail of his eye the student’s countenance change.
“A half bottle,” he corrected himself, “and also a double dose of cognac.”
The girl stood as stolid on end as a pocket of hops.
“Do you hear?” said Ned.
She blinked and lifted her eyelids. A sort of drowsy exaltation appeared in these days the very accent to her large inertia—its self-justification, in fact, before some visionary consistory of saints.
“Do you hear?” said Ned again, with particular emphasis.
“It is not permitted to get tipsy in the ‘Landlust,’” said she, like one talking in her sleep.
Ned jumped to his feet quite violently.
“Take my order,” he shouted, “or I’ll come and kiss every woman in the house, beginning with Madame van Roon!”
She vanished, suddenly terrified, in a whisk of skirts, and the door clapped behind her. The young gentleman laughed and resumed his seat.