“Come on,” she said shortly, without even a smile of greeting, “I’m hungry,” and she walked right out of the pub without giving him even a second glance, and went off down the street.
George, bewildered and a little hurt, hurried after her. She kept on, a scowl on her face, and George followed her. He decided not to speak to her. He could not think of anything to say, anyway, that wouldn’t irritate her, so he kept behind her until they reached this little Soho restaurant.
He had an uneasy presentiment that the evening wasn’t going to be a success.
He sat down opposite her, his hack to the room. She looked past him at the waiter, a bent, elderly man who came over to them with a bored, tired look in his eyes.
George was about to ask her what she would like, but, still ignoring him, she said to the waiter, “Oysters, grilled steaks, salad and ice-cream. Two bottles of yin rouge: and let’s have some service.”
The waiter went away without saying anything, but by the way he flicked his soiled napkin, he managed to express his contempt for them.
Two bottles of wine! Oysters! My word! George thought, she knows what she wants all right.
Well, he couldn’t just sit there and say nothing. He hadn’t said a word since they met in the pub.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Cora…” he began, wondering if he was going to set her off.
She seemed suddenly to realize that he was in the room.