Geoffrey staggered to his feet, shaking his head.
“No—no—” he said. “No—no! Walgatchka must travel to the tent of Kishwégin, to the Camp of the Tawaras.”
“Not tonight, mon brave,” said Ciccio. “Tonight we stay here, hein. Why separate, hein?—frère?”
Geoffrey again clasped Ciccio in his arms.
“Pacohuila and Walgatchka are blood-brothers, two bodies, one blood. One blood, in two bodies; one stream, in two valleys: one lake, between two mountains.”
Here Geoffrey gazed with large, heavy eyes on Ciccio. Alvina brought a candle and lighted it.
“You will manage in the one room?” she said. “I will give you another pillow.”
She led the way upstairs. Geoffrey followed, heavily. Then Ciccio. On the landing Alvina gave them the pillow and the candle, smiled, bade them good-night in a whisper, and went downstairs again. She cleared away the supper and carried away all glasses and bottles from the drawing-room. Then she washed up, removing all traces of the feast. The cards she restored to their old mahogany box. Manchester House looked itself again.
She turned off the gas at the meter, and went upstairs to bed. From the far room she could hear the gentle, but profound vibrations of Geoffrey’s snoring. She was tired after her day: too tired to trouble about anything any more.
But in the morning she was first downstairs. She heard Miss Pinnegar, and hurried. Hastily she opened the windows and doors to drive away the smell of beer and smoke. She heard the men rumbling in the bath-room. And quickly she prepared breakfast and made a fire. Mrs. Rollings would not appear till later in the day. At a quarter to seven Miss Pinnegar came down, and went into the scullery to make her tea.