“What’s the show?” said Ally lazily, as he lit a cigarette. “You fellows?”
“No, the town cricket team. We had a match this week, and they got up this hop as a finish. It’s only a small thing, so you might waive ceremony and come!” He looked at Mrs. Lewin’s promising young figure as a man might a horse he means to back.
“Are you too tired, Chum?” Ally said doubtfully.
“I am never too tired to dance,” said Mrs. Lewin with refreshing cordiality. “Wait till I get into something less dinnery. I was afraid to before, because it wouldn’t get dark and let us have candles. There is nothing so disreputable as dining by daylight—it makes one feel décolletée in the highest gown.”
Both men laughed as she vanished through one of the endless doorways. Then there was a silence of some seconds while the cigarette smoke rose in meditative threads. The man who thinks while he smokes draws slowly, but if he is actively employed he produces little woolly clouds.
“You’re married too, aren’t you?” said Ally, looking across the table.
“Yes; left the missus at home. She isn’t strong enough for this place.” Captain Nugent’s burnt young eyes looked away from his friend as he spoke.
“Any family?”
“One,” said Nugent, knocking the ash on to the bare boards of the floor to the inconvenience of the ants who lived there. “It’s a tom!” he added thoughtfully.
Another pause.