I rushed towards the front door, and stood there for a few moments to get some fresh air, for the atmosphere of the room was heavy with the odors of countless dinners, and thick with tobacco smoke. I smoked half a cigarette hurriedly, and then returned. There were scarcely half a dozen guests now in the place. One of them, a stout middle-aged woman, who had been sitting at the long table, beckoned me to her. She had very dark eyes and a not unpleasant face; but she wore a hideous black sailor hat, and her clothes were clumsily designed, and flamboyant.
"Is it true," she asked, "that this restaurant has changed hands?"
"Quite true, madam," I answered.
"Are you the new proprietor?" she asked.
"I am his nephew," I told her. "He is not here this evening."
"Are you going to keep on the eighteen-penny dinner?" she asked.
"We are going to alter nothing," I assured her, "so long as our customers are satisfied."
She nodded, and eyed me more critically.
"You don't seem cut out for this sort of thing," she remarked.
"I hope I shall learn," I answered.