At the gate Marie drew back. A man was passing, swaying uncertainly, arguing with himself.
"Why! it is Mr. Annandale," the girl in a frightened whisper murmured.
"I wonder where he got all that liquor?" Loftus queried. "Not at Sylvia Waldron's, I'll wager."
"Sylvia Waldron! What a sweet name," said Marie. "Who is she?"
"The girl he is engaged to."
"Is she pretty?"
"Oh, tall and dark, don't you know. Not at all my style."
But now night had swallowed Annandale. Loftus and Marie passed on.