And again his disappointment came back, sharper than ever. He thought of the dinner he had meant to have, by candlelight, in that quiet restaurant, with the girl who didn’t exist. Was there never to be anything like that for him, nothing fine and beautiful and stirring?
“Well, I’m here, and I’ve got to make the best of it,” he thought. “What will you have to drink?” he asked aloud.[Pg 522]
“To drink?” she repeated, looking at him anxiously. “Oh, let’s not!”
Kirby ordered two cocktails.
“You can’t come to a place like this and not order anything to drink,” he explained when the waiter had gone. “Everybody does.”
“Then I wish we hadn’t come here,” said she.
The cocktails came, and he drank both of them.
“Care to try a dance?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” replied Emmy.
She was looking about her with a different vision now. All the light was gone from her face. Evidently she didn’t find the place lovely now. Kirby himself became more conscious of the loud voices, the hysteric laughter, the ugly disorder about him. He was sorry that he had brought her here. He was ashamed of himself, and he did not like being ashamed of himself.