How bright it was! How full these last few minutes before twelve.
The offerer appraised his guest critically, "Sherry!" he ordered, "and the usual--now! my girl, drink it up sharp. The night's young for pleasure yet, but we shall have to turn out and find some other place."
Aura looked at him clearly; at the face, not bad in itself, but overlaid with sensuality.
"I am not going to drink," she said coldly. "I only came in to see--and I have seen."
She turned to go. Luckily for her, his torrent of obscene abuse was interrupted by a general exodus; for suddenly the Town Hall clock boomed, the church bells rang out, the old year passed, the new year began; began with shouts and curses and kisses and laughter. Some one struck up "Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot," and a band of perfect strangers to each other, hand-clasped and feeling wildly at each end for further friendship, lurched across the street.
A Salvation lass, her face vivid with intent, clutched at Aura's arm. "Don't go with him, my girl--don't--he is the Devil--he is Sin incarnate--he is----"
"I am not going," answered Aura in a queer strained voice. "I am in school. I am learning. I want to see for myself."
"That was Eve's sin--you are lost--come--come with me."
The crowd jostled them apart, jostled Aura into the shadow of a narrow archway. More than one man's face looked into the shadow, spoke, then passed on with a jibe. The streets were beginning to empty; the crowd was dissolving into couples; men and women were hurrying away into the side streets. She must be going also.
"Hullo! you young devil! I have got you again, have I?" came a hoarse voice, and a hand clutched at her arm.