“That's all for to-night.”
Kitty and Hawksley stepped out into the corridor, the problem they had sought to shake off reestablished in their thoughts, added too, if anything.
“How do you feel?”
“Top-hole,” lied Hawksley. “My word, though, I wobbled a bit going round that block. I almost kissed the bobby. I say, he thought I'd been tilting a few. But it was a lark!”
“Dinner is served,” announced Kuroki at their elbows. His expression was coldly bland.
“Dinner!” cried Hawksley, brightening. “What does the American soldier say?”
“Eats!” answered Kitty.
All tension vanished in the double laughter that followed. They approached dinner with something of the spirit that had induced Hawksley to fiddle and Kitty to pass the hat in front of the Metropolitan Opera House. Hawksley's recuperative powers promised well for his future. By the time coffee was served his head had cleared and his legs had resumed their normal functions of support.
“I was so infernally bored!”
“And now?” asked Kitty, recklessly.