"The deuce, why don't you keep clear of them?"
Schilsky laughed, without raising his heavy eyes. "If they'd only give one the chance. Damn them all!—old and young——I say. If it weren't for them, a man could lead a quiet life."
"It'll all come out in the wash," consoled the American.
Maurice heard everything that passed, distinctly; but the words seemed to be bandied at an immeasurable distance from him. He remained quite undisturbed, and would have felt like a god looking on at the doings of an infinitesimal world, had it not been for a wheel which revolved in his head, and hindered him from thinking connectedly. So far, drinking had brought him no pleasure; and he had sense enough to find the proximity of Ford disagreeable; for the latter spilt half the liquor he tried to swallow over himself, and half over his neighbour.
A fresh imprecation of Schilsky's called forth more laughter. On its subsidence, Krafft awoke to his surroundings again. "What has the old woman given you?" he asked, with his strange precision of speech and his drunken eyes.
Schilsky struck the table with his fist. "Look at him!—shamming drunk, the bitch!" he cried.
"Never mind him; he don't count. How much did she give you?"
"Oh, gee, go on!"
But Schilsky, turned sullen again, refused to answer.
"Out with it then, Krafft!—you know, you scoundrel, you!"