"Yes, but what about to-morrow?—and to-morrow's work?"
"To-morrow may never come. And to-night is."
"Those are only words. Do you know the time?"
Krafft turned quickly from the window. "And if I make it a test of the friendship you have professed for me, that you stay here with me to-night?—You can sleep on the sofa."
"Why on earth get personal?" said Maurice; he could not find his hat, which had fallen in a dark corner. "Heinz, dear boy, be reasonable. Come, give me the house-key—like a good fellow."
"It's the first—the only thing, I have asked of you."
"Nonsense. You have asked dozens."
Krafft took a few steps towards him, and threw the key on the floor at his feet. Wotan, who was at the door, mewing to be let out, sprang back, in affright.
"Go, go, go!" Krafft cried. "I never want to see you again."
Earlier than usual the next morning, Maurice returned to set things right, and to laugh with Heinz at their extravagance the night before. But Krafft was not to be seen. From Frau Schulz, who flounced past him in the passage, first with hot water, then with black coffee, Maurice learned that Krafft had been brought home early that morning, in a disgraceful state of intoxication. Frau Schulz still boiled at the remembrance.