"All right," he said; "just for a bit." They went up in the lift superintended by young William, one of the Hortons officials, in age about fourteen, but dressed, with his oiled hair, high collar, and uniform, to be anything over twenty.
"Oh, sir, who won the fight?" he asked in a husky voice when he heard Lois make some allusion to Olympia.
"Beckett," said Grenfell.
"Gawd bless Joe," said young William piously.
The "attic" looked very comfortable and cosy. Grenfell sank into the long sofa. Lois made the coffee. It was as though Beckett's victory had also been hers. She felt as though she could not be defeated. When she saw him sitting there so comfortably she felt as though they were already married.
She knew that there was something on his mind. She had seen, ever since they left Olympia, that there was something that he wanted to say to her. She could not doubt what it was.... She stood there smiling at him as he drank his coffee. How she loved him! Every hair of his round bullet-shaped head, his rosy cheeks, his strength and cleanliness, his shyness and honesty.
"Oh, I've just loved to-night!"
"I'm so glad you have," he answered.
Another long silence followed. He smoked, blowing rings and then breaking them with his finger. At last she spoke, smiling:
"'Tubby,' you want to say something to me."