They both laughed—the girl in easy, teasing gaiety, Olof still thankful at finding it so easy to suit himself to his company.
"What'll you have to drink? Sherry, madeira, or stout, perhaps? I like sherry best."
"Let's have all three!" cried Olof.
"That'll be twenty, please." He gave her the money and she slipped from the room.
Olof looked round. How was this going to end? He was thankful at any rate that the room was neatly, almost tastefully furnished, and that the girl was so easy to talk to.
The bottles and glasses were brought in. "Here's to us both!" cried the girl, lifting her glass with an enticing glance.
They drank—it was the first time Olof had ever tasted wine. And all the bitterness and unrest in his soul seemed drowned at once.
"I say—is this your first time?" The girl explained her question with a meaning glance.
"Yes." The word stuck in his throat. "Have some more to drink," he added hastily.
"That's right!" The glasses rang. "Got any cigarettes?"