They stopped under a broken sign of black letters on greyish glass, within which one feeble electric light bulb made a red glow. The pavement was wet, and glimmered where it slanted up to the lamp-post at the next corner.
"Here we are. Come along, Janey," cried the Australian in a brisk voice.
The door opened and slammed again. Martin and the other girl stood on the pavement facing each other. The Englishman collapsed on the doorstep, and began to snore.
"Well, there's only you and me," she said.
"Oh, if you were only a person, instead of being a member of a profession——" said Martin softly.
"Come," she said.
"No, dearie. I must go," said Martin.
"As you will. I'll take care of your friend." She yawned.
He kissed her and strode down the dark street, his nostrils full of the smell of the rouge on her lips.
He walked a long while with his hat off, breathing deep of the sharp night air. The streets were black and silent. Intemperate desires prowled like cats in the darkness.