"Can't a gentleman drink when he likes—damn you?" he asked.
The pot-boy slunk away, and a loud laugh rang round the little audience.
"Good on you, Tommy," cried Morris.
"Gentlemen, the girls—bless 'em." He filled their glasses, at his expense, and coupled a nameless wish with his toast.
Tommy, unconscious of its meaning, drank with the others.
Then he walked unsteadily to the door. There was a strange buzzing in his head, and a dawning feeling of nausea in him, which he strove to fight down.
And as he stood at the porch, flushed and bright-eyed, Madge Chantrey and the pale boy passed along the road. They were going to meet Miss Gerald, but Tommy staggered out and faced them.
"Hullo, Madge, old girl," he said, but she drew back, staring at him, with wide eyes.
The pale boy laughed.
"Why, he's drunk—dead drunk," he said.