"Originally. I don't need it often, but I'm rather unsettled to-night."
He had been restless throughout the play, and the hand that paid for the powders had trembled more than was necessary.
"You were all right at dinner," I said.
"That was some time ago," he answered.
"Everything went off admirably; there's been nothing to worry you."
"Reaction," he muttered abruptly, as we mounted the steps of the Club.
Supper was a gloomy meal, as we ate in silence and had the whole huge dining-room to ourselves. I ought not to complain or be surprised, as silence was the Seraph's normal state, and my mind was far too full of other things to discuss the ordinary banalities of the day. With the arrival of the cigars, however, I began to feel unsociable, and told him to talk to me.
"What about?" he asked.
"Anything."
"There's only one thing you're thinking about at the moment."