He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. “I never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. “If you speak—farewell. “We will do Paris like the tourists, and thank God here comes dinner. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne.
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