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” “Why not?” She turned on him. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. ‘Very well, then.

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