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And as he talked, Marsden drew his empty glass to him, moistened his finger with a little spilt liquid, and began to run the finger round the rim of the glass. They had done that formerly, a whole roomful of them, producing, when each had found the note of his instrument, a high, thin, intolerable singing. To this singing Romarin strove to tell his tale.
Chamber-windows when Love was hot? The killing of a man who stood in my way? He pointed to Romarin's plate; Romarin had been eating grapes. "Did you find me saying I'd do a thing and then drawing back from it when we " he made a quick gesture of both hands towards the middle of the restaurant floor. "When we fought ?" "Yes, when we fought, here!... Oh no, oh no!
Might as well be making new ones ... I'll drink whiskey and soda." It was brought, a large one; and Marsden, nodding, took a deep gulp. "Health," he said. "Thanks," said Romarin instantly noting that the monosyllable, which matched the other's in curtness, was not at all the reply he had intended. "Thank you yours," he amended; and a short pause followed, in which fish was brought.
He made a gesture to the waiter who advanced to help him on with his coat that Marsden was to be assisted first; but Marsden, with a grunted "All right," had already helped himself. A glimpse of the interior of the coat told Romarin why Marsden kept waiters at arm's-length. A little twinge of compunction took him that his own overcoat should be fur-collared and lined with silk.
Marsden tossed down the apéritif at one gulp; then he reached for his roll, pulled it to pieces, and Romarin remembered how in the old days Marsden had always eaten bread like that began to throw bullets of bread into his mouth. Formerly this habit had irritated Romarin intensely; now ... well, well, Life uses some of us better than others. Small blame to these if they throw up the struggle.
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