Engines were shrieking, bells ringing, the press of footsteps was unceasing.

In the dark, ill-ventilated room itself there was the rattle of crockery, the yawning of discontented-looking young women behind the bar, young women with their hair still in curl-papers, as yet unprepared for their weak little assaults upon the good-nature or susceptibility of their customers.

A queer corner of life it seemed.

She looked at her companion and realized how fragmentary was her knowledge of him.

There was nothing to be gathered from his face.