I went back to the inn somewhat shaken up.
Several old veterans were seated in the barroom, smoking bad tobacco and drinking a final bout.

Their jargon was unintelligible to me.
"Where's your barmaid ?" I asked of the inn-keeper.
His faded blue eyes scanned me sharply.

I read a question in them and wondered.
"She went into the garden to get a breath of fresh air," he said.

"She does not like the smoke." It annoyed me.

I had seen some one, then.