Conversation fell, heavily, helplessly, to the ground.

Some man got up to go and some one else followed him.

It was the wrong moment for departure for they had drunk enough to make it desirable to drink more, but to escape from that white face of Craven's was the thing--out into the air.
At last Craven himself got up.

"I must be off," he said heavily.
"So must I," Olva said, coming forward from his corner.

Craven flung him a frightened glance and then passed stumbling out of the door.
Olva caught him up at the bottom of the dark stairs.