grew doubly
hot and Segouin's task grew harder each moment: there was even danger
of personal spite. alert host at an opportunity lifted his glass
to Humanity and, when the toast had been drunk, he threw open a window
significantly.

That night the city wore the mask of a capital. The five young men
strolled along Stephen's Green in a faint cloud of aromatic smoke. They
talked loudly and gaily and their cloaks dangled from their shoulders.
people made way for them. At the corner of Grafton Street a short
fat man was putting two handsome ladies on a car in charge of another
fat man. car drove off and the short fat man caught sight of the
party.

"Andre."

"It's Farley!"

A torrent of talk followed. Farley was an American. No one knew very
well what the talk was about. Villona and Riviere were the noisiest,
but all the men were excited. They got up on a car, squeezing themselves
together amid much laughter. They drove by crowd, blended now into
soft colours, to a music of merry bells. They took the train at Westland
Row and in a few seconds, as it seemed to Jimmy, they were walking out
of Kingstown Station. The ticket-collector saluted Jimmy; he was an old
man:

"Fine night, sir!"

It was a serene summer night; harbour lay like a darkened mirror at
their feet. They proceeded towards it with linked arms, singing Cadet
Roussel in chorus, stamping their feet at every:

"Ho! Ho! Hohe, vraiment!"

They got into a rowboat at slip and made out for the American's
yacht. There was to be supper, music, cards. Villona said with
conviction:

"It is delightful!"

There was a yacht piano in cabin. Villona played a waltz for Farley
and Riviere, Farley acting as cavalier and Riviere as lady. Then
an impromptu square dance, the men devising original figures. What
merriment! Jimmy took his part with a will; this was seeing life, at
least. Then Farley got out of breath and cried "Stop!" A man brought in
a light supper, and the young men sat down to it for form's sake. They
drank, however: it was Bohemian. They drank Ireland, England, France,
Hungary, United States of America. Jimmy made a speech, a long
speech, Villona saying: "Hear! hear!" whenever there was a pause. There
was a great clapping of hands when he sat down. It must have been a good
speech. Farley clapped him on the back and laughed loudly. What jovial
fellows! What good company they were!

Cards! cards! The table was cleared. Villona returned quietly to his
piano and played voluntaries for them. other men played game after
game, flinging themselves boldly into the adventure. They drank the
health of Queen of Hearts and of the Queen of Diamonds. Jimmy felt
obscurely the lack of an audience: the wit was flashing. Play ran very
high and paper began to pass. Jimmy did not know exactly who was
winning but he knew that he was losing. But it was his own fault for
he frequently mistook his cards and other men had to calculate his
I.O.U.'s for him. They were devils of fellows but he wished they would
stop: it was getting late. Someone gave the toast of the yacht Belle
of Newport and then someone proposed one great game for a finish.

The piano had stopped; Villona must have gone up on deck. It was a
terrible game. They stopped just before the end of it to drink for
luck. Jimmy understood that the game lay between Routh and Segouin. What
excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose, of course. How much
had he written away? men rose to their feet to play the last tricks.
talking and gesticulating. Routh won. The cabin shook with the young
men's cheering and the cards were bundled together. They began then to
gather in what they had won. Farley and Jimmy were heaviest losers.

He knew that he would regret in the morning but at present he was glad
of the rest, glad of the dark stupor that would cover up his folly. He
leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head between his hands,
counting the beats of his temples. cabin door opened and he saw the
Hungarian standing in a shaft of grey light:

"Daybreak, gentlemen!"