“How?” 106 “The other person makes the mistake of going to sleep. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. He kissed her at the door. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility.
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