They sat down side by side opposite him. Wilfred’s breast was in a commotion. His confusion must have affected the other two, for they were silent at first. Undoubtedly they thought him a churl, who hugged his solitude. He could not bring himself to look at them. He was bitterly upbraiding himself. You fool! What a poor figure you are cutting! Why can’t you be natural? These are simple, likable fellows, willing to be friends. They are your kind. What a chance! And you’re throwing it away! You won’t get another such chance. This is what comes of dreaming! Unfits you for the reality. . . . Their soup was brought; and they hungrily applied themselves to it, with encomiums upon its flavor. While waiting for their next course, they picked up a conversation that had evidently been dropped a little while before. They spoke low; but Wilfred’s sharpened ears heard every word. “I think you’re foolish,” said Stanny, “after working in the office all day, to sit in your basement nights, hacking away at your carving. With a book of Italian verbs open besides you, too. Or if you’re not there, you’re sitting in Madame Tardieu’s stuffy room, droning French with that tiresome old soul!” “She needs the money,” mumbled Jasper. His shy, unsure utterance endeared him to Wilfred. “Well, that’s not your fault,” said Stanny, slightly exasperated. “You’re too easy. She knows she’s got a good thing, and she’s nursing it along. . . . I say, it’s not natural at our age.” “What else is there to do, nights?” grumbled Jasper. “We haven’t any money to spend.” “Loaf!” said Stanny, promptly. “A certain amount of loafing is necessary to the soul’s health. You’re doing violence to your nature with this continual grind. It’ll get back at you some day. This self-improvement business can be carried too far. How can you improve when you’ve worked yourself into a half-doped state? . . . I bet you fall asleep in your chair at Mme. Tardieu’s many’s the night, while the old body drools on.” “It’s a fact,” confessed Jasper. While they talked together, ignoring him, Wilfred quieted down. It was better they should ignore him, he thought; for if, as was probable, they should not like him, that would be worse. Meanwhile what a glimpse into their lives he was getting! “Last night,” said Jasper in his diffident, masculine voice, “I was sitting in Madame Tardieu’s room. It’s true, I was half asleep. I happened to look out of the window. . . . In the house opposite, there was a girl going to bed. She’d forgotten to pull down the shades. . . . Damn nice-looking girl! When she put up her arms to unpin her hair . . . lovely round arms . . . such a picture! . . . Well . . . I lost my head. I said good-night to the old lady in a hurry, and I went . . . I mean I went across the street. . . .” “_What!_” exclaimed Stanny.