He did, beyond question, suit the room with its long gleaming walls and long gleaming table. The table at which he was to dine was drawn up close to the window, so that he could watch the antics of the square. The candle-light spread as far as the long table and then spread round in a circle, catching in its embrace a tall mirror that ran from the ceiling to the floor. This mirror was so placed that a corner of the square, with its lights and figures and tall dark houses, was reflected in it. The room seemed close, and Maradick opened the window a little and voices came up to him. In places the people were bathed in light and he could see their faces, their eyes and their mouths, and then in other parts there was grey darkness, so that black figures moved and vanished mysteriously. The tower reminded him curiously of the tower in his dream; it rose black against the grey light behind it. His dinner was excellent; the waiter was inclined to be conversational. “Yes, it was some kind o’ feast day. No, he didn’t know exactly. The place was full of superstitions—no, he, thank Gawd, was from London—yes, Clapham, where they did things like Christians—there were meringues, apple-tart, or custard—yes, meringues.” He faded away. Voices came up to the room. Vague figures of three people could be seen below the window. The quavering voice of an old man pierced the general murmurs of the square. “Well, ’e’d seen the first wasp of the season, as early back as April; yus, ’e was minded to give ’im a clout, but ’e missed it.” The wasp figured largely in the discussion. They were all three rapidly reaching that stage when excessive affection gives place to inimical distrust. The old man’s voice quavered on. “If ’e called _’is_ woman names then ’e didn’t see why ’e shouldn’t call _’is_ woman names.” This led to futile argument. But the old man was obstinate. Stars burnt high over the roofs in a silver cluster, and then there trailed across the night blue a pale white path like silk that was made of other stars—myriads of stars, back in unlimited distance, and below them there hung a faint cloud of golden light, the reflexion from the lamps of the tower. Maradick’s dinner had done him good. He sat, with his chair tilted slightly forward, watching the square. The magnificent waiter had appeared suddenly, had caught the food in a moment with a magical net, as it were, and had disappeared. He had left whisky and soda and cigarettes at Maradicks side; the light of two candles caught the shining glass of the whisky decanter and it sparkled all across the table.