Hetty turned to Mendel and asked him sweetly to buy her a bottle of wine, as she needed something to pick her up. "You are a devil," she said, "sitting there as though nothing had happened. But I always said you were a devil and no good. I always said so, but I have my friends and can be independent." "Don't be a fool," said he roughly. "You'll have a short run, and you'd better find something to fall back on while you can." "Get your hair cut!" she replied. "I know which side my bread's buttered, and the old men aren't so sharp as the young ones. You've got a fool's tongue in your clever head, Kühler, and a fool's tongue makes enemies." "Shut up!" he said. "And you leave Mitchell alone. He hasn't done you any harm." "Ho! Hasn't he?" she cried. Mitchell groaned, and, giving a withering glance at the two of them, Hetty gathered up her vanity-bag and gloves and walked out of the restaurant. "She's a slut!" said Mendel. "She always was a slut and always will be." "Gawd!" cried Mitchell. "It was you let her loose on the town, and I shall never hold up my head again. I shall never be able to face my people. I shall just let myself be swallowed up in London. . . . But I shan't trouble any of my friends. When I'm a pimp I shan't mind if you look the other way. After all, it isn't so far to fall. There's not much difference between the ordinary artist and a pimp." "What has she done to you?" cried Mendel furiously. "Why do you let yourself be put down by a drab like that?" "She's not a drab," said Mitchell, in a curious thin of protest. "She is the mother of my child." Mendel brought his fist down on the table with a thump, so that the cups jumped from their saucers. "She is what?" "The mother of my child," said Mitchell, burying his face in his hands. "I have offered to marry her, to make an honest woman of her, but she refuses, and she will take nothing from me. Gawd! How can I ever face Morrison again? How can I face my mother?" "Rubbish! Rubbish! Rubbish!" cried Mendel. "Why you? Why not Weldon--why not Calthrop?" He saw the goggle-eyed man listening eagerly and lowered his voice. "A drab like that deserves all she gets. She takes her risks, and I'll say this for her, that she does not complain. She's clever enough to know how to deal with it. . . ." He wanted to say a great deal more, but realized that Mitchell, intent upon his own emotions, was not listening to him. Also, through the fantastic atmosphere, he began to be aware of a reality powerful and horrible. Against it Hetty seemed to be of no account, and Mitchell's excitement was palpably false. This reality had been called into being by no one's will, and therefore it was horrible. "I shall have to disappear," said Mitchell.