The stage was a glare of light in Martin's eyes; he felt as he had when at home he had leaned over and looked straight into the headlight of an auto drawn up to the side of the road. Screening him from the glare were the backs of people's heads: Tom Randolph's head and his girl's, side by side, their cheeks touching, the pointed red chin of one of the Australians and the frizzy hair of the other woman. In the entr'acte they all stood at the bar, where it was very hot and an orchestra was playing and there were many men in khaki in all stages of drunkenness, being led about by women who threw jokes at each other behind the men's backs. "Here's to mud," said one of the Australians. "The war'll end when everybody is drowned in mud." The orchestra began playing the _Madelon_ and everyone roared out the marching song that, worn threadbare as it was, still had a roistering verve to it that caught people's blood. People had gone back for the last act. The two Australians, the Englishman, and the two Americans still stood talking. "Mind you, I'm not what you'd call susceptible. I'm not soft. I got over all that long ago." The Englishman was addressing the company in general. "But the poor beggar said 'Thank you.'" "What's he saying?" asked a woman, plucking at Martin's arm. "He's telling about a German atrocity." "Oh, the dirty Germans! What things they've done!" the woman answered mechanically. Somehow, during the entr'acte, the Australians had collected another woman; and a strange fat woman with lips painted very small, and very large bulging eyes, had attached herself to Martin. He suffered her because every time he looked at her she burst out laughing. The bar was closing. They had a drink of champagne all round that made the fat woman give little shrieks of delight. They drifted towards the door, and stood, a formless, irresolute group, in the dark street in front of the theatre. Randolph came up to Martin. "Look. We're goin'. I wonder if I ought to leave my money with you ..." "I doubt if I'm a safe person to-night ..." "All right. I'll take it along. Look ... let's meet for breakfast." "At the _Café de la Paix_." "All right. If she is nice I'll bring her." "She looks charming." Tom Randolph pressed Martin's hand and was off. There was a sound of a kiss in the darkness. "I say, I've got to have something to eat," said the Englishman. "I didn't have a bit of dinner. I say--mangai, mangai." He made gestures of putting things into his mouth in the direction of the fat woman. The three women put their heads together. One of them knew a place, but it was a dreadful place. Really, they mustn't think that ... She only knew it because when she was very young a man had taken her there who wanted to seduce her. At that everyone laughed and the voices of the women rose shrill. "All right, don't talk; let's go there," said one of the Australians. "We'll attend to the seducing."