They passed through swing-doors into a larger hall brilliantly lit and heavy with a mixed aroma of smoke and food. There was a sort of hum of sound going on all the time and Peter looked round wonderingly. He perceived immediately that there was an atmosphere about this French restaurant unlike that of any he had been in before. He was, in truth, utterly bewildered by what he saw, but he made an effort not to show it. Julie, on the other hand, was fairly carried away. They seated themselves at a table for four near the end of the partition, and she led the party in gaiety. Donovan hardly took his eyes off her, and cut in with dry, daring remarks with a natural case. Tommy played a good second to Julie, and if she had had any fears they were not visible now. "What about an appetiser?" demanded Donovan. "Oh, rather! Mixed vermuth for me; but Tommy must have a very small one: she gets drunk on nothing. Give me a cigarette now, padre; I'm dying to smoke." Peter produced his case. "Don't call him 'padre' here," said Donovan; "you'll spoil his enjoyment." "A cigarette, Solomon, then," whispered Julie, as the other turned to beckon a _garçon_, flashing her eyes on him. Peter resisted no longer. "Don't," he said. "Call me anything but that." It seemed to him that there was something inevitable in it all. He did not formulate his sensations, but it was the lure of the contrast that won him. Ever since he had landed in France he had, as it were, hung on to the old conventional position, and he had felt increasingly that it was impossible to do so. True, there seemed little connection between a dinner with a couple of madcap girls in a French restaurant and religion, but there was one. He had felt out of touch with men and life, and now a new phase of it was offered him. He reached out for it eagerly. Julie leaned back and blew out a thin stream of smoke, her eyes daring him, picking up the little glass as she did so. _"Here's to the girl with the little grey shoes,"_ she chanted merrily. "Don't Julie, for Heaven's sake!" pleaded Tommy. "He'll be shocked." "Oh, go on," said Peter; "what is it?" "Captain Donovan will finish," laughed Julie. "'Deed I can't, for I don't know it," he said. "Let's have it, little girl; I'm sure it's a sporting toast." "_Who eats your grub and drinks your booze_," continued she. "Shut up, Julie," said Tommy, leaning over as if to snatch her glass. "_And then goes home to her mother to snooze_," called Julie breathlessly, leaning back. "_I don't think_," ejaculated Donovan. Julie tipped down the drink. "You knew it all the time," she said. And they all burst out laughing. Peter drank, and called for another, his eyes on Julie. He knew that he could not sum her up, but he refused to believe that this was the secret behind the eyes. She was too gay, too insolent. What Donovan thought he could not say, but he almost hated him for the ease with which he kept pace with their companions.