Mahony had looked forward to this all through the sorry job of choosing soaps and candles.

The subject piqued his curiosity.

It was the one drop of mental stimulant he could hope to extract from his visit.

The theatre was out of the question: if none of the actors happened to be drunk, a fair proportion of the audience was sure to be.
Part of his pleasure this evening was due to Purdy having agreed to accompany him.

It was always a matter of regret to Mahony that, outside the hobnob of daily life, he and his friend had so few interests in common; that Purdy should rest content with the coarse diversions of the ordinary digger.
Then, from the black shadows of the Arcade, a woman's form detached itself, and a hand was laid on Purdy's arm.
"Shout us a drink, old pal!" Mahony made a quick, repellent movement of the shoulder.