The band had ceased to play; little parties of men and women were standing about, bidding one another goodnight.

The lamps had been lowered, and in the gloom the voices and laughter seemed to have become lower and more insinuating; the lights in the eyes of the women, as they passed down the room on their way out, softer and more irresistible.
"I suppose we must go," she said reluctantly.
Tavernake paid his bill and they turned into the street.

She took his arm and they turned westward.

Even out here, the atmosphere of the restaurant appeared to have found its way.

The soberness of life, its harder and more practical side, was for the moment obscured.