I don't feel like riding." We walked to the Shoreham.

The cafe looked cheerful, as it always does.
We ordered an extensive supper.

It was good.

There were pretty women in the room, but we looked at them with the austere eyes of disillusioned men, and talked cynically of life.

I cannot recall any of the things we said, though I remember thinking at the time that both of us were being rather brilliant, in an icy way.