Chapter I (4)

"No. Not Jack. All he thought was what a ripping garden that was, with palms, and marble courts, like you see in the East. There was music far away, two notes and a drum, like you hear in a native dance, before the dancers come. It made Jack feel like a millionaire or a lord, able to do anything, but just then only wanting a good time. Then he noticed they were alone in the garden, which was full of trees in blossom. All the other people had gone. There was only that music. The place was very quiet. He could hear water tinkling in a fountain, and he reckoned he would stay there till closing time. The girl talked to him in whispers, and he put his arm around her. I don't know how long he stayed there, but he kept telling the girl she was the best girl he'd ever had, and he'd never had such a good time in his life.

"It was funny the way he got out. Jack reckoned in there that the world would never come to an end, like young fellers do, when they're enjoying themselves proper. But once he took her ring off his finger, to have another look at it. Then he was in the street again, looking up at a building which had its doors shut, and Jack only thought he was looking there for a number he wanted.

"It had started to rain. He looked at his watch. It was just twelve o'clock. He didn't know what he wanted with an address in that street, so he started off in a hurry for his owner's house, feeling pretty stiff, as if he'd been sleeping rough. When he got to his owner's house, he rang the bell.

"The owner's daughter came to the door, and looked at him like she didn't know him, and was a bit afraid of him. 'No, thank you,' she said kindly, 'not to-day.' And shut the door at once.

"What puzzled Jack was that he didn't feel surprised and angry. He turned and went down those steps again, and down the street, thinking it over. He looked back at the house. Yes, that was the house all right. And that was Annie all right. Well, what the devil was the matter with him? There was a public-house at the corner, and he stopped there, thinking things over, and staring at the window. Then he saw his face in a mirror, and shouted so that the barman came and ordered him out of that, sharp now. But he kept looking at the glass, not believing his eyes. He knew his own face again, but only just knew it. His eyes were dull and red and gummy, same as those old men have who've lived too long, and his face was puffed and pimpled, and he had a lousy white beard."