with blind, unseeing eyes, at the great grey twilit shape, she propped him up and held him between herself and Eugene.
Then they all got back into the car, and she drove them to the best café, the best hotel in town. Starwick almost collapsed getting out of the car. His knees buckled under him, and he would have fallen if Ann had not caught him, put her arm round him and held him up. His condition was pitiable. He could no longer hold his head up; it lolled and wobbled drunkenly on his neck like a flower too heavy for its heavy stalk. His eyes were glazed and leaden, and as they started into the café, he had to be held up. He lifted his feet and dragged them after him like leaden weights. The café was a large and splendid one. They found a table to one side. Starwick staggered towards the cushioned seat against the wall and immediately collapsed. From that time on, he was never wholly conscious. Ann sat down beside him, put her arm round him and supported him. He sank against her shoulder like a child. The girl’s face was flushed with anger, she stared at Elinor with resentful eyes, but by no word or gesture did Elinor show that she noticed anything amiss either in Ann’s or Starwick’s behaviour.
Rather, she chatted gaily to Eugene, she kept up a witty and high-spirited discourse with everyone around her, she had never been more mercurial, quick, gay and charming than she was that evening. And announcing gaily that she was the hostess that was “giving the party,” she ordered lavishly—a delicious meal, with champagne from the celebrated cellars of the establishment. And everyone, spurred to hunger by the cold air and their long journey, ate heartily—everyone save Ann, who ate little and sat in angry silence, with one arm round Starwick’s shoulders, and Starwick, who could not be roused from his deep stupor to eat anything.
It was after nine o’clock before they got up to go. Elinor paid the bill, and still chatting as gaily and as lightly as if the whole wretched expedition had brought nothing but unqualified joy to all her guests, started for the door. Starwick had to be half-carried, half-dragged out by Ann and Eugene, under the prayerful guidance of several deeply troubled waiters. They put him in the car and got in themselves. Elinor, looking round lightly and crying out cheerfully, “Are we ready, children?” started the motor for the long drive back to Paris.
That was a hideous and unforgettable journey. Before they were done with
