He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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