“How dare you, William?” I said, sternly.  He seemed not to hear me.  Let me tell, in the measured words of one describing a past incident, what then took place.  To get nearer the window he pressed heavily on my shoulder.

“William, you forget yourself!” I said, meaning—­as I see now—­that he had forgotten me.

I heard him gulp, but not to my reprimand.  He was scanning the street.  His hands chattered on my shoulder, and, pushing him from me, I saw that his mouth was agape.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

He stared at me, and then, like one who had at last heard the echo of my question, seemed to be brought back to the club.  He turned his face from me for an instant, and answered shakily: 

“I beg your pardon, sir!  I—­I shouldn’t have done it.  Are the bananas too ripe, sir?”

He recommended the nuts, and awaited my verdict so anxiously while I ate one that I was about to speak graciously, when I again saw his eyes drag him to the window.

“William,” I said, my patience giving way at last, “I dislike being waited on by a melancholy waiter.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, trying to smile, and then broke out passionately, “For God’s sake, sir, tell me, have you seen a little girl looking in at the club windows?”

He had been a good waiter once, and his distracted visage was spoiling my dinner.

“There,” I said, pointing to the girl, and no doubt would have added that he must bring me coffee immediately, had he continued to listen.  But already he was beckoning to the child.  I have not the least interest in her (indeed, it had never struck me that waiters had private affairs, and I still think it a pity that they should have); but as I happened to be looking out at the window I could not avoid seeing what occurred.  As soon as the girl saw William she ran into the street, regardless of vehicles, and nodded three times to him.  Then she disappeared.

I have said that she was quite a common child, without attraction of any sort, and yet it was amazing the difference she made in William.  He gasped relief, like one who had broken through the anxiety that checks breathing, and into his face there came a silly laugh of happiness.  I had dined well, on the whole, so I said: 

“I am glad to see you cheerful again, William.”

I meant that I approved his cheerfulness because it helped my digestion, but he must needs think I was sympathising with him.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered.  “Oh, sir! when she nodded and I saw it was all right I could have gone down on my knees to God.”

I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes.  Even William, disgracefully emotional as he was at the moment, flung out his arms to recall the shameful words.

“Coffee, William!” I said, sharply.

I sipped my coffee indignantly, for it was plain to me that William had something on his mind.