'Oh, how horrible, take it away!' squealed Halliday, turning green and
averting his face.

'D'you feel ill?' asked the sardonic young man, in some concern. 'Do
you feel ill, Julius? Garn, it's nothing, man, don't give her the
pleasure of letting her think she's performed a feat--don't give her
the satisfaction, man--it's just what she wants.'

'Oh!' squealed Halliday.

'He's going to cat, Maxim,' said the Pussum warningly. The suave young
Russian rose and took Halliday by the arm, leading him away. Birkin,
white and diminished, looked on as if he were displeased. The wounded,
sardonic young man moved away, ignoring his bleeding hand in the most
conspicuous fashion.

'He's an awful coward, really,' said the Pussum to Gerald. 'He's got
such an influence over Julius.'

'Who is he?' asked Gerald.

'He's a Jew, really. I can't bear him.'

'Well, he's quite unimportant. But what's wrong with Halliday?'

'Julius's the most awful coward you've ever seen,' she cried. 'He
always faints if I lift a knife--he's tewwified of me.'

'H'm!' said Gerald.