Would Monsieur like anything to eat?
No, the wine was sufficient.
Courtlandt poured out a second glass slowly. The wine bubbled up to the
brim and overflowed. He had been looking at the glass with unseeing eyes.
He set the bottle down impatiently. Fool! To have gone to Burma, simply to
stand in the golden temple once more, in vain, to recall that other time:
the starving kitten held tenderly in a woman's arms, his own scurry among
the booths to find the milk so peremptorily ordered, and the smile of
thanks that had been his reward! He had run away when he should have hung
on. He should have fought every inch of the way....
"Monsieur is lonely?"
A pretty young woman sat down before him in the vacant chair.