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‘You take me somewhere where we can get a regular slap-
up lunch. All this is the very worst thing for my nerves.’
‘Lavenue’s is about the best place round here,’ answered
Philip.
Albert Price settled himself on a velvet seat with a sigh
of relief. He ordered a substantial luncheon and a bottle of
wine.
‘Well, I’m glad that’s over,’ he said.
He threw out a few artful questions, and Philip discov-
ered that he was eager to hear about the painter’s life in
Paris. He represented it to himself as deplorable, but he was
anxious for details of the orgies which his fancy suggested
to him. With sly winks and discreet sniggering he conveyed
that he knew very well that there was a great deal more than
Philip confessed. He was a man of the world, and he knew
a thing or two. He asked Philip whether he had ever been
to any of those places in Montmartre which are celebrated
from Temple Bar to the Royal Exchange. He would like to
say he had been to the Moulin Rouge. The luncheon was
very good and the wine excellent. Albert Price expanded as
the processes of digestion went satisfactorily forwards.
‘Let’s ‘ave a little brandy,’ he said when the coffee was
brought, ‘and blow the expense.’
He rubbed his hands.
‘You know, I’ve got ‘alf a mind to stay over tonight and
go back tomorrow. What d’you say to spending the evening
together?’
‘If you mean you want me to take you round Montmartre
tonight, I’ll see you damned,’ said Philip.

Of Human Bondage