Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little party. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier.
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