ANGEL    PAVEMENT
channel of her body. She gasped, laughed, coughed, all
at once.
"That's the way, Miss Matfield. You put it down in
great style. Try another. I'm going to have one. Just
another for good luck." He filled the glasses again.
She floated easily now on a warm tide. It was very
pleasant. She took the glass, hesitated, then looked up at
him. "I'm not going to be tight, am I? If you make me
drunk I shan't be able to type your letters, you know."
"Don't you worry about that," he told her, grinning
amiably and then patting her shoulder. "You couldn't
be soused on two glasses of this stuff, and you'll be as
sober as a judge by the time you get back to Angel Pave-
ment. It'll just make you feel warm and comfortable,
and keep the cold out. Now then. Here she goes."
"Happy days!" cried Miss Matfield, smiling at him,
and once more there came the aniseedy taste, the incen-
diary bomb, the racing white fire, and the final warm
tide.
"Now I like you, Miss Matfield," he told her, with a
full stare of approval. "That was done in real style, like
a good sport. You've got some character, not like most
of these pink little ninnies of girls you see here. I
noticed that right at the start, I said to myself, That
girl's not only got looks, but she's got character too/ I
wish you were coming with us."
"Thank you."
"Well, it's a real compliment. Though I don't know
that you'd like it. It'll be perishingly cold, and by to-
morrow shell be rolling like the devil all the way across
the North Sea, and she'll start rolling again when we get
into the Baltic. I know her of old. How d'you feel
now?"