A terrible thought had come into Robert's head. It was nearly twelve
o'clock. The house-party was retiring to bed. He heard the
"Good-nights" wafted through the open window; the lights went out,
to reappear upstairs. Presently they too went out, and Robert was
alone with the darkened house.
The temptation was too much for a conscience already sodden with
billiards, drink and cigars. He flung a leg over the sill and drew
himself gently into the room. At least he would have one good meal,
he too would have his Christmas dinner before the end came. He
switched the light on and turned eagerly to the table. His eyes
ravenously scanned the contents. Turkey, mince-pies, plum-pudding--
all was there as in the days of his youth.
[EDITOR. THIS IS BETTER. I ORDERED A TURKEY, I REMEMBER. WHAT ABOUT
THE MISTLETOE AND HOLLY? I RATHER THINK I ASKED FOR SOME OF THEM.