Each was made to hold two persons, and the table between them was large
enough for four plates and four pairs of hands. A few hollow-chested men,
the pale vagrants of civilisation, drowsed in the corners. They had been
hunted through the night by the policeman, and had come in for something
hot. Hubert noted the worn frock-coats, and the miserable arms coming out
of shirtless sleeves. One looked up inquiringly, and Hubert thought how
slight had become the line that divided him from the outcast. A
serving-maid collected the plates, knives and forks, when the customers
left, and carried them back to the great zinc counter.
Impressed by his appearance, she brought him what he had ordered and took
the money for it, although the custom of the place was for the customer to
pay for food at the counter and carry it himself to the table at which he
chose to eat. Hubert learnt that there was no set dinner, but there was a
beef-steak pudding at one, price fourpence, a penny potatoes, a penny
bread. So by dining at Lockhart's he would be able to cut down his daily
expense by at least twopence; that would extend the time to finish his play
by nearly a week. And if his appetite were not keen, he could assuage it
with a penny plum pudding; or he could take a middle course, making his
dinner off a sausage and mashed potatoes.
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