midnight
Moreover , he felt hungry . Hence he had descended to the famous restaurant , whose wide windows were flung open to the illuminated majesty of the Thames Embankment . The pale cream room was nearly full of expensive women , and expending men , and silver-chained waiters whose skilled , noiseless , inhuman attentions were remunerated at the rate of about four-pence a minute . Music , the midnight food of love , floated scarce heard through the tinted atmosphere . It was the best imitation of Roman luxury that London could offer , and after Selwood Terrace and the rackety palace of no gratuities , Priam Farll enjoyed it as one enjoys home after strange climes . Next to his table was an empty table , set for two , to which were presently conducted , with due state , a young man , and a magnificent woman whose youth was slipping off her polished shoulders like a cloak . Priam Farll then overheard the following conversation : -- _ Man _ : Well , what are you going to have ?