The Mark of Cain

In the Strangers' Room of the Olympic Club the air was thick with tobacco-smoke, and, despite the bitter cold outside, the temperature was uncomfortably high. Dinner was over, and the guests, broken up into little groups, were chattering noisily. No one had yet given any sign of departing: no one had offered a welcome apology for the need of catching an evening train. Perhaps the civilized custom which permits women to dine in the presence of the greedier sex is the proudest conquest of Cul...