They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. "What shall I do? If I persist, I shall destroy her. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target.
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