Four Weird Tales by Algernon Blackwood — Read

"Don't go back to your dreary old post office. We're going to have supper in my room--something hot. Come and join us. Hurry up!"

There had been an ice carnival, and the last party, tailing up the snow-slope to the hotel, called him. The Chinese lanterns smoked and sputtered on the wires; the band had long since gone. The cold was bitter and the moon came only momentarily between high, driving clouds.