"You"d not have been a successful writer whose work goes on sale to-day in every city in the United States."
"Perhaps. But I would have had you. What do I care for success in comparison to you!"
Listening, just for an instant the girl"s nostrils tightened; again she laughed.
"We seem to be travelling in a circle," she bantered, "and keep returning to the starting-point. It"s discouraging."
"It"s written," said Armstrong, simply. "We can"t avoid it. With me you"re the starting-point as you"re the end, always. Didn"t you recognize yourself so in the last novel?"
The girl settled back in her seat wearily.
"You told me, I recall," she said.
"And in the one before?"
"You told me that also."
Armstrong was observing her steadily.
"You are in the new one too," he said; "the one I"ve been working on--but which will never be completed now. You"ve killed the girl there too, Elice."
"Steve!" The hands had gone swiftly to the girl"s ears, covered them completely. "I shan"t listen. This is worse than folly. It"s madness."
"I can"t help it," monotonously. "It"s myself. I can"t avoid being myself."
"Nor I myself, Steve," very gently. "Can"t you realize that?"
The man pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes as though brushing away something tangible.
"No, I can"t realize anything," he said dully, "except that I love you--and have lost. This and that the world is dead--and I am alone in it."
For the second time the girl arose, and even yet quite steadily. But at last her lips were trembling.
"I think you had better go now," she requested. "I can"t stand this much longer; and besides, to keep it up would do no good that I can see.
To-morrow is Sat.u.r.day, and if you still feel there is anything you must say to me I shall be at home all day. But to-night--please go now."
As in a dream, Armstrong arose, obeying her command--as he always obeyed in small things.
"Yes, I suppose you"re right," he echoed dully. "I realize I"m only making matters worse by staying, only getting us farther apart." He b.u.t.toned his coat to the chin and drew on his gloves lingeringly. "If I were to call to-morrow, though, isn"t there a chance that you would be different? Can"t I have even--hope?"
The girl said nothing, did not appear to hear. Subconsciously she was counting the seconds, almost with prayer; counting until she should be alone.
But still Armstrong dallied, killing those same seconds wilfully.
"Aren"t you going to offer me even hope, Elice?" he repeated. "I"ll be in--h.e.l.l when I go, without even hope."
It was the final straw, that prophetic suggestion, the snapping straw.
With one gesture of hopeless, impotent misery, of infinite appeal as well, the girl threw out her hand.
"Go," she pleaded brokenly, "go quickly. There"s a limit to everything and with me that limit is reached." She motioned again, and Steve went out into the night.
CHAPTER IX
ADMONITION
There was a light in the den as Darley Roberts, having let himself in with his latch-key, started up the stairs toward his own rooms, and, although he moved softly, Harry Randall himself faced the newcomer on the landing, his hand extended.
"I was waiting for you," he announced without preface. "I felt sure you"d be in to-night sometime." He was smiling a welcome, one unmistakably genuine. "Delayed, were you?"
"Yes. A wreck out about seventy miles. I just got in on the relief,"
laconically. The accompanying grip, however, was not curt. "You"ll read about it in the morning. Looks comfortable in there," with a nod toward the inviting den. "Early enough yet for a chat, is it?"
"I was hoping so. That"s why I sat up."
"Thanks. I"ll be with you in a minute."
Shortly, in lounging-robe and slippers this time, he came tiptoeing down the hall past the other sleeping-rooms; a big alert shape that seemed mountainous beside the lesser Randall idly awaiting his return.
"Very well," he introduced characteristically as he dropped into a convenient seat, "let"s hear all about it--everything. I"m listening."
Randall caught the contagion of brevity, as he always did when in the other"s presence. "What would you like to hear about first?" he returned smilingly. "Have you any choice?"
"Yourself," with a steady look. "Everything"s right, I see."
"Yes, everything"s right," echoed Randall, "so much so that I"m simply foolishly happy." He paused meaningly. "And now, since--"
Roberts gestured--merely gestured.
"Aren"t you going to permit me even to thank you?" countered Randall.
"I came to hear the news," evenly. Roberts smiled suddenly at the look on his companion"s face. "I understand about that other matter," he digressed, ambiguously but nevertheless adequately; "let it go at that.
Mrs. Randall, I presume--"
"She hung your portrait, life size, in the parlor downstairs a few days ago," with direct malice.
Again Roberts gestured; then he looked up. They laughed together and the tabooed subject by mutual consent pa.s.sed into oblivion.
"Miss Gleason--Elice--" suggested Roberts.
"Still at her place in the university." Randall busied himself with a strand of lint on the collar of his smoking-jacket. "Her father"s gone all to pieces, you know, and she seems a bit--tired. Otherwise she"s herself--as always."
"No, I didn"t know," said Roberts. "And Armstrong?"
"He"s been working steadily for months, and been straight absolutely."
Randall ventured a glance at last. "To-day was his big day; you do know that. He was in the clouds this evening."