Charley stared. "The Deuce you say! You, the scorner of the s.e.x!

Since when?"

"Two nights ago."

"And you never said a word about it. You let me shoot off my mouth all this time and never----"

"What was there to say?"

"You packed me off to the life cla.s.s last night so you could--"

"That was for your own good!"

"Come off! Come off! Have I such a trusting eye? On the level why didn't you tell me before?"

What was Evan to say. He began an explanation that was no explanation.

Charley's sharp eyes bored him through and through.

"By the Lord!" cried the latter at last, "Old Stony-heart has melted!

St. Anthony has fallen for the caloric tresses. Touched where he lives, by Gad! Brought low and humbled in the dust!"

Evan grinned painfully. "Don't be a fool!" he muttered.

"How does it feel?" asked Charley with mock solicitude, "a dull ache in the epigastrium or a fluttering sensation in the pericardium; some lay stress on the characteristic feeling of heaviness behind the occiput."

"You wheeze like a vaudeville performer on small time," growled Evan.

Charley roared. He did not often get his partner on the grill like this. It was generally the other way about. But in the midst of his outrageous joshing it suddenly struck the warm-hearted Charley that under his game grin Evan was suffering very pretty torments. Charley jumped up and for the briefest of seconds laid his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"Look here," he said abruptly, "you know what I think of you really, or if you don't you'll have to take it for granted, for I'll never tell you. I haven't the words, but only a line of cheap cackle as you say.

Understand, from this time on it's a clear field for you, see? Me for the Movies, to-night."

Evan was touched, but of course he couldn't show Charley his feelings, for that matter Charley did not require it. "You needn't go out on my account," he grumbled. "I don't expect to see her to-night. She has a date."

Such was the bitterness with which he said it, that Charley could not help but laugh again. "Cheer up!" he cried. "It has been known to happen. Fellows like you take it too hard. Hard wood is slow to catch, eh, but Lor' what a heat she throws out!"

"Don't jolly me," muttered Evan. "I can't take it!"

Charley's face softened again for an instant. "C'mon with me," he said. "Mildred Macy in the Sp.a.w.n of Infamy's at the Nonpareil. Milly is some vamp I hear."

"Couldn't sit through a picture," said Evan. "You go."

Nevertheless when the dishes were washed up the prospect of spending the evening alone in the little room was too ghastly. As Charley got up Evan said sheepishly:

"Believe I will go."

"Bully!" said Charley. "Get your hat."

As they pa.s.sed her door Evan's ears were long. No sounds came from within, no crack of light showed beneath. He had been hoping against hope that she might be there. Where was she? The picture of a little restaurant rushed before his mind's eye, Corinna and a man on opposite sides of the table, their smiling faces drawing close over the cloth.

He suffered as much as if he had actually beheld them. That's the worst of having a vivid imagination.

"Sp.a.w.n of Infamy" proved to be what Charley termed "High-life for low-lifers" and they were home shortly after nine. As they mounted the first flight Evan perceived a crack of light under Corinna's door and his heart rose. She was home early, she had not had a good time then.

But as they rounded the landing he heard her voice inside. She had a visitor--alone in there with her! A horrible spasm of pain contracted his breast. He had much ado to restrain himself from beating with his fists on the door. He followed Charley up-stairs grinding his teeth.

He had never suspected that such raging devils lay dormant in his blood.

When they got up-stairs it was quite impossible for Evan to remain there. For a moment or two he walked up and down like something caged; he could not pretend to hide the feelings that were tearing him.

Charley glancing at him wonderingly out of the tail of his eye, bustled about talking foolishly.

Finally Evan said thickly: "It's stuffy up here. I'm going down to walk around the Park awhile."

Charley's eyes followed him compa.s.sionately. Charley's time to experience this sort of thing had not arrived.

When he started Evan honestly intended to go down in the Park and calm himself with the exercise of walking. But unfortunately he had to pa.s.s her door. In spite of himself he stopped there, and despising himself, listened. He heard her say: "I won't sing to-night. I'm not in the humour." Then he heard a man's voice low and urgent, and he saw red.

He knocked.

She came promptly and opened the door, opened it wide. She did not quail when she saw his lowering face.

"Good evening," she said with the upward inflection meaning: "What do you want?"

Her tone flatly denied their intimacy of the night before. This aspect of a woman's nature was new to Evan; he was astonished and hotly indignant.

"May I come in?" he asked stiffly.

"Certainly," she said promptly and indifferently, and threw the door open wide.

Evan stepped in, and his eyes flew to find his rival. The latter was sitting between the piano and the window. He was younger than Evan, not much more than a lad in fact, but a resolute, comely lad; one of whom Evan could be jealous.

"Mr. Weir, Mr. Anway," said Corinna impa.s.sively.

They nodded, eyeing each other like strange dogs. A fact.i.tious calm descended on Evan. He could even smile, but there were ugly lines around his mouth. His voice was harsh.

"Aren't we going to have some music?" he said.

By this he meant to convey to the other man that he was accustomed to be entertained in that room. The point was not lost. The younger man whitened about the lips. The girl gave no sign at all. Even in his anger Evan commended her pluck. She kept her chin up; her eyes were scornful.

"I'll play," she said going towards the piano.

"I like your singing better," said Evan.

"I am not in the humour," she said in a tone that finally disposed of the question.

She played--what she played Evan never knew. It is doubtful if any of them heard a note. Evan sat affecting to listen with a smile like a grimace. The other man kept his eyes down. Whatever Corinna may have been feeling, it did not interfere with the technical excellence of her performance; her fingers danced like fairies over the keys, but to-night there was no magic in the sounds they evoked.

Corinna's part was the easiest because she had something to do and somewhere to look. She went from one piece to another without a word being spoken. Evan went on smiling until his face was cracking; the other never looked up.

Finally the sounds began to get on Evan's nerves. "Don't tire yourself!" he said with bitter politeness.

She stopped, and turning around on the bench waited for him to say something more. Her att.i.tude said plainer than words: "You provoked this situation; very well, it's up to you to save it." This cool defiance in a mere girl, a little one at that, angered Evan past all bearing. He smiled the more, and addressed the other man:

"Fond of music, Mr. Anway?"