"Don't cry, Tony," he begged. "I can't stand it. You needn't have worried. There wasn't any danger of anything like that happening. I care too much to let you in for anything of that sort. So does he for that matter. He saw it in a minute. He really wouldn't want to do you any harm anyway, Tony. Even I know that, and you must know it better than I."

Tony put down her hands, looked at d.i.c.k. "I suppose that is true," she sighed. "He does love me, d.i.c.k."

"He does, Tony. I wish he didn't. And I wish with all my heart I were sure you didn't love him."

Tony sighed again and her eyes fell.

"I wish--I were sure, too," she faltered.

d.i.c.k winced at that. He had no answer. What was there to say?

"I don't see why I should care. I don't see how I can care after to-night. He is horrid in lots of ways--a cad--just as you called him. I know Larry would feel just as you do and hate to have him come near me.

Larry and I have almost quarreled about it now. He thinks Uncle Phil is all wrong not to forbid my seeing Alan at all. But Uncle Phil is too wise. He doesn't want to have me marry Alan any more than the rest of you do but he knows if he fights it it would put me on the other side in a minute and I'd do it, maybe, in spite of everybody."

"Tony, you aren't engaged to him?"

She shook her head.

"Not exactly. I am afraid I might as well be though. I said I didn't ever want to see him again, but I didn't mean it. I shall want to see him again by to-morrow. I always do no matter what he does. I always shall I am afraid. It is like that with me. I'm sorry, d.i.c.ky. I ought to have told you that before. I've been horrid not to, I know. Take me home now, please. I'm tired--awfully tired."

Going home in the cab neither spoke until just as they were within a few blocks of the Hostelry when d.i.c.k broke the silence.

"I am sorry all this had to happen to-night," he said. "Because, well, I am going away tomorrow."

"Going away! d.i.c.k! Where?" It was horribly selfish of her, Tony knew; but it didn't seem as if she could bear to have d.i.c.k go. It seemed as if the only thing that was stable in her reeling life would be gone if he went. If he went she would belong to Alan more and more. There would be nothing to hold her back. She was afraid. She clung to d.i.c.k. He alone of the whole city full of human beings was a symbol of Holiday Hill. With him gone it seemed to her as if she would be hopelessly adrift on perilous seas.

"To Mexico--Vera Cruz, I believe," he answered her question.

"Vera Cruz! d.i.c.k, you mustn't! It is awful down there now. Everybody says so." He smiled a little at that.

"It is because it is more or less awful that they are sending me," he said. "Journalism isn't much interested in placidity. A newspaper man has to be where things are happening fast and plenty. If things are hot down there so much the better. They will sizzle more in the copy."

"d.i.c.k! I can't have you go. I can't bear it." Tony's hand crept into his. "Something dreadful might happen to you," she wailed.

He pressed her hand, grateful for her real trouble about him and for her caring.

"Oh no, dear. Nothing dreadful will happen to me. You mustn't worry,"

he soothed.

"But I do. I shall. How can I help it? It is just as if Larry or Ted were going. It scares me."

d.i.c.k drew away his hand suddenly.

"For heaven's sake, Tony, please don't tell me again that I'm just like Larry and Ted to you. It is bad enough to know it without your rubbing it in all the time. I can't stand it--not to-night."

"d.i.c.k!" Tony was startled, taken aback by his tone. d.i.c.k rarely let himself go like that.

In a moment he was all contrition.

"Forgive me, Tony. I'm sorry I said that. I ought to be thankful you care that much, and I am. It is dear of you and I do appreciate it."

"Oh me!" sighed Tony. "Everything I do or say is wrong. I wish I did care the other way for you, d.i.c.ky dear. Truly I do. It would be so much nicer and simpler than caring for Alan," she added navely.

"Life isn't fixed nice and simple, Tony. At least it never has been for me."

"Oh, d.i.c.k! Everything has been horribly hard for you always, and I'm making it harder. I don't want to, d.i.c.ky dear. You know I don't. It is just that I can't help it."

"I know, Tony. You mustn't bother about me. I'm all right. Will you tell me just one thing though? If you hadn't cared for Ma.s.sey--no I won't put it like that. If you had cared for me would my not having any name have made any difference?"

"Of course it wouldn't have made any difference, d.i.c.ky. What does a name matter? You are you and that is what I would care for--do care for. The rest doesn't matter. Besides, you are making a name for yourself."

"I am doing it under your name--the one you gave me."

"I am proud to have it used that way. Why wouldn't I be? It is honored.

You have not only lived up to it as you promised Uncle Phil. You have made it stand for something fine. Your stories are splendid. You are going to be famous and I--Why, d.i.c.ky, just think, it will be my name you will take on up to the stars. Oh, we're here," as the cab jolted to a halt in front of the Hostelry.

The cabby flung open the door. Tony and d.i.c.k stepped out, went up the steps. In a moment they were alone in the dimly lit hall.

"Tony, would you mind letting me kiss you just once as you would Larry or Ted if one of them were going off on a long journey away from you?"

d.i.c.k's voice was humble, pleading. It touched Tony deeply, and sent the quick tears welling up into her eyes as she raised her face to his.

For a moment he held her close, kissed her on the cheek and then released her.

"Good-by, Tony. Thank you and G.o.d bless you," he said a little huskily as he let her go.

"Good-by, d.i.c.k." And then impulsively Tony put up her lips and kissed him, the first time he ever remembered a woman's lips touching his.

A second later the door closed upon him, shutting him out in the night.

He dismissed the cab driver and walked blindly off, not knowing or caring in what direction he went. It was hours before he let himself into his lodging house. It seemed as if he could have girdled the earth on the strength of Tony Holiday's kiss. The next morning he was off for Mexico.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE KALEIDOSCOPE REVOLVES

Tony slept late next morning and when she did open her eyes they fell upon a huge florist box by the door and a special delivery letter on top of it. The maid had set the two in an hour ago and tiptoed away lest she waken the weary little sleeper.

Tony got up and opened the box. Roses--dozens of them, worth the price of a month's wages to many a worker in the city! Frail, exquisite, sh.e.l.l-pink beauties, with gold at their hearts! Tony adored roses but she almost hated these because it seemed to her Alan was bribing her forgiveness by playing upon her worship of their beauty and fragrance.

Still kneeling by the flowers she glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty! d.i.c.k was already miles away on his hateful journey, had gone sad and hopeless because she loved Alan Ma.s.sey. Why did it have to be so? Why was love so perverse and unreasonable a thing? Alan was not worthy to touch d.i.c.k's hand, though in his arrogance he affected to despise the other. But it was Alan she loved, not d.i.c.k. There must be something wrong with her, dreadfully wrong that it should be so. After last night there could be no doubt of that.

She sat down on the floor, opened Alan's letter, despised herself for letting its author's spell creep over her anew with every word. It was an abject plea for mercy, for forgiveness, for restoration to favor. It had been a devil of jealousy that had possessed him, he had not known what he was doing. Surely she must know that he would not willingly harm or hurt or anger her in any way. He loved her too much. Carson had behaved like a man. Alan would apologize to him if the other man would accept the apology. It was Tony really who had driven him mad by being so much kinder to the other than to himself. She must realize what he was, not drive him too far.

"I am sending you roses," he ended. "Please don't throw them away as you did the others. Keep them and let them plead for me. And don't ah Tony, don't ever, ever say again what you said last night, that you never wanted to see me again! You don't mean it, I know. But don't say it. It kills me to hear you. If you throw me over I'll blow my brains out as sure as I am a living man this moment. But you won't, you cannot, Tony dearest. You will forgive me, stand by me, rotten as I am. You are mine.

You love me. You won't push me down to h.e.l.l."