“Well, in Frank Donnell she had a gentleman. But Creevy is a vulgar fellow. His staff isn’t so much, either. Too bad the little girl couldn’t have remained in Betsy Blythe’s company. It was a decent bunch.” “Isn’t hers?” “Oh--I guess it’s endurable.... Creevy is a rat. So’s Emil Shunk. Marc Blither and Harry Quiss are just common and harmless.... Of course, if anybody offends your little protégée Albert Smull will do murder.” “You don’t like Smull,” said Annan. “Neither do you.” * * * * * When Coltfoot had gone Annan went to the telephone. And sat there for an hour without calling anybody. He had done this every day for two weeks. Sometimes he did it several times a day. Mrs. Sniffen knocked and asked him what he wished for dinner. “I don’t know,” he said absently. She stood waiting for a while: “Will you ring, sir, when you decide?” “Yes, I will, Xantippe.... Thank you.” After she had been gone for some time: “Well,” he breathed, “I--I can’t call her and keep any self-respect.... I simply can’t do it.... She’s through with me anyway.... I suppose I acted like a cad.... She wasn’t the girl to understand such affairs.... She is better than such things.... Or too stupid for them.... Stupid in that way only.... Too damned serious.... My God, what a hiding she gave me for my book!... But the other was worse.... I haven’t any self-respect when I remember that.... If I call her now, she can’t take any more away from me, as she’s got all I had....” He came back to the telephone. He could feel the painful colour hot in his face as he unhooked the receiver. In a hard voice he called her number. “Now,” he said with an oath, “she can do her damnedest!” She did. CHAPTER XXIII Hattie’s voice answered him: “Who is it, please?” “Mr. Annan. Is Miss Odell at home?” “I’ll enquiah, suh. Please to hold the wiah.” He could hear her fat feet clattering away along the corridor. An endless, endless wait, almost a quarter of a minute. Steps again on the tiled corridor,--not Hattie’s; then the composed voice of Eris: “Mr. Annan?” “Yes.... Do you--are you quite all right?” he faltered. “Quite, thank you. Are you?” “Yes, I’m fine.... I’m so glad you’re all right.... Do you mind my calling up?” “I hoped you would,” she replied calmly. “D-did you?--really?” he stammered, unable to believe his ears. “Naturally. I’ve wondered whether you have been too busy to call me. Have you?” “Not exactly--busy. Do you--suppose I--I could see you, Eris?” “Did you suppose you couldn’t?” she asked in a low voice. “I didn’t know.... When may I?” “Probably,” she said, “you have an engagement this evening--” “No! I’m not doing anything at all!” “Then--will you come?” “Yes. What time?” “_Any_ time.” “Do you--do you mean _now_?” he cried, enchanted. Her reply was slightly indistinct: “Yes, as soon as you possibly can--if you would be--so kind----” * * * * *