Henry did not appear again at the office. This was not unusual. Monday was a slack day, and much of Henry's work consisted in scouting along Simpson Street, looking up new real estate permits at the village office, new volumes at the library and other small matters. The unusual thing was the note on Humphrey's desk. Henry had put it on top of his papers and weighted it down conspicuously with the red ink bottle. 'I've had to ask Mrs Henderson and Corinne Doag to the rooms to-night for a little party. I'll bring them about eight.' Pinned to the paper was a five-dollar banknote. At supper-time, Humphrey, eating alone in Stanley's, saw a familiar figure outside the wide front window. It was Henry, dressed in his newest white ducks, his blue coat newly pressed (while he waited, at the Swede tailor's down the street), standing stiffly on the curb. Occasionally he glanced around, peering into the restaurant. The light was failing in the rear of the store. Mrs Stanley came from her desk by the door and lighted two gas-jets. Henry again glanced around. He saw Humphrey and knew that Humphrey saw him. A youth on a bicycle paused at the curb. Through the screen door Humphrey heard this conversation:-- 'Hallo, Hen!' 'Hallo, Al!' 'Doing anything after?' 'Why--yeah. Got a date.' And as the other youth rode off, Henry glanced around once more, nervously. He was carrying the bamboo stick he affected. He twirled this for a moment, and then wandered out of view. But soon he reappeared, entered the restaurant and marched straight back to Humphrey's table. His sensitive lips were compressed. He said, 'Hallo, Hump!' and with only a moment's hesitation took the chair opposite. Humphrey buried his nose in his coffee cup. Henry cleared his throat, twice; then, in a husky, weak voice, remarked:-- 'Get my note?' There was a painfully long silence. 'Yes,' Humphrey replied then, 'I did.' And went at the pie. Henry picked up a corner of the threadbare table-cloth and twisted it. He had been pale, but colour was coming now, richly. 'Well,' he mumbled, 'I s'pose we've gotta say something about it.' 'Not necessary,' Humphrey observed briskly. 'Well, but--we'll have to plan----' 'Not at all.' 'You mean--you----' Henry's voice broke and faltered. 'I mean----' Humphrey's voice was clear, sharp. 'Ssh! Not so loud, Hump.' 'I mean that since you've done this extraordinary thing without so much as consulting me, I will see it through. I don't want you for one minute to think that I like it. God knows what it's going to mean--having women running in there! My privacy was the only thing I had. You've chosen to wreck it without a by-your-leave. I'll be ready at eight. And I'll see that the door of your room is shut.' With which he rose, handed his ticket to Mrs Stanley to be punched, and left the restaurant. Henry walked the streets, through gathering clouds of sand-flies, until it was time to call at Mrs Henderson's. 7 They stood on the threshold.