“Let’s enjoy ourselves to-night. Let’s eat on Broadway and go to a theater. My treat.... I insist! Look, I’m rich!” He took a silver dollar, he tossed it through the window. “I’m ready. Come.” He was throbbing. He took Cornelia, and swung her waist and kissed her. “Dear sweet Cornelia,” he laughed. “I swear I’ve not been drinking a drop.... It’s you!... It’s you made me drunk. Don’t you believe it? I swear it.” She was glowing with pleasure. After all, David seemed part her boy. Let him carry on. And he, pacing about the room. “I swear it. I swear it is Cornelia.... By my----” He stopped. He was sober. David was sober. Looking with a new-discovered tenderness at Cornelia. “Excuse me,” he blushed: he sank into a chair. Cornelia’s cool hand was on his brow. “Nonsense, David. We’re all in the same mood for fun. Thank you for that. Let’s chat a moment, and then we’ll go.” She wanted him to rest. He was perspiring. It was just the sort of sudden weather to catch cold in. Tom lighted a cigarette. He saw Cornelia smoothing David’s hair. He saw David, unknowing, unseeing, smile into his sister’s face, relax to her sweetness. He did not like this. He looked hard at them, puffing his cigarette. Until his gaze made them self-conscious; made Cornelia take away her hand: made David look at him. This was what he wanted.... VI Deeply the luminous complex stir that came to him as he stood straining in the hall and gave up his hat and gave up his coat to the silent butler, that came through barring tapestries of blue upon mist of laughter and words, of feminine silks and smoke, of tinkle of frail china, made Tom afraid. He parted the swerving draperies as one cuts a wave, plunging into a sea. At once he was bound with this new terse element. Fragments of Ohio still clung to him. He would have reeled in this dazzlement had there been space. But the room’s brittle density upheld him, pushed him slowly in the sense of its scarce visible grain. Tom was submerged smiling.