"Never heard of any myself before," Billings gurgled. "But great idea, don't you think? Good thing, traveling--Pullmans, hotels--that sort of thing--eh? Just got them to-day--ordered two weeks ago." By Jove, what a relief! I felt myself breathing again. "Wish you would stay," I said, for I felt uneasy about him. "Oh, no," carelessly; "all my traps are over there, you know." He smiled. "To say nothing of the new pajamas." Standing in the door, he looked upward again, twirling his cane. His head shook dubiously. "Could kick myself about those rubies," he grumbled. "Just half a mind to go up there--" He shrugged. "Oh, well, good night, old chap; see you in the morning." I murmured some reply as I followed him without. Then I stood a moment looking down the shaft after he had descended. "Hope he'll be all right in the morning," I mused. "And hope his infernal mood won't shift round again as to Frances!" CHAPTER XXI THE COLLAPSE OF BILLINGS "Are you _sure_, Mr. Lightnut?" I stood, cap in hand, one foot on the sidewalk before the Kahoka, the other on the running-board of the car--a big double-tonneau red whale sort of affair. This was as far as I had been admitted to the vehicle. For the frump was sitting there behind the steering wheel, looking down at me in a nasty, sidewise fashion. Ever have them do you that way? Besides, I somehow felt that she had a feeling toward me as a man, an unvoiced protest against my existence at all. It found expression in her suspicious, sniffy manner. Dash it, I just hated that woman from the start! I felt it was bad enough, her English clumsiness in getting the introductions twisted as I advanced to meet the car, but now I was of half a mind that she had done it purposely. Could see with half an eye that she was determined to make trouble about yesterday. "Haven't we met before, Mr. Lightnut?" she had asked. But it struck me that Frances glanced at me with a kind of wistful light in her lovely eyes, and I saw that the game was to lie like a gentleman--that sort of thing, you know. And, by Jove, I was getting kind of used to it now, anyhow--I mean since I had broken the ice last night. Not hard at all, though, after a few goes--really! So I stood out that I had never had the pleasure, you know--all that sort of polite rot. And all the time felt like a jolly cad, too, meeting a girl with that, when _she_ remembered! But, by Jove, it was worth sacrificing the frump fifty times over just to see Frances' face brighten and note her faint flush and smile as she looked at me. For, dash it, I knew then I had done the right thing! "Um!" grunted the frump, compressing her lips and looking at my darling. "There's one good thing: the experience with Mr. Smith will teach Francis a lesson!" The cat! Nice sort of host! But the dear girl just laughed--how I remembered that laugh! "Poor Francis!" she said lightly. "Do you know," she added, "I believe I can forgive a Harvard man almost anything, Mr. Lightnut."