"Why, Waite, when did you get back?" he asked, and moved forward with hand outstretched. Potter was walking toward him. Hildegarde's eyes were upon him; he could feel them, but did not return her look. He dared not. "I'm mighty glad to see you," Cantor said, as Potter took his hand. "Dined?... Miss von Essen and I are just going to have a bite. Won't you join us? I'm sure Miss von Essen seconds that." He turned toward her, and something in her look, her bearing, startled him. She had grown pale, but her eyes glittered; she was staring at Potter savagely. "Most certainly I do _not_," she said, distinctly, and turned her back. Cantor looked at Potter and lifted his brows. There was the merest hint of a smile, a sardonic smile. "What's up?" he asked, under his breath. "See you later, then." Potter walked down-stairs in grim silence, his two friends eying him wonderingly, neither caring to speak. The Potter Waite they knew was accustomed in such circumstances to prove unpleasant. "So long," O'Mera said, hastily, at the foot of the stairs, and disappeared toward the coat-room. "Guess I won't play billiards," Potter said, slowly, to Watts. There was no other word. He turned abruptly away, and Tom gazed after him, wondering what it was all about. "Huh!" he ejaculated. "What in thunder?" Up-stairs, Cantor was equally nonplussed. Hildegarde walked to their table, drew back her chair, and was about to sit down. Then she pushed the chair away from her passionately, pushed it so that it fell to the floor noisily. "I don't want to eat," she said. "I'm going home." "But, Miss von Essen--" "I'm going home, and I'm going alone.... I'm going now." "What is it? What have I done to offend--" "Nothing," she said, ungraciously, and began to walk toward the door. He followed her. "I said I was going alone," she said, under her breath. "But--" She faced him suddenly, flamed out at him. "Go away," she said. "Have I got to shout at you?... I don't want you.... I don't want anybody.... I'm going home." "I will see you to your car," he said. "Careful. People are looking at us." She walked rapidly to the elevator; it was as though she tried to run away from him, but he followed closely. They descended, and she disappeared into the dressing-room. "Miss von Essen's car," Cantor said to the doorman. Presently she reappeared, and was about to leave the club, it appeared, without noticing his presence. He followed her outside and opened the door of her car. She stepped in and flung herself upon the seat. "Home," she said, but did not look at Cantor. He shrugged his shoulders and closed the door. He did not go again to the table that had been prepared for himself and Hildegarde, but entered the grill, where he selected a table in a distant corner, where he sat biting his lip. "She's in love with him," he said to himself with the air of a man making a mathematical calculation. "Um!... All the better, perhaps.... Something may be made of it."