“Do you mean to say that Judy’s not well enough to see me? Doesn’t she want me to go upstairs?” Trenor drained the glass he had filled for himself, and paused to set it down before he answered. “Why, no—the fact is, she’s not up to seeing anybody. It came on suddenly, you know, and she asked me to tell you how awfully sorry she was—if she’d known where you were dining she’d have sent you word.” “She did know where I was dining; I mentioned it in my telegram. But it doesn’t matter, of course. I suppose if she’s so poorly she won’t go back to Bellomont in the morning, and I can come and see her then.” “Yes: exactly—that’s capital. I’ll tell her you’ll pop in tomorrow morning. And now do sit down a minute, there’s a dear, and let’s have a nice quiet jaw together. You won’t take a drop, just for sociability? Tell me what you think of that cigarette. Why, don’t you like it? What are you chucking it away for?” “I am chucking it away because I must go, if you’ll have the goodness to call a cab for me,” Lily returned with a smile. She did not like Trenor’s unusual excitability, with its too evident explanation, and the thought of being alone with him, with her friend out of reach upstairs, at the other end of the great empty house, did not conduce to a desire to prolong their TETE-A-TETE. But Trenor, with a promptness which did not escape her, had moved between herself and the door. “Why must you go, I should like to know? If Judy’d been here you’d have sat gossiping till all hours—and you can’t even give me five minutes! It’s always the same story. Last night I couldn’t get near you—I went to that damned vulgar party just to see you, and there was everybody talking about you, and asking me if I’d ever seen anything so stunning, and when I tried to come up and say a word, you never took any notice, but just went on laughing and joking with a lot of asses who only wanted to be able to swagger about afterward, and look knowing when you were mentioned.” He paused, flushed by his diatribe, and fixing on her a look in which resentment was the ingredient she least disliked. But she had regained her presence of mind, and stood composedly in the middle of the room, while her slight smile seemed to put an ever increasing distance between herself and Trenor. Across it she said: “Don’t be absurd, Gus. It’s past eleven, and I must really ask you to ring for a cab.” He remained immovable, with the lowering forehead she had grown to detest. “And supposing I won’t ring for one—what’ll you do then?” “I shall go upstairs to Judy if you force me to disturb her.” Trenor drew a step nearer and laid his hand on her arm. “Look here, Lily: won’t you give me five minutes of your own accord?” “Not tonight, Gus: you——” “Very good, then: I’ll take ’em. And as many more as I want.” He had squared himself on the threshold, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He nodded toward the chair on the hearth.