She went downstairs to Donaldson. For reasons of her own she did not
dare to tell him of this fresh complication, but she insisted that he
should bother himself no more to-night with the matter.
"You should go straight back home and get some sleep," she told him.
Home? The word was flat again.
"And you?" he inquired.
"I shall try to sleep, too."
"You have a bolt on your door?"
"Yes."
"Will you promise to slide it before you retire?"
She nodded.
"If you only had a telephone in your room."
"There is one in the hall."
"Then you can call me in a moment if you should get frightened or need
me?"
"You are good."
"You will not hesitate?"
"No."
"Then I shall feel that I am still near you. I will have a cab in
waiting and on an emergency can reach here in twenty minutes. You
could keep yourself barricaded until then?"
"Yes. But really there is no need. I--"
"You have n't wrestled with him. He is strong and--mad."
Still he hesitated. If it had been possible without compromise to her
he would have remained downstairs. He could roll up in a rug and find
all the sleep that he needed.
"See here," he exclaimed, as the sane solution to the whole difficulty,
"why don't you let me take you and Marie to the Martha Washington?"
She placed her hand lightly upon his sleeve.
"I shall be all right here. You 'd best go at once and get some sleep.
Your eyes look heavy."
Every minute that he stood near her he grew more reluctant to leave.
It seemed like desertion. As he still stood irresolute, she decided
for him.
"You must go now," she insisted.
"Will you call me if you are even so much as worried--even if it is
only a blind making a noise?"
"Yes, and that will make me feel quite safe."
The booming of a distant clock--jailer of civilization--warned him that
he must delay no longer. He took her hand a moment and then turned
back into his free barren world.
He determined to dine somewhere down town and then spend the evening at
a theatre. It was not what he wished, but he did not dare to go back
to his room. He did not crave the movement of the crowds as he had
last night, and yet he felt the need of something that would keep him
from thinking. He jumped into the waiting cab and was driven to Park
Row, where he got out. He had not eaten anything all day and felt
faint.
Instead, however, of seeking one of the more pretentious dining rooms
he dropped into a quiet restaurant and ate a simple meal. Then he came
out and started to walk leisurely towards the Belasco.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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