That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own

window calling himself names. He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of

yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his

friend's window. After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the

door.

"Come."

He went in. Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith entered.

"I--I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, Tom. I'm not

like I used to be, quite. I find--since--since that business, I can't

sleep without a light. I rather get the--the horrors in the dark."

Incoherently, Meredith made a compassionate exclamation and turned to go,

and, as he left the room, his eye fell upon the mantel-piece. The position

of the photographs had been altered, and the picture of the girl who

looked straight out at you was gone. The mere rim of it was visible behind

the image of an old gentleman with a sardonic mouth.

An hour later, Tom came back, and spoke through the closed door. "Boy,

don't you think you can get to sleep now?"

"Yes, Tom. It's all right. You get to bed. Nothing troubles me."

Meredith spent the next day in great tribulation and perplexity; he felt

that something had to be done, but what to do he did not know. He still

believed that a "stirring-up" was what Harkless needed--not the species of

"stirring-up" that had taken place last night, but a diversion which would

divert. As they sat at dinner, a suggestion came to him and he determined

to follow it. He was called to the telephone, and a voice strange to his

ear murmured in a tone of polite deference: "A lady wishes to know if Mr.

Meredith and his visitor intend being present at the country-club this

evening."

He had received the same inquiry from Miss Hinsdale on her departure the

previous evening, and had answered vaguely; hence he now rejoined: "You are quite an expert ventriloquist, but you do not deceive me."

"I beg your pardon, sir," creaked the small articulation.

"This is Miss Hinsdale, isn't it?"

"No, sir. The lady wishes to know if you will kindly answer her question."

"Tell her, yes." He hung up the receiver, and returned to the table. "Some

of Clara Hinsdale's play," he explained. "You made a devastating

impression on her, boy; you were wise enough not to talk any, and she

foolishly thought you were as interesting as you looked. We're going out

to a country-club dance. It's given for the devotees who stay here all

summer and swear Rouen is always cool; and nobody dances but me and the

very young ones. It won't be so bad; you can smoke anywhere, and there are

little tables. We'll go."




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