Page:Harvey O'Higgins--Don-a-dreams.djvu/411

 in that room of homeless loafers with its cement floor and its vile smells of cheap tobacco. And if he was there, it was proof that he was sober, since the rules of the house admitted no drunkards to enjoy its steam heat and its comfortable chairs. As the interval of waiting lengthened dismally, he repented having allowed Bert to go in alone, for he had no faith in the adroitness of Pittsey's address, and he feared that the whole undertaking might be brought to failure by a false beginning. Several times he had made up his mind to follow in and try to save the situation, but each time the resolution exhausted itself in gazing through the swing-doors at the lighted hall where several of the better-dressed patrons of the house stood talking. After all, it would be wiser to wait until he heard what Pittsey had to say.

He was at the door again, standing irresolute, with his hand on it, unable to gather the impulse to push it open. He saw Pittsey coming hurriedly, with his head down. He threw back the door. "It's no go," Pittsey said. "Come away—come away."

Don came as far as the sidewalk, but stopped there. "What does he say?"

"Oh 'say'!" Pittsey answered angrily. "It's not a question of what he says! Leave him alone! He's enjoying the delights of his private inferno hot enough without us coming down here to poke it up for him."

"Wouldn't he come to the dinner?"

Pittsey was walking up the street, Don hanging back reluctantly. "No. He won't come to the dinner. He doesn't even want to hear that there's a dinner for him to come to. Say!" He rounded on Don suddenly.