Page:McClure's Magazine volume 10.djvu/389

Rh through the air blue with smoke at an expert juggler juggling with hoops and glass balls. Miss Porter tired of him soon, and interested herself in watching the house. While she was gazing about, a party of men filed into one of the stage-boxes. They were not in evening dress; indeed one of the men wore rough tweeds. There was something familiar to Miss Porter in the appearance of the one thus clad—something in his carriage, for she could not see his face. After he sat down, he turned slightly and lighted his cigarette.

"It's Paul Verdenal," exclaimed Miss Porter.

Edith turned about quickly, and glanced in the direction in which Miss Porter was looking. She did not speak.

There were five men in the box, and they seemed to be in the gayest mood as they talked and laughed and smoked. A hopeless "left-out" expression slowly spread itself over Edith's face.

The juggler meanwhile vanished from the stage in a whirlwind of glass balls and hoops, and an Irish "lady artiste" of imposing height and magnificent breadth advanced to the front of the stage and began a stentorian music-hall recitative, "Ain't I a nice little gurrul?"

The box full of men clapped enthusiastically. Paul Verdenal's shoulders shook with convulsive enjoyment at each repetition of the coy inquiry. He pulled his chair nearer and leaned on the edge of the box-rail as his interest waxed,

"Come, let's go," said Edith, with a little gasp. "That woman is singing off the key, and this smoke is choking me."

When they were once again in the cool night air and had turned into Broadway, Edith spoke:

"Do you know," she began, "Paul said business would keep him down-town? Now, I don't think going to a place like that is business."

"It must be," murmured Miss Porter; "for it certainly isn't pleasure."

"He said," Edith went on in a sepulchral tone, I am so sorry I can't see you again; but business, and saying good-by to one or two old friends, sandwiched in between, will keep me down-town until I sail.' Those were his very words. And he said, too, he couldn't draw a free breath until he knew whether he could look forward to a—a—a—well, have me, you know. Now, for a man who has said all that, I really do think he is enjoying himself amazingly, don't you?"

Miss Porter acknowledged that Paul Verdenal, with his fate hanging in the balance, gave every evidence of a man who was on very good terms with the world.

They walked after this for some time in silence. When they were opposite Madison Square Edith spoke again, very gravely.

"That letter this afternoon was sent off without due deliberation. I am going to ask you to do something for me. They say the friendship of women isn't like the friendship of men; but you will be as faithful as a man friend, won't you?"

"I will try to be," Miss Porter replied cautiously.

"Will you go down to that steamer and get Paul to give me back that letter I sent him? You may tell him that you sent it, and that I want it back; that there is a mistake about it. He won't refuse you. If you go over at once, you will be there when he goes aboard. He said he would go aboard at ten. Tell him that he shall have his answer from me before he sails to-morrow noon. Now go; get a cab."