"Are you going to pass me by?" she cried with charming reproachfulness.
I became as proud and conceited as Mount, thus to be singled out by
her. Everybody stared at me. Mount's greeting was affable and
chilly--like winter sunshine. I fell into step beside them.
"Why haven't you been to see me?" she demanded.
"Why didn't you let me know you were in town?" I countered.
"I didn't like to bother one so busy," she said.
This to me from her! I walked on air.
"How is business, Enderby?" Mount asked in a faintly sneering tone.
"Poor," I said calmly. "Everybody appears to be behaving themselves."
"Ah!" said he.
"What stories he could tell us if he would!" my dear lady said
admiringly.
I smiled, as I suppose was expected of me. Little did she suspect that
the only case I had was hers.
We walked on chatting idly. What was said wouldn't be worth repeating,
I expect, even if I could remember it. For me the mere sound of her
voice was enough.
There was no mention of the unhappy things that were past. We were all
engaged in a tacit conspiracy to look forward. She told me of the new
play that was proposed for her. She insisted that I must read it
before the matter was finally determined.
"You have such wonderful good sense!" she said. "And not at all
affected by the actor's point of view."
Mount's face looked a little pinched at this warm praise. I wondered,
had he been consulted about the play. If he really honoured me with
his jealousy he was foolish. I did not dream of aspiring to be
anything more than her honest, faithful friend. Sadie, I hoped, was my
destined mate while Irma Hamerton was--why she was the sun over us all.
Sadie herself felt the same towards her as I did. On the other hand I
was jealous of Mount. I considered him presumptuous to aspire to our
sun, as he plainly did. He wasn't half good enough--half?--he wasn't
worthy to tie her shoe. Besides, I was anxious about Roland.
At Forty-second street they were turning West to the theatre district,
and I bade them good-bye. Miss Hamerton covered me with confusion by
asking me to dine with her at her hotel the same night.
"Is it to be a party?" I asked.
"No, indeed," she said. "Nobody but Alfred."
This "Alfred" was new. It had always been "Mr. Mount." It set my
teeth on edge.