"An order of mocha tart, Erna!"
It was Bainbridge Breen who had spoken. The girl left the dining room
with a cheery: "All right!" The young artist turned to his friends,
Carstairs and Nielsen, who were sitting with him at the rear table:
"Mocha tart is still the prince of Landsmann pastries."
"You've made up with Erna, I see," Nielsen ventured quietly.
"Oh, of course! I'm too busy a man to spend any time harboring
animosity. Besides, I guess I'm sufficiently broad-minded to forgive the
girl her indiscretion."
"And on her side, she's too light-hearted to hold animosity," the author
supplied.
"I expect so," Breen agreed generously, and then challenged: "But how
about _you_ and Erna? And how about your story?"
"Haven't been able to finish it as yet," Nielsen returned somewhat
evasively.
"Haven't had enough opportunity for _studying_ Erna?"
"No, I'm not quite through."
Breen laughed significantly, and Carstairs flushed.
"Then you haven't reached your decision as regards Erna's morals?" the
painter continued.
"Not just yet!" was Nielsen's response, keyed in deeper evasiveness.
"You'll reach my conclusion absolutely," Breen closed confidently.
"She's a moral little thing."
"Of course," Carstairs interposed indignantly.
"Whoop-la!" cried Breen. "So you've come to _your_ decision, Brother
John? How did it happen, you sly dog?"
"I haven't come to any decision," Carstairs denied wearily. "I told you
in the beginning what I thought of Erna."
"That's so," Breen gave in with a tone of fatherly wisdom. "But when and
where did you find opportunity to strengthen your belief? You haven't
been coming here very often of late?"
"That's my affair," Carstairs retorted.
He was in a melancholy mood. Erna had been neglecting him since their
evening together. Moreover, she had treated him with more or less
indifference as well, as though his visits bored her, and had allowed
him no opening for inviting her again.