“No,” said Freeman softly, with a gentle smile on his lips. “I think that’s all.”
CHAPTER VI.
The Fool.
At noon, Mauney was too upset to eat dinner. He wanted to talk to Freda and went upstairs to wait in the alcove, until she should come up. While he sat stolidly in one of the chairs behind the little desk, he occupied himself with turning through the pages of a book whose title or contents he did not so much as notice, and in gazing through the window at the street, busy with noontide pedestrians. He had come straight home from his meeting with Freeman, sad and angry and totally impatient. He knew that only one sedative existed, that only one friend remained to hear his story of personal woe. He would wait for her.
And while he waited he tried to think, in the distracted mood of the moment, what he would do. He had been building upon a foundation, now suddenly gone. There was nothing—nothing.
Maxwell Lee came out of his room and paused at the sight of him.
“Hello, Mauney,” he said, a little more affably than had been his recent wont.
“Hello, Max.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Lee.