There was a sudden silence. All turned to look at him. Two of them sat with their half-lifted glasses suspended.
Then somebody muttered:
"Speak of the devil——"
Frank was embarrassed. There had been a time when his appearance at Morey's was greeted with a shout of welcome. The silence was freezing.
Marline was not there. Frank felt relieved when he discovered this, and still, for the first time in his life it seemed that there was a cowardly sensation in his heart.
He knew he was not a coward, but the position in which he stood at that moment made him feel like one.
The silence was maddening. His soul revolted against such a reception. For the first time in his life he fancied he understood what it was to be regarded with universal contempt.
And the injustice of it was what cut him to the heart. A little more and the limit would be reached. He would go forth ready to fight, and he knew that his first blow would be aimed at Rob Marline.
Thoughts like these flashed through his head in a moment, then he advanced into the room with old-time grace.
"A jolly party you have here," he said. "I'm glad to see you making merry. Drink up—drink up, everybody, and have a round with me."