The clear cold air freshened his brain but his heart still had a dull, queer ache in it. He did a few errands, forcing himself to concentrate his mind in their accomplishment, and at last the slow-going clock-hands crawled around to half-past six.
Back in his own rooms, Bill called New York again, and asked for Patty’s number.
The connection was a good one, and he finally heard the well-beloved voice say, “Hello,—Little Billee!”
“Oh, Patty!” he cried, explosively, “oh, Patty Blossom! When will you marry me? What day? Tell me, quick!”
“Why—why—you sent back——”
“No, I didn’t! I didn’t send back anything! Never mind that fool valentine business! Answer my question, quick! Sometimes they snap off the connection, and if they did that I’d go wild! When, Patty?”
“Why—oh—any time! Bill, dear,—any time!”
“Bless you, darling! But what day? what date? Tell me.”
“Oh,—I can’t——”
“Yes, you can! Now,—and make it soon!”