Peter was not sure, but he thought he saw a something or other flash across the artist’s face, like a huge, swift-swimming fish near the surface of opaque water. He felt encouraged to go on.
“I think I ought to tell you. Miss Richmond and I were engaged. It’s been broken off. Her father is furious. She’s in love with another man.” Peter glanced at Roger’s inscrutable eyes, blushed, glanced down again. “She has sacrificed everything for this other man. It’s really stunning, the way she did it—and a lot more I can’t tell you. And I do believe she’ll stick—will not go back—though she’s got next to nothing. You know her—know what a fine girl she is.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Roger cordially.
“She’s at the Wolcott—if you care to call. I guess she’s rather lonely, as all her old pals are shying off. You see, her father’s a deadly dangerous sort—liable to do up anybody who sided with her.”
Roger, his gaze upon a far, unseen country, was pale and somber.
“I do hope you’ll look in on her, Wade,” said Peter. “She’d appreciate it.”
Wade’s eyes slowly turned with his returning thoughts until they centered upon the eyes of young Vanderkief. Suddenly Roger’s face was illuminated by that splendid smile of his. He grasped Peter by the hand. “I’m glad to know you,” said he. “And—I beg your pardon—for things I’ve thought about you.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” cried Peter. “I’m not a dog in the manger, you know. And I tell you she’s got a stiff stretch ahead of her—downright rough. Of course she’s no fool. Still, it wouldn’t be possible for any woman of her age and her bringing up to realize what she was bumping into, dropping out of her class, sacking her father and trying to scratch along on worse than nothing. When you’ve got tastes a little money’s only an aggravation. Especially for her sort of woman. Won’t you try one of my cigarettes?”
“Delighted,” said Roger, taking one.
“Well, I must move on,” proceeded Peter. “You don’t mind my butting in?”