And a vast number of small memorandum pads; pink, blue, and yellow.
“Those are for Leroy,” he said, with a modest air which failed to conceal his triumph. This time he had won; there was no doubt about it.
VI
On Saturday night Miss Selby did not appear at the little table.
“Gone out to dinner,” he thought.
Why shouldn’t she go out to dinner? He simply hoped that she was enjoying herself. And, as he ate his solitary dinner, he thought about this; he imagined Miss Selby enjoying herself somewhere, sitting at some other table, and probably with some other young man sitting opposite her.
He knew how she would look if she were enjoying herself, with that lovely color in her cheeks, and that wonderful smile of hers. Well, it was none of his business—absolutely none of his business.
And yet, after dinner, he found occasion to stop the landlady in the hall, and to say, with an air of courteous indifference:
“That young lady who sits at my table—didn’t see her tonight. Has she gone away?”
“No, Mr. Anderson!” answered Mrs. Brown, with stern solemnity. “She has not. She’s lying upstairs, sick, at this very moment that I’m speaking to you. And I think it’s pneumonia, that’s what I think.”