“I’ll take him out, quick,” said Pem. “When Mr. Blanchard comes, tell him something—anything. I’ll see you later, Nickie. I’ll stop here before I go back to Mr. Blanchard’s.”
“All right,” Nickie said again.
When Pem had gone, she closed the bedroom door after her; but she didn’t even try to rest now.
V
Pem went down the passage with a lagging step and a heart strangely troubled and doubting.
“No,” she said to herself. “Of course it can’t be like that. I just imagined it. I’ve thought about it so much that—no, it couldn’t really have been so wonderful. He couldn’t have been so dear. When I see him again I shall get over being so silly.”
But that silliness was the best thing in her life. For weeks the glamour of that enchanted evening had colored all her days. The music they had danced to still sounded in her ears, faint and stirring. When she closed her eyes, she could see again the sparkle and glitter of that tinsel fairyland of Broadway, made true and fine by the boy’s love.
“I won’t be an idiot!” she told herself. “When I see him again, I’ll find that he’s—not really like that!”
So, with what fortitude she had, she entered the little sitting room. He didn’t hear her. He was standing at the window, with his back toward the room, his hands in his pockets—such a straight, stalwart figure!
“Hello!” said Pem. “It’s a surprise to see you here again!”