"Oh, don't mind me," she replied, smiling up at him. "I'll stay a few minutes yet." Nodding towards the left, she added: "I see Elfie over there. I'll sit with her. Don't worry about me. I'll go home in a taxi."
He took her hand. He would have liked to kiss her, but like most men, he hated to make public demonstration of his feelings.
"Good-bye, little one," he said fondly. "Be a good girl. Write me directly you get to Denver. Be sure to send me all the press notices——" Facetiously he added: "—all the bad ones mind. I'm not interested in the others. And when you're ready to come home, just telegraph, and I'll come for you. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye, Will."
The next moment he was gone.
For some time after his, departure she sat quietly at the table, toying idly with the rich food in front of her. Absorbed in her own thoughts she paid no attention to what was transpiring around. She was singularly depressed that evening, she knew not why. It was very foolish, for she had every reason to feel elated. Things certainly continued to go her way. After all the storm and stress of her past life, she was at last settled and contented. She had plenty of money, a good friend, influence with the theatre managers, and now she had secured the very engagement she had been longing for. What could any reasonable woman possibly desire more? Yet for all that she sometimes felt there was something missing in her life. She was too intelligent not to know the degradation of the kind of existence she was leading, and sometimes the realization of it made her utterly miserable. If it were not for the champagne and the hourly excitement which helped her to forget, she sometimes felt she would take her life. In her heart she knew that she did not love Will Brockton, and she believed him too clever a man to imagine for a moment that she had any real affection for him. They were pals, that was all. He liked her very much—she was sure of that. But it was not love. How could a woman of her character expect to inspire decent love in any man? Theirs was a careless, unconventional tie, which could be broken to-morrow. A quarrel, and she would see him no more. She shivered. The mere thought of such a contingency was decidedly unpleasant. It's so easy, she mused, to become accustomed to automobiles, luxurious apartments, fine gowns and the rest, but so hard—oh, so hard!—to learn how to do without them.
Emptying her glass, she rose from her seat and strolled toward where Elfie St. Clair was still sitting with the two men.
"Hello, Laura!" cried her friend as she came up. "We saw you from the distance. Come and sit down. These gentlemen are friends of mine—Mr. Warner—Mr. Madison—Miss Murdock."
The men bowed, while Elfie made room for the newcomer.
"Won't you take something?" asked Warner politely.