“Er—not badly—rather surprised me, in fact, after all the squawkers one hears during a winter; not so badly by any means; a damned nice little voice, not badly pitched either, for her age—what we call in Paris a ‘petite voix.’ She’s only a kid, you know, in the rosebud stage. Lives with her mother and stepfather down in one of those gloomy old houses in Waverly Place. Drove her home. She’s got the prettiest little feet in the world, old man. I tell you as we fellows get older, we begin to prick up our ears over something that is fresh and young; bright and cheery, with a skin like a rose. They’re the best, after all. Why shouldn’t they be? Our hearts never grow old, when we’re young we’re timid and difficult, and by the time we do get some worldly knowledge, the gray hairs begin to hit us, and we go tagging around after a lot of passéd widows, and divorcées, who know as much as we do.”
“And sometimes more,” grunted the grain-broker.
“And sometimes more,” reiterated Lamont, laughing outright.
Enoch clenched down his napkin, and rose quivering. He drew a sharp breath, and strode over to the table where the two men were seated. His eyes fastened savagely upon Lamont, his under lip shot forward, the muscles of his jaw working convulsively, in an effort to command his voice.
“Hello, Crane!” exclaimed Van Worden, who, facing him, was the first to notice his approach. He might as well have addressed a bull about to charge, for he got no reply, and for an instant stared blankly up at him, wondering what was the matter.
Lamont wheeled round in his chair.
“Hello, Crane!” said he. “You here?” Then noticing the state he was in, rose to his feet.
“You’re not ill?” he ventured, with a rapid apprehensive glance at Van Worden, who had risen, his mouth open in astonishment.
“Mr. Lamont,” said Enoch evenly, despite the rage that shook him, “I have something to say to you. Something of the utmost importance, sir—that’s why I’m here.”
Lamont instinctively started back, like a man on his guard. Then he covered the speaker with his attractive black eyes half closed, a condescending smile playing about his lips.