III
Burton Ames, as he lumbered downstairs, was angry with himself for being angry at the interruption. It was much better; if he once budged from his safe resolve, the Chorus would become quite impossible. And he would miss it—would miss them—quite intensely. They had obviously set out to try him pretty severely this evening. Why? Sheer mischief? Deb was the more dangerous of the two. One could feel tenderly, an absurd, almost pathetic tenderness, for Jenny out-of-bounds ... passionate, ill-used little urchin. But Deb.... Damn this ’phone call!
“Hello!”...
IV
Deb and Jenny were alone.
“Deb—I saw.”
“Saw what?” said Deb absently.
“When you bent his head back ... just now. And then Mad’m came between. Deb—did he?”
Deb did not answer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped round her knees, ears straining, straining for his returning tread, she examined her behaviour of a moment ago, and decided that self-verdict must wait on subsequent events. If only he made it worth while....
The room had grown unaccountably darker. Jenny shuddered; propped herself up on one elbow: