“On the contrary, a histrionic sense of the fitness of things. When did you last fill the oil-tank, Deb?”
“Before dinner—no, though, I didn’t—I remember now, Jenny came in and distracted me. That explains it.”
Nevertheless, the gradual ebbing of the light, coincident with the silence succeeding the waves of noise and music next door, wrought eerily upon the nerves of the two of the Chorus who had not received their call of “all’s right with the world.”
Even Ames was touched to a cheery sentimentality: “I shall miss you both tremendously; you’ve been so awfully good to me.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve been very welcome,” said Deb lightly. “You’re in a hurry—don’t let these obsequies delay you. We bury Jenny the day after to-morrow, at two o’clock, if you care to attend.”
“As I was responsible for her death-bed scene, I suppose I must. But it’s been worth it, hasn’t it, Jenny beloved, to have had this last fling together?”
Jenny played up. “Oh, it has! it has! I’ve lived my life down to the very dregs! And now, as the light slowly fades——”
“And the music dies away——” supplemented Deb.
“And the asparagi have been trickled one by one down that dark and narrow path that engorges all asparagi——”
“So that young life, too, throbbed to silence. Whistling, he went on his way, and never knew till afterwards——”