"More than once," he went on, following up the advantage, "she has expressed the opinion that with half a chance you would have been more than half a man."
"'Gad," said George, wonderingly, "I—I can almost believe you now. That's just the way she would have put it. God knows, Simmy, you are not smart enough to have said it out of your own head. She really thinks that, does she?"
"We'll talk it over to-morrow," said the other, quite well pleased with himself. Young Tresslyn was breathing heavily, as if his great lungs had expanded beyond their normal capacity. "Move along now."
"If I thought—" began George, but Simmy had slammed the door and was directing the chauffeur where to take his fare.
Half an hour later, Mrs. Fenwick's tables were deserted and the dance was on. Simmy Dodge, awaiting the moment of dispersion, lost no time in seeking Lutie. He had delayed his departure for Anne's home, and had been chafing through a long half-hour in the lounge downstairs. She was dancing with Percy Wintermill.
"Hello, Dodge," said that young man, halting abruptly and somewhat aggressively when Simmy, without apology, clutched his arm as they swung by; "thought you'd gone. What d'you come back for?"
"I haven't gone, so I couldn't come back," answered Simmy easily. "I want a word or two with Mrs. Tresslyn, old boy, so beat it."
"Oh, I say, you've got a lot of cheek—"
"Come along, Mrs. Tresslyn; don't mind Percy. This is important." With Lutie at his side, he made his way through the crowd about the door and led her, wondering and not a little disturbed, into one of the ante-rooms, where he found a couple of chairs.
She listened to his account of the meeting with her former husband, her eyes fixed steadily on his homely little face. There was alarm at first in those merry eyes of hers, but his first words were reassuring. He convinced her that George was not bent on any act of violence, nor did he intend to annoy or distress her by a public encounter.