He closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the stairway. Its creaking attracted the attention of the two in the drawing-room. When he looked again, they were standing and staring at him. Slowly he descended, a mechanical smile forcing itself into his face.
"Hello, Doug," he said. "I thought I heard your voice. Glad to see you."
A quick glance of apprehension passed between Converse and Celeste. Had he heard?
"I just inquired for you, Jud," said Converse, pulling himself together as quickly as possible. "Celeste says you're terribly busy. Don't overwork yourself, old man. I dropped in to say you are to go to a little dinner with me to-night. Some of the boys want to eat something for old times' sake."
The shadow that passed over Jud's face was disconcerting.
"There is nothing else in the way, Jud, dear," Celeste hastened to say. "It would be awfully jolly, I should think."
"Vogelsang says you haven't been in his place for months," added Converse, reproachfully. "You shouldn't go back on a crowd like this, old man. They'll think you're stuck up because you've made a hit."
Sherrod smiled wearily, then pulled his nerves together and made a brave show of being pleased and interested.
"I don't believe they'll accuse me of that, Doug," he said. "They know I'm frightfully busy. Who is to be there?"
Converse, with all his good intentions, had not been foresighted enough to see that he might be asked this natural question. It was impossible to count on any one in particular, and it would be far from politic to mention names and then be obliged to give flimsy excuses if their owners failed to appear.