A blonde, flushed woman who sat opposite Nellie at the table in the corner caught sight of him as he passed. She stared hard for a moment and then allowed a queer expression to come into her eyes.
“For Heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed, with considerable force.
“What’s the matter? Your husband?” demanded Nellie Duluth, with a laugh.
“No,” she said, staring harder. “Why, I can’t be mistaken. Yes, as I live, it’s Mr.—Mr. What’s-His-Name, your husband, Nellie.”
“Don’t turn ’round, Nellie,” whispered Fairfax, who sat beside her.
“I don’t believe it!” cried Nellie, readily. “It isn’t possible for Harvey to be here. Where is he?” she demanded in the same breath, looking over her shoulder.
Harvey was getting out of the way of a ’bus boy and a stack of chinaware and in the way 109 of a waiter with a tray of peach Melbas when she espied him.
“For the land’s sake!” she gasped, going clear back to Blakeville for the expression. “I don’t dare look, Carrie. Tell me, has he got a—a fairy with him? Break it gently.”
“Fairy?” sneered Fairfax, suddenly uncomfortable. “Why, he’s lost in the wood. He’s alone on a desert isle. What the deuce is he doing here?”
Harvey gave his order to the disdainful waiter and then settled back in his chair for the first deliberate look around the room in quest of his wife.