“I hope not.”
“Well,” he replied with a manner of sudden cheery playfulness, “we’ll take good care that she doesn’t learn. When the wires are up we’ll concoct a telegram that shall be a masterpiece of diplomatic lying. Lucky young man to have a loving wife at home. Of all of us you are the one who can best realize the meaning of the line, ‘’Tis sweet to know there is an eye to mark our coming and——’”
Dominick threw the rug off and rose to his feet.
“If you can get Perley to help me I’ll go up stairs again. I’m tired and I’ll go back to my room.”
He tried to step forward, but the pain of his unhealed foot was unbearable, and he caught the edge of the table and held it, his face paling with sudden anguish. The actor, startled by the abruptness of his uprising, approached him with a vague proffer of assistance and was arrested by his sharp command:
“Go and get Perley! He’s in the bar probably. I can’t stand this way for long. Hurry up!”
Buford ran out of the room, and Rose somewhat timidly drew near the young man, braced against the table, his eyes down-bent, his face hard in the struggle with sudden and unfamiliar pain.
“Can’t I help you?” she said. “Perley may not be there. Mr. Buford and I can get you up stairs.”
“Oh, no,” he answered, his words short but his tone more conciliatory. “It’s nothing to bother about. I’d have wrung that man’s neck if I’d had to listen to him five minutes longer.”
Here Perley and Buford entered, and the former, offering his support to the invalid, led him hobbling out of the door and into the hall. The actor looked after them for a moment and then came back to the fire where Miss Cannon was standing, thoughtfully regarding the burning logs.