Turning on his heel, he flung away his unlighted cigarette, and left the room without giving the other a chance to speak.
CHAPTER XIX.
PROTECTIVE MEASURES.
"Fool!" muttered Lawrence, as he passed down the corridor toward the ballroom. "If that was meant as a joke, it was a poor one."
Reaching one of the entrances to the ballroom, he hesitated. He had not the faintest desire to return and take part in that scene of festivity. He was tired of being pestered and having to talk and make himself agreeable. He wanted to get away and be let alone, so very swiftly he resolved to hunt up Mrs. Hamersley, and take his leave as gracefully as he could.
He found the lady after some trouble, told her that he was not feeling very fit—which was quite true—and said good night. Securing his things in the coat room, he made haste to take the elevator downstairs.
But, once on the steps of the building, with the cold wind blowing against his heated face, he paused, irresolute.
Where should he go? What could he find to take his mind from the disappointment he seemed unable to shake off? It was scarcely half past twelve, and he had never felt less sleepy. The idea of going back to his rooms and tossing restlessly about for hours, with only his thoughts to keep him company, was intolerable.
As he waited, undecided, the doors behind him were thrust suddenly open, and two young fellows issued forth precipitately. One of them was singing a popular song, to which the other beat time on the marble pavement with his stick, laughing boisterously at frequent intervals.
As Lawrence drew aside to let them pass, the song ceased instantly, and a pair of arms were flung about his neck with an unexpectedness and force which made him stagger back a pace or two.