“A thousand apologies!”—contritely.
“And don't make it any worse by suggesting a movie after supper. My mother never lets me go out after dark.”
“I rather fancy she's quite sensible. Still, you seem able to take care of yourself. I might suggest—”
“With that black eye? Nay, nay! I'll bet somebody's brother gave it to you.”
“Venus was not on that occasion in ascendancy. Thank you for the change.” Hawksley swung on his heel and reentered the booth.
A great weariness oppressed him. A longing, almost irresistible, came to him to go out and cry aloud: “Here I am! Kill me! I am tired and done!” For he had recognized the purchaser of the cigars as one of the men who had left the 125th Street Station at the same time as he. He remembered distinctly that this man had been in a hurry. Perhaps the whole dizzy affair was reacting upon his imagination psychologically and turning harmless individuals into enemies.
“Hello!” said a man's voice over the wire.
“Is Mr. Rathbone there?”
“Captain Rathbone is with his regiment at Coblenz, sir.”
“Coblenz?”