“Well, your house-warming has been a success, Jim,” said I, “though a fellow wouldn’t think so to look at you. And the house is faultless. I envy you the house, but the ability to plan and furnish it still more. I didn’t think it was in you, old man! Where did you learn it all?”
“You may have the house, if you want it, Al,” said he. “I don’t think it’s going to be of any use to me.”
“Why, Jim,” said I, seeing that it was something more than a mere mood with him, “what is it? Has anything gone wrong?”
“Nothing that I’ve any right to complain of,” said he. “Of course, no man puts as much of his life into such a thing as I have into this—without thinking of more than living in it—alone. I’ve never had what you can really call a home—not since I was a little chap, when it was home wherever there were trees and mother. I’ve filled this—with those associations I spoke to Barr-Smith about—to-night—a little more than I seem to have had any warrant to do. I tried to make sure about the jewel for the jewel-case to-night, and it went wrong, Al; and that’s all there is of it. I don’t think I shall need the house, and if you like it you can have it.”
“Do you mean that Josie has refused you?” said I.
“She didn’t put it that way,” said he, “but it amounts to that.”
“Nothing that isn’t a refusal,” said I, “ought to be accepted as such. What did she say?”
“Nothing definite,” he answered wearily, “only that it couldn’t be ‘yes,’ and when I urged her to make it ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ she refused to say either; and asked me to forget that I had ever said anything to her about the matter. There have been some things which—led me to hope—for a different answer; and I’m a good deal taken down, Al ... I wouldn’t like to talk this way—with any one else.”
There seemed to be no reason for abandonment of hope, I urged upon him, and after a cigar or so I left him, evidently impressed with this view of the case, but nevertheless bitterly disappointed. It meant delay and danger to his hopes; and Jim was not a man to brook delay, or suffer danger to go unchallenged. I dared not tell him of Cornish’s offer, and of its fate, so similar to his.
“I wonder if it is coquetry on her part,” thought I, as I went back with the fan. “I wonder if it will cause things to go wrong in our business affairs. I wonder if it is possible for her to be sincerely unable to make up her mind, or if there is anything in Alice’s malign-influence theory. Anyhow, in the department of Cupid business certainly is picking up!”