Evan had no heart for further handshakes. He sought out Robb and taking him by the arm left Massey Hall by the stage entrance. Rain had fallen in torrents and the gutters were full of water, but the sky had cleared, and the air was fresh and cool.
"Let's walk home," said Robb, "I'm all worked up; this thing has taken away my breath—I need the air."
Evan did not smile; he walked along in silence.
"What's the matter, old man?" asked his friend when they had reached University Avenue; "has something disappointed you?"
"No," said Evan, ashamed of his moodiness, "I was just thinking of one night similar to this when I was on the cash-book. Doesn't it seem a long time ago, Sam?"
Robb took a deep breath at the word "Sam."
"Old friend," he said, vibrantly, "you can't understand what you've done for me to-night. I was almost at the breaking-point."
Evan's eyes were turned up a side street, an unpaved street where the mud was deep and slimy.
"For heaven's sake!" he whispered, "look who goes there! When I whistle," he continued excitedly, "you fall back and watch for cops. I'm going to spoil that blue coat and those flannel pants."
"I recognize him," said Robb; "go easy; remember you've been a farmer."