Mabel made a face at him and disappeared into the other room, returning almost immediately with her hat and coat on.
“I won’t have much time between practice and the game,” Joe told her, as they went down together in the elevator. “So have a good time, girl. Take in a show if you like.”
Mabel promised to enjoy herself, and a few moments later they parted in the sunny street, going their separate ways. Mabel turned to wave to him before she was swallowed up in the crowd, and Joe thought with a full heart how lucky he was.
“If I were in poor old Jim’s place now, how would I feel?” he asked himself, and instinctively thrust the unpleasant thought away from him. He knew the agony of mind he would have suffered if at any time he had been in danger of losing Mabel, and pity for his chum took on a new intensity. He was almost afraid to meet Jim for fear of seeing that hopeless, lost look in his eyes.
“He certainly knows—or guesses—something,” he told himself. “If I get a chance to-day I’ll sound him out on the subject. After all, it sometimes helps a patient to have the wound lanced.”
After the Giants had dropped another game, the chums, tired and disgruntled, turned their steps toward the hotel again. Jim seemed more than ordinarily depressed and met Joe’s attempts at conversation with discouraging monosyllables. Several times Joe tried to lead up to the subject of Clara, only to be rebuffed by Jim’s laconic replies.
After that Joe relapsed into silence, studying his chum thoughtfully. The thing was getting serious. Jim’s silence and moroseness were growing on him. And the worst of it was that he did not seem to care. It was this very lethargy that Joe found most alarming. He would have welcomed an outburst of some sort, even condemnation of Clara and her actions. It was Jim’s brooding taciturnity that baffled him.
They had almost reached the hotel when Joe felt a hand on his arm and turned to find himself confronted by a dazzling person. He blinked, and discovered that the vision was Reggie, dressed as always, in the latest fashion from smart soft hat to immaculate spats. Reggie swung his cane and beamed. Perhaps because the friendly face with its inevitable monocle was a welcome contrast to Jim’s moodiness, Joe greeted his brother-in-law with more than usual enthusiasm.
“Say, but you’re a sight for sore eyes, old chap!” he cried. “When did you blow in?”
“About an hour ago. Been busy all this time lookin’ up a novel tie or two. Stopped in all the shops hereabouts and, bah Jove, the best they could show me was a creation of salmon pink with yellowish polka dots. No taste, no taste whatever, one might say!”