[CHAPTER IV]
THE SPOILS OF WAR
The rest of the evening flew by as though on wings, and Joe was startled when he looked at his watch and found that it was nearly eleven o’clock.
“I’ll have to go,” he said reluctantly. “I had no idea it was so late.”
“Why should you hurry?” asked Reggie. “The season’s over now in the National League, and the World Series won’t begin for a week or more. I should think you might have a little leeway in the matter of sitting up late.”
“I’ll have plenty of leeway before long,” laughed Joe. “But just now I want to keep in the very pink of condition. I’ll need every ounce of strength and vitality I’ve got before I get through the Series.”
He would have dearly loved a chance for a few words with Mabel in private before he went away, but Reggie failed to appreciate that fact, and he accompanied the pair even when they went out to the elevator. But Joe avenged himself by holding Mabel’s hand much longer and more closely than he had ever dared do before, and the girl did not dream of calling for help.
But although Joe had been balked in saying what he had wanted to that night, he felt much surer of Mabel’s feelings toward him, and his heart was a tumult of joyous emotions as he made his way home to the rooms he shared with Jim.
He found Barclay sound asleep, at which he rejoiced. He was in no mood for chaff and banter. He wanted to go over in his mind every incident of that memorable evening—to recall the tones of Mabel’s voice, the look in Mabel’s eyes. It was a delightful occupation and took a good while, so that it was late when he dropped off to sleep.