“I should almost think so.”
“Don’t just drop me cold, Jim. Let me see you sometimes. I don’t think you have ever guessed how I need you. There’s a black mood comes over me sometimes and you are the only person who can dispel it. I don’t want to meddle—to interfere—to be anything—but don’t hurt me by just dropping me cold. Come to see me now and then—once in a long while—only when Horatia doesn’t want you—promise.”
“Why—of course I will—of course, Rose—don’t be so silly. You know that without a promise.”
“No—promise—it will make me feel so much happier just to have the words to comfort me when I feel awfully outside and alone.”
He hesitated, being a man and naturally reluctant to bind himself too tightly, and then, being a gentleman, he laughed and promised. She asked nothing more and took no advantage of his feeling but bent to open her door and then, waving to him from the dark threshold, was gone.
At his rooms, Jim found a note under his door. It was a little note written on a page out of a familiar notebook. “Where do you run to when I can not find you? I have disposed of the stupidest party in the world because I can not bear my Sunday without the sight of you. I have brazenly rung your door-bell and there came no answer. If you get back, call me at Maud’s to say good night and if it is early enough, come to see me and say it properly.”
He looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock—too late for a call. He sat down at his telephone and almost lovingly called the number of Maud’s house.
“What were you doing?” asked Horatia. “All this heavenly afternoon?”
Langley did not make any attempt to evade the question.
“Oh, I went out in the country with Rose Hubbell. She was a bit down and needed to be cheered up, she thought.”