Jack hesitated a moment, glanced at the white, wasted form upon the bed, and then thought of the house on Madison Square, ablaze with light by that time, and of the brilliant woman who was undoubtedly decking herself in her fairest garb for the occasion, and whose black eyes would flash so angrily, perhaps, should he go for her then.
“I can’t, I can’t,” he thought; but when the voice, fainter now than when it spoke before, said again, “Has Jack gone for Georgie?” he went to her and whispered: “Darling, I am going.”
“And you won’t come back without her? Promise, Jack.”
“No, I won’t come back without her; I swear it to you, Annie. I’ll bring her, or not come myself.”
One kiss he pressed upon the white face, feeling that it might be the last, and then rushing swiftly down the stairs, and out into the street, he hailed the first car which passed, and was on his way to Madison Square.
Georgie was dressed at last; every fold and flower, and curl, and jewel was in its place, and she stood before her mirror, flushed with pride and excitement, and thinking within herself that few that night could compete with her in beauty, even if the first freshness of youth was gone, and her face did show signs of maturity. Had Miss Overton been there, Georgie felt that she might have had a rival, for there was a wonderful power about the fair young girl to charm and fascinate. But she was away, across the river, doing what Georgie should have done; and when Georgie remembered that, she felt a pang of remorse, and wondered how Annie was, and said to herself, with a shudder,
“What if she should die to-night! I never could get over it.”
There was a knock at the door, and the maid, who had left her a few moments before, handed her Jack’s card. The bright color faded in an instant from Georgie’s cheeks, as she felt what Jack’s presence there at that time portended, and she leaned against her dressing-table heavily, as she said:
“Tell him I will see him here.”