At half past ten that night Louis Akers went back to his rooms. The telephone girl watched him sharply as he entered.
“There's a lady waiting for you, Mr. Akers.”
He swung toward her eagerly.
“A lady? Did she give any name?”
“No. Sam let her in and took her up. He said he thought you wouldn't mind. She'd been here before.”
The thought of Edith never entered Akers' head. It was Lily, Lily miraculously come back to him. Lily, his wife.
Going up in the elevator he hastily formulated a plan of action. He would not be too ready to forgive; she had cost him too much. But in the end he would take her in his arms and hold her close. Lily! Lily!
It was the bitterness of his disappointment that made him brutal. Wicked and unscrupulous as he was with men, with women he was as gentle as he was cruel. He put them from him relentlessly and kissed them good-by. It was his boast that any one of them would come back to him if he wanted her.
Edith, listening for his step, was startled at the change in his face when he saw her.
“You!” he said thickly. “What are you doing here?”