“And thank you for the hundred dollars. But please, please understand that I could not keep it.
“Confident in the promise of Miss Blythe, I shall venture to take the room that sometimes I have taken for a single night. It is at 696 Jane Street.
“So good-bye—unless you ever would care to see me again—and thank you with a heart very full, dear Mr. Annan.
“Yours sincerely,
“Eris.”
CHAPTER XI
ANNAN had every intention of going to Jane Street. But Barry Annan was that kind of busy man who takes the most convenient diversion in the interims of work.
He wrote a note to Eris, promising to stop in very soon; but week-ends interfered. Then, in August, a house party at Southampton, another in Saratoga for the races, and the remaining two weeks trout fishing in the Maine forests, convicted him as the sort of social liar everybody understands.
But Eris was not anybody yet. She did not understand. There was not a single evening she had not waited for him, not daring to go out lest she miss him.
Only when the Betsy Blythe Company departed on location did Eris abandon hope and pack her little satchel for the Harlem & Westchester train.