“How silly! Does Mr. Smull want me?”
“We’re all set. Leo Shill is to announce it. You’re to group with Albert and Ratty Creevy and receive bouquets. Come, Eris; let that young man’s educated hands alone——”
Eris, unconscious until then that Annan still retained her hands, withdrew them without embarrassment. Rosalind passed a beautifully plump arm around her waist, letting her amused glance linger on Annan:
“The immaculate lover,” she drawled, “always busy.” And to Eris: “You’ll like him better, though, after it’s all over,—after the teething, my dear. We all bite on Barry.”
CHAPTER XVIII
ANNAN spent the entire day with Eris; came home at midnight; seated himself at his desk where his work lay in inviting disorder.
But there was no more chance of his working than there was of his sleeping.
It was the first time it ever had happened. He could not remember an instance when the subtle challenge of a disordered manuscript had been declined by him.
But something had happened to this young man. He was in no condition to realise what. His mind, that hitherto faithful ally, seemed incompetent; trivial thoughts thronged its corridors, wandering ideas, irrelevant impressions drifted in agreeable rhythm.
There was a letter from his aunt on his desk. He tore it open; glanced through it without the usual grin; laid it aside.