Hy looked at Betty; Betty looked at Hy. She colored very prettily; he leaned against the wall and laughed softly there until his eyes filled, laughed himself weak. Finally he managed to observe to the irate figure on the sill, who held his pipe in a threatening attitude and awaited an explanation—“My son, are you aware that the lady lives here? Also that you could hardly be termed overdressed.” She spoke now, softly, with hesitation—
“Where is Sue, Mr. Bates?”
He waved his pipe. “Gone—New Jersey.”
Betty seemed to recollect. “Oh, yes,” she murmured. “And wasn't there something—the other day, when was it—”
She exchanged a helplessly emotional glance with the partly sobered Hy.
“—Saturday it must have been. Oh, of course, you wanted me to pack Sue's things.”
“They're packed,” snapped the Worm. “And gone.”
“And what, pray, are you doing here?” This from Hy.
“Living here,” said the Worm.
Again the two sought each other's eyes.