I
Madelaine Theddon had returned from a matinée one spring afternoon when she was met by the announcement that a gentleman had been waiting an hour. Gordon Ruggles arose to greet her.
Madelaine’s first feeling was one of extreme annoyance and defiant exasperation. She looked at Gordon, however, and realized in an instant that a change had come over the fellow. What had happened?
“Don’t be angry, Madge,” he pleaded respectfully enough. “All I want is a few minutes—to talk.”
Gordon was clothed differently. His rakish, sport suit had given way to sober black. He stood erect and not with a leering slouch. Most of all, he had visited a surgeon-dentist and that disfiguring front tooth had been corrected. It had been cut off and a crown put in its place which gave his mouth and the entire front of his face a different appearance. Yes, Gordon had changed.
“I’m not angry, Gord. Why, you’re looking fine! What’s happened?”
“Maybe I can explain—if you’ll give me the opportunity. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, Madge.”
She laid her street wraps on the bed in the adjoining room and came back, patting her hair.
“May I smoke, Madge? It would help what I want to say.”
Might he smoke? It was the first time Gordon had ever made such a request. Formerly he would have smoked whether it offended her or not.