"
"I'm awf'ly sorry, but I promised--a man's going to call for me,
and we're going to a stupid studio party on Bryant Park. Bore,
isn't it, the day of landing? And poor Istra dreadfully landsick."
"Oh, then," hopefully, "don't go. Let's--"
"I'm sorry, Mouse dear, but I'm afraid I can't break the
date.... Fact, I must go up and primp now--"
"Don't you care a bit?" he said, sulkily.
"Why, yes, of course. But you wouldn't have Istra disappoint a
nice Johnny after he's bought him a cunnin' new weskit, would
you?... Good night, dear." She smiled--the mother smile--and
was gone with a lively good night to the room in general.
Nelly went up to bed early. She was tired, she said. He had no
chance for a word with her. He sat on the steps outside alone
a long time. Sometimes he yearned for a sight of Istra's ivory
face. Sometimes, with a fierce compassion that longed to take
the burden from her, he pictured Nelly working all day in the
rushing department store on which the fetid city summer would
soon descend.
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