"
And no sooner had this alternative occurred to him than it
appeared too fascinating to be resisted. A weight seemed removed
from his mind. When it came to that, what amusement would he have
at either affair?
"Sit up there with your shirt-front starched like a board," he
blustered, "and your collar throttling you, and smile till your
face is sore, and reel off small talk to a girl whose last name
you can't remember! Do I have any fun, does it do me any good, do
I get ideas for yarns? What do I do it for? I don't know."
While speaking he had been kicking off his tight shoes and such of
his full dress as he had already put on, and with a feeling of
enormous relief turned again to his sack suit of tweed. "Lord,
these feel better!" he exclaimed, as he substituted the loose
business suit for the formal rigidity of his evening dress. It
was with a sensation of positive luxury that he put on a "soft"
shirt of blue cheviot and his tan walking-shoes.
"But no more red scarfs," he declared, as he knotted his black
satin "club" before the mirror. "She WAS right there." He put his
cigarettes in his pocket, caught up his gloves and stick, clapped
on his hat, and started for the Bessemers' flat with a feeling of
joyous expectancy he had not known for days.
Evidently Blix had seen him coming, for she opened the door
herself; and it suited her humor for the moment to treat him as a
peddler or book-agent.
"No, no," she said airily, her head in the air as she held the
door.
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