temporized, laughing, and finally tore himself away. And when he
stepped from the car outside of Blake's Restaurant and was met by a
blast of hot air, laden with the breath of fried onions, he felt
himself very much alone. He ate his supper dreamily and
retrospectively. The vacant chair across the little table added to the
plaintiveness. He had liver and onions and a chocolate eclair and felt
that he needed a woman to look after him.

He got in the car and drove slowly south. When he came to Lytle Street
he turned off to the right. It was not quite dark and people passing
on the pavement seemed to him to peer out at him. He felt
self-conscious and slowed down the car still more till he barely crept
along, with headlights blazing two bright paths before him. Myrtle
Macomber had told him he might come and he did not wish to seem to be
too eager. But as he sought his bearings, watching the unfamiliar
fronts of houses and clumps of shade, he suffered little tremblings of
expectancy in spite of his restraint.

Directly the house appeared; he had no difficulty in recognizing it.
It stood out bleakly against the evening sky, with its pointed cupola
thrust upward like a warning finger, with its wooden fence and gate.
It bad no modest shrouding of trees and bushes in the shadow of which
one might veil one's entrance. For a moment he was afraid lest he be
too early, so he alighted, switched off the lamps, and proceeded
across the pavement to the gate very slowly. Then from the shelter of
the vines on the side porch he heard the hum of voices and a laugh.
Grasping his dignity firmly like a walking stick, he stalked up the
pavement to the house.

Myrtle came to meet him. The dim outline of her in her filmy dress and
the elusive scent of her presence stirred him again. Her voice was
gentle as she laughed a greeting and she gave his hand an
imperceptible squeeze as he came up the steps. His stiffness vanished,
but the sound of voices from back in the shadow disturbed him. An
absurd personality crowded to his lips as she led him forward, but he
repressed it.

He was introduced. There was quite a crowd assembled and in the dark
he was conscious of only a blob of faces and the grip of one hand that
was quite too hot. Even in the dark he felt embarrassed, as the
conscious caller exposed nakedly to the world. What had she done this
for? It was not too considerate of her. Perhaps it was purely
accidental. He began to speculate on how