'Ah! Now I've reminded myself. I wish I hadn't. Do you think it'll be easier for us to-night?'
'Oh, don't.' The smell of the carnage had brought back all his last trip to him, and Conroy moved uneasily.
'I'm sorry. I've brought some games,' she went on. 'Draughts and cards—but they all mean counting. I wish I'd brought chess, but I can't play chess. What can we do? Talk about something.'
'Well, how's Toots, to begin with?' said Conroy.
'Why? Did you see him on the platform?'
'No. Was he there? I didn't notice.'
'Oh yes. He doesn't understand. He's desperately jealous. I told him it doesn't matter. Will you please let me hold your hand? I believe I'm beginning to get the chill.'
'Toots ought to envy me,' said Conroy.
'He does. He paid you a high compliment the other night. He's taken to calling again—in spite of all they say.'
Conroy inclined his head. He felt cold, and knew surely he would be colder.
'He said,' she yawned. '(Beg your pardon.) He said he couldn't see how I could help falling in love with a man like you; and he called himself a damned little rat, and he beat his head on the piano last night.'
'The piano? You play, then?'
'Only to him. He thinks the world of my accomplishments. Then I told him I wouldn't have
