Bud's future intentions.
Back to the elevated railway, and so up-town, sped Larcher. The feeling
that his friend must be now at home continued strong within him until he
was again upon the steps of the lodging-house. Then it weakened somewhat.
It died altogether at sight of the questioning eyes of the negro. The
telegram was still on the hat-stand.
"Any news?" asked the landlady, appearing from the rear.
"No. I was hoping you might have some."
After saying he would return in the evening, he rushed off to keep his
engagement for tea. He was late in arriving at the flat.
"Here he is!" cried Edna, eagerly. Her eyes sparkled; she was in high
spirits. Florence, too, was smiling. The girls seemed to have been in
great merriment, and in possession of some cause of felicitation as yet
unknown to Larcher. He stood hesitating.
"Well? Well? Well?" said Edna. "How did he take it? Speak. Tell us your
good news, and then we'll tell you ours." Florence only watched his face,
but there was a more poignant inquiry in her silence than in her friend's
noise.
"Well, the fact is," began Larcher, embarrassed, "I can't tell you any
good news just yet. Davenport couldn't keep his engagement with me
to-day, and I haven't been able to see him."
"Not able to see him?" Edna exclaimed, hotly. "Why didn't you go and
find him? As if anything could be more important! That's the way with
men--always afraid of intruding. Such a disappointment! Oh, what an
unreliable, helpless, futile creature you are, Tom!"
Stung to self-defence, the helpless, futile creature replied:
"I wasn't at all afraid of intruding.
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