I'll call at half-past two."
"Thank you; I'll tell him."
Bagley summoned up as natural a "good night" as possible, and went. As he
emerged from the dark rear of the hallway to the lighter part, any one
who had been present might have seen a cloudy red look in place of the
blank expression with which he had left the room. "She gave me the dead
freeze-out," he muttered. "The dead freeze-out! So she knew Davenport!
and cared for the poverty-stricken dog, too!"
Startled by a ring at the door-bell, Bagley turned into the common
drawing-room, which was empty, to fasten his gloves. Unseen, he heard
Larcher admitted, ushered back to the Kenby apartment, and welcomed by
the two girls. He paced the drawing-room floor, with a wrathful frown;
then sat down and meditated.
"Well, if he ever does come back to New York, I won't do a thing to him!"
was the conclusion of his meditations, after some minutes.
Some one came down the stairs, and walked back toward the Kenby rooms.
Bagley strode to the drawing-room door, and peered through the hall, in
time to catch sight of the tall, erect figure of a man. This man knocked
at the Kenby door, and, being bidden to enter, passed in and closed it
after him.
"That young dude Turl," mused Bagley, with scorn. "But she won't freeze
him out, I'll bet. I've noticed he usually gets the glad hand, compared
to what I get. Davenport, who never had a thousand dollars of his own at
a time!--and now this light-weight!--compared with _me_ I--I'd give
thirty cents to know what sort of a reception this fellow does get.
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