“Mel, would you shut the door in my face?”
“No, Daren—but I'll not open it,” she replied resolutely.
“Why?”
“You must not come.”
“For my sake—or yours?”
“Both our sakes.”
He backed out on the little porch, and looked at her as she stood there. Beyond him, indeed, were his emotions then. Sad as she seemed, he wanted to make her suffer more—an inexplicable and shameful desire.
“Mel, you and I are alike,” he said.
“Oh, no, Daren; you are noble and I am....”
“Mel, in my dreams I see myself standing—plodding along the dark shores of a river—that river of tears which runs down the vast naked stretch of our inner lives.... I see you now, on the opposite shore. Let us reach our hands across—for the baby's sake.”
“Daren, it is a beautiful thought, but it—it can't be,” she whispered.
“Then let me come to see you when I need—when I'm down,” he begged.
“No.”
“Mel, what harm can it do—just to let me come?”
“No—don't ask me. Daren, I am no stone.”
“You'll be sorry when I'm out there in—Woodlawn.... That won't be long.”
That broke her courage and her restraint.
“Come, then,” she whispered, in tears.
CHAPTER VIII.
Lane's intentions and his spirit were too great for his endurance. It was some time before he got downtown again. And upon entering the inn he was told some one had just called him on the telephone.
“Hello, this is Lane,” he answered. “Who called me?”
“It's Blair,” came the reply. “How are you, old top?”
“Not so well. I've been down and out.”
“Sorry. Suppose that's why you haven't called me up for so long?”
“Well, Buddy, I can't lay it all to that.... And how're you?”
The answer did not come. So Lane repeated his query.
“Well, I'm still hobbling round on one leg,” replied Blair.
“That's good. Tell me about Reddie.”
Again the reply was long in coming....
“Haven't you heard—about Red?”
“No.”
“Haven't seen the newspapers lately?”
“I never read the papers, Blair.”
“Right-o. But I had to.... Buck up, now, Dare!”
“All right. Shoot it quick,” returned Lane, feeling his breast contract and his skin tighten with a chill.
“Red Payson has gone west.”
“Blair! You don't mean—dead?” exclaimed Lane.
“Yes, Reddie's gone—and I guess it's just as well, poor devil!”
“How? When?”
“Two days ago, according to papers.... He died in Washington, D.C. Fell down in the vestibule of one of the government offices—where he was waiting.... fell with another hemorrhage—and died right there—on the floor— quick.”
“My—God!” gasped Lane.
“Yes, it's tough. You see, Dare, I couldn't keep Reddie here. Heaven knows I tried, but he wouldn't stay.... I'm afraid he heard my mother complaining. Say, Dare, suppose I have somebody drive me in town to see you.”
“I'd like that, Blair.”
“You're on. And say, I've another idea. Tonight's the Junior Prom—did you know that?”
“No, I didn't.”
