THE STREET CALLED STRAIGHT





I


As a matter of fact, Davenant was under no illusions concerning the
quality of the welcome his hostess was according him, though he found a
certain pleasure in being once more in her company. It was not a keen
pleasure, but neither was it an embarrassing one; it was exactly what he
supposed it would be in case they ever met again--a blending on his part
of curiosity, admiration, and reminiscent suffering out of which time
and experience had taken the sting. He retained the memory of a minute
of intense astonishment once upon a time, followed by some weeks, some
months perhaps, of angry humiliation; but the years between twenty-four
and thirty-three are long and varied, generating in healthy natures
plenty of saving common sense. Work, travel, and a widened knowledge of
men and manners had so ripened Davenant's mind that he was able to see
his proposal now as Miss Guion must have seen it then, as something so
incongruous and absurd as not only to need no consideration, but to call
for no reply. Nevertheless, it was the refusal on her part of a reply,
of the mere laconic No which was all that, in his heart of hearts, he
had ever expected, that rankled in him longest; but even that
mortification had passed, as far as he knew, into the limbo of extinct
regrets. For her present superb air of having no recollection of his