He tried to talk once, stammered and lapsed into a
sullen silence from which nothing could stir him.

The two girls at last began to discuss their own
affairs and the dinner ended in a sickening failure
that depressed and angered Mary.

The agony over at last, she rose and turned to Jim:

"You can go now, sir--I'll take Jane home with me
for a friendly chat."

"Thank God!" he whispered, grinning in spite of his
effort to keep a straight face.

"Tomorrow?" he asked in low tones.

"At eight o'clock."

Jim bowed awkwardly to Jane, muttered something
inarticulate and rushed to his car.

The two girls walked in silence through Twenty-
eighth Street to Broadway and thence across the Square.

Seated in her room, Mary could contain her pent-up
rage no longer.

"Jane Anderson, I'm furious with you! How could
you be so rude--so positively insulting!"