her head for him to fasten her veil, holding the ends with her
white-kid fingers; Blix once more, walking at his side with her
trim black skirt, her round little turban hat, her yellow hair,
and her small dark, dancing eyes.

Then, suddenly, he remembered the promise he had made her in the
matter of playing that night. He winced sharply at this, and the
remembrance of his fault harried and harassed him. In spite of
himself, he felt contemptible. Yet he had broken his promises to
her in this very matter of playing before--before that day of
their visit to the Chinese restaurant--and had felt no great qualm
of self-reproach. Had their relations changed? Rather the reverse
for they had done with "foolishness."

"Never worried me before," muttered Condy, as he punched up his
pillow--"never worried me before. Why should it worry me now--
worry me like the devil;--and she caught on to that 'point' about
the slope of forty-five degrees."



Chapter V


Condy began his week's work for the supplement behindhand.
Naturally he overslept himself Tuesday morning, and, not having
any change in his pockets, was obliged to walk down to the office.
He arrived late, to find the compositors already fretting for
copy. His editor promptly asked for the whaleback stuff, and
Condy was forced into promising it within a half-hour. It was out