Chapter Nine


For several minutes neither of us spoke. Then I looked up to
meet my friend's gaze of perturbation.

A waiter was proffering cigars. I took one, and waved Poor Jr.'s
hand away from the box of which the waiter made offering.

"Do not remain!" I whispered, and I saw his sad perplexity. "I
know her answer has not been given. Will you present him his
chance to receive it--just when her sympathy must be stronger
for him, since she will think he has had to bear rudeness?"

He went out of the door quickly.

I dod not smoke. I pretended to, while the waiters made the
arrangements of the table and took themselves off. I sat there a
long, long time waiting for Antonio to do what I hoped I had
betrayed him to do.

It befell at last.

Poor Jr. came to the door and spoke in his steady voice.
"Ansolini, will you come out here a moment?"

Then I knew that I had succeeded, had made Antonio afraid that I
would do the thing he himself, in a panic, had already done --
speak evil of another privately.