the time which he had stipulated went by, and no message came, he
suffered more and more intensely--hoped, savagely, that she was
suffering, too, and decided that she could not be, or that he would have
heard from her; but resolved, more and more decidedly, with every hour
that passed, that he would fight this battle out to the bitter end.

It was even later than usual when he came in on the night of the ball,
and when he entered, every one in the house was hurrying about in the
inevitable confusion which precedes a "great occasion." Edith, the only
one who seemed to be ready, was standing in the middle of the
living-room, fresh and glowing as a yellow rose in her bright dress,
Peter beside her buttoning her gloves. She glanced at her grimy brother
with a feeble interest.

"Mercy, Austin, you'd better hurry! We're going to leave in five
minutes."

"Well, _I'm_ not going to leave in five minutes! I've got to get out of
these clothes and have a bath and it's hardly necessary to tell me all
that--one glance at you is sufficient," said Edith flippantly.

"Well, I can come on later alone, I suppose. Where's mother?"

"Still dressing. Why?"

"Do you happen to know whether--Sylvia's been over here this
afternoon--or sent a telephone message or a note?"

"I'm perfectly sure she hasn't. Why?"