A BAYARD OF BROADWAY
to you. You must have walked him well. Stevens said he came in at eight and tumbled straight to bed. He's fresh as paint this morning. Asked him where he'd been, and I swear he didn't know. Says you told him to go to bed, and he went. Drove home, he says. Actually doesn't remember a living thing but that, since dinner. When you said he'd be that way sometimes I didn't really believe you, but I do now. Where were you?"
Dillon faced him.
"For God's sake, Lawrence, what is it? Are you sick? She said you wouldn't be there"
"She? Who?"
"The old one—the aunt. Bob was wondering about it, and she says directly, 'No, he won't be here this morning,' so I slipped off. Bob said if you were tired, never mind.
"I say, Lawrence, that's an awfully attractive boy. You can't help liking him. He called me aside, and, 'Look here,' says he, 'Uncle Owen says there's to be no wine packed for you. Now I can't have that, Stebbins it won't do. It's awfully bully of you to come, and you must have everything
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