stared out of the window. Suddenly she felt his hand on hers.
"Susy—do you ever see her?"
"See—Ellie?"
He nodded, without turning toward her.
"Not often . . . sometimes. . . ."
"If you do, for God's sake tell her I'm happy . . . happy as a king . . . tell her you could see for yourself that I was. . . ." His voice broke in a little gasp. "I . . . I'll be damned if . . . if she shall ever be unhappy about me . . . if I can help it. . . ." The cigarette dropped from his fingers, and with a sob he covered his face.
"Oh, poor Nelson—poor Nelson," Susy breathed. While their cab rattled across the Place du Carrousel, and over the bridge, he continued to sit beside her with hidden face. At last he pulled out a scented handkerchief, rubbed his eyes with it, and groped for another cigarette.
"I'm all right! Tell her that, will you, Susy? There are some of our old times I don't suppose I shall ever forget; but they make me feel kindly to her, and not angry. I didn't know it would be so, beforehand—but it is. . . . And now the thing's settled I'm as right as a trivet, and you can tell her so. . . . Look here, Susy . . ." he caught her by the arm as the taxi drew up at her hotel. . . . "Tell her I understand, will you? I'd rather like her to know that. . . ."
"I'll tell her, Nelson," she promised; and climbed the stairs alone to her dreary room.
