excellent foil to the new, bright unseen visitor to the poet’s sombre apartment.
Sammy went to his old seat by the window, and looked out over the dusty green foliage in the garden. Then he looked at his watch, and rose hastily.
“By grabs!” he exclaimed. “Twenty after four! I can’t stay, old man; I’ve got a date at 4:30.”
“Why did you come, then?” asked Ravenel, with sarcastic jocularity, “if you had an engagement at that time. I thought you business men kept better account of your minutes and seconds than that.”
Sammy hesitated in the doorway and turned pinker.
“Fact is, Ravvy,” he explained, as to a customer whose margin is exhausted, “I didn’t know I had it till I came. I’ll tell you, old man—there’s a dandy girl in that old house next door that I’m dead gone on. I put it straight—we’re engaged. The old man says ‘nit’—but that don’t go. He keeps her pretty close. I can see Edith’s window from yours here. She gives me a tip when she’s going shopping, and I meet her. It’s 4:30 to-day. Maybe I ought to have explained sooner, but I know it’s all right with you—so long.”
“How do you get your ‘tip,’ as you call it?” asked Ravenel, losing a little spontaneity from his smile.
“Roses,” said Sammy, briefly. “Four of ’em to-
[139]
