is Miss Madeleine.
I think it wouldn't be too much to say, she was feeling a little hurt
at your neglect of her."

"Really? I had no idea so many people took an interest in me."

"That is just where you are mistaken," said Dove warmly. "We all do.
And for that very reason, I said to myself, I will be spokesman for the
rest: I'll go to him and tell him he must pull through, and do himself
credit--and Schwarz, too. We are so few this year, you know."

"Yes, poor old man! He has got badly left."

"Yes. That was one reason. And then ... but you assure me, don't you,
that you will not take what I am going to say amiss?"

"Not in the least. It's awfully decent of you. But I'm sorry to say my
time's up. And every minute is precious just now--as you know yourself."

He rose, and, for the third time, referred to his watch. After an
ineffectual attempt to continue, Dove was also forced to rise, with the
best part of his message unuttered. And Maurice hurried him, glum and
crestfallen, to the door, for fear of the still worse tactlessness of
which he might make himself guilty.

They groped in silence along the dark lobby. For the sake of parting
with a friendly and neutral word, Maurice said, as he opened the door:
"By the way, I hear we shall soon have to offer congratulations and
good wishes."

To his surprise, Dove, who had already crossed the threshold, looked
blank, and drew himself up.

"Indeed?" he said, and the tone was, for him, quite short. "I ... the
fact is ... I've no idea of what you are referring to."

On re-entering his room, Maurice went back to the window, and taking up
his former attitude, began to beat anew that tattoo on the panes, which
had been his chief employment during the day. His eyes were sore with
straining at the corner of the street, tired of looking at his watch to
see how the time passed. He had steadfastly believed that Louise would
yield in this matter, and, at the last, recall him in a burst of
impulsive regret. But, as the day crawled by without a word from her,
his confident conviction weakened; and, at the same time, his resolve
not to go back till she sent for him, failed. He repeated, in memory,
some of the bitter things they had said to each other, to see if he had
not left himself a loophole of escape; but only with one half of his
brain: the other was persistently occupied with the emptiness of the
street below. When a clock struck half-past seven, he could bear the
suspens