o him? Has she made
it up with him? Is she coming back?"

"I suppose you can just hear me asking her all those questions?
Casually, in the aisle of a theater, while she was getting ready for a
running jump into a taxi?"

The color came up into Violet's face again. There was a maddening sort
of jubilant jocularity about these men, the looks and almost winks they
exchanged, the distinctly saucy quality of the things they said to her.

"Of course," she said coolly, "if Rose had told me that she heard from
Rodney regularly, although he didn't send her much of the gossip, I
shouldn't have had to ask her those questions I'd have known from the
way she looked and the way her voice sounded, whether she was writing to
Rodney or not and whether she meant to come back to him or not; whether
she was ready to make it up if he was--all that. Any woman who knew her
at all would. Only a man, perfectly infatuated, grinning ... See if you
can't tell what she looked like and how she said it."

Jimmy, meek again, attempted the task.

"Well," he said, "she didn't look me in the eye and register deep
meanings or anything like that. I don't know where she looked. As far as
the inflection of her voice went, it was just as casual as if she'd been
telling me what she'd had for lunch. But the quality of her voice
just--richened up a bit, as if the words tasted good to her. And she
smiled just barely as if she knew I'd be staggered and didn't care a
damn. There you are! Now interpret unto me this dream, oh, Joseph."

Violet's eyes were shining. "Why, it's as plain!" she said. "Can't you
see that she's just waiting for him; that she'll come like a shot the
minute he says the word? And there he is, eating his heart out for her,
and in his rage charging poor John perfectly terrific prices for his
legal services, when all he's got to do is to say 'please,' in order to
be happy."

There was a little silence after that. Then:

"Don't you suppose," she went on, "there's something we can do?"

A supreme contentment always made John Williamson silent. He'd been
beaming at Jimmy all through the dinner, guarding him tenderly against
interruptions, with pantomimic instructions to the servants. If the
vague look in Jimmy's eyes suggested the want of a cigarette, John
nodded one up for him. He didn't ask a question. Evidently, between
Jimmy and Violet, the story was being elicited to his satisfaction. But
it was amazing how quickly that last words of