In the Quarter

He watched the kettle dreamily. The fire glowed and flashed and sank, and glowed again. Now he could distinctly see a serpent twisting among the embers. The clock ticked in measured unison with the slow oscillation of the flame serpent. The wind blew hard against the panes and sent a sudden chill creeping to his feet.

Bang! Bang! went the blinds. The hallway was full of strange noises. He thought he heard a step on the threshold; he imagined that his door creaked, but he did not turn around from his study of the fire; it was the wind, of course.

The sudden hiss of the kettle, boiling over, made him jump and seize it. As he turned to set it down, there was a figure standing beside the table. Neither spoke. The kettle burnt his hand and he set it back on the hearth; then he remained standing, his eyes fixed on the fire.

After a while Yvonne broke the silence – speaking very low: ``Are you angry?''

``Why?''

``I don't know,'' said the girl, with a sigh.

The silence was too strained to last, and finally Gethryn said, ``Won't you sit down?''

She did so silently.

``You see I'm – I'm about to do a little cooking,'' he said, looking at the eggs.

The girl spoke again, still very low.

``Won't you tell me why you are angry?''

``I'm not,'' began Gethryn, but he sat down and glanced moodily at the girl.

``For two weeks you have not been to see me.''

``You are mistaken, I have been – '' he began, but stopped.

``When?''

``Saturday.''

``And I was not at home?''

``And you were at home,'' he said grimly. ``You had a caller – it was easy to hear his voice, so I did not knock.''

She winced, but said quietly, ``Don't you think that is rude?''

``Yes,'' said Gethryn, ``I beg pardon.''

Presently she continued: ``You and – and he – are the only two men who have been in my room.''

``I'm honored, I'm sure,'' he answered, drily.

The girl threw back her mackintosh and raised her veil.

``I ask your pardon again,'' he said; ``allow me to relieve you of your waterproof.''

She rose, suffering him to aid her with her cloak, and then sat down and looked into the fire in her turn.

``It has been so long – I – I – hoped you would come.''

``Whom were you with in the Luxembourg Gardens?'' he suddenly broke out.

She did not misunderstand or evade the question, and Gethryn, watching her face, thought perhaps she had expected it. But she resented his tone.

``I was with a friend,'' she said, simply.

He came and sat down opposite her.

``It is not my business,'' he said, sulkily; ``excuse me.''

She looked at him for some moments in silence.

``It was Mr Pick,'' she said at length.

Gethryn could not repress a gesture of disgust.

``And that – Jew was in your rooms? That Jew!''

``Yes.'' She sat nervously rolling and unrolling her gloves. ``Why do you care?'' she asked, looking into the fire.

``I don't.''

``You do.''

There was a pause.

``Rex,'' she said, very low, ``will you listen?''

``Yes, I'll listen.''

``He is a – a friend of my sister's. He came from her to – to – ''

``To what!''

``To – borrow a little money. I distrusted him the first time he came – the time you heard him in my room – and I refused him. Saturday he stopped me in the street, and, hoping to avoid a chance of meeting – you, I walked through the park.''

``And you gave him the money – I saw you!''

``I did – all I could spare.''

``Is he – is your sister married?''

``No,'' she whispered.

``And why – '' began Gethryn, angrily, ``Why does that scoundrel come to beg money – '' He stopped, for the girl was in evident distress.

``Ah! You know why,'' she said in a scarce audible voice.