Thorne knows many people I do not know." I moved
toward the corner. "Come on. It's getting late."
"Gentlemen like him don't know girls like her. She lives down here
somewhere, and he lives where you used to live. He couldn't be sweet
on her, because--because he couldn't." She caught up with me. "He's
yours, ain't he, Miss Danny? You'd better tell him--"
I hated myself for looking across the street, but as I hurried on my
eyes were following Selwyn and the girl, and when I saw the latter
stop and bury her face in her hands, saw Selwyn say something to her,
saw him turn in one direction and she in another, I, too, stopped;
for a moment was unable to move.
We had reached the corner as Selwyn left the opposite one and came
toward us. Head down, as if deeply thinking, he did not look up
until close to us. Under the gaslight I waited, not knowing why, and
Bettina being behind me, he thought I was alone when presently he saw
me.
"Dandridge!" He stared as if stupefied with amazement. Lifting his
hat mechanically, he came closer. "What in the name of Heaven are
you doing here alone this time of night? Are you losing your mind?"
His entire absence of embarrassment, his usual disapproval of my
behavior, his impatient anger, had an unlooked-for effect, and sudden
relief and hot joy so surged over me that I laughed, a queer,
nervous, choking little laugh.
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