Douglas lit a cigarette and turned his back to the window.

“Very well,” he said.  “I will forget him.  You had better do the same.”

Drexley nodded slowly.

“For to-night, perhaps,” he said.  “To-morrow it will begin again.  I watch him all my spare time.  Even then I scarcely dare open a morning paper.”

Douglas looked at him suddenly, moved by the man’s wonderful faithfulness.  Of his own sufferings he seemed oblivious.

“What are you going to do to-night, Drexley?” he asked.

Drexley shrugged his shoulders.

“Sit about here,” he answered.  “Smoke and drink, I suppose, till eleven, and then go home.  Not that I’m complaining.  There’s nothing else I care to do.”

Douglas laid his hand upon his shoulder.

“Look here,” he said.  “I’ve an idea.  I’m taking Miss Strong and a friend to the ‘Gaiety.’  We want a fourth, and I was just looking round for a man.  Come with us.”

Drexley laughed grimly.

“You’re talking nonsense,” he said.  “Very good of you, of course,” he added, “but you must please excuse me.  That sort of thing’s not in my way at all.”

Douglas was persistent.

“There’s no reason why it shouldn’t be in your way,” he said.  “You know Miss Strong, and I’ll look after the other girl.  I’ve a fancy to have you come.”

Drexley took up a paper.

“Go and pick up one of the young men,” he said.  “There are plenty of them who will be glad to spend the evening with Miss Strong.  As for me, it’s out of the question.  I should only be a wet blanket.”

“You or no one, Drexley,” Douglas said, taking out his watch.  “Look here.  You’ve twenty minutes to change your clothes.  The girls are calling here at eight o’clock.  Hurry, please.”

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” Drexley snorted.  “There’s Molyneux.  Ask him.  I’ve an engagement later on.”

Douglas took out his watch again.

“You’ve only eighteen minutes now,” he said.  “I know you’ll keep them waiting.”

* * * * *

For the first half an hour it was doubtful whether the evening was going to be a success.  Drexley was gloomy, and had not altogether lost the air of having been forced to do something which bored him.  He was polite, but monosyllabic and gloomy, and his interest in the play was obviously feigned.  Douglas wisely left him to Cicely, and devoted himself to her little friend, and he soon had the pleasure of seeing Drexley thaw.  Cicely only laughed at his momentary lapses, and she was far too charming a companion to be ignored.  Before the first act was ended she had conquered.  Drexley was watching her with a quiet smile upon his lips, amused at her eagerness, answering her many questions readily.  In the corridor after the play was over he touched Douglas on the shoulder.

“You are all coming to the ‘Milan’ to supper with me,” he said.  “Miss Strong and I arranged it, after the second act, and I sent a commissionaire down for a table.”