“I want particularly to wire to her,” he insisted.  “Please find out from her maid how I shall direct a telegram.”

The hall porter, who was a most superior person, regarded him blandly.

“We do not give addresses, sir,” he explained, “unless at the expressed wish of our clients.  If you leave a telegram here, I will send it up to Mrs. Gardner’s rooms to be forwarded.”

Tavernake scribbled one out, begging for news of her return, added his address and left the place.  Then he wandered aimlessly about the streets.  There seemed something flat about the morning, some aftermath of the excitement of the previous night was still stirring in his blood.  Nevertheless, he pulled himself together with an effort, called for a young surveyor whom he had engaged to assist him, and spent the rest of the day out upon the hill.  Religiously he kept his thoughts turned upon his work until the twilight came.  Then he hurried home to meet the disappointment which he had more than half anticipated.  There was no telegram for him!  He ate his dinner and sat with folded arms, looking out into the street.  Still no telegram!  The restlessness came back once more.  Soon after ten o’clock it became unbearable.  He found himself longing for company, the loneliness of his little room since the departure of Beatrice had never seemed so real a thing.  He stood it as long as he could and then, catching up his hat and stick, he set his face eastwards, walking vigorously, and with frequent glances at the clocks he passed.

A few minutes past eleven o’clock, he found himself once more in that dark thoroughfare at the back of the theatre.  The lamp over the stage-door was flickering in the same uncertain manner, the same motor-cars were there, the same crowd of young men, except that each night they seemed to grow larger.  This time he had a few minutes only to wait.  Beatrice came out among the earliest.  At the sight of her he was suddenly conscious that he had, after all, no excuse for coming, that she would probably cross-examine him about Elizabeth, would probably guess the secret of his torments.  He shrank back, but he was a moment too late for she had seen him.  With a few words of excuse to the others with whom she was talking, she picked up her skirts and came swiftly across the muddy street.  Tavernake had no time to escape.  He remained there until she came, but his cheeks were hot, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that his presence, that their meeting like this, was an embarrassment to both of them.

“My dear Leonard,” she exclaimed, “why do you hide over there?”

“I don’t know,” he answered simply.

She laughed.

“It looks as though you didn’t want to see me,” she remarked.  “If you didn’t, why are you here?”

“I suppose I did want to see you,” he replied.  “Anyhow, I was lonely.  I wanted to talk to some one.  I walked all the way up here from Chelsea.”