But the next morning Lise went back to the Bagatelle, and Janet to the mill....

The fact that Lise’s love affairs had not been prospering undoubtedly had something to do with the fit of depression into which she had fallen that evening.  A month or so before she had acquired another beau.  It was understood by Lise’s friends and Lise’s family, though not by the gentleman himself, that his position was only temporary or at most probationary; he had not even succeeded to the rights, title, and privileges of the late Mr. Wiley, though occupying a higher position in the social scale—­being the agent of a patent lawn sprinkler with an office in Faber Street.

“Stick to him and you’ll wear diamonds—­that’s what he tries to put across,” was Lise’s comment on Mr. Frear’s method, and thus Janet gained the impression that her sister’s feelings were not deeply involved.  “If I thought he’d make good with the sprinkler I might talk business.  But say, he’s one of those ginks that’s always tryin’ to beat the bank.  He’s never done a day’s work in his life.  Last year he was passing around Foley’s magazine, and before that he was with the race track that went out of business because the ministers got nutty over it.  Well, he may win out,” she added reflectively, “those guys sometimes do put the game on the blink.  He sure is a good spender when the orders come in, with a line of talk to make you holler for mercy.”

Mr. Frear’s “line of talk” came wholly, astonishingly, from one side of his mouth—­the left side.  As a muscular feat it was a triumph.  A deaf person on his right side would not have known he was speaking.  The effect was secretive, extraordinarily confidential; enabling him to sell sprinklers, it ought to have helped him to make love, so distinctly personal was it, implying as it did that the individual addressed was alone of all the world worthy of consideration.  Among his friends it was regarded as an accomplishment, but Lise was critical, especially since he did not look into one’s eyes, but gazed off into space, as though he weren’t talking at all.

She had once inquired if the right side of his face was paralyzed.

She permitted him to take her, however, to Gruber’s Cafe, to the movies, and one or two select dance halls, and to Slattery’s Riverside Park, where one evening she had encountered the rejected Mr. Wiley.

“Say, he was sore!” she told Janet the next morning, relating the incident with relish, “for two cents he would have knocked Charlie over the ropes.  I guess he could do it, too, all right.”

Janet found it curious that Lise should display such vindictiveness toward Mr. Wiley, who was more sinned against than sinning.  She was moved to inquire after his welfare.

“He’s got one of them red motorcycles,” said Lise.  “He was gay with it too—­when we was waiting for the boulevard trolley he opened her up and went right between Charlie and me.  I had to laugh.  He’s got a job over in Haverhill you can’t hold that guy under water long.”