Mrs. Madvig stood up with a plate in each bony hand. “If I didn’t make a rule of not ever meddling in men’s affairs,” she said severely, “I certainly would have something to say to the pair of you, running around with the good Lord only knows what kind of monkey-business afoot that’s likely as not to get you into the Lord only knows what kind of trouble.”
Ned Beaumont grinned until she had left the room with the plates. Then he stopped grinning and said: “Will you fix it up now so everything’ll be ready this afternoon?”
“Sure,” Madvig agreed, rising. “I’ll phone Farr. And if there’s anything else I can do, you know.”
Ned Beaumont said, “Sure,” and Madvig went out.
Brown June came in and began to clear the table.
“Is Miss Opal sleeping now, do you think?” Ned Beaumont asked.
“No, sir, I just now took her up some tea and toast.”
“Run up and ask her if I can pop in for a minute?”
“Yes, sir, I sure will.”
After the Negress had gone out, Ned Beaumont got up from the table and began to walk up and down the room. Spots of color made his lean cheeks warm just beneath his cheek-bones. He stopped walking when Madvig came in.
“Oke,” Madvig said. “If Farr’s not in see Barbero. He’ll fix you up and you don’t have to tell him anything.”
Ned Beaumont said, “Thanks,” and looked at the brown girl in the doorway.
She said: “She says to come right up.”
9
Opal Madvig’s room was chiefly blue. She, in a blue and silver wrapper, was propped up on pillows in her bed when Ned Beaumont came in. She was blue-eyed as her father and grandmother, long-boned as they and firm-featured, with fair pink skin still childish in texture. Her eyes were reddened now.
She dropped a piece of toast on the tray in her lap, held her hand out to Ned Beaumont, showed him strong white teeth in a smile, and said: “Hello, Ned.” Her voice was not steady.
He did not take her hand. He slapped the back of it lightly, said, “‘Lo, snip,” and sat on the foot of her bed. He crossed his long legs and took a cigar from his pocket. “Smoke hurt the head?”
“Oh, no,” she said.
He nodded as if to himself, returned the cigar to his pocket, and dropped his careless air. He twisted himself around on the bed to look more directly at her. His eyes were humid with sympathy. His voice was husky. “I know, youngster, it’s tough.”
She stared baby-eyed at him. “No, really, most of the headache’s gone and it wasn’t so awfully wretched anyway.” Her voice was no longer unsteady.
He smiled at her with thinned lips and asked: “So I’m an outsider now?”
She put a small frown between her brows. “I don’t know what you mean, Ned.”
Hard of mouth and eye, he replied: “I mean Taylor.”
Though the tray moved a little on her knees, nothing in her face changed. She said: “Yes, but–you know–I hadn’t seen him for months, since Dad made–”
Ned Beaumont stood up abruptly. He said, “All right,” over his shoulder as he moved towards the door.
The girl in the bed did not say anything.
He went out of the room and down the stairs.
Paul Madvig, putting on his coat in the lower hall, said: “I’ve got to go down to the office to see about those sewer-contracts. I’ll drop you at Farr’s office if you want.”
Ned Beaumont had said, “Fine,” when Opal’s voice came to them from upstairs: “Ned, oh, Ned!”
“Righto,” he called back and then to Madvig: “Don’t wait if you’re in a hurry.”
Madvig looked at his watch. “I ought to run along. See you at the Club tonight?”
Ned Beaumont said, “Uh-huh,” and went upstairs again.
Opal had pushed the tray down to the foot of the bed. She said: “Close the door.” When he had shut the door she moved over in bed to make a place for him to sit beside her. Then she asked: “What makes you act like that?”
“You oughtn’t to lie to me,” he said gravely as he sat down.