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Page 27

Whereupon the lady secretary put a red-ink cross before Harmony's
name. There were many such crosses on the ledger.

CHAPTER VII

For three days Byrne hardly saw Harmony. He was off early in the
morning, hurried back to the midday meal and was gone again the
moment it was over. He had lectures in the evenings, too, and
although he lingered for an hour or so after supper it was to
find Harmony taken possession of by the little Bulgarian, seized
with a sudden thirst for things American.

On the evening of the second day he had left Harmony, enmeshed
and helpless in a tangle of language, trying to explain to the
little Bulgarian the reason American women wished to vote. Byrne
flung down the stairs and out into the street, almost colliding
with Stewart.

They walked on together, Stewart with the comfortably rolling
gait of the man who has just dined well, Byrne with his heavy,
rather solid tread. The two men were not congenial, and the
frequent intervals without speech between them were rather for
lack of understanding than for that completeness of it which
often fathers long silences. Byrne was the first to speak after
their greeting.

"Marie all right?"

"Fine. Said if I saw you to ask you to supper some night this
week."

"Thanks. Does it matter which night?"

"Any but Thursday. We're hearing 'La Boheme.'"

"Say Friday, then."

Byrne's tone lacked enthusiasm, but Stewart in his after-dinner
mood failed to notice it.

"Have you thought any more about our conversation of the other
night?"

"What was that?"

Stewart poked him playfully in the ribs.

"Wake up, Byrne!" he said. "You remember well enough. Neither
the Days nor any one else is going to have the benefit of your
assistance if you go on living the way you have been. I was at
Schwarz's. It is the double drain there that tells on one--eating
little and being eaten much. Those old walls are full of vermin.
Why don't you take our apartment?"

"Yours?"

"Yes, for a couple of months. I'm through with Schleich and
Breidau can't take me for two months. It's Marie's off season and
we're going to Semmering for the winter sports. We're ahead
enough to take a holiday. And if you want the flat for the same
amount you are spending now, or less, you can have it, and--a
home, old man."

Byrne was irritated, the more so that he realized that the offer
tempted him. To his resentment was added a contempt of himself.

"Thanks," he said. "I think not."

"Oh, all right." Stewart was rather offended. "I can't do more
than give you a chance."

They separated shortly after and Byrne went on alone. The snow of
Sunday had turned to a fine rain which had lasted all of Monday
and Tuesday. The sidewalks were slimy; wagons slid in the ooze of
the streets; and the smoke from the little stoves in the
street-cars followed them in depressing horizontal clouds. Cabmen
sat and smoked in the interior of musty cabs. The women
hod-carriers on a new building steamed like horses as they
worked.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 21st Dec 2025, 15:34

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart