A BAYARD OF BROADWAY
the tenor shrilled. Lawrence burst into jangling laughter.
"The evening is over," he said, still red and shaking. "Allow me to escort you home."
He never remembered the time between this speech and the moment when she asked him to step in for a while, and he laughed in her face. Then there was another time, and he was at his rooms at the club. But that was early morning. He was lame and his shoes hurt his feet—he must have walked a great deal.
At eight o'clock Stebbins dashed into the room.
"Well, of all the fellows! What's the matter with you?"
He was fresh and rosy; a faint, wholesome aroma of cigars and eau-de-cologne swept in with him.
"Why the deuce aren't you down to see us off? They're all there. Got my telegram yesterday? Fire didn't amount to much, but the fools hadn't half the stuff I ordered. I was down there all the afternoon seeing to it. I sent Bob right around
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