THE GOLD BAG
129
McKnight pulled up an armful of roses, and held them out to me.
"Wonder who they're from?" he said, fumbling in the box for a card. "There's, no name—yes, here's one."
He held it up and read it with exasperating slowness.
"'Best wishes for an early recovery.
A Companion in Misfortune.'
"Well, what do you know about that!" he exclaimed. "That's something you didn't tell me, Lollie."
"It was hardly worth mentioning," I said mendaciously, with my heart beating until I could hear it. She had not forgotten, after all.
McKnight took a bud and fastened it in his buttonhole. I'm afraid I was not especially pleasant about it. They were her roses, and anyhow, they were meant for me. Richey left very soon, with an irritating final grin at the box.
"Good-by, sir woman-hater," he jeered at me from the door.
