And then, finding
no echo to his enthusiasm, he suddenly stopped.
"You don't seem to care for it," he said, looking at me.
"That's my fault and not the fault of the cabinet," I pointed out.
"I'm not educated up to it; I'm too little of an artist, perhaps."
He was flushed, as a man might be should another make a disparaging
remark about his wife, and he led the way from the room at once.
"Remember, Lester," he said, a little sternly, pausing with his hand
on the front door, "there is to be no foolishness about securing that
cabinet for me. Don't you let it get away. I'm in deadly earnest."
"I won't let it get away," I promised. "Perhaps it's just as well I'm
not over-enthusiastic about it."
"Let me know as soon as you have any news," he said, and opened the
door for me.
I had intended walking home, but as I turned up the Avenue, I met
sweeping down it a flood of girls just released from the workshops of
the neighbourhood. I struggled against it for a few moments, then
gave it up, hailed a cab, and settled back against the cushions with
a sigh of relief. I was glad to be out of Vantine's house; something
there oppressed me and left me ill at ease.
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