Page:Restless Earth.djvu/168

Patricia nodded.

“Something of the kind,” she admitted.

“Atta girl!” exclaimed Baden heartily. “You’ve earned another.”

“No more, thank you,” replied Patricia, smiling.

“Non-sense!” protested the knights simultaneously, uttering their “pass-word” with gusto.

“You must, please,” urged Baden.

“You’ll offend us, if you refuse,” urged George.

“But, really, I couldn’t! I———”

“Non-sense!”

Patricia yielded.

A few more stories, and the little comedy was repeated. More “darkness-dispellers” were ordered, and laughter advertised their potency.

So it went on. A few more stories———

By nine o’clock Patricia was almost gay. George and Baden had crossed their near arms about her shoulders, and their stories had become racier and more involved. She had almost convinced herself that she didn’t care about anything—about Jimmy, or Grace, the earthquake, Sheeny Ezekiel or fat Mrs. Langham!

The world would not thank her for breaking her heart. It would sneer at her—laugh at her—and with justification. Good Heavens! Was Jimmy the only man on earth? Either of these two men beside her were as presentable as he, and surely less conscious-tied. Where was James Harley now? What was he doing? Mooning in the wreckage of Napier, no doubt, and cursing her alive and dead for a woman without morals or pity! he trouble with James Harley was that he was just a man—that unhappy creature blended of beast and god—neither one thing nor the other—setting himself a code and suffering the tortures of hell in his foolish effort to conform to it on all occasions.

To the men beside her the code was a banner, something to look at and admire and to conform to when they felt the urge to do so.