"It's--it's----" Noble hesitated. "I stepped in to--to----"
The druggist opened a glass case. "Aw right," he said, blinking, and tossed upon the counter a package of Orduma cigarettes. "Old Atwater'd have convulsions, I reckon," he remarked, "if he had to lay awake and listen to all that noise. Price ain't changed," he added, referring humorously to the purchase he mistakenly supposed Noble wished to make. "F'teen cents, same as yesterday and the day before."
Noble placed the sum upon the counter. "I--I was thinking----" He gulped.
"Huh?" said the druggist placidly, for he was too sleepy to perceive the strangeness of his customer's manner.
Noble lighted an Orduma with an unsteady hand, leaned upon the counter, and inquired in a voice that he strove to make casual: "Is--is the soda fountain still running this late?"
"Sure."
"I didn't know," said Noble. "I suppose you have more calls for soda water than you do for--for--for real liquor?"
The druggist laughed. "Funny thing: I reckon we don't have more'n half the calls for real liquor than what we used to before we went dry."
Noble breathed deeply. "I s'pose you probably sell quite a good deal of it though, at that. By the glass, I mean--such as a glass of something kind of strong--like--like whiskey. That is, I sort of supposed so. I mean I thought I'd ask you about this."
"No," said the druggist, yawning. "It never did pay well--not on this corner, anyhow. Once there used to be a little money in it, but not much." He roused himself somewhat. "Well, it's about twelve. Anything you wanted 'cept them Ordumas before I close up?"
Noble gulped again. He had grown pale. "I want----" he said abruptly, then his heart seemed to fail him. "I want a glass of----" Once more he stopped and swallowed. His shoulders drooped, and he walked across to the soda fountain. "Well," he said, "I'll take a chocolate sundae."
The thought of going back to Julia's party was unendurable, yet a return was necessary on account of his new hat, the abandonment of which he did not for a moment consider. But about half way, as he walked slowly along, he noticed an old horse-block at the curbstone, and sat down there. He could hear the music at Julia's, sometimes loud and close at hand, sometimes seeming to be almost a mile away. "All right!" he said, so bitter had he grown. "Dance! Go on and dance!"