"Oh, Istra, don't. I--can't we just go out for a little walk so--so we can talk?"
"Why, we can talk here."
"Oh, gee!--there's so many people around.... Golly! when I came back to America--gee!--I couldn't hardly sleep nights--"
From across the room came the boisterous, somewhat coarse-timbred voice of Tom, speaking to Nelly: "Oh yes, of course you think you're the only girl that ever seen a vodville show. We ain't never seen a vodville show. Oh no!"
Nelly and Miss Proudfoot dissolved in giggles at the wit.
Mr. Wrenn gazed at them, detached; these were not his people, and with startled pride he glanced at Istra's face, delicately carven by thought, as he stumbled hotly on.
"--just couldn't sleep nights at all.... Then I got on the job...."
"Let's see, you're still with that same company?"
"Yes. Souvenir and Art Novelty Company. And I got awfully on the job there, and so I managed to forget for a little while and--"
"So you really do like me even after I was so beastly to you in England."
"Oh, that wasn't nothing.... But I was always thinking of you, even when I was on the job--"
"It's gratifying to have some one continue taking me seriously.... Really, dear, I do appreciate it. But you mustn't--you mustn't--"
"Oh, gee! I just can't get over it--you here by me--ain't it curious!... "Then he persisted with the tale of his longing, which she had so carefully interrupted: "The people here are awful kind and good, and you can bank on 'em. But--oh--"
From across the room, Tom's pretended jeers, lighted up with Miss Proudfoot's giggles, as paper lanterns illumine Coney Island. From Tom: "Yes, you're a hot dancer, all right. I suppose you can do the Boston and all them swell dances. Wah-h-h-h-h!"
"--but Istra, oh, gee! you're like poetry--like all them things a feller can't get but he tries to when he reads Shakespeare and all those poets."
"Oh, dear boy, you mustn't! We will be good friends. I do appreciate having some one care whether I'm alive or not. But I thought it was all understood that we weren't to take playing together seriously; that it was to be merely playing--nothing more."
"But, anyway, you will let me play with you here in New York as much as I can? Oh, come on, let's go for a walk--let's--let's go to a show."
"I'm awf'ly sorry, but I promised--a man's going to call for me, and we're going to a stupid studio party on Bryant Park. Bore, isn't it, the day of landing? And poor Istra dreadfully landsick."
"Oh, then," hopefully, "don't go. Let's--"