“I don’t know.  What happened then?”

“Oh, she went away.”

“You let her go?”

“What else could I do?”

“You could have found out where she went in case she changed her mind.  But perhaps you did find out?”

“No.  For she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would change her mind about a kind of fellow like me.  Besides, I was sort of stunned by the difference in her manner just at the moment.  When I came to myself—­I mean, about wondering if I could have done anything better, and realizing what a terrible lot I cared, she was gone.  Then I hoped Ena would hear from her.  I think she promised to write.  But it appears that she never did so.”

“Is she in New York still?”

“I wish to heaven I knew!”

“Couldn’t you find out?”

“I might, if I wanted to be a cad.”

“Why—­what do you mean?”

“I dare say a private detective would undertake the job.  Sometimes I’ve been tempted—­yet no, I don’t believe I ever did come near to playing the game as low down as that.”

“But it might be for her good—–­”

“That’s the way I argued with myself.  I almost got myself convinced sometimes.  But I knew in my heart it was only sophistry.  You see, it isn’t as if she would let me do anything for her, even if she wanted anything done, which I’ve no particular reason to suppose she does.  She’s English, and a stranger over here, but she told me—­when we were friends—­that she had letters of introduction to good people and that she’d plenty of money till they found her a job.  I can’t bear to think of her needing a ‘job’ when I—­but I’m helpless!  No doubt she’s all right, and getting along like a house on fire.  She was the sort of girl who would.  Or maybe she’s engaged by this time to some chap worth ten of me.  But I can’t forget.  I think of her by day, and I dream of her by night.”

“What do you see her doing in your dreams?” Eileen asked in a new tone of voice.  Not more interested, for she had shown deep interest before, but with a quaver of excited eagerness.

“Dreams go by contraries, luckily,” said Peter, “otherwise I should worry.  I always see her in some kind of trouble.  If it isn’t one darned thing it’s another.  And I look for her by day when I’m up in town.  I think, what if I should see her face framed in some car window?  This afternoon I even looked for her in our store—­though feeling to me the way she did, it would be the last place where she’d go to spend a cent, if she associated the name of Rolls with mine.  I bet she’d rather go without a cloak on a cold day than buy it there!”

“Our dance, Lady Eileen,” said another man, who had tracked a missing partner through the tropical jungle.

Eileen rose reluctantly, but graciously, throwing Petro a good-bye look.  There was a sympathetic, understanding smile on her pleasant, freckled face which seemed to say:  “Don’t give up.  You may find her yet.  And girls do change their minds about men.  Anyhow, I’m glad we’ve had this talk.”