The two men were not congenial, and the
frequent intervals without speech between them were rather for
lack of understanding than for that completeness of it which
often fathers long silences. Byrne was the first to speak after
their greeting.
"Marie all right?"
"Fine. Said if I saw you to ask you to supper some night this
week."
"Thanks. Does it matter which night?"
"Any but Thursday. We're hearing 'La Boheme.'"
"Say Friday, then."
Byrne's tone lacked enthusiasm, but Stewart in his after-dinner
mood failed to notice it.
"Have you thought any more about our conversation of the other
night?"
"What was that?"
Stewart poked him playfully in the ribs.
"Wake up, Byrne!" he said. "You remember well enough. Neither
the Days nor any one else is going to have the benefit of your
assistance if you go on living the way you have been. I was at
Schwarz's. It is the double drain there that tells on one--eating
little and being eaten much. Those old walls are full of vermin.
Why don't you take our apartment?"
"Yours?"
"Yes, for a couple of months. I'm through with Schleich and
Breidau can't take me for two months. It's Marie's off season and
we're going to Semmering for the winter sports. We're ahead
enough to take a holiday. And if you want the flat for the same
amount you are spending now, or less, you can have it, and--a
home, old man."
Byrne was irritated, the more so that he realized that the offer
tempted him.
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