Something all day had been drawing him there against his will.

He hesitated to believe it was the Montague girl's kindly manner toward him the day before, yet he could identify no other influence.

Probably it was that.

Yet he didn't want to face her again, even if for a moment she had quit trying to be funny, even if for a moment her eyes had searched his quite earnestly, her broad, amiable face glowing with that sudden friendly concern.

It had been hard to withstand this yesterday; he had been in actual danger of confiding to her that engagements of late were not plentiful--something like that.