Now? What now?

He slumped in the chair and fought back nausea. With terrible clarity he saw a vision of Babs on the gay streets with other men.

With another man!

Of course. He had been an utter fool to expect to find her sitting at home at ten-thirty of Mardi Gras eve. Why should he expect her to sit quietly and twiddle her thumbs?

He groaned miserably. It was he who had sent her here alone. His own damnable stubbornness and egotism. He had been so sure of her. So sure of himself. So sure that their love was stronger than this other force which had driven her on.

Now he was sure of nothing.

A happily singing throng swept by on the sidewalk outside and mocked at him. Half a million souls had thrown discretion to the winds and were drinking deep of freedom... while he sat miserably in a hotel lobby and cursed fate.

He shuddered and put his hands over his face. Half a million people! And Babs was among them. He must find her. Somehow he must find her and regain what he had thrown away. Babs among half a million. A third of them in masks and costume.

He groaned aloud.

A hideous image confronted him. Babs’ dear face beneath a domino. Laughing and singing and...

“God help me,” he muttered. What had he done? It was too late now. Of course Babs had found someone else. She had been so determined to seize life in her hands and wring its secret from the pulp. He saw her as she had faced him that afternoon in the hammock. She had pleaded with him to go with her. Her lips had trembled and tears had stood in her eyes.

He bowed his head and rocked back and forth miserably. What could he do now? Was it too late? It was sheer absurdity to go out on the streets to seek her.

But he must find her. Must explain to her that he realized his mistake. Must win her back. Must prove to her that his love was stronger than all else.

He jumped to his feet and strode to the phone book. His fingers were steady as he copied down the street address of the Brinkleys. Then he approached the clerk at the desk and thrust the address before him.

“Where is that?” he asked harshly. “And how’s the best way to get there?”

“To-night?” The clerk studied the address languidly.

“Hell, yes!” Robert said fiercely.

“Take a cab if you’re in a hurry,” the clerk advised. “It’s not more than a twenty or thirty minutes’ walk if you want to go that way.”

“How would I start out to walk there?” Robert demanded.

“Well, here’s a map.” The clerk pointed to a map of New Orleans beneath a plate of glass on the desk. “Here’s where you are now,” he said, pointing. “The easiest way for you to go would be to go right down here to Tulane Avenue: turn to your right and go out to Claiborne: turn to your left on Claiborne and that’ll take you right to your street. You’ll see the house numbers there, and you can find it without any difficulty.”

“Thank you,” Robert said hoarsely. He turned away from the desk and hurried up to his room. Jim was sitting on the bed when he entered. He jumped up when he saw the look on Robert’s face.

“What’s up?” he asked sharply.

“I...” Robert hesitated and tried to smile. “She’s out,” he said briefly. “I couldn’t get her over the phone.”

“See here.” Jim stepped close to him and took his arm. “Sit down and tell me the story,” he said quietly. “Remember that I don’t know a damned thing about any of this. Who is she and what’s the trouble?”

“I haven’t time to tell you,” Robert said quickly. “It’s a girl from home and she’s visiting a friend here. I’ve made an awful ass of myself and I’ve got to do something about it.”

“Oh!” Jim regarded him silently. He remembered that Robert had always been in love with some childhood sweetheart. Robert was the sort to take a broken love affair terribly hard, he thought shrewdly.

“What can I do to help?” he asked practically. “What are you going to do to-night?”

“I’m going out there and wait till she comes home,” Robert told him grimly. “And I’m going to tell her I’ve come to my senses and beg her forgiveness.”

“Good luck, old fellow.” Jim arose and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just say the word and I’ll do anything in my power to smooth the course of true love. My time’s wholly at your disposal to-night.”

“I guess there’s nothing you can do,” Robert said wretchedly. “I... that is... I wonder if you’d mind sort of looking after Cousin Hattie while I’m gone? And you wait till I’m gone before you tell her what’s up. I... I just don’t feel like talking to her now. She wouldn’t understand and she’d want to argue with me all night.” He gazed at his friend hopefully.

“Well...” Jim hesitated and gulped twice. Caring for Cousin Hattie didn’t particularly appeal to him as the thing he’d meant when he offered to do anything for Robert that he could. It almost seemed a greater sacrifice than he was prepared to make.

But Robert’s wretched bearing turned his heart. It was bad enough, he thought, to have one’s girl go back on him without the added misery of a Cousin Hattie hanging about one’s neck like a millstone.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll explain it to her after you’re safely on your way.”

It was heartening to see how Robert brightened. “You’re a real pal,” he breathed convulsively. “I’ll do as much for you some day.”

“That’s all right,” Jim assured him with sinking heart. “I’ll see that Cousin Hattie has the best of attention.”

“Well... so long.” Robert turned from the room. He returned in a moment to stick his head through the door. “She’s sitting in her room in tight-lipped silence,” he reported. “See if you can’t cheer her up a bit.”

“Sure, sure,” Jim responded heartily. “Be on your way. Consider Cousin Hattie having the time of her life.”

He sat down heavily on the bed as Robert disappeared again. He wondered what he had let himself in for. A lugubrious expression spread over his harsh features. By nature he detested all crowds and festivals. Though living in New Orleans, it was his custom to hide away during each annual carnival and have nothing whatever to do with the crazy riot of funmaking.

He wondered what the devil Cousin Hattie would expect of him. But he had promised Robert. He stood up and set his teeth. He was a man determined to offer his life for a Cause.

With that expression and that feeling he proceeded to Hattie’s room.

Chapter Ten

Robert saw nothing and heard nothing as he stumbled out of the obscure hotel onto the side street and turned toward Canal. The brilliantly lighted and fantastically decorated shop windows made no appeal to his senses. It was not until he stood upon the great width of the Canal Street sidewalk and was a part of the turbulent throng there that he opened his eyes to realize that he was gazing upon one of the greatest spectacles of modern times.

Canal Street has been called the widest business street in the world. Perhaps it is not that. But it is unique and incomparable. Pink paving is a bizarre note which holds one in stupefaction. More street car tracks than one cares to count; a brilliant lighting system which dazzles the onlooker; these are ordinary aspects of Canal Street.

The effect upon one on the eve of Mardi Gras is to give the impression that one has been literally transported from the commonplace world of humdrum monotony to a fantastic land of make-believe. It is sheer impossibility to describe Canal Street upon this occasion.

Robert was borne along with the sidewalk merrymakers, and his eyes were flatly disbelieving. This could not, of course, be true. It was all a mad dream. Soon he would awaken and laugh at the insane memory.

But the dream persisted. Canal Street is the huge central artery of New Orleans. On the eve of Mardi Gras it throbs and pulsates with the sheer glory of life. For life is glorious on Mardi Gras eve, and a half a million people are loudly acclaiming its glory.

This mass spirit of hilarious joy could not fail to have a certain effect upon Robert. He had stumbled from the hotel in the grip of an awful despair. His soul was dead and he welcomed death.

Canal Street scoffed at his despair. It jeered at death. It defied the premise that life is real and life is earnest. It shouted that there is a joy in living which transcends all mortality. It screamed that only the present matters; the past is dead, and the future nonexistent.

With a great roaring rumble of thunderous applause it proclaimed that here were a mighty host who dedicated this night to mirth and pleasure.

Robert’s step quickened. His face brightened and he tentatively smiled. A girl by his side caught the smile and held it as her own. She had flashing eyes and ruby lips. Her arms were about Robert’s neck before he realized what was occurring. The ruby lips were pressed close upon his own, and the girl’s breasts sent a surge of mad pleasure through his body.

The kiss lasted longer, than any kiss Robert had experienced, and he gasped as the girl swayed away from him. Her smile was flashingly exultant.

“I choose you,” she cried gayly. “Come on.” Her hand sought his and she tried to drag him from the hurrying throng.

“I’m sorry.” Robert drew his hand away gently. His pulses tingled at the promise which was in her touch.

“Already taken?” she laughed. “You would be.” Her admiring glance followed him as he moved on toward Claiborne.

Robert was strangely moved by the brief incident. To him it took on a vast significance. He held his head erect and brushed past the laggards impatiently.

A bold gypsy lass espied him as he neared her. She planted herself in his path so he bumped into her before he saw she was there.