There was instead a cup of tea; and in his nostrils
the scent of cake, with now and then a whiff of orange-flower water.
"I see," he said, when she had finished telling him: "'Liberty's a
glorious feast!' You want me to go to your brother, and quote Bums? You
know, of course, that he regards me as dangerous."
"Yes; but he respects and likes you."
"And I respect and like him," answered Courtier.
One of the middle-aged females passed, carrying a large white card-board
box; and the creaking of her stays broke the hush.
"You have been very sweet to me," said Barbara, suddenly.
Courtier's heart stirred, as if it were turning over within him; and
gazing into his teacup, he answered--
"All men are decent to the evening star. I will go at once and find your
brother. When shall I bring you news?"
"To-morrow at five I'll be at home."
And repeating, "To-morrow at five," he rose.
Looking back from the door, he saw her face puzzled, rather reproachful,
and went out gloomily. The scent of cake, and orange-flower water, the
creaking of the female's stays, the colour of mahogany, still clung
to his nose and ears, and eyes; but within him it was all dull baffled
rage. Why had he not made the most of this unexpected chance; why had he
not made desperate love to her? A conscientious ass! And yet--the whole
thing was absurd! She was so young! God knew he would be glad to be out
of it.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302