CHAPTER IX

He wanted to call on her again, but he felt that he had been insulted and

rejected by the Roths, and his pride fought against it. Unable to think

for long of anything but Julia he fell into the habit of walking by her

house at night, looking at its lighted windows and wondering what she was

doing. Often he could see the moving figures and hear the laughter of some

gay group about her, but he could not bring himself to go in and face the

chilly disapproval of her family. At such times he felt an utter outcast,

and sounded depths of misery he had never known before. For this was his

first real love, and he loved in the helpless, desperate way of the Latin,

without calculation or humour.

One evening there was a gathering on the porch of the Roth house. She was

there, sitting on the steps with three men about her. He could see the

white blur of her frock and hear her funny little bubbling laugh above the

deeper voices of the men. Having ascertained that neither Gordon Roth nor

his mother was there, he summoned his courage and went in. She could not

see who he was until he stood almost over her.

“O, it’s you! I’m awfully glad.…” Their hands met and clung for a moment

in the darkness. He sat down on the steps at her feet, and the

conversation moved on without any assistance from him. He was now just as

happy as he had been miserable a few minutes before.

Presently two of the other men went away, but the third, who was Conny

Masters, stayed. He talked volubly as ever, telling wonderful and

sometimes incredible stories of things he had seen and done in his

wanderings. Ramon said nothing. Julia responded less and less. Once she

moved to drop the wrap from about her shoulders, and the alert Conny

hastened to assist her. Ramon watched and envied with a thumping heart as

he saw the gleam of her bare white shoulders, and realized that his rival

might have touched them.

Conny went on talking for half an hour with astonishing endurance and

resourcefulness, but it became always more apparent that he was not

captivating his audience. He had to laugh at his own humour and expatiate

on his own thrills. Finally a silence fell upon the three, broken only by

occasional commonplace remarks.

“Well, I guess it’s time to drift,” Conny observed at last, looking

cautiously at his watch.

This suggestion was neither seconded by Ramon nor opposed by Julia. The

silence literally pushed Conny to his feet.

“Going, Ramon? No? Well, Good night.” And he retired whistling in a way

which showed his irritation more plainly than if he had sworn.

The two impolite ones sat silent for a long moment. Ramon was trying to

think of what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. Finally

without looking at her he said in a low husky voice.

“You know … I love you.”

There was more silence. At last he looked up and met her eyes. They were

serious for the first time in his experience, and so was her usually

mocking little mouth. Her face was transformed and dignified. More than

ever she seemed a strange, high being. And yet he knew that now she was

within his reach.… That he could kiss her lips … incredible.… And yet he

did, and the kiss poured flame over them and welded them into each others’

arms.

They heard Gordon Roth in the house coughing, the cough coming closer.

She pushed him gently away.

“Go now,” she whispered. “I love you … Ramon.”

The Blood of the Conquerors · 第 9 / 36 章