Amusement touched her eyes and lips so charmingly that he thought of
the sea at dawn, rimpled by the morning breeze, gay with the laughter
of young sunlight.
"Surely you must!" she insisted.
"No," he contended in stubborn melancholy.
"Oh, I see. You wish to make a present--?"
"I--ah--suppose so," he admitted under pressure--"yes."
"Evening gloves are always acceptable. Does she go often to the
theatre?"
"I--don't know."
The least suspicion of perplexed frown knitted the eyebrows of Miss
Lessing.
"Well ... is she old or young?"
"I--ah--couldn't say."
"Mr. Sybarite!" said the young woman with decision.
He fixed an apprehensive gaze to hers--which inclined to disapproval,
if with reservations.
"Yes, Miss Lessing?"
"Do you really want to buy gloves?"
"No-o...."
"Then what under the sun _do_ you want?"
He noticed suddenly that, however impatient her tone, her eyes were
still kindly. Eyes of luminous hazel brown they were, wide open and
clear beneath dark and delicate brows; eyes that assorted oddly with
her hair of pale, dull gold, rendering her prettiness both individual
and distinctive.
Somehow he found himself more at ease.
"Please," he begged humbly, "show me some gloves--any kind--it doesn't
matter--and pretend you believe I want to buy 'em. I don't really.
I--I only want--ah--word with you before you go home."
If this were impertinence, the girl elected quickly not to resent it.
She turned to the shelves behind her, took down a box or two, and
opened them for his inspection.
"These are very nice," she suggested quietly.
"I think so, too." He grinned uneasily. "What I want to say is--will
you be my guest at the theatre to-night?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand you," she said, replacing the gloves.
"With Miss Prim and George Bross," he amended hastily. "Somebody--a
friend--sent me a box for 'Kismet.' I thought--possibly--you might
care to go. It--it would give me great pleasure."
Miss Lessing held up another pair of gloves.
"These are three-fifty-nine," she said absently. "Why did you come
here to ask me?"
"I--I was afraid you might make some other engagement for the
evening."
He couldn't have served his cause more handsomely than by uttering
just that transparent evasion. In a thought she understood: at their
boarding-house he could have found no ready opportunity to ask her
save in the presence of others; and he was desperately afraid of a
refusal.
After all, he had reason to be: they were only table acquaintances of
a few weeks' standing. It was most presumptuous of him to dream that
she would accept....
On the other hand, he was (she considered gravely) a decent, manly
little body, and had shown her more civility and deference than all
the rest of the boarding-house and shop people put together. And she
rather liked him and was reluctant to hurt his feelings; for she knew
instinctively he was very sensitive.
Her eyes and lips softened winningly.
"It's so good of you to think of me," she said.
"You mean--you--you will come?" he cried, transported.
"I shall be very glad."
"That's--that's awf'ly kind of you," he said huskily. "Now, do please
find some way to get rid of me."
Smiling quietly, the girl recovered the glove boxes.
"I'm afraid we haven't what you want in stock," she said in a voice
not loud but clear enough to carry to the ears of her inquisitive
co-labourers. "We're expecting a fresh shipment in next week--if you
could stop in then...."
"Thank you very much," said P. Sybarite with uncalled-for emotion.
He backed away awkwardly, spoiled the effect altogether by lifting his
hat, wheeled and broke for the doors....