Prince's was filling up for supper. The diapason of many voices, the
tinkle of silver and glass, merged pleasantly with the music of the
band; the sound was like a paean of praise to Amphitryon.
Maggy and Woolf occupied a table at the end of the room opposite the
balcony. The latter had been back about ten days, and Maggy was happy
again. She lived so entirely in the present that she had actually and
honestly forgotten to tell him about her visit to Purton Towers. Of
Chalfont she had seen nothing more. Woolf so filled her thoughts that,
for once, she was even out of touch with Alexandra. A minute or two at
night between entrances and exits was all they were able to give to one
another. Then Maggy's one subject was "her Fred," and Alexandra's
reserve kept her silent about Bernard Meer.
"Look over there," said Woolf rather suddenly. His straying eyes, ever
in search of youth and beauty, had lit on a face he knew.
"Where?" asked Maggy, gazing about at random.
"On your left. Four tables away."
Maggy gave a start of astonishment when at last she discerned Alexandra
with a man, a highly-presentable man, rather stern of face, good-looking
and comparatively young. Her Lexie with a man! She stared,
tongue-tied.
"See her?" asked Woolf, and broke the spell of silence that held her.
Maggy in her excitement half rose from her chair and called a greeting
to Alexandra. Until then, the latter, though fully prepared to see
Maggy in such a place, had been unaware of her presence. At the sound
of her voice she looked up, nodded and smiled. Meer, turning to see who
had attracted her attention, gave Maggy a glance full of interest. It
was evident to him that she and Alexandra were something more than mere
acquaintances.
"What a striking-looking girl," he said. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Maggy Delamere," replied Alexandra. "We used to live
together at Sidey Street."
"And now?"
"She has a flat," she said with a little constraint.
"Is she on the stage?"
"Yes. At the Pall Mall. Haven't you noticed her? She's in the front
row."
"I didn't know De Freyne had any married women in his chorus," said Meer
thoughtfully.
"But Maggy isn't married," began Alexandra, and then stopped in
confusion, suspecting that he must have seen the conspicuously broad
wedding ring on Maggy's left hand, just as she herself could see it.
She crumbled her bread nervously.
"Are you in favor of that sort of thing?" Meer asked abruptly, showing
that he had been following her line of thought.
"It's very usual--on the stage," she answered evasively.
"You don't condemn it."
"I don't condemn my friend, if that's what you mean."
"But do you condone it?" he persisted.
"Oh, how can I tell you? It's a question of what one feels
individually," she countered desperately. "With a woman it doesn't
necessarily mean that she has chosen that way.... Sometimes she has no
alternative."
"You mean that your friend would rather be married?"
"Much rather."
After a pause he said: "Then what is your opinion of a man who only
offers a woman love without marriage?"
"Not a very high one. I couldn't respect him," she replied, greatly
embarrassed. "It seems such an unfair advantage to take of a girl who
has more than enough of unfair things to contend with already. I--I
would rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."
It seemed to her that he was deliberately sounding her code of morality
before making the proposition which she felt was imminent if she
continued to see him. She could no longer disguise from herself that he
wanted her, and that her own instinct was not one of flight. Had she
met him before she had gone on the stage she would have estimated his
feelings toward her correctly, seen that he was honorably attracted to
her. But her recent experiences had distorted her views about
courtship. Her heart would have beaten to a different tune had she
known that his motive in questioning her about Maggy was merely to
ascertain her opinion on a matter which, owing to her connection with
the stage, must be familiar to her. After her expressed desire to avoid
it he let it drop, and turned to another, more vital to himself and her,
on which he had made up his mind to speak to her that evening.
"How long must you and I go on like this?" he asked in an undertone,
full of suppressed feeling.
Her heart thumped in her throat so that she could not answer.
"I mean," he said, "that it's not very satisfying seeing you so
occasionally. It's true we haven't known one another very long as time
goes, but it has been long enough for me to realize my own feelings. I
want you. Those three words mean everything that a man can say to a
woman. What is your answer?"
The surge of feeling, the thrill she experienced as he said "I want
you," left her in no doubt as to her own emotions. She not only loved,
she loved without reservation, with a magnitude so huge that it seemed
as though a transport of yearning were being pumped into her by some
external Titanic force. And it came from him, the man facing, close to
her. She heard the clarion cry of sex for the first time in a crowded
restaurant, where she could not even cover her face with her hands and
so hide her besieged virginity from the sight of men. She could only
sit still and feel her shame creeping into her face. Maggy, glancing
her way every now and then, saw the agitation that was moving her and
thought she was going to faint.
"Lexie's ill!" she whispered anxiously, and was about to get up and go
to her.
Woolf's hand detained her. He had been watching Meer, and also seen
Alexandra's face.
"Sit still," he commanded.
"But she's going to faint!"
"Not she!"
"Then--what's the matter with her?"
"_Can't you see?_" he chuckled.
Maggy gasped. Lexie, of all people--at last! It was as if she saw a
huge warm wave gathering, gaining speed, advancing on the game little
swimmer and bearing her off captive.