Tony Rex descended to place them in their automobile. He was a short
youth in loose pepper-and-salt clothes, with a pointed nose and a
quantity of tow hair tumbling over a freckled forehead. Dore hardly
noticed him. Not so Ida, who, in true Salamander fashion, had already
established a permanent intimacy.
"Why did you desert me?" said Dore, with hypocritical severity, when
they had left their escort, hat in hand, on the curb.
"My dear, I couldn't help it!" said Ida volubly. "I was having such a
wonderful party with Mr. Rex. My dear, I'm crazy about him! Did you ever
see those funny little cartoons of his? Screams! Just think of it, he
comes from almost the same place I do! We've made a date for to-morrow.
Lord! I do like some one who talks English you can understand!"
Dore, impatient to be home, fed her with rapture-inciting questions and
retired into her own speculations. Chance had played her a trick. She
had had no intention of keeping her appointment with Sassoon; but now
the dramatic possibilities of a clash between her host and Harrigan
Blood, which had risen out of a light answer, had so whetted her
curiosity that she found herself in sudden perplexity. Her encounter
with Blood had awakened in her all the mischievous, danger-seeking
enthusiasms. They had scarcely passed half an hour, and yet he had left
her breathless at his breakneck pace, the abrupt charge of his attack,
his unconventionality, his stripping away of artifices. He had
interested her more than she had foreseen.
Yesterday how her eyes would have sparkled with delight at having
inveigled such a thrashing fish into her cunning nets! And even now it
was hard to forego the excitement of such a game. Her dramatic self,
once aroused by the tete-a-tete, was not easily subdued. After all, too
easy a compliance with Massingale's ideas, too patient a waiting for his
summons, was dangerous. Better to teach him how sought after was the
prize. Besides, if she kept him waiting until the evening, she could
tell by the first glance of his eyes how much he had suffered, how much
he cared. She did not doubt in the least that, when she reached Miss
Pim's, there on the mahogany hall table she would find his note; and
blowing hot and cold, she ended up by saying to herself that if in that
letter were things that could make her close her eyes with delight, she
might possibly, on a mad impulse, go flying off to him. Only, it would
depend; there would have to be things in that letter--
When, at last, she went tumultuously into the boarding-house, she ran
through the heap of letters twice fruitlessly.
"It came by messenger; Josephus must have taken it up-stairs," she
thought.
She ran up breathlessly, anxious and yet afraid, flinging open the
door, gazing blankly at the floor, then ransacking rapidly the table,
the bureau-tops, the mantelpiece. Nothing had come--he had not written!
She sat down furiously. She could not comprehend! On the table a great
bouquet of orchids, with "Pouffe" in golden letters on the purple
ribbon, was waiting. She saw it heedlessly.
He had not written! Why? She could not understand--could find no
explanation. How could any one be so thoughtless, so cruel?
"I will telephone him myself!" she thought angrily, springing up.
She went to the door precipitately, before she could control herself.
Then she stopped, wringing her hands, shaking her head. Perhaps he had
come in person. She rang for Josephus. Had any one called? Had there
been a message? None. Perhaps he had telephoned, and Winona had made a
note of it. She went hastily to the pad where such notes were jotted
down. But the page, to her dismay, was blank. She sat down quietly,
folding her arms across her breast, gazing out of the window. All at
once she bounded up, went rapidly down the hall, and entered Ida
Summers' room.
"Come on. You're lunching with me. No excuses!"
"Where? With whom?"
"Doesn't matter--come! I'll tell you later!"
"Good heavens! what's the matter, Do?"
"Nothing! I'm a fool--I don't know. Only let's get out!"
Yes, she was a fool! The explanation was obvious! While she had been
soaring with her dreams, he had gone quietly about his day. What had set
her in a whirl had meant nothing to him--nothing at all! And for the
moment, forgetting what had happened, forgetting how he had at the last
returned, seeking admittance, she said to herself bitterly that she must
have gone mad to imagine for an instant that there had been anything
more than a moment's amusement between Judge Massingale and a crazy
little fool living in the third floor front of a cheap boarding-house.
"Now to do as I please," she said recklessly. "We'll see if I'm of so
little consequence. Sassoon and Blood shall pay for this!"
Ida Summers, overwhelmed at the prospect of meeting Alfred Edward
Sassoon, was excitedly clamoring:
"But, Do, heavens! Give me a pointer; I'll never be able to say a word
to a swell like that! What do you talk about?"
"Anything!" said Dore savagely. "What does he care what you talk about!
Or any of them! Look him in the eyes, smile, flirt! Did you ever flirt
with a butcher's boy?"
"Heavens! Dodo!"
"Well, I did! They're all the same!"
"What's happened?"
Dore shrugged her shoulders. But by the time they had drawn up in front
of Tenafly's she had regained her calm in a dangerous coldness bent on
mischief.
Sassoon came up softly, looking questions at this unexpected
presentation of a third.
"I thought you would be more comfortable in public this way, instead of
tete-a-tete," said Dore briefly, making the introduction. "You see how
considerate I am!"
"Delighted, of course," said Sassoon, in his low unvarying tones. "Don't
you think we'd be better up-stairs?"
"I said in the restaurant," answered Dore peremptorily.
Sassoon bowed, signaled a waiter, and led the way. She had gone hardly
twenty steps into the chattering curious room, which stared at this
public spectacle of Sassoon, when her eye fell on the figure of Judge
Massingale. Their eyes met. She felt a sudden burning shame there before
every one, wavered, and went hurriedly to her seat.
He had seen her! What would he think? Would he misunderstand her at
seeing her thus publicly flaunted by Sassoon? What awful conclusions
might not come into his mind at this persistent dogging of her steps?
And after what had happened last night, with the memory of her blind
clinging to him, the soft confession of her voice, what would he think
now? Let him think what he wished, so long as he should suffer a little!
If he were here, he could have come to her! If he were so mechanical,
she would teach him jealousy.
[Illustration: What would he think?]
But these thoughts, timorous, elated, determined, expectant, were not
clearly defined to her. She had a sensation of fleeting emotions,
utterly uncontrolled. She began to chat rapidly without saying anything
at all, seeking in the arrangement of the mirrors a favorable angle.
At last she saw his table, and the direct confrontation of his stare. He
was with a large party, mixed, a dozen at the least, and he was still
looking in her direction.
"I don't care if he is furious," she thought defiantly. "If he is
furious, he cares! I shall see him--talk to him. He'll make an excuse!"
She did not cease talking, but she did not hear a word she said or
notice what Sassoon replied. She thought Ida was making grammatical
errors in her excessive efforts to give the conversation dignity, and
from the bored nervous way in which Sassoon was listening, she divined
his fury at being thus circumvented. This pleased her. She wanted to be
sure that Massingale could be jealous, but, in some confused way, she
wanted Sassoon to be punished.
All at once in the mirror she saw Massingale rise to take his leave. In
another moment, surely, he would turn as he came toward them. She would
see him, talk to him, look into his eyes. She began hurriedly,
frantically, laughing at nothing, to run from topic to topic, gesturing
to attract her own eyes to the table, so that he might not perceive her
agitation or know the sinking of her heart as she felt him nearer and
nearer.
He was there, almost at her back, coming to her. In a moment she would
hear his voice, that deep controlled tone, speaking her name. She was
sure now that she was blushing, that her sparkling eyes betrayed her,
that Sassoon, Ida surely, had guessed her agitation. But she did not
care! She felt only an exquisite happiness, a bodily glow. And all at
once she saw that he had passed without even an attempt to catch her
eye. He was in the doorway, and he was gone!
Why? Was it anger that she should be there with Sassoon? If it were only
true! She tried to seize upon this idea, but all her courage had
evaporated. She felt all at once without enthusiasm. If that were so,
then she was wrong; perhaps he would never believe her.
"That was Judge Massingale, wasn't it?" she said aimlessly.
Sassoon jerked his head in assent, adding viciously:
"Family affair. Gets out as soon as he can. Mrs. Massingale entertaining
some imported geniuses, probably."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Massingale."