"A bore? Don't you think her formed to please?"
Nick wondered, but didn't conclude. "I wanted to go on with her--now I
can't."
Nash himself, however, jumped straight to what really mattered. "My dear
fellow, it only makes her handsomer. I wondered what happy turn she had
taken."
"Oh, that's twaddle," said Nick, turning away. "Besides, has she told
you?"
"No, but her mother has."
"Has she told her mother?"
"Mrs. Rooth says not. But I've known Mrs. Rooth to say that which
isn't."
"Apply that rule then to the information you speak of."
"Well, since you press me, I know more," Gabriel said. "Miriam knows
you're engaged to a wonderful, rich lady; she told me as much, told me
she had seen her here. That was enough to set her off--she likes
forbidden fruit."
"I'm not engaged to any lady whatever. I was," Nick handsomely
conceded, "but we've altered our minds."
"Ah, what a pity!" his friend wailed.
"Mephistopheles!"--and he stopped again with the point of this.
"Pray then whom do you call Margaret? May I ask if your failure of
interest in the political situation is the cause of this change in your
personal one?" Nash went on. Nick signified that he mightn't; whereupon
he added: "I'm not in the least devilish--I only mean it's a pity you've
altered your minds, since Miriam may in consequence alter hers. She goes
from one thing to another. However, I won't tell her."
"I will then!" Nick declared between jest and earnest.
"Would that really be prudent?" his companion asked more completely in
the frolic key.
"At any rate," he resumed, "nothing would induce me to interfere with
Peter Sherringham. That sounds fatuous, but to you I don't mind
appearing an ass."
"The thing would be to get Sherringham, out of spite," Nash threw off,
"to entangle himself with another woman."
"What good would that do?"
"Ah, Miriam would then begin to think of him."
"Spite surely isn't a conceivable motive--for a healthy man."
The plea, however, found Gabriel ready. "Sherringham's just precisely
not a healthy man. He's too much in love."
"Then he won't care for another woman."
"He would try to, and that would produce its effect--its effect on
Miriam."
"You talk like an American novel. Let him try, and God keep us all
straight." Nick adverted in extreme silence to his poor little Biddy
and greatly hoped--he would have to see to it a little--that Peter
wouldn't "try" on _her_. He changed the subject and before Nash withdrew
took occasion to remark--the occasion was offered by some new allusion
of the visitor's to the sport he hoped to extract from seeing Nick carry
out everything to which he stood committed--that the comedy of the
matter would fall flat and the incident pass unnoticed.
But Nash lost no heart. "Oh, if you'll simply do your part I'll take
care of the rest."
"If you mean by doing my part minding my business and working like a
beaver I shall easily satisfy you," Nick replied.
"Ah, you reprobate, you'll become another Sir Joshua, a mere P.R.A.!"
his companion railed, getting up to go.
When he had gone Nick threw himself back on the cushions of the divan
and, with his hands locked above his head, sat a long time lost in
thought. He had sent his servant to bed; he was unmolested. He gazed
before him into the gloom produced by the unheeded burning-out of the
last candle. The vague outer light came in through the tall studio
window and the painted images, ranged about, looked confused in the
dusk. If his mother had seen him she might have thought he was staring
at his father's ghost.