CONCERNING ANKLES, STAIRS, AND NEIGHBOURLINESS
It was in no very pleasant humour that Geoffrey Ravenslee began to climb
the many stairs (that much-trodden highway) that led up to his new
abode; he climbed them slowly, frowning in a dark perplexity, and wholly
unconscious of the folk that jostled him or paused to stare after him as
he went.
But presently, and all at once, he became aware of one who climbed half
a flight above him, and, glancing up, he saw a foot in a somewhat worn
shoe, a shapely foot nevertheless, joined to a slender ankle which
peeped and vanished alternately beneath a neat, well-brushed skirt that
swayed to the vigorous action of the shapely limbs it covered. He was
yet observing the soft, rounded curves of this most feminine back when
he became aware of two facts: one, that she bore a heavy suit case in
her neatly gloved hand; two, that the tress of hair peeping rebellious
beneath the neat hat brim was of a wondrous yellow gold. Instantly he
hastened his steps, and reaching out his hand almost instinctively,
sought to relieve her of her burden.
"Allow me!" said he.
She stopped, and turning on the stair above, looked down on him with a
pair of wondering blue eyes; her cheeks glowed, and she was panting a
little. For a long moment they fronted each other thus silently upon
that grimy, narrow stair, she above with gracious head stooped, her dark
eyes questioning and wistful. And looking up into the flushed loveliness
of her face, those eyes deep and soft beneath their long, black lashes,
the tender droop of those vivid lips, beholding all this, he knew her to
be a thousand times more beautiful than any photograph could possibly
portray, wherefore he bared his head, and striving to speak, could find
no words to utter. For a moment longer she hesitated while her clear
eyes searched his face, then the red lips curved in a little wistful
smile.
"Thank you!" she said, and, yielding him her burden, led the way
up-stairs. "I'm afraid it's rather heavy," she said over her shoulder
after they had climbed another flight.
"It's quite too heavy for you!" he answered.
"Oh, but I've carried it often before now."
"Then you shouldn't!"
"But I have to!"
"No," said Ravenslee, shaking his head, "you should let your brother
bring it up for you."
"My brother!" she exclaimed, pausing to look her amazement. And again as
she stood thus poised above him, he took joy to note the warmth of her
rich colouring, the soft, round column of her white throat, the gracious
breadth of hip and shoulder.
"You know I have a brother?"
"Oh, yes, Spike--er--that is, Arthur and I are quite--er--ancient
cronies--pals, you know--friends, I mean--" Mr. Ravenslee was actually
stammering.
"Oh, really?" she said softly; but all at once, becoming aware of the
fixity of his regard, the colour deepened in her cheek, the long lashes
drooped and, turning away, she went on up the stair.
"It's a long way up yet! Hadn't you better let me take it?"
"Not for worlds!" he answered.
"Isn't it getting heavier?" she enquired, as they climbed the next
flight.
"Decidedly heavier!"
"Then please," said she, slackening her pace, "please let me take it!"
"On the contrary," he answered, his gaze on her slender foot and ankle,
"I should like to carry it for you all my--er--ah, that is--I mean--"
Mr. Ravenslee was stammering again.
"Yes?"
He was aware that the shapely foot had faltered in its going.
"As often as I may, Miss Hermione."
Hereupon the shapely foot halted altogether, and once again she turned
to look at him in wide-eyed surprise.
"You know my name?"
"I learned it from Arthur, and--I shall never forget it!"
"Why not?"
"Well, because it is rather uncommon and--very beautiful!"
"Oh!" said Hermione, and went on up the stair again, yet not before he
had seen the flush was back in her cheek.
"Are you getting tired yet?" she enquired, without looking round.
"Not appreciably," he answered, "but if you think I need a rest--"
"No, no!" she laughed, "we should never get off these frightful stairs!"
"Even that might have its compensations!" he murmured.
"And we've been much longer than if you'd let me carry it up myself."
"But then we've no cause for panting haste, have we?" he suggested.
"And we have four more flights to climb."
"So few!" he sighed.
"You see, I live at the very tip-top."
"Good!" said he.
At this she glanced down at him over the sweep of her shoulder.
"Why 'good'?" she demanded.
"Because I also live at the tip-top."
"Do you--oh!"
"With the excellent Mrs. Trapes."
"But I thought she had lost her lodger?"
"She had the--er--extreme good fortune to find a new one to-day."
"Meaning you?"
"Meaning me."
By this time they had reached the topmost landing, where Mr. Ravenslee
set down the suit case almost reluctantly.
"Thank you!" said Hermione, looking at him with her frank gaze.
"Heaven send I may earn your thanks again--and very soon," he answered,
lifting the battered hat.
"You didn't tell me your name!" said she, fumbling in a well-worn little
hand bag for her latchkey.
"I am called Geoffrey."
Hermione opened the door and, taking up the suit case, held out her
hand.
"Good-by, Mr. Geoffrey!"
"For the present!" said he, and though his tone was light there was a
very real humility in his attitude as he stood bareheaded before her.
"For the present!" he repeated.
"Well--we are very near neighbours," said she, dark lashes a-droop.
"And neighbourliness is next to godliness--isn't it?"
"Is it?"
"Well, I think so, anyway? So, Miss Hermione--not 'good-by.'"
She glanced swiftly up at him, flushed, and turning about, was gone. But
even so, before her door closed quite, she spoke soft-voiced:
"Good--evening, Mr. Geoffrey!"
Thereafter, for a space, Mr. Ravenslee stood precisely where he was,
staring hard at the battered hat; yet it is not to be supposed that the
sight of this could possibly have brought the smile to his lips, and
into his eyes a look that surely none had ever seen there before--such
a preposterously shabby, disreputable old hat! Of course not!