Part 10 (2/2)
”Mrs. Mounteagle wanted to let me in--I believe out of simple curiosity. I am to throw stones at her window. Quite romantic, isn't it?”
”May I have a shot?” he asks. ”Which is the pane of beauty's shrine?”
”There, on the left of my room,” pointing upwards.
A handful of gravel flies through the air. Rattle, rattle on the gla.s.s.
Then Giddy appears in a white _robe de chambre_, her dark hair falling in waves about her shoulders.
”All right, I am coming down.”
A moment later she stands before them, laughing and shaking hands with Carol Quinton, two small, bare feet peeping from under her airy garb, her hair still unfettered.
”It is a delightful surprise to see _you_, Carol,” she cries. ”I have sent all the servants to bed, Eleanor, but told them to leave out some aspic and champagne, as I know the Hilliers starve their guests. What do you say to an impromptu supper party? It would be so delightfully unconventional.”
She has dragged Carol into the hall and closed the door.
”Yes, do come in,” echoes Eleanor feebly, pleased and yet awed by Giddy's suggestion. She is looking somewhat blankly at those delicate pink toes, and the dark mane falling over the white gown.
”Shall I get you some shoes?” she whispers.
”No, dear; Nature is better than leather, and more _neglige_.”
She speaks in a tone that silences Eleanor, who feels she has been dense and awkward.
”Come along,” says Giddy, leading the way, and lighting the silver candelabra in the dining-room. ”Do make Eleanor take off that heavy fur cloak, Carol. Oh! isn't this nice?” as he fills her gla.s.s with champagne. ”Was there ever a jollier little trio?” leaning back in her chair and surveying the other two complacently. ”Pa.s.s me a brown sandwich; I am hungry if you are not, and the stuff inside them gives you an appet.i.te. What do you call it?--something beginning with an 'L.'”
The nectar of the G.o.ds puts a bright sparkle into Eleanor's eyes, their l.u.s.trous beauty gleams on Giddy and Carol Quinton in luxurious contentment. She permits her guests to smoke, and tries a whiff from Mrs. Mounteagle's cigarette, finally lighting one on her own behalf.
She dislikes smoking in reality, but considers it smart to imitate the widow.
”Have you really missed hearing Kitty Bell at the 'Frivolity'?” asks Mrs. Mounteagle, giving Carol a light from her cigarette. ”My dear boy, she is perfectly charming, the most _piquante_ little singer of the day. Why, the chorus of her last song has haunted me ever since--the tune, not the words. It went something like this, as far as I can remember:
”Poor little Flo, How should she know?
A simple country maiden From the wilds of Pimlico.”
As Giddy Mounteagle sings the lines a latchkey turns in the hall lock, footsteps advance down the pa.s.sage, the dining-room door opens, and Philip Roche stands before them!
[Ill.u.s.tration: The dining-room door opens, and Philip Roche stands before them.]
CHAPTER VI.
LIKE ONE THAT ON A LONESOME ROAD DOST WALK IN FEAR AND DREAD.
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