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Papillon sprang at her with delight, and she laughed sadly. "He is glad to see me," she said; "aren't you, Yellow Dog?" Joyselle shrugged his shoulders and sitting down on the sofa lit a cigarette. "Well?" he asked after a pause. Brigit sat down by him and took off her gloves. "Victor why have things been as they have been of late?" "You know why."
Lady Kingsmead tried to talk to him, but finding that, though he answered her politely enough, his thoughts were elsewhere, gave him up and took up a book, casting an impatient look at her daughter. Carron had gone early, too restless to stay quiet, and afraid to rouse Brigit out of her curious lethargic state. For a long time the three people sat in silence, and then Lady Kingsmead rose.
His nerves were in such a condition that this unmerited and unexpected kindness broke him down utterly. Suddenly, to her horror, the poor wretch burst into tears, sobbing like a child. "Gerry, don't oh, for Heaven's sake, don't!" she cried, laying her hand on his head. "You you mustn't. Gerry, Gerry dear " "Yes, pat his head and call him dear!" cried Brigit furiously from the open door.
"By to-morrow he'll be at Meroee Camp," I said: But I did not add: "So shall we!" There was not much room in our hearts for mountains or gold just then: yet somehow, before we left the Palace, Anthony and I had told Brigit and Monny the secret which had been the romance of our lives, until they came into it to paint dead gold with the living rose of love.
Félicité smiled serenely and sweetly. "No, I know him. I saw it come and go. But do not be angry and proud, my dear. I wish only to help you." And Brigit, touched by her kindness as well as terrified by her own indiscretion, sat down by her. When Joyselle came in at eight o'clock he went straight to his room to dress.
And as Monny remarked, in neat American slang, we were "right up against it." She thought that, if Antoun and I "put our heads together," maybe we could think of "some way out." So we did, almost literally put our heads together across a table no bigger than a handkerchief, in my cabin: and decided that the visit to Rechid Bey's harem must be made by Brigit and Monny in the late afternoon.
Joyselle had told Brigit this story, and now as she stood watching him vent his wrath and anguish on his faithful Amati, a kind of vision came to her; and she seemed to see the room as it used to be vaguely, the big table with six or eight men sitting around it drinking wine, and, more distinctly, the heaped-up bowls and plates of fruit
The little boy's face was flushed and his head tossing restlessly to and fro on the embroidered pillows. "There's no use," he was muttering. "I tell you, it's quite silly to waste time; you should have begun long ago. He always said so, and he's right." Brigit sat down by him. "Here's Bicky," she said, "with the Master's love for you, Tommy." "He's gone away. Ratting with the Prince of Wales.
Brigit Mead did not go to bed at all that night. All night she worked in her little flat making her plans, packing, and writing letters. She had burnt her boats and the relief was great. Having broken with her mother, there was no need for her to write to Kingsmead. To Tommy she sent a note, saying that she was going away, but would write soon and explain.
"Now listen to me," she said firmly. "You have either been drinking or you are mad. I don't care where you have been or where you saw Brigit. This story is rot!"
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