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As if he read her thought, Fiorsen said: "Tell me to do something anything; I will do it, Miss Winton." "Then go back to London at once. You are wasting yourself here, you know. You said so!" He looked at her, bewildered and upset, and muttered: "You have asked me the one thing I can't do, Miss Miss Gyp!" "Please not that; it's like a servant!" "I AM your servant!"
Rosek smiled. "My dear, that is all very well, but friendships are not finished like that. Moreover, you owe me a thousand pounds." "Well, I will pay it." Rosek's eyebrows mounted. "I will. Gyp will lend it to me." "Oh! Is Gyp so fond of you as that? I thought she only loved her music-lessons." Crouching forward with his knees drawn up, Fiorsen hissed out: "Don't talk of Gyp! Get out of this!
She felt the scrub of his little bristly beard, and raised her face with a deep sigh of satisfaction. A voice behind them said mockingly: "Bravo!" There, by the door, stood Fiorsen. "Congratulations, madame! I have long wanted to see you under the inspiration of your master!" Gyp's heart began to beat desperately. Monsieur Harmost had not moved.
It was a study in silver, and gold, save for two touches of fantasy a screen round the piano-head, covered with brilliantly painted peacocks' tails, and a blue Persian vase, in which were flowers of various hues of red. Fiorsen was standing at the window in a fume of cigarette smoke. He did not turn round. Gyp put her hand within his arm, and said: "So sorry, dear.
"Yes, sir. And will you have tea, please, sir?" "No, thanks." How to effect this withdrawal without causing gossip, and yet avoid suspicion of collusion with Gyp? And he added: "Unless Mrs. Fiorsen comes in." Passing out into the garden, he became aware that Fiorsen was at the dining-room window watching him, and decided to make no sign that he knew this.
And, at once, his brain began to search, steely and quick, for some way out; and the expression as when a fox broke covert, came on his face. "Nobody knows, Gyp?" "No; nobody." That was something! With an irritation that rose from his very soul, he muttered: "I can't stand it that you should suffer, and that fellow Fiorsen go scot-free. Can you give up seeing Summerhay while we get you a divorce?
He would go to Rosek's, borrow the money to pay his cab, and lunch there. But Rosek was not in. He would have to go home to get the cab paid. The driver seemed to eye him queerly now, as though conceiving doubts about the fare. Going in under the trellis, Fiorsen passed a man coming out, who held in his hand a long envelope and eyed him askance.
With a faint smile Gyp shook her head. "Say no one can see him." Markey's woodcock eyes, under their thin, dark, twisting brows, fastened on her dolefully; he opened the door to go. Fiorsen was standing there, and, with a quick movement, came in. She saw Markey raise his arms as if to catch him round the waist, and said quietly: "Markey wait outside, please."
Daphne Wing, who had begun to eat and drink, said with her mouth full: "You see, I'm independent now, and I know life. That makes you harmless." Fiorsen stretched out his hand and seized hers just where her little warm pulse was beating very steadily. She looked at it, changed her fork over, and went on eating with the other hand. Fiorsen drew his hand away as if he had been stung.
In a state of bewilderment, irritation, and queer meekness, Fiorsen passed down Coventry Street, and entering the empty Ruffel's, took a table near the window. There he sat staring before him, for the sudden vision of Gyp sitting on that oaken chest, at the foot of her bed, had blotted the girl clean out.
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