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She tore at her throat in a violent rage, trying to adjust a button. Cowperwood was literally astonished. Never had he seen such an outburst as this. He had not believed Aileen to be capable of it. He could not help admiring her. Nevertheless he resented the brutality of her assault on Rita and on his own promiscuous tendency, and this feeling vented itself in one last unfortunate remark.
It was cold and dark in there; but before I closed the door behind me the dim light from the hall showed me Doña Rita standing on the very same spot where I had left her, statuesque in her night-dress. Even after I shut the door she loomed up enormous, indistinctly rigid and inanimate. I picked up the candelabra, groped for a candle all over the carpet, found one, and lighted it.
Fires and dark faces and red handkerchiefs. The night along the roads changed the trees into birds that flew away. The wagons went to sleep. Everyone slept but Rita. The horses had dreams and whispered to themselves. Along the roads where the caravan stopped there would be a fire at night to watch. Rita sat alone looking at the flames. Dreams came out of the fire and walked away.
Don't be alarmed, Aquila is all right." Before Rita could speak, he had dropped the reins on the horse's neck, and lifted her bodily round to the peak of the saddle before him. "I'm sorry!" he said, apologetically. "I fear it is very uncomfortable; but I can a manage better, don't you see?" But to himself he was saying, "Lucky I got that done before the beggars began to shoot.
She sprang for the jungle, and, ere she reached it, a bullet from the chiefs rifle struck her in the side. And then, with a feeling of horror, Blackett listened to the rest of the tale the poor wretch, with her life-blood ebbing fast, was followed up and a spear thrust through her heart. He was sitting at the table with his face clasped in his hands when 'Rita came in.
And then Monsieur George caught his train promising to be back on the fourth day and leaving all further arrangements to his friend. He prided himself on his impenetrability before Doña Rita; on the happiness without a shadow of those four days.
He summoned up a smile and advanced. "Good evening, Miss Halley," he said, striving to speak genially for of all of his wife's friends he liked Margaret Halley the best. "Were you expecting to find Rita at home?" The girl's expression was vaguely troubled. She had the clear complexion and bright eyes of perfect health, but to-night her eyes seemed over-bright, whilst her face was slightly pale.
"Who but Mallare could have done this?" he whispered aloud to her. "Mallare, infatuated with himself, desires still a further adoration. So he creates infatuated phantoms. I am tired now. My hands are tired. Return, little one, to the couch of my madness and sleep for a time in its shadows." Mallare shut his eyes and his hands dropped to his side. Rita arose and smiled at him.
In vain did Luis declare this to be impossible, and plead the strength which his attachment had acquired by his long permitted intercourse with Rita.
The car moved away, swinging to the right across the traffic stream and clearly heading for old Bond Street. Quentin Gray's mercurial color deserted him, and he turned to Seton a face grown suddenly pale. "Good God," he whispered, "something has happened to Rita!" Neglectful of his personal safety, he plunged out into the traffic, dodging this way and that, and making after Monte Irvin's car.
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