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He did not know their ways of play, but well knew he should like them when he learned, and that their play would prove prettier than any he had ever known.... And this tall, still woman beside him almost as tall as he, of rarest texture, and with a voice sensuously soft, having that quality of softness which distinguishes a charcoal from a graphite line this woman seemed identified in some remoteness of mind with long-ago rainy days, of which there had been none too many.... Her voice seemed to lose direction in his fancy, loitering there, strangely enticing.... "Would you like to go up with me?"... And these were Beth Truba's friends....
It was almost too sacred for her to try to penetrate, because it had to do with him.... She wondered at Miss Truba's inability to speak, or to help herself in any way with the things that pressed her heart to aching fullness.... She had found it wonderfully restoring to talk of him with a woman who knew him and who granted his greatness from every point.
The trying part was that look in Beth Truba's eyes, which told him how bored she was by this sort of commonness. Then there was to-morrow and Sunday with her away. In her brown dress and hat, glorious and away. Bedient went away, too. Beth Truba hadn't the gift of talking about the things that hurt her.
One was about an Indian maiden who yearned for the sky-blue water; another about an Irish Kathleen who gave her lover to strike a blow for the Green; and still another concerned a girl who would rather lie in the dust of her lord's chariot than be the ecstasy of lesser man. Beth Truba's face was upturned to the light to the last pallor of day.
Already she was thinking of him as one gone; and yet the studio seemed mystic with his comings and goings and gifts.... It came to her how her lips had quivered under his eyes, as she went forward to say good-by.... It was not three or four days, but "good-by," indeed. Though she would have put the black mark of misery upon it, this was one of the greatest of Beth Truba's days.
He saw disturbance ahead bright disturbance but steadily refused to grant it importance. He was sorry for Mrs. Wordling. "Let the Club seethe, if it starts so readily," he observed. The remark astonished his companion, who had concluded he was either bashful to the depths, or some other woman's property, probably Beth Truba's. "But you men have nothing to lose!" she exclaimed.
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