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Craye's husband," said Vernon equably. "I was merely calling, and she seemed so ill that I took upon myself to " "I see I see. Well, if you don't mind taking on yourself to let her husband know? It's a nasty case. Temperature 104. Perhaps her husband 'ud be as well here as anywhere." "He's dead," said Vernon. "Oh!" said the doctor with careful absence of expression.
Craye's evident misapprehension of those conscientious efforts of his to be charmed by her. He was only moved to a very faint amusement when one day Bobbie Temple, smoking in the studio, broke a long silence abruptly to say: "Look here. Someone was saying the other day that a man can be in love with two women at a time. Do you think it's true?" "Two? Yes. Or twenty."
Craye's bank note and the divers tokens of "ce monsieur's" interest in the intrigue whatever the intrigue might be its details were not what interested. Vernon went home, pulled the table into the middle of the bare studio and wrote. This letter wrote itself without revision. "Why did you go away?" it said. "Where are you? where can I see you? What has happened? Have your people found out?"
She rose with a grace that Lady St. Craye had not seen in her. She was dressed in a plain gown, that hung from the shoulders in long, straight, green folds. Her hair was down. And Betty had beautiful hair. Lady St. Craye's hair had never been long. Betty's fell nearly to her knees. "Oh, was the door open?" she said. "I didn't know, I've I'm so sorry I've been washing my hair."
No, don't explain that dewdrops don't harden Into diamonds. I know I'm not scientific, but I honestly did mean to be complimentary. Isn't your kettle boiling over, Mr. Vernon?" Lady St. Craye's eyes, while they delicately condoled with Vernon on the spoiling of his tete-a-tete with her, were also made to indicate a certain interest in the spoiler. Temple was more than six feet high, well built.
Or was it some subtler echo of Lady St. Craye's personality that clung there? Abruptly, as he passed Betty's door, the suspicion stung him. Had the Jasmine lady had any hand in this sudden departure? "Pooh nonsense!" he said. But all the same he paused at the concierge's window. "I am desolated to have deranged Madame," gold coin changed hands.
Unable to realize the rapid advance to a familiarity, more ostensible than actual, of two lively natures, after such an introduction as they had undergone: and one of the two pining in a drought of liveliness: Laetitia listened to their wager of nothing at all a no against a yes in the case of poor Flitch; and Clara's, "Willoughby will not forgive"; and De Craye's "Oh, he's human": and the silence of Clara and De Craye's hearty cry, "Flitch shall be a gentleman's coachman in his old seat or I haven't a tongue!" to which there was a negative of Clara's head: and it then struck Laetitia that this young betrothed lady, whose alienated heart acknowledged no lord an hour earlier, had met her match, and, as the observer would have said, her destiny.
"I like to see everybody happy about me," said Willoughby, naming the hour as time to dress for dinner. The sentiment he had delivered was De Craye's excuse for grasping his hand and complimenting him; but the colonel betrayed himself by doing it with an extreme fervour almost tremulous. "When shall we hear more?" he said. "Oh, probably to-morrow," said Willoughby. "Don't be in such a hurry."
"No, but see here," I said, "are you going to marry him?" "I'm only a palmist. I don't pretend to be a clairvoyant. A marriage may be indicated in Mr. Craye's hand, but I couldn't say without looking at it." "But I shall have to tell her something definite, or she won't give me a moment's peace." "Tell her her brother is of age. Surely that's definite enough?"
A sally of Colonel De Craye's met the reception given to a charity-boy's muffled burst of animal spirits in the silence of the sacred edifice. Willoughby tried politics with Dr.
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