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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Oh, you adorable!" sighed Lewis to himself, and, inwardly, Leighton groaned, "Oh, you you!" Within twenty minutes of leaving the table, Folly rose from the edge of her chair and crossed to Lady Derl. "Good-by," she breathed shyly, holding out her hand. "I must go now." Lewis sprang up to accompany her. They could see he was aching to get away somewhere where he could put his arms around her.
When Lewis was alone with his father, he asked: "Does Lady Derl belong to the Old Guard?" "You wouldn't think it, but she does," said Leighton, "inside." "My boy," said Leighton to Lewis two days later, as they were threading a narrow street in the shadow of Montmartre, "you will meet in a few moments Le Brux, the only living sculptor. You will call him Maître from the start.
Lady Derl was watching Folly. "Could she keep it up? Yes, she could." Lady Derl couldn't talk; she wanted to laugh. Throughout that interminable lunch, Hélène, Leighton, and Lewis saw nothing, thought nothing, but Folly, and, for all any one of them could see, Folly didn't know it. "Oh, you adorable cat!" thought Lady Derl.
"To do something well at a range of two thousand years! That's more than art; it's genius." "It's not genius," whispered back Lady Derl; "it's just body. What's more, I think I recognize the body." "Well," said Lewis, "what if you do? Play the game." "So I'm right, eh? Oh, I'll play the game, and hate her less into the bargain." So suddenly that it startled, came a crashing chord.
"South America!" cried Leighton, dismayed, and then smiled. "Well, he's getting his dad's tricks early. What for?" "Don't know, sir. Mr. Lewis said as you'd get it from her ladyship." Lady Derl was out of town. Leighton followed her, stayed two days, decided her momentary entourage was not to his taste, and returned to London. He reached the flat in the afternoon, just in time to receive a caller.
He went back to the flat and waited. He knew that Lewis would not be gone long. He would be too keen to hear his father's and Lady Derl's verdict. Leighton had just settled down to a book and a second cigar when Lewis came into the room like a breeze that had only a moment to stay. "Well, Dad," he cried, "what have you got to say now? What has Lady Derl got to say?"
By twelve o'clock he had to admit that he was more than bored, and said so to a neighbor. "That's impossible," said the neighbor, yawning. "Boredom is an ultimate. There's nothing beyond it; consequently, you can't be more than bored." "You're wrong," said Lady Derl from behind them. "For a man there's always something beyond boredom: there's going home."
"I think I'll give a little dinner for you. This time your dad won't object." "I hope not," said Lewis, smiling. "I'm bigger than he is now." Both laughed, and then chatted until Leighton came in to join them at tea. Lady Derl told him of the dinner. He shrugged his shoulders and asked when it was to be. "Don't look so bored," said Lady Derl. "I'll get Old Ivory to come, if you 're coming.
"They couldn't help it," replied the young person, stifling a yawn. "I'm the wife of the charge of the Brazilian legation. And you?" "Oh, I'm here just to take Lady Derl home." The young person's eyes showed a gleam of interest as they glanced up the table to where Lady Derl sat and reigned an easy queen in that assembly. "Oh," she said, "are you? Why you?"
So early did power lead the long-suffering Mrs. Ruttle-Marter to lap at revenge! "Well, tell us the name of her dance, anyway," said a tall, soldierly gray-head that was feeling something for the first time in twenty years. "Do hurry! She's going to begin." "I can do that," said Mrs. Ruttle-Marter. "Her dance is called 'Love is blind." "Love is blind," repeated Lewis to Lady Derl.
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