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The triumvirate, with Thaxton, Rhodes, Carleton, and the rest, had been frequent visitors all winter at the "Menagerie," as Clifford's bad pun had named Gethryn's apartment; but, of late, other social engagements and, possibly, a small amount of work, had kept them away. Clifford was a great favorite with Yvonne. Thaxton and Elliott she liked. Rowden she tormented, and Carleton she endured.
Her warm little head lay against his throat, her heart beat against his, her breath fell upon his cheek, and her curls clustered among his own. "Yvonne Yvonne," he murmured, "I love you once and forever." "Once and forever," she repeated, in a half whisper. "Forever," he said. An hour later they were seated tete-a-tete at Gethryn's little table.
Braith shouted, until at last they heard him. In a few moments they had made their way through the crowd and sat down, mopping their faces and protesting plaintively against the heat. Gethryn's glance questioned Braith, who said, "Mr Bulfinch and I have had the deuce of a time to make you fellows hear. You'd have been easier to call if you knew what sort of drink he can brew."
She was not hungry in fact, Gethryn knew that the concierge, whose duty it was to feed all the creatures, overdid it from pure kindness of heart at Gethryn's expense. "Gummidge, you're stuffed up to your eyes, aren't you?" he said. At the sound of his voice the cat hoisted her tail, and began to march in narrowing circles about her master's chair, making gentle observations in the cat language.
"None for me?" sighed Clifford, watching the fast-dwindling bouquet. She laughed brightly as she tossed the last handful below, and then turned and leaned over Gethryn's chair. "You destructive little wretch!" he laughed, "this is not the season for the Battle of Flowers. But white roses mean nothing, so I'm not jealous."
Gethryn's aunt, his only surviving relative, had recently written him one of her ponderous letters. He took it from his pocket and began to read it again, for the fourth time. You have now been in Paris three years, and as yet I have seen no results. You should be earning your own living, but instead you are still dependent upon me.
'Or sovereigns, said Farnie. 'Each worth twenty shillings, you know. For a moment Gethryn's only feeling was one of unmixed envy. Previously he had considered himself passing rich on thirty shillings a term. He had heard legends, of course, of individuals who come to School bursting with bullion, but never before had he set eyes upon such an one.
He tried it, but his master was too quick for him, and foiled, he lay sullenly in Gethryn's hands, his two long claws projecting helplessly between the brown fists of his master. "Oh, you fiend!" muttered Rex, taking him toward a wicker basket, which he hated. "Solitary confinement for you, my boy." "Double, double, toil and trouble," croaked the parrot.
"My love," said the frisky one, "who is the gentleman in the black mask who stares?" "I don't know," muttered the dear old man, in a cold sweat, "I don't know, but I wish I did." And the frisky one shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the mask. "What are they looking at?" whispered Yvonne, as she tripped along, holding very tightly to Gethryn's arm. "Only a quadrille `La Pataude' is dancing.
"Why should I not refresh my drooping spirits by adoring Lisette Cos " "Oh, come, you said that before," said Gethryn. "You're getting to be a bore, Clifford." "You at least can no longer reproach me," said the other, with a quick look that increased Gethryn's embarrassment. "Let him talk his talk of bewitching grisettes, and gay students," said Braith, more angry than Rex had ever seen him.
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