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The being wore large round tortoise-shell spectacles, a soft shirt with a gold-plated collar-pin, and delicately gray garments. Istra was curled on the bed in a leaf-green silk kimono with a great gold-mounted medallion pinned at her breast. Mr. Wrenn tried not to be shocked at the kimono. She had been frowning as he came in and fingering a long thin green book of verses, but she glowed at Mr.
You are very kind, and when I hear that you're married to some nice girl I'll be as happy as can be." "Oh, Istra," he cried, grasping her arm, "I don't want any girl in the world I mean oh, I just want to be let go 'round with you when you'll let me " "No, no, dear. You must have seen last night; that's impossible. Please don't argue about it now; I'm too tired.
As he was going out Saturday morning he found a note from Istra waiting in the hall on the hat-rack: Do you want to play with poor Istra tomorrow Sat. afternoon and perhaps evening, Mouse? You have Saturday afternoon off, don't you? Leave me a note if you can call for me at 1.30. Istra took him to what she called a "futurist play."
I'm gettin' 'em gettin' 'em." He rarely thought of Istra till he was out on the street again, proud of having worked so late that his eyes ached. In fact, his chief troubles these days came when Mr. Guilfogle wouldn't "let him put through an idea." Their first battle was over Mr. Wrenn's signing the letters personally; for the letters, the office manager felt, were as much Ours as was Mr.
Watts at the Tate he was so heavy and correctly appreciative, so ready not to enjoy the stories in the pictures of Millais, that Istra suddenly demanded: "Oh, my dear child, I have taken a great deal on my hands. You've got to learn to play. You don't know how to play. Come. I shall teach you. I don't know why I should, either. But come."
Istra ought not to drink so many cordials, nix on the booze you learn when you try to keep in shape for flying, though Tad Warren doesn't seem to learn it. After ten we went to studio where Istra is staying on Washington Sq. several of her friends there and usual excitement and fool questions about being an aviator, it always makes me feel like a boob.
Wrenn felt guilty till the coming of the slavey, a perfect Christmas-story-book slavey, a small and merry lump of soot, who sang out, "Chilly t'-night, ayn't it?" and made a fire that was soon singing "Chilly t'-night," like the slavey. Istra sat on the floor before the fire, Turk-wise, her quick delicate fingers drumming excitedly on her knees. "Come sit by me.
She dived after Tom's retreat and cheerfully addressed him: "Oh, I do want some of those chocolates. Will you let me change my mind? Please do." "Yes ma'am, you sure can!" said broad Tom, all one pleased chuckle, poking out the two bags. Istra stopped beside the Five-Hundred table to smile in a lordly way down at Mrs. Arty and say, quite humanly: "I'm so sorry I can't play a decent game of cards.
But you wouldn't have Istra disappoint a nice Johnny after he's bought him a cunnin' new weskit, would you?... Good night, dear." She smiled the mother smile and was gone with a lively good night to the room in general. Nelly went up to bed early. She was tired, she said. He had no chance for a word with her. He sat on the steps outside alone a long time.
Her voice was natural again, natural and companionable and brave. She laughed as she stroked her wet shoulder and held his hand, sitting quietly and bidding him listen to the soft forlorn sound of the rain on the thatch. But the rain was not soon over, and their dangling position was very much like riding a rail. "I'm so uncomfortable!" fretted Istra.
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