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"But I doubt if he has taken fright, as the Captain suggests. He isn't easily scared." He made no attempt to make love to Myra that day, but often she caught him looking at her with an expression that baffled her and made her feel vaguely uneasy. He looked, somehow, like a schoolboy with a sphinx-like expression, planning mischief and inwardly enjoying some private joke.
Willie raised his hat, and we walked away. "And, somehow, when he said that, I remembered, all of a sudden, the night of that dance and Willie brushing his hair before the looking-glass, and Myra sticking her head in the door to guy him. "When we got back to Sam Houston Avenue, Willie says: "'Well, so long, Ben. I'm going down home and get off my shoes and take a rest.
But out of it you come with something more precious than fine gold, and that shall be my consolation." "Let it be," smiled Myra Thornhill, "as it is surely mine. Good-by." "And good luck," whispered Magee, as he took Kendrick's hand.
At last she realized there was but one who possessed such brazen impudence, and told him she had known him from the first, whereat he laughed with the abandon of a pagan and renewed the fervor of his suit. Blake learned from many sources that Myra Nell had made a gorgeous Queen. The papers lauded her grace, her beauty, the magnificence of her costumes.
For if Myra could look at him without a qualm, Hollister knew it must be because her mind never quite relinquished the impression of him as he used to be in the old days. And Doris had nothing like that to mitigate the sweeping impression of first sight, which Hollister feared with a fear he could not shake off by any effort of his will. He went on up to his own house.
"Fannie, you go right home, and let your mother give you a good drink of hot lemonade with whiskey in it. And take a foot-bath, too." Fannie coughed again. "Don't you tell me, Rhona. Look out for yourself. There gets trouble yet on this street." Myra drew nearer, a dull feeling in her breast. Rhona spoke easily: "None of the men said anything or did anything, did they?"
"I know," says I. "No use tryin' to play it for old rose, is there? All I'm touchy about is havin' it called red." "For goodness' sake!" says she. "What shade would you call it?" "Why," says I, "I think it sounds more refined to speak of it as pink plus." But Myra seems to be josh-proof.
In contrast to the complacent Myra he saw her as swift and air-borne and radiant, a fire-spirit tenderly stooping to the hearth, and however pitifully he brooded on his wife, he longed to be with Tanis. Then Mrs. Babbitt tore the decent cloak from her unhappiness and the astounded male discovered that she was having a small determined rebellion of her own.
"Good-night get to bed, and don't forget the hot lemonade!" The two girls departed, blowing, as it were, about the corner and out of sight. Rhona turned to Myra, whose face was pallid. "Hadn't you better go back, Miss Craig? You see, I'm used to these things." "No," said Myra, in a low voice. "I've come to stay." She was thinking of tiny Fannie. What!
Bowls of roses stood about; while here and there pots of growing freesias poured their delicate fragrance around. Myra crossed to the hearthrug and stood gazing up at the picture of Lord Ingleby. The gentle refinement of the scholarly face seemed accentuated by the dim light.
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