The Moonlit Way Part 33

"Y-yes. But the evening is young yet."

After a moment she drew a light sigh of relief, or perhaps of apprehension, he was not quite sure which.

"But about this other matter--men following and annoying you," he began.

"Not now, Garry. I can't talk about it now. Wait until we are sure about my letter----"

"But, Thessa----"

"Please! If you don't receive it before I leave, I shall come to you again and ask your aid and advice----"

"Will you come _here_?"

"Yes. Now take me in.... Because I am not quite certain about your maid--and perhaps one other person----"

His expression of astonishment checked her for a moment, then the old irresistible laughter rang out sweetly in the moonlight.

"Oh, Garry! It is funny, isn't it!--to be dogged and hunted day and night by a pack of shadows? If I only knew who casts them!"

She took his arm gaily, with that little, courageous lifting of the head:

"Allons! We shall dance again and defy the devil! And you may send your servant down to see whether my letter has arrived--not that maid with slanting eyes!--I have no confidence in her--but your marvellous major-domo, Garry----"

Her smile was bright and untroubled as she stepped back into the studio, leaning on his arm.

"You dear boy," she whispered, with the irresponsible undertone of laughter ringing in her voice, "thank you for bothering with my woes.

I'll be rid of them soon, I hope, and then--perhaps--I'll lead you another dance along the moonlit way!"

On the roof, close to the chimney, the one-eyed man and Soane peered down into the studio through the smeared ventilator.

In the studio Dulcie's first party was drawing to an early but jolly end.

She had danced a dozen times with Barres, and her heart was full of sheerest happiness--the unreasoning bliss which asks no questions, is endowed with neither reason nor vision--the matchless delight which fills the candid, unquestioning heart of Youth.

Nothing had marred her party for her, not even the importunity of Esme Trenor, which she had calmly disregarded as of no interest to her.

True, for a few moments, while Barres and Thessalie were on the balcony outside, Dulcie had become a trifle subdued. But the wistful glances she kept casting toward the long window were free from meaner taint; neither jealousy nor envy had ever found lodging in the girl's mind or heart. There was no room to let them in now.

Also, she was kept busy enough, one man after another claiming her for a dance. And she adored it--even with Trenor, who danced extremely well when he took the trouble. And he was taking it now with Dulcie; taking a different tone with her, too. For if it _were_ true, as some said, that Esme Trenor was three-quarters charlatan, he was no fool.

And Dulcie began to find him entertaining to the point of a smile or two, as her spontaneous tribute to Esme's efforts.

That languid apostle said afterward to Mandel, where they were lounging over the piano:

"Little devil! She's got a mind of her own, and she knows it. I've had to make efforts, Corot!--efforts, if you please, to attract her mere attention. I'm exhausted!--never before had to make any efforts--never in my life!"

Mandel's heavy-lidded eyes of a big bird rested on Dulcie, where she was seated. Her gaze was lifted to Barres, who bent over her in jesting conversation.

Mandel, watching her, said to Esme:

"I'm always ready to _train_--that sort of girl; always on the lookout for them. One discovers a specimen once or twice in a decade.... Two or three in a lifetime: that's all."

"Train them?" repeated Esme, with an indolent smile. "Break them, you mean, don't you?"

"Yes. The breaking, however, is usually mutual. However, that girl could go far under my direction."

"Yes, she could go as far as h.e.l.l."

"I mean artistically," remarked Mandel, undisturbed.

"As what, for example?"

"As anything. After all, I _have_ flaire, even if it failed me this time. But _now_ I see. It's there, in her--what I'm always searching for."

"What may that be, dear friend?"

"What Westmore calls 'the goods.'"

"And just what are they in her case?" inquired Esme, persistent as a stinging gnat around a pachyderm.

"I don't know--a voice, maybe; maybe the dramatic instinct--genius as a dancer--who knows? All that is necessary is to discover it--whatever it may be--and then direct it."

"Too late, O philanthropic Pasha!" remarked Esme with a slight sneer.

"I'd be very glad to paint her, too, and become good friends with her--so would many an honest man, now that she's been discovered--but our friend Barres, yonder, isn't likely to encourage either you or me.

So"--he shrugged, but his languid gaze remained on Dulcie--"so you and I had better kiss all hope good-bye and toddle home."

Westmore and Thessalie still danced together; Mrs. Helmund and Damaris were trying new steps in new dances, much interested, indulging in much merriment. Barres watched them casually, as he conversed with Dulcie, who, deep in an armchair, never took her eyes from his smiling face.

"Now, Sweetness," he was saying, "it's early yet, I know, but your party ought to end, because you are coming to sit for me in the morning, and you and I ought to get plenty of sleep. If we don't, I shall have an unsteady hand, and you a pair of sleepy eyes. Come on, ducky!" He glanced across at the clock:

"It's very early yet, I know," he repeated, "but you and I have had rather a long day of it. And it's been a very happy one, hasn't it, Dulcie?"

As she smiled, the youthful soul of her itself seemed to be gazing up at him out of her enraptured eyes.

"Fine!" he said, with deepest satisfaction. "Now, you'll put your hand on my arm and we'll go around and say good-night to everybody, and then I'll take you down stairs."

So she rose and placed her hand lightly on his arm, and together they made her adieux to everybody, and everybody was cordially demonstrative in thanking her for her party.

So he took her down stairs to her apartment, off the hall, noticing that neither Soane nor Miss Kurtz was on duty at the desk, as they pa.s.sed, and that a pile of undistributed mail lay on the desk.

"That's rotten," he said curtly. "Will you have to change your clothes, sort this mail, and sit here until the last mail is delivered?"

"I don't mind," she said.

"But I wanted you to go to sleep. Where is Miss Kurtz?"