The Streets of Ascalon Part 57

"That's why I hesitate to write. Sir Charles is in love with Strelsa; anybody can see that and everybody knows it. And it isn't likely that a child like Chrysos could swerve him."

"Then you'd better send him or her away, hadn't you?"

"I don't know what to do," said Molly, vexed. "June is to be quiet and peaceful at Witch-Hollow, and Sir Charles wanted to be here and Mrs.

Lacy asked me to have Chrysos because she needed the quiet and calm. And _look_ what she's done!"

"It's probably only a young girl's fancy."

"Then it ought to be nipped in the bud. But her mother wants her here and Sir Charles wants to be here and if I write to her mother she'll let her remain anyway. I'm cross, Ricky. I'm tired, too--having dictated letters and signed checks until my head aches. Where have you been?"

"Prowling."

"Well, luncheon is nearly ready, and Strelsa isn't back. Are you going to New York this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"Please don't."

"I think it's better," he said lightly.

"All right. Run away if you want to. Don't say another word to me; I'm irritated."

Luncheon was not very gay; Chrysos adored Sir Charles in silence, but so sweetly and un.o.btrusively that the Baronet was totally unaware of it.

Molly, frankly out of temper, made no effort of any sort; her husband in his usual rude health and spirits talked about the Stinger to everybody.

Strelsa, who had arrived late, and whose toilet made her later still, seemed inclined to be rather cheerful and animated, but received little encouragement from Molly.

However, she chatted gaily with Sir Charles and with Quarren, and after luncheon invited Sir Charles to read to her and Chrysos, which the grave and handsome Englishman did while they swung in old-fas.h.i.+oned hammocks under the maple trees, enjoying the rare treat of hearing their own language properly spoken.

Molly had a book to herself on the veranda--the newest and wickedest of French yellow-covered fiction; her husband returned to the Stinger; Quarren listened to Sir Charles for a while, then without disturbing the reading, slipped quietly off and wandered toward the kennels.

Here for a while he caressed the nervous, silky Blue Beltons, then strolled on toward the hemlock woods, a morning paper, still unread, sticking out of his pocket.

When he came to the rustic seat which was his objective, he lighted his pipe, unfolded the paper, and forced his attention on the first column.

How long he had been studying the print he did not know when, glancing up at the sound of footsteps on the dry leaves, he saw Strelsa coming in his direction. He could see her very plainly through the hemlocks from where he sat but she could not as yet see him. Then the fat waddling dog ahead of her, barked; and he saw the girl stop short, probably divining that the rustic seat was occupied.

For a few moments she stood there, perhaps waiting for her dog to return; but that fat sybarite had his chin on Quarren's knees; and, presently, Strelsa moved forward, slowly, already certain who it was ahead of her.

Quarren rose as she came around the curve in the path:

"If you don't want me here I'm quite willing to retire," he said, pleasantly.

"That is a ridiculous thing to say," she commented. Then she seated herself and motioned him to resume his place.

"I was rather wondering," she continued, "whether I'd see you before you leave."

"Oh, are you driving this afternoon?"

"No."

"Then I should certainly have looked for you and made my adieux."

"Would you have remembered to do it?"

He laughed:

"What a question! I might possibly forget my own name, but not anything concerning you."

She looked down at the paper lying between them on the bench, and, still looking down, said slowly:

"I am sorry for what Langly did this morning.... He has expressed his contrition to me----"

"_That_ is all right as long as he doesn't express it to me,"

interrupted Quarren, bluntly.

"He means to speak to you----"

"Please say to him that your report of his mental anguish is sufficient."

"_Are_ you vindictive, Mr. Quarren?" she asked, reddening.

"Not permanently. But I either like or I dislike. So let the incident close quietly."

"Very well--if you care to humiliate me--him----"

"Dear Mrs. Leeds, he isn't going to be humiliated, because he doesn't care. And you know I wouldn't humiliate you for all the world----"

"You will unless you let Langly express his formal regrets to you----"

He looked up at her:

"Would _that_ make it easier for you?"

"I--perhaps--please do as you see fit, Mr. Quarren."

"Very well," he said quietly.

He caressed the dog's head where it lay across his knees, and looked out over the water. Breezes crinkled the surface in every direction and wind-blown dragon-flies glittered like swift meteors darting athwart the sun.

She said in a low voice: "I hope your new business venture will be successful."

"I know you do. It is very sweet of you to care."

"I care--greatly.... As much as I--dare."

He laughed: "Don't you dare care about me?"

She bit her lip: "I have found it slightly venturesome on one or two occasions."