II
Nickie welcomed her with a cry of joy.
“Here’s my pal!” she said, triumphantly. “Now you’ll all have to be good little boys. Pem, here’s Mr. Brown and Mr. Caswell and Mr. Hadley. Look ’em over!”
But the only one Pem wanted to see was Caswell—the boy who had been singing, the boy who must not look like some one else. Well, he didn’t. That one had been fair and this one was dark. There was no resemblance in a single feature; and yet the spell was not broken.
There was some quality in this man that stirred intolerable memories to life in Pem—something in his voice, in his smile, in the hearty grip of his hand. She looked and looked at him, trying in vain to catch that fugitive likeness.
She had never been so lovely, or so utterly careless of her own beauty. Her eyes were wonderfully luminous and soft in her pale face. Her hair, a little disordered by the hat she had pulled off, floated about her forehead in tiny, misty threads. She hadn’t a trace of that cool, quiet manner now.
Under that look of hers young Caswell grew suddenly ardent.
“I say!” he began. “You know—you’re simply—simply marvelous!”
“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Nickie, delighted. “Now sing some more, Cas. That’s what brought her to.”
“No,” said Pem. “Please don’t.”
The spell was slowly dissolving. She could see Caswell without illusions now—an ordinary nice-looking young fellow, unfortunately a little the worse for drink just now, like the others.
She had come in without any idea of staying, but for Nickie’s sake she resigned herself to a wearisome half hour. This was Nickie’s idea of a good time, and these were Nickie’s “awfully nice boys”! One of them offered Pem his pocket flask, but she declined, civilly enough, and sat down on the piano stool, so that Caswell couldn’t sing again.
She was quite aware that he was looking at her all the time. Very well, let him look! She felt a thousand miles away from him and the others, and somehow very lonely.
This sudden change disturbed Nickie. Now that she had got Pem here at last, it would never do to let the party prove a fizzle. She whispered to one of the men, and then called out:
“Pem, get your hat on! We’re all going up to the Devon to dance!”
“No, thanks,” said Pem firmly.
There was a chorus of protests.
“Oh, come on, Pem!” Nickie entreated. “I don’t want to go alone with three fellows, and I’m dying for a dance. Please, Pem, just for an hour!”
“No, thanks,” said Pem again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel up to it. I’m tired.”
And then, beside her, she heard a voice which, in spite of herself, she could not hear unmoved.
“I say, Miss Pembroke! Please!”
She shook her head, but she smiled, for once more she caught a glimpse of that curious likeness, and it made her gentle toward him. What was it? What could she see in this flushed, unsteady boy to put her in mind of that other, fine and stern, a young knight?
“Look here!” said Caswell, bending lower, so that only she could hear. “Please don’t—don’t judge me by this. I—I’m—I can’t tell you how sorry I am for you to see me—like this. I—I don’t do it, you know, I give you my word. You see, I’ve[Pg 142] just come back from Melbourne, and this was my first night on shore, and—if you’d just give me another chance!”
“All right, I will,” said Pem suddenly. “I’ll see you again. I’ll be glad to.”
And she meant it. She no longer wanted to deny the unreasonable, half scornful liking she felt for this man. She did like him, and that was enough.
“Oh, but, look here!” he cried. “We’re sailing to-morrow for Halifax. I’ve only got this one night!”
“But you’ll come back to New York, won’t you?”
“Oh, some day!” he answered bitterly. “God knows when—I don’t. We’re running all over after cargoes. We may come back here from Halifax, and we may go anywhere. It may be months before I see you again.”
“Would that be so awful?” asked Pem, with a smile.
But he didn’t smile.
“Yes,” he said. “It would—for me!”
Pem was annoyed at her own response to his emotion. She wanted to laugh at him, and she could not. This was the worst sort of nonsense—the sort of thing Nickie was always telling her about. Nickie would call this “thrilling.” Well, Pem didn’t.
“I’m sorry for you,” she said ironically; but, as if there were magic in his eyes, the words turned to truth when she looked at him. “Please don’t be silly!” she added, in a quite different voice—gentle, almost appealing.
“The only silly thing would be to pretend it wasn’t like this,” said he. “I didn’t want it to be this way, but—it just happened. As soon as I saw you—”
Pem jumped up.
“All right, Nickie!” she called out. “I’ll go with you!”