XI
When she reached the Hotel Sycamore at seven o’clock he was waiting for her at the entrance.
“On time to the minute!” he exclaimed. “I took you at your word that you’d rather not have me call for you.”
“Thanks; but it was easier this way,” she answered.
He had been so much in her thoughts, and she had considered him from so many angles that at first she was shy in his presence. But by the time they were seated in the dining room her diffidence was passing. He appeared younger than at The Shack, but rather more distinguished; it might have been the effect of his dinner coat; and she noticed that he was the only man in the room who had dressed for dinner.
“You’ve been busy of course and I’ve been up to my eyes in work,” he said; “so we’ll dismiss business. Shall we talk of the weather or see what we can do to save the world from destruction!”
“Oh, I’ve had a lot of ideas about things since I saw you,” she said. “Half of them were right and half wrong.”
“Oh,” he exclaimed, “our old friend conscience!”
“Yes,” she replied, meeting his gaze squarely. “I’ve been trying to decide a thousand questions, but I’ve got nowhere!”
“Terrible! But I’m glad to find that you’re so human; most of us are like that. Honest, now, you weren’t at all sure you wanted to see me tonight!”
“No,” she assented under his smiling gaze; “I didn’t send the answer to your note till nearly noon!”
“So I noticed from the hotel stamp on the envelope! But I’d have been very much disappointed if you’d refused.”
His tone was too serious for comfort. She felt that she must have a care lest he discover the attraction he had for her.
“Oh, you’d have got over it! You know you would. You needn’t have dined alone—Tommy’s out of town, but there’s Irene!”
“Much as I admire Irene she would be no substitute! I was sincerely anxious to see you again, if only to make sure you were still on earth.”
“Oh, I have no intention of leaving it!”
She was finding it easy to be flippant with him. Whatever liking he had for her was no doubt due to the seriousness she had manifested in their talk at The Shack. And the effect of that talk had been to awaken a sympathy and interest on both sides; in her case she knew that it was trifle more than that. She was sorry now that she had kissed him; she was puzzled that she had ever had the courage to do it, though it was such a kiss as she might have given any man older than herself in the same circumstances. She had heard of women, very young women, who were able to exert a strong influence upon men much older than themselves. She felt for the first time the power of sex—at least she had never before thought of it in the phrases that now danced through her brain. If he was annoyed not to find her as interesting and agreeable as at The Shack he was successful in concealing his disappointment. He continued to be unfailingly courteous, meeting her rejoinders with characteristic mockeries until she began to feel ashamed of her lack of friendliness. He deserved better of her than this.
“We’re going to the theatre; did you know that?” he asked toward the end of the dinner. “And we’re going to be fashionably late.”
“‘Stolen Stars!’ Oh, that’s perfectly marvelous,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been just dying to see it!”
“Then it’s lucky that you can live and see it!” Through the performance the thought kept recurring to her that he meant to be kind. No one had ever been so kind or shown her so flattering a deference as Ward Trenton. She was proud to be sitting beside him. When the lights went up after the first act a buzz of talk in one of the boxes drew her attention, and she caught a glimpse of Bob Cummings. At the same moment he saw her and bowed. There were six in the party and she decided that Bob’s wife was the young woman he most rarely addressed. Evelyn was not beautiful; she was gratified to have Trenton’s confirmation of her opinion on this point when she directed his attention to the box party.
“I’ll be here for several days,” said Trenton when they reached the Durland house and he stood for a moment on the doorstep. “Could you give me another evening? Tomorrow night I’m tied up with a business appointment, but may we say day after tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she assented, “but isn’t there danger of seeing too much of me?”
“I’ll take the risk!” he said. “And thank you ever so much.”
She fell asleep glad that she was to see him again.