“Oh no! Please don’t! Percy will be here directly.”
He got up.
“Good-bye. I’ll ring you up to-morrow. It’s some little consolation for being an idle man to have leisure to fulfil your commands.”
She answered that he was very good and she was very pleased with him, and he went away.
CHAPTER IV
RUPERT AT RUMPELMEYER’S
AT a quarter to four precisely, in a heavy shower of rain, Madeline sprang out of a taxicab in St. James’s Street, and tripped into Rumpelmeyer’s. As it was pouring lavishly and she had no umbrella, she hastily and enthusiastically overpaid the cabman, with a feeling of superstition that it might bring her luck; besides, a few drops of rain, she reflected, would ruin her smart new hat if she waited for change. It was a very small hat, over her eyes, decorated with a very high feather, in the form of a lightning-conductor. She was charmingly dressed in a way that made her look very tall, slim and elegant. Her rather long, sweet face was paler than usual, her sincere brown eyes brighter. She had come to have tea with Rupert.
From the back room, waiting for her, rose the worshipped hero. He was, as she had described him, very much like a Vandyke picture. He had broad shoulders, and a thin waist, a pointed brown beard, regular features, very large deep blue eyes, and an absurdly small mouth with dazzling white teeth. If he was almost too well dressed—so well that one turned round to look at his clothes—his distinguished manners and grand seigneur air carried it off. One saw it was not the over-dressing of the nouveau riche, but the rather old-world dandyism of a past generation. This was the odder as the year was 1913, and he was exactly thirty. He always wore a buttonhole—to-day it was made of violets to match his violet socks—and invariably carried a black ebony stick, with an ivory handle.
With a quiet smile on his small mouth, he greeted and calmed the agitated Madeline.