She, Elizabeth, tucked the scented souvenir into the breast of her overall. The signora, standing tall and slim just above the footlights that beat up on to the vivid white and scarlet of her make-up, sent down one more smile—a specially witching one. Then she withdrew. Captain Holiday set up another piece of music on the piano, and the concert proceeded.
It was Peggy's sweetheart, the sergeant, who sang next.
At least, I fancy it was. For, to tell you the truth, I have only the most confused impression of the various faces and figures that appeared, one after another, close to Muriel's piano on that stage.
Sometimes it was one of the red-white-and-blue wounded boys. Sometimes the slim, white-frocked figure of the village schoolmaster's daughter, for whom they brought in a harp.
I was drawn away from it to the drama in my own mind.
I—to have grown to care for Captain Holiday! Fool that I was to have allowed myself——
But, then, I hadn't allowed myself. I had not known it was happening. Now it had irretrievably happened. Tonight had shown me that too plainly.
What fate was upon me? Twice in my life I had been doomed to fall in love with the wrong man. First with Harry Markham, who certainly had done all in his power to bring it about. Now with Captain Dick Holiday, who had never flirted with me for an instant.
Well, I must try to cure myself as soon as possible—that was the only thing.
I must, somehow, take myself severely in hand and refuse to let myself mind so horribly because a woman with a voice to match her lovely face had got Captain Holiday at her feet.