He too had been like a child. Ever since the day of landing in New York he had planned and existed only for this moment. He had coached himself for it, dressed himself for it, spent his money like water for it. And this was his reward. The sight of him was a blow over the heart for his queen of romance. It blanched her cheeks. It made her physically sick.
Céline had softly shut the door behind the guest, but involuntarily he backed against it. If he had been a few years younger he would have turned like a country boy and rushed away without a word. But there are some things a man can't do; and others he must do. Garth had to say something—the sooner the better.
What he said—or what said itself lamely—was: "You didn't expect to see me?"
"No. I—didn't," Marise as lamely agreed.
"Do you want me to go?" he blundered. "If you do, I will."
"No—no," she breathed a lukewarm protest. "Don't go—please. I—I'm only a little surprised. I remember—seeing you on the ship, of course. And I didn't think——"
"You didn't think I'd force myself on you—by false pretences."
"I was going to say, I didn't think of seeing anyone to-day—whom I'd ever seen before." The ice of her shocked resentment melted slightly in the reflected fire of his pain. "That's all! Do—sit down, won't you? I'm so grateful. I want to tell you how much—how much I thank you for those beautiful things."
As she spoke, the girl's face flushed again. After all, the man had done nothing so monstrous. He couldn't be blamed, perhaps, for not realising that merely by being himself—by being a bounder whom his brother officers rejected—he had broken the charm of the mystery. He couldn't know how undesirable he would seem to a girl of her sort. And the way he had dressed himself up like a provincial actor playing a duke, to make his call, was pathetic! Besides, there was the money he'd spent on her—hundreds and hundreds of dollars which he couldn't afford. Oh, she was glad that she hadn't followed her first fierce impulse, and been rude!
Garth had not accepted the invitation to sit down. He remained standing upright as a stick, and stolid as a stone, against the door. Evidently he stuck to his resolve to take himself away, and was delayed only by the mental puzzle of how best to do it. With a repentant throe the girl sprang up, light and lithe from among her cushions, holding out her hands.