The second day, she had ventured downstairs, but only for lunch, and leaning upon the arm of Mrs Cork, whom she had first gone to seek. Quelch was kept at bay by her frail air of languor. His eyes consumed her, but she would not meet them, and to his urgent declaration that a drive in the cool of the day would do her good and blow all her ills away, she only smiled mournfully and kept tight hold of Mrs Cork’s arm. She did not intend to have her ills blown away.
And now, on the third morning, with a frown between her brows, she pondered the continuation of her programme. It was certain that she could not be indisposed for ever and stay shut up in her room. For one thing, she was a healthy creature, and liked air and light and sunshine. But the fear of Quelch and the fires she knew she had set blazing in him worried her. Why could he not behave himself, she thought resentfully. Life would be so pleasant and delicious but for him. She no longer required the thrill of his passionate admiration. The diamonds gave her thrill enough.
Valeria Cork, too, she felt, could not always be relied upon to stand by, lending the protection of her presence. That lady had interests and affairs of her own, and sometimes there was that in her manner which signified, very politely, that she did not care to be made use of. She was a card-woman, too, and would sit for hours playing with permanent guests at the hotel. Loree did not care for cards, and she could find no refuge in bridge. However she cared very much for dancing and was looking forward with immense pleasure to the ball that evening. She and Valeria were going together, and the latter had been so far accommodating as to promise to introduce plenty of dancing partners. In this way Loree hoped to evade the too close society of Quelch. In the meantime it was rather tiresome that the only place of real security seemed to be her own room. Because of this she lingered there all morning and had her lunch brought up. But it was a lovely day, and she longed for a walk. Rain in the night had cooled the air, and it was a shame to remain indoors. At about four o’clock, therefore, she ventured down. There was no one about except two stout ladies with dominant noses playing picquet. So she had tea in the drawing-room, and looked at the papers, and set out in search of a tobacconist’s.
The main street was a good way off, but she reached it at last and bought and dispatched Pat’s tobacco. Then she looked into the window of the shop next door, a fascinating window full of old silver, unusual jewellery, and snuff-boxes. Now, she collected little boxes and there was one that particularly caught her fancy—a lovely little Louis Seize in pale blue enamel with Cupids and forget-me-nots festooning the tender legend:
Pour toute ma vie
J’aime ma mie.
She determined to buy it for herself as a birthday present, though the price would not make much of a hole in Pat’s fifty-pound note. In fact, it was marked at such a low figure that its genuineness seemed doubtful. But a suave person in the dim and dingy interior reassured her.
“These are all pledged goods, madame, so we can afford to sell them cheaply.”
“Pledged? What is that?”
“Well—pawned, madame.”
“Do you mean that this is a pawnshop?”