Through his trained eyes, Joan began to note again certain picturesque touches which had charmed her when first she came to Louisville; a primitive, two-wheeled cart bobbing along a crowded street, drawn by mules hitched tandem-fashion, on one of which a dusky muleteer perched sidewise, singing. "That might be Spain," said Nikolai. Or perhaps two mulatto women, dressed in the extreme of fashion even to rouge and face-veils, greeting each other with lifted, outflung hand—a gesture as savage and typically African as if they were only a few weeks out of the jungle, instead of a few generations—Joan found that with Nikolai it was possible to do a good deal of traveling right at home.
Meanwhile the scandal of their association grew and spread; and at last Emily, distressed at the magnitude of the storm of which her friend was the center, decided to interfere. Not with words, however. Long social experience had given her tact, if not wisdom.
Thereafter it began to be noticed that Mrs. Blair and her distinguished friend were not to be seen so often alone together. There was usually a third on their expeditions, and frequently a fourth, whenever Archie could be pressed into service.
"Now that I've got some one to talk to myself, I don't feel so in the way," he confessed naïvely.
Emily formed a habit of dropping in at the Blairs' in the early afternoon (just at the finish of writing hours), so that she had naturally to be included in any plans that were afoot.
"I don't know what's come over you, dear," remarked Joan once, half laughing. "You're positively rushing me nowadays!—or is it Nikolai? I begin to suspect you of designs upon Stefan."
"And why not? He's perfectly eligible. We old maids have to keep a weather eye out, you know—But how do you know it isn't Archie I'm pursuing?" asked Emily calmly. "I appreciated him long before you did, you know."
"Emmy, Emmy, such indelicacy!" sighed Joan. "And him a married party, too! What would your mother say?"
"I'm feeding her Shaw lately in broken doses. She's prepared for almost anything—You don't really mind my trailing you about this way, do you, Joan?" she asked, sobering. "I love hearing you two talk. Am I in the way, if I just keep quiet as a mouse?"
"Mind? Of course not!" Joan kissed her. "You and Stefan are my two dearest friends, and I love to have you friends with each other. Besides, he says you have an 'interesting mind,' my dear. Welcome to our city!"