“I’ll go,” she said.
“Moriarty,” cried Jinky, “you’re a little gentleman! Hurry up now! I’ll help you.”
Geraldine needed assistance. Her hands were so unsteady that she was glad to let Jinky pin up her hair and hook her belt.
“Now, step!” said Jinky. “And see here, Moriarty—better let Sambo run you down to the Abercrombies’ and tell them not to telephone here. See Olive Abercrombie yourself; she’s got a down on Sambo. Tell her not to say anything about anything. She’ll understand.[Pg 306]”
Geraldine put on her hat and took up a scarf—a funny, old-fashioned knitted scarf that made Jinky smile. She could never afterward think of that evening without remembering the old scarf.
VIII
Sambo sat in his car, smoking, and contemplating the starry sky. He was very unhappy, very much troubled, and so intent upon his own affairs that Serena’s lateness had caused him no concern whatever. Indeed, when he thought of her at all, it was to wish that she would never come. He wished that he could start up his car and drive off somewhere—into another world.
Yet the world he was in was beautiful to-night. His car was drawn up beside a coppice of pine trees—brave, tall trees standing black against the sky, which was filled with the mild light of the stars. Behind him lay the sea. He could hear it breaking quietly on the sand, and the salt savor of it was in the air, with the aromatic fragrance of the pines. A beautiful world, and he was young and vigorous, and his pockets were well filled, and still he was saying to himself:
“I’m so sick of the whole show—so blamed sick of the whole thing!”
His quick ear caught the sound of footsteps hurrying along the road. He sighed, sat up a little straighter, and waited, with a resigned and somber expression upon his face. Now he realized that Serena was very late, and he thought he would be justified in being rather disagreeable about it. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to go to the Abercrombies’. He was mortally weary of all this.