Martha Twexby stared; surely this was the long-expected come at last—she had secured a lover; and such a lover—handsome, young, and gallant,—the very hero of her dreams. She almost fainted in delighted surprise, and unfastening the flowers with trembling fingers, gave them to Gaston. He placed them in a button-hole of his flannel coat, then before she could scream, or even draw back in time, this audacious young man put his arm round her and kissed her virginal lips. Miss Twexby was so taken by surprise, that she could offer no resistance, and by the time she had recovered herself, Gaston had disappeared into Pierre’s room and closed the door after him.
‘Well,’ she said to herself, as she returned to the bar, ‘if that isn’t a case of love at first sight, my name ain’t Martha Twexby,’ and she sat down in the bar with her nerves all of a flutter, as she afterwards told a female friend who dropped in sometimes for a friendly cup of tea.
Gaston closed the door after him, and found himself in a moderately large room, with one window looking on to the garden, and having a dressing-table with a mirror in front of it. There were two beds, one on each side, and on the farthest of these Pierre was sleeping heavily, not even Gaston’s entrance having roused him. Going over to him, Vandeloup touched him slightly, and with a spring the dumb man sat up in bed as if he expected to be arrested, and was all on the alert to escape.
‘It’s only I, my friend,’ said Gaston, in French, crossing over to the other bed and sitting on it. ‘Come here; I wish to speak to you.’
Pierre rose from his sleeping place, and, stumbling across the room, stood before Gaston with downcast eyes, his shaggy hair all tossed and tumbled by the contact with the pillow. Gaston himself coolly relit his cigarette, which had gone out, threw his straw hat on the bed, and then, curling one leg inside the other, looked long and keenly at Pierre.
‘You saw Madame’s husband to-day?’ he said sharply, still eyeing the slouching figure before him, that seemed so restless under his steady gaze.
Pierre nodded and shuffled his large feet.
‘Did he want to know about his wife?’
Another nod.
‘I thought so; and about the new nugget also, I presume?’