Then from out this solemn train of thought danced another picture—two baffling eyes mocking him. Who was she, this will-o’-the-wisp, that she should hold him at arm’s length in that imperious fashion! He stopped and half closed his lids as if the better to conjure up a vision of her, then shook himself and went on—were not those eyes enough and that light ironical voice in his ears? Why had she snubbed him so—him, who was surely unoffending? And she was a soldier too, marching in the ranks. That pretty, piquant, fascinating sprite had shouldered her knapsack and was fighting a battle royal. Dr. Ware had told him so long ago, but somehow he only now began to realize it since Jack had expressed it in Julie’s simple way. Jove! the very simplicity of it was impressive! Thoughts like these carried Landor out into the country and brought him back to the club two hours later in an unusually quiet frame of mind. The men with whom he habitually fraternized found him dull and unresponsive and to his inexpressible relief they left him to finish the evening alone.
CHAPTER XI
Mrs. Lennox was giving one of those little dinners for which she was justly famous. To-night it was in honor of Monsieur Jules Grémond, the young African explorer who was paying a flying visit to the States. To meet him were Miss Davis, a débutante whose prettiness could always be counted on to make a picture; Miss Marston, whose cleverness it was thought would interest him; and Kenneth Landor, whose attentions to Miss Davis had been rather pronounced during the season. Opposite his wife across the round table sat Mr. Lennox, than whom there was no more delightful host.
They had not been long gathered about the table before Mrs. Lennox was conscious that her guests were lacking in that subtle attraction toward one another which is absolutely indispensable to the success of a small dinner. Monsieur Grémond, between her and Miss Marston, appeared to be listening in a most politely conventional manner to the girl who was making commonplace conversation with frequent pauses during which he turned to Mrs. Lennox, with whom he immediately fell into interesting talk. Kenneth Landor was singularly distrait. At first he had appropriated Miss Davis with his usual devoted air, but after a bit this languished and he, too, turned so often to Mrs. Lennox, next whom he sat, that Miss Davis first pouted and then in a fit of pique plunged into a violent flirtation with Mr. Lennox, much to that person’s amusement. Mrs. Lennox found it necessary to throw herself into the breach here, there and everywhere, but under her skillful manipulation the talk at last became general and animated.
The interest of the table naturally centered on Grémond, who managed adroitly to keep the conversation off himself, thereby winning the admiration of his hostess—she rather enjoyed a lion who did not roar. Finally, with the arrival of the savory which followed the dessert—for Mrs. Lennox had adopted this English custom, she had the satisfaction of seeing Miss Marston and her husband deep in talk, Miss Davis and Kenneth “frivoling” as was their wont and was herself free to enjoy a tête-à-tête with her guest of honor.
“Your country is a source of endless interest to me, Madame,” the Frenchman was saying, “but it is as nothing to your women. They rival ours—even surpass them.”
“I am afraid we are in danger of being told that too often,” laughed his hostess, gaily.
“Some things bear repetition, Madame.”
“Have you known many of us, Monsieur?” she asked, interested. “I think you said you had been over here before.”
“Yes, nearly two years ago, before I started off to Africa. It was indeed the cause of my immediate start for Africa,” he said with a retrospective air. “Then, too, Madame, America became very dear to me through my friendship with Sidney Renshawe—we were like brothers together in Paris.”