Any one with half an eye could have seen how frequently society women whom he knew stopped to greet him. He made a tall, handsome figure as he bent over them, chatting about the dinner of the night before, or the cotillon, or the play, or the new lot of débutantes. They thought him fascinating—and he was. When a woman spoke to him, she spoke directly into his brilliant black eyes. In her presence he was always in a state of irrepressible good-humor, agreeing with her in everything, and skilful enough, you may be sure, never to criticise her rival. That he forced a would-be friendly smile from others, in passing, of no acquaintance whatsoever, was purely his own affair—and theirs. He always knew what to say instantly, no matter who she was, or where he imagined they had last met. No Italian could have been more gallant, and no Frenchman more courteous or experienced.
He had seen Sue’s trim, slender little figure ahead of him step from the overcrowded stage, gain the sidewalk, and turn rapidly down Fifth Avenue. Instantly he quickened his pace, drawing up to her, Sue unconscious that he was following her, until he smilingly lifted his hat.
“Hello, little playmate!” he laughed. “And where are you going, pray tell?” Sue started and turned.
“Why, Mr. Lamont! Why, I’m going home,” said she. “Isn’t it a glorious day! The stage was so noisy and stuffy I couldn’t stand it any longer. I just had to get out and walk.”
“Home,” he ventured, with the vestige of a sigh. “May I come?”
“Why—why, yes, of course you may,” she laughed back, “if you’d really like to,” swept off her feet by their sudden meeting and his quick proposal.
“Like to!” he smiled. “If you only knew how good you are to ask me. I’m so wretchedly lonely to-day.”
“Now, Mr. Lamont, that’s a fib and you know it. You don’t mean to tell me you’re lonely on a day like this? It’s too glorious. Did you ever see such a sky?”
“I hadn’t noticed it,” he confessed, slipping deftly to her left side. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, looking up. “Marvellous! It’s blue, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t think it was green, did you, like the moon? They say it’s really made of green cheese,” she laughed mischievously. “Isn’t it just the most adorable blue? Don’t you think New York skies are wonderful? Didn’t you ever wish you were a swallow, and could go skimming about in that exquisite space? Think of it.”