“Oh, it’s you,” remarked the absorbed Allison, glancing up.
“Yes, sir,” returned Ephraim. “You told me to come for you at seven-fifteen.”
Allison arose, and rubbed the tips of his fingers over his eyes.
“Keep this room locked,” he ordered, and stalked obediently upstairs. For the next thirty minutes he belonged to Ephraim.
He was as carefree as a boy when he reached Jim Sargent’s house, and his eyes snapped when he saw Gail come down the stairs, in a pearl tinted gown, with a triple string of pearls in her waving hair, and a rose-coloured cloak depending from her gracefully sloping shoulders.
Her own eyes brightened at the sight of him. He had been much in her mind to-day; not singly but as one of a group. She was quite conscious that she liked him, but she was more conscious that she was curious about him. She was curious about most men, she suddenly found, comparing them, sorting them, weighing them; and Allison was one of the most perplexing specimens. A little heavy in his evening clothes, but not awkward, and not without dignity of bearing. He stepped forward to shake hands with her, and, for a moment, she found in her an inclination to cling to the warm thrill of his clasp. She had never before been so aware of anything like that. Nevertheless, when she had withdrawn her hand, she felt a sense of relief.
“Hello, Allison,” called the hearty voice of Jim Sargent. “You’re looking like a youngster to-night.”
“I feel like one,” replied Allison, smiling. “I’m on a vacation.” He was either vain enough or curious enough to glance at himself in the big mirror as he passed it. He did look younger; astonishingly so; and he had about him a quality of lightness which made him restless. He had been noted among his business associates for a certain dry wit, scathing, satirical, relentless; now he used that quality agreeably, and when Lucile and Ted, and Arly and Dick Rodley joined them, he was quite easily a sharer in the gaiety. At the theatre he was the same. He participated in all the repartee during the intermissions, and the fact that he found Gail studying him, now and then, only gave him an added impulse. He was frank with himself about Gail. He wanted her, and he had made up his mind to have her. He was himself a little surprised at his own capacity of entertainment, and when he parted from Gail at the Sargent house, he left her smiling, and with a softer look in her eyes than he had yet seen there.
Immediately on his return to his library, Allison threw off his coat and waistcoat, collar and tie, and sat at the table.
“What is there in the ice box?” he wanted to know.