I could not help looking at him again, for I was becoming more and more convinced that he was far from representing the happy man I had been eager to congratulate. Our beverages came, and he tossed his down, hurriedly, as if it furnished a welcome diversion to his thoughts. Five minutes later, I was walking alone to the shop where I buy my tea.
"I wonder what's wrong?" I asked myself, pushing the door open.
CHAPTER XIII
DR. PORTER GOES TO WORK
On Saturday, I received the card Gordon had mentioned. It was a tastefully engraved thing, merely announcing that the Van Rossums would be at home on the Seventeenth of March, from four until seven. In a corner, in smaller letters, was written "To meet Mr. Gordon McGrath, N. A."
I don't know whether I have mentioned the fact that Gordon is really an extremely handsome fellow, in a strong and masculine way, with a pleasant voice and manners that can be quite exquisite, at least when he isn't talking to an old pal. I am not at all surprised that Miss Sophia, or any other woman, for that matter, should have been attracted by his looks, while his great talent and growing reputation must have added to his ability to find favor in her eyes. His is not a descent from an old family, I believe, for the dead and gone McGraths dealt in pottery, in a small way, and left him about a thousand dollars a year, upon which he managed to go abroad and study art, to return, at last, and take New York by storm, at least from the standpoint of portrait painting. The young lady, I am sure, is a woman of ready affection, of easy enthusiasms and hopeful disposition. I honestly believe that she deserves much happiness and that she is capable of giving a sturdy love to a decent fellow, who will not interfere too much with her passion for various sports. An uncomfortable feeling comes to me that she is worthy of something better than Gordon will give her. I may be an old donkey, but, for the life of me, I can see no indication of true love in his feelings. The thought is rather revolting that he is marrying her as a mere incident in a line of conduct mapped out long ago, and it makes me feel less friendly to him. If my deductions are correct, there can be no excuse for a behavior which bears the earmarks of cynicism and cold calculation carried too far. May I be forgiven, if I err. Indeed, I earnestly hope that I am mistaken and that he is a man who conceals sentiments really creditable to him under an exterior less attractive.
Frieda and Frances were in my room, that afternoon, when the card arrived. I passed it to Frieda, who handed it over to her friend. The reception referred to led the former to some discussion of prevailing fashions. The painter of Orion dresses in a manner all her own, while the slender purse of Frances compels a garb of nearly monastic simplicity. But they appear to have a great knowledge of stylish clothing and an interest in it, which must be rather an instinct than the result of deep study.
I have not mentioned Gordon's engagement to them, probably for the reason that the subject is somewhat distasteful to me. Since my friend has not spoken of it to his model, there is no particular reason why I should do so. Let him attend to his own announcing.
In the evening, I took both of them to the movies. This was the result of a conspiracy between Frieda and myself, as we had agreed that it would be best to try and amuse Frances, if possible, and make her forget the morrow's ordeal. Yet, on our way home, the poor child could not help mentioning it.