She listened and seemed to understand but made little comment.
Once she flashed a curious speculative look at him.
And, on his part, though he saw her lovelier than ever, he was chilled nevertheless. Grey veils seemed to be falling between him and the glow of his desire, falling one by one.
"Surgit amari aliquid?"—was it that?—but he could not let the moment escape him. It must and should be captured.
He made an excuse about cigarettes, and chocolates for her, and left the box, hurrying to the little bar in the promenade, drinking there almost furiously, tasting nothing, waiting, a strange silent figure with a white face, until he felt the old glow re-commencing.
It came. The drugged mind answered to the call, and he went back to the box with light footsteps, full of riotous, evil thoughts.
Rita had withdrawn her chair into the box a little.
She looked up with a smile of welcome as he entered and sat down by her side. She began to eat the chocolates he had brought, and he watched her with greedy eyes.
Suddenly—maid of moods as she was—she pushed the satin-covered box away.
He felt a little white arm pushed through his.