“I’ve got something for you,” Gordon said suddenly.
“I hope it’s pretty,” she replied, leaning forward, resting against his shoulder.
He brought from his pocket the slender, looped necklace of seed pearls. It was faintly visible in the dark, the diamond clasp made a small glint. She took it eagerly from him. “I’ll light a match,” he told her. In the minute, orange radiance the pearls shimmered in her fingers.
“But it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, unable to suppress her surprise at his unerring choice; “it’s exactly right. Have you been to Stenton? however could you get this here?”
“Oh, I know a few things,” he assured her; “I got an eye. Let me put it on for you.” He took it from her, and his hands fumbled about her smooth throat. He required a long time to fasten it. The intoxication of the subtlety of her sex welled from hand to head. He kissed her still lips until he ceased from sheer lack of breath. He drew her close to him, with an arm about her pliant waist.
“I’ve been thinking of you in those pretty clothes,” he admitted.
“All lace and webby pink silk and ribbands underneath,” she reminded him; “but only for you, and satin trains and diamonds for the others.”
Her words winged like little flames into his imagination. He whispered in her ear, “Richmond.” She stiffened in his arms as if that single word had the power to freeze her. “We’ll see, we’ll see,” he added hastily, fearing to dispel her complacency. “Paris is a long way ... a man could never come back.”
“I didn’t know you were so cautious,” she challenged; “I thought you were bolder—that’s your reputation in Greenstream, a bad one for a man or woman to cross.”
“So I’ve been,” he acknowledged; “I told you I wouldn’t have hesitated a while back.”