Whatever may have been the exact degree of Koltsoff's attractions for Anne, it was certain that in the course of the drive, thus far, the situation and not the Russian's personality constituted the strong appeal. The girl was far from a snob and yet this—yes, public parading—of a man whose prospective sojourn in Newport had excited so many tea tables for the past fortnight, had furnished so much pabulum for the digestion of society journalists, involved many elements that appealed to her. Chiefly, it must be confessed, she saw the humor of it; otherwise pride might have obtained mastery—there was pride, of course. There was a whirl of things, in fact, and all enjoyable; also, perhaps, a trifle upsetting, inasmuch as her assumption of more than friendly interest in her guest was not altogether the part of wisdom.
The Prince was elated, exalted. It would not have taken a close observer to decide that in his devotion there was no element of the spurious and in his happiness, no flaw. As for Armitage, unseeing, but sensing clearly the drift of things, his eyes were grimly fixed ahead, the muscles of his jaws bulging in knots on either side. This chauffeur business, he felt, was fast becoming a bore.
As he started to turn the corner of the Casino block, Anne, seized by a sudden inspiration, ordered him to back around to the entrance.
"Would n't you like to stop in the Casino for a few minutes and meet a few people?" she asked, smiling at Koltsoff.
The Prince would be only too happy to do anything that Miss Wellington suggested, and so with a warning honk! honk! Armitage ran his car up to the curb. At their side the tide of motor cars, broughams, victorias, coaches, jaunting cars and what not swept unceasingly by. Three sight-seeing barges had paused in their "twelve miles for fifty cents" journey around the island. As the Prince and Anne alighted, a small body of curious loiterers moved forward, among them several photographers, seeing which, Anne lowered an opaque veil over her face, a precaution which the beautiful or famous or notorious of the Newport colony invariably find necessary when abroad.
The sight-seeing drivers, with whips poised eagerly, viewed the alighting couple and then turning to their convoy, announced in voices not too subdued:
"Miss Anne Wellington, daughter of Ronald Wellington, the great railroad magnate, and the Prince of Rooshia are just gettin' out," indicating the car with their whips. "They say they 're engaged to be married—so far only a rumor. Miss Wellington is the one who put little pinchin' crabs in Mrs. Minnie Rensselaer's finger bowls last year and made a coolness between these two great families."
Miss Wellington, whose cheeks felt as though they would burn her veil, saw Armitage's shoulders quivering with some emotion, as she hurried from the sidewalk into the doorway of the low, dark-shingled building and out into the circle of trim lawn and garden.
There were groups around a few of the tables in the two tiers of the encircling promenade, but Anne did not know any of them. They strolled on to a passageway under the structure leading to several acres of impeccable lawn, with seats under spreading trees and tennis courts on all sides. An orchestra was playing Handel's "Largo." The low hanging branches sheltered many groups, dotting the green with vivid color notes. A woman with gray veil thrown back and with a wonderful white gown held court under a spreading maple, half a dozen gallants in white flannels paying homage. All about were gowns of white, of pink, of blue, of light green, Dresden colors, tones of rare delicacy mingling with the emerald turf and the deeper green of the foliage. The spell of mid-summer was everywhere present. To Anne it seemed as if the Summer would last for always and that the Casino would never be deserted again, the grass sere and brown or piled with drifts of snow.
"Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed, as the Prince shook his head negatively at a red-coated page with an armful of camp chairs.