“You are my big brother from Bison, Derry, and I’m not going to forgo the pleasure of your company if all Newport lined the road and bawled, ‘Send him away!’ But do hurry. Mary Van Ralten will forgive everything except unpunctuality.”
The nebulous protest on Power’s lips faded into silence. “On such a night I can dispense with hat and overcoat,” he said. “Your carriage is a closed landau, I suppose?”
“Yes. After the play you can escort me to the Breakers—that is the name of the house we have rented—and Sam, our coachman, will take you home.... Oh, there he is, waiting. Mrs. Van Ralten’s, Sam.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said the negro, who had brought a carriage and pair to the doorway when he caught sight of his mistress. A negro footman opened the door, and Nancy entered, the brilliant moonlight gleaming for an instant on the sheen of a white silk stocking. Power seated himself by her side, and the horses dashed off. He felt the soft folds of her dress touching him. When she turned slightly to say something about the marvelous nights which tempered the heat-wave at Newport, her right shoulder and elbow pressed him closely. Some subtle fragrance came from her that stirred him almost to a frenzy of longing; yet he dared not flinch away into a corner of the carriage. Perforce, he schooled his voice to utter the platitudes of the moment. Yes, he had been in Newport three whole days, and had not the remotest notion that she was there. He had come to buy horses, and might remain another week. Well, he would remain, now that they had met; for he was sure he would find a good deal to tell her of Bison and its folk once he had got over the novelty and unexpectedness of this meeting.
And all the time his heart was pounding madly, throbbing so furiously that he feared lest she should become aware of its lack of restraint, and he stooped forward in a make-believe glance at some building they were passing.
“That is the Casino,” she said, misinterpreting his action, or pretending to—Heaven alone knows the extent of a woman’s divination where a man is concerned! “We play tennis there, in the evenings, when it’s so hot during the day. Are you a tennis-player, Derry?... Oh, I’m sorry! I quite forgot.”
“I have been arousing your sympathy by false pretense,” he said, and the laughter in his voice demanded a real effort. “I can walk and ride and jump and dance as well as ever, and I have taught three of the ranchmen to play tennis quite creditably. So, if the Newport stores run to flannels and rubber shoes——”
“Derry,” she cooed, “you are not such a fraudulent person as you imagine. If you knew how much you have told me tonight about yourself, you would be awfully surprised, as they say in London. But here we are at Mrs. Van Ralten’s. Now, be nice to everybody; for I mean you to have a real good time in Newport. People here can be very pleasant acquaintances if you take them the right way.”