Captain O’Leary was civil about their baggage, and getting them a vehicle to go to the hotel.
“Are ye sure that ye have everything that belongs to ye?” he inquired, his eyes on Isabelle.
What did he mean? Did he mean anything except what he said?
“Yes, thanks,” replied Miss Watts. “So glad you are staying at our hotel. We’ll see you later,” she added, and they rode off, leaving him smiling after them, bare-headed in the sunlight.
“Most charming man I ever met!” exclaimed Miss Watts.
“Umm-m,” said Isabelle.
It was like a miracle to step out on to the terrace of the hotel, after dinner that night. To have left New York on a cold, raw fall day, and in two days to find oneself in this warm, odorous night air. The band played, and white-clad figures walked, danced, sat in groups over coffee. Everywhere relaxed, happy, laughing people.
It was not the season on the island but so many English officers came to recuperate here, so many Americans, shut out of Europe, came down from New York for a week or so, that it was unusually gay.
Mrs. Darlington and Captain O’Leary were dancing when Miss Watts and Isabelle entered the large gallery at the edge of the platform. Mrs. Darlington was regal in evening dress, and the pair attracted much attention as they danced. The Captain bowed as he passed and evidently spoke to his partner about them, for she glanced back at them. She shrugged her shoulders, and he led her in their direction.
“Lovely night, isn’t it? Mrs. Darlington, Miss Watts and Miss Bryce,” he said.