Though she locked a friendly hand in John's as well as Rodrigo's arm, it was to the latter that she addressed the bulk of her animated chatter. She had sized John up in a flash as a serious-minded young man who would not be interested in her charms, though he looked quite formidably rich and had a pleasant enough face. Rodrigo strove manfully to include his friend in the conversation and forestalled several attempts on the diplomatic John's part to desert them. Rodrigo did not intend to be left alone with this creature again if he could help it, even in broad daylight.
During the rest of the voyage he really made a determined effort to avoid her. Since the sea soon turned rough and she was a poor sailor, this was not so difficult. To aid him, Gilbert Christy very quickly became aware that Sophie and this too handsome Italian were old friends, and being too wise to send her flying into his rival's arms by quarreling with her about him, the really infatuated Englishman contrived to keep constantly by his ingenue's slim shoulder.
It was not until a day out of New York that, somewhat pale and listless from her indisposition, she established herself in her steamer chair again, Christy sitting in the next chair and guarding her like a very red-faced Cerberus. When the ship docked on a typically blustery New York March morning, she found an opportunity at last to give Rodrigo an important message. Count Torriani and John Dorning, having landed, were standing impatiently beside their luggage in the huge barn-like shed on the dock when, seizing the moment when Christy had stopped some twenty feet away to bark instructions at the nervous little company manager, Sophie came gliding swiftly between the luggage littering the place.
"I've ducked over a second to say good-bye," she greeted them, though she was looking at Rodrigo. "I'm stopping at the Biltmore, and for goodness' sake, call me up as soon as you get the chance. I'm just a poor English girl all alone in a strange, big city, you know." She looked around, shrugged impatiently. "Oh, dear, the great Christy is beckoning. So long, old dears, and please give me a ring." She blew them a kiss and fled.
CHAPTER V
Like most of its neighbors in the gold-plated Fifth Avenue shopping district intersected by the Fifties, Dorning and Son resembled, from the pavement, more a monastery than a business establishment. Its austere concrete and marble exterior quietly bespoke class and dignity. The graceful little Chinese vase standing chastely alone in exactly the correct spot in the show window seemed a warning to the passers-by on the other side of the highly polished glass that only true lovers of art were wanted within. The reputation of Dorning and Son for integrity and quality was as high as their prices. The original John Dorning, who founded the business in a tiny showroom on Fourteenth Street, had been resting quietly under the sod for twenty years. He had had no impulses in that time to turn over in his grave. He had inculcated in his son the ideals upon which the delicately contrived wedding of art and commerce that was Dorning and Son had been based. The son had later sown the seeds of the same ideals in the character of the third John Dorning. In his keeping, the ideals flourished as never before.
Rodrigo, who had the true aristocrat's respect and liking for the things of the spirit, caught something of this atmosphere immediately he stepped from John Dorning's roadster and walked beside his friend across the broad sidewalk toward the plain bronze entrance door of Dorning and Son.
The uniformed elderly doorman's face lit up as he recognized young Dorning. John shook hands with him with unaffected pleasure.
They entered an austere region that resembled the art gallery of a very well cared for and sumptuous private residence. Soft, deep carpets covered the floor. Painted masterpieces adorned the walls. Exquisite furniture and objets d'art, placed with the unostentatious grace of the expert, harmonized into a paradise for the artist and collector. A railed balcony ran around three sides of the large, rectangular shaped room. Under the balcony were located the offices of John Dorning, the manager, Henry Madison, and John Dorning's father.