“Ah! how are you?” said Braybrooke, addressing the painter with almost exaggerated cordiality.
Garstin nodded in his usual offhand way. He did not dislike Braybrooke. When Braybrooke was there he perceived him, having eyes, and having ears heard his voice. But hitherto Braybrooke had never succeeded in conveying any impression to the mind of Garstin. On one occasion when Braybrooke had been discussed in Garstin’s presence, and Garstin had said: “Who is he?” and had received a description of Braybrooke with the additional information: “But he comes to your private views! You have known him for years!” he had expressed his appreciation of Braybrooke’s personality and character by the exclamation: “Oh, to be sure! The beard with the gentleman!” Braybrooke did not know this, or he would certainly have disliked Garstin even more than he did already.
As Garstin’s nod was not followed by any other indication of humanity Braybrooke addressed Miss Van Tuyn, and told her of his call at Claridge’s.
“And as you were not to be found I paid a visit to Miss Cronin.”
“She must have bored you very much,” was the charming girl’s comment. “She has the most confused mind I know.”
What an opening for Braybrooke! But he could not take it because of Garstin, who stood by cruelly examining the stream of humanity which flowed past them hypnotized by the shops.
“May I—shall I be in the way if I turn back with you for a few steps?” he ventured, with the sort of side glance at Garstin that a male dog gives to another male dog while walking round and round on a first meeting. “It is such a pleasure to see you.”
Here he threw very definite admiration into the eyes which he fixed on Miss Van Tuyn.
She responded automatically and begged him to accompany them.
“Dick is leaving me at the Marble Arch,” she said. “The reason he gives is that he is going to take a Turkish Bath in the Harrow Road. But that is a lie that even an American girl brought up in Paris is unable to swallow. What are you really going to do, Dick?”