“Yes, thanks. I’m all right now.”
“Have a cigar?”
“No, thanks.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me I’ll hit the hay. I’m not the night-hawk I used to be. Gettin’ old, hey! I’ll leave the rounder game to you young bloods. Good-night, young chap.”
When he had gone Mrs. Belmire came impulsively to Hugh and knelt by the side of his chair.
“My poor darling! Are you really feeling better? We talked low so as not to disturb you. Old Fetterstein’s not a bad sort. You mustn’t mind him. You know he wants me to go to Vichy with him. He will pay all my debts.”
“Are you going?”
“I don’t want to. I want to go with you. Let’s go to Venice. It’s a dream.”
He looked at her in a dazed way. She put her arms around his neck.
“Oh, come. You’re the only man I love in all the world. In a few more years I will be passée; but now I am at my very best. Look at me. Don’t I please you? Take me. I’ll be everything to you as long as you like. When you tire of me, I’ll go. I’ll be yours, all yours. I’m not fickle. I’ll love you, you alone. You won’t regret it. We’ll live in places that glitter and glow; we will drink to the full the wine of life. Oh, take me, take me....”