He shut his eyes exhausted.
Then soon he had to try again. Then they all tried, and were a nuisance to the other skaters. Every one looked at Charlie, and nobody was annoyed because of his beauty and radiant spirits, and his charming apologies when he got in the way.
Judith ached with giggling; even Mariella and Julian were wiping their eyes. Charlie was so excited that he looked quite feverish. In his enthusiasm he threw his arms wide and cried:
‘Oh, darlings!’—and Judith was thrilled because she felt herself included in the endearment.
‘You know,’ said Julian, ‘you’ll be sick to-night, Charlie, if you go on like this.’
So he was still the one to be sick.
A small cold mongrel dog came shivering, wriggling across the ice and rolled over before him, waving limp deprecatory paws. Charlie picked it up and wrapped it in his coat, crooning to it and kissing it.
‘Oh, what sweet paws you have, my chap. Mariella, his paws are particularly heart-breaking. Do look,—all blunt and tufted and uncontrolled. Don’t they melt you? Poor chap,—darling chap. You come along with me for a skate.’
He skated away with the dog in his arms, talking his special foolish language to it, and colliding with people at every other step.
Oh, he was strange, thought Judith, looking after him. She had no key to him: she could only dissect him and make notes, learn him by heart and marvel at him,—never hope to meet him some day suddenly, at a chance look, a trifling word, with that secret “Ah!”—that shock of inmost mysterious recognition, as she had once met Roddy.