Once or twice, Moore vaguely skirted the subject of his conversation that night with the young fellow who had disappeared, but Vining displayed a bland ignorance of any such conversation or of any place where such a party as the young man had described could be found.
However, Moore did not despair, but continued to cultivate the friendship, in his effeminate and lackadaisical way, until presently Vining knew all about his passion for new and outlandish sensations.
But events were shaping themselves for us both during those weeks, and the end of our period of inactivity came suddenly and at the same time to both.
A few days before Natalie planned to leave New York, Mrs. Furneau arranged a little luncheon to which I had the honor of being invited. Among others, the luncheon included Mrs. Fawcette, and I hope that I shall never be called upon to sit through a more trying two hours. For I had fallen almost unconsciously into the habit of being very much myself when Natalie and I were alone together, and my change of manner when talking to Mrs. Fawcette, and to Mrs. Furneau for that matter, must have been striking.
I caught Natalie looking at me once or twice in a puzzled way during the luncheon, but so far as the quest was concerned, it would have been more costly to strike a false or inconsistent note in their ears than in the ears of Natalie; so that I was forced to carry on a miserably cynical, disillusioned and world-weary conversation with my hostess and with Mrs. Fawcette, sick at heart all the time at the half-concealed surprise in Natalie’s eyes.
It had to be done now, but I regretted adopting such a pose in the first place.
It was a little better after luncheon, however. I had taken upon myself the position of an admirer of both my hostess and Mrs. Fawcette, but I contrived, with some difficulty, to have a word or two with Natalie away from the others. We had always been frank with each other and this conversation was no exception, although she was just a little cool at first.
“I’m—I’m very, very sorry that you are going away,” I told her.
“Are you? I should not imagine that anything would have the power to make you either very, very sorry or very, very glad.”
“Natalie!”