His eyes met hers, frankly. What he meant was that without success he felt he could not enjoy her friendship. At least he thought he meant that. Judy thought he meant something quite different.
Then Noel came in with Connie, and that ended their talk for the present. Connie was looking wonderfully young and extremely handsome, and was no more made up than was permissible. Her lovely gray gown and her triple row of pearls—Morton Freeman’s gift—became her to perfection. She looked a different woman from the painted, haggard creature Eric had first seen in Paris. Millie’s greeting was formal, while Mr. Pendleton’s—he had expected something so very much worse—was almost effusive. A look from Millie, however, soon put him in his place, which, for the rest of the evening, was the smoking room. Chip was talking to Noel, and Judy was just beginning to feel that the evening might not be a fiasco after all, when Helen, assured and smiling, bore down upon Chip.
“Here’s good dancing material, unless I’m much mistaken,” she said. “Any one who appreciates poetry must have a sense of rhythm, and if you have that, you can dance.” So she led him protesting helplessly, to the floor.
“Bother Helen,” said Judy under her breath. “If he ever did learn to dance, I intended teaching him myself.” She felt a little ruffled, although she realized perfectly that Helen’s attentions to Chip were probably occasioned by some little tiff with Gordon.
As she danced with Captain Stevens, she watched Chip, and saw that he was acquitting himself creditably. But it seemed to her all wrong that he should be dancing at all. It didn’t suit him. He wasn’t a dancing man and never would be. She was glad of it. There were plenty of Captain Stevens’ sort about. She suddenly felt a distaste for that form of amusement. In the midst of the moving couples, and the raucous voice of the gramophone, a wave of distaste and boredom came over her. What was she doing with her life? Nothing. It was empty, useless, senseless. She wasn’t wanted anywhere. And now she was trying to drag Chip into that emptiness. To what end? To be told by Helen how to point his toes? Better have left him with his books. He was too good for that sort of thing.
If Chip wanted her, she would marry him. She liked everything about him—even his oddly cut evening clothes, that reminded her of Du Maurier’s drawings. She caught his eyes just then, and there was a rather pleading look in them. He evidently wasn’t enjoying his lesson. Well, the gramophone would run down in a minute, and then they could all stop. She hadn’t spoken a word to Captain Stevens, who, fortunately, thought she was so thrilled by the perfection of his dancing that she didn’t want to spoil a perfect moment by speaking.
She tried to picture herself married to Chip. It would mean managing on nothing a year in that tiny flat, or one like it. To-night she was sure she wouldn’t mind. It would take them months—years perhaps, to know each other well. It would be such fun finding out. And being modern and willing to face facts, she tried to picture herself wheeling a perambulator about Campden Hill on the nurse’s day out. By that time Chip would have had a great success with his book on religions or some other book, and they would have a house. Yes, poverty and all, if Chip wanted her, she would marry him. Only Noel was right. She would have to be bold.…
The gramophone ran down and the dancing stopped. Captain Stevens, full of enthusiasm, exclaimed:
“That was glorious! We must have another fox-trot.” And went to put on another record.
Judy made her way to where Connie was sitting, and on hearing her say she had not yet met Helen, she introduced them. Helen, who had already decided she wouldn’t be above asking Connie’s advice about her trousseau, sat beside her and talked about Cannes and Monte Carlo, while Gordon, who had greeted his aunt with extreme coldness, stood a few feet away and impersonated a young man in the sulks. Judy was about to go to him, when the maid appeared in the doorway, and Judy, seeing that she had something to say to her, crossed the room.