Autumn came: “Jane and I went to-day to gather fox grapes. Mother is making jelly and so is Jane. The vines were a great tangle. Shut in among them we seemed a thousand miles away from the world. Jane made herself a wreath of grape leaves, and looked like a nymph of the woods. I told her so and she gazed at me with those great gray eyes of hers and said, ‘Evans, when the gods were young they must have lived like this—with grapes for their food, and the birds to sing for them, and the little wild things of the wood for company. It would be heavenly, wouldn’t it?’ She’s a queer kid. Life with her wouldn’t be humdrum. She’s so intensely herself.”
“We talked a bit about the war. I told her I should go if France needed me. I am not going to wait until this country gets into it. We owe a debt to France....”
He stopped there, and closed the book. He did not care to read farther. Oh, his debt to France had been paid. And after that day with Jane among the tangled vines things had moved faster—and faster.
He didn’t want to think of it....
CHAPTER XII
THE ICE PALACE
The evening wrap which Jane wore with her old white chiffon was of a bright Madonna blue with a black fur collar. Jane, as has been said, loved clear color, and when she dyed dingy things she brought them forth lovely to the eye and tremendously picturesque.
The first effect on Frederick Towne of her bobbed black head above the fur collar was enchanting. It was only later that he discovered her shabbiness. That initial glimpse had, however, shown him what money could do for her.
Frederick’s house was a place where polished floors seemed to dissolve in pools of golden light, where a grand staircase led up to balconies, where the ceilings were almost incredibly high, the vistas almost incredibly remote. Frederick, coming towards her through those pools of golden light—blonde, big and smiling, brought a swift memory of another blonde and heroic figure, not in evening clothes—but in silver armor—“Nun sei bedankt, mein lieber Schwan,” Lohengrin! That was it.