“They do cook well here.”
“Cook! Cook!” he answered, looking at her quizzically. “Do you really think I referred to the food? Of course you don’t. You’re too sensible; I can buy food of the best every day, but I’m sorry to say I—can’t have you opposite me always. That’s very badly put, isn’t it? Never mind, a compliment prettily paid is generally a stock one, trotted out on all proper and some improper occasions; but joking apart, it is a treat to meet with a woman who can keep up her own end in a game of conversation. Especially if she’s——”
“I know what you were going to say——”
“Then I needn’t say it. People are so desperately stupid, or if they’re not then they’re so desperately in earnest. A clever woman who can frivol is delightful.”
“So is a clever man.”
“Let’s drink our mutual admiration, then,” said West, looking at her over his glass of sparkling Rhine wine; “let’s form a mutual admiration society, strictly limited to two; the only rule being that we shall dine together at suitable and short intervals. At present the club’s confined to one member, myself; will you join it? And consider to-night the first meeting—of many?”
“It would be very jolly. But I think you’d better wait till the evening is over before you decide whether I’m a properly qualified member, don’t you?”
“No—I don’t, and I guess that what you really mean is that you’re not so sure about me. We’ll pass a new rule then at once: any member tired of any other member is to confess candidly and to retire from the club. Now you’re safe——”
“And—so are you.”
After due consultation with Marian and an evening paper, West had telephoned for a box at the Empire, luckily securing one that had been returned at the last moment, the house being otherwise full, it being the first night of a new ballet. Marian was passionately fond of music and sat behind the curtain of the box, feeling almost as if she were alone in the vast, crowded theater, listening intently to the swinging rhythms of the orchestra. West sat close beside her, watching her face in the glow reflected from the brilliantly-lit stage. She looked singularly lovely, her beauty soft and refined, a glow of quiet content in her eyes; he noted the delicate molding of her arms and her tapering fingers as she held up her opera glasses; he saw the gentle rise and fall of the ruby star nestling in her bosom; she intoxicated him. He old! No, young, young, young—an impassioned youth in love: his mistress a goddess whom he scarce dared approach! Half unconsciously he laid his hand on hers as it rested on her lap.