He
had expected a less intimate reception.
But the astonishment had been sponged from his face before
Valencia Van Tyle rose and came forward, cigarette in hand.
"You did find time."
"Was it likely I wouldn't?"
"How should I know?" her little shrug seemed to say with an
indifference that bordered on insolence.
James was piqued. After all then she had not opened to him the
door to her friendship. She was merely amusing herself with him as
a provincial _pis aller._
Perhaps she saw his disappointment, for she added with a touch of
warmth: "I'm glad you came. Truth is, I'm bored to death of
myself."
"Then I ought to be welcome, for if I don't exorcise the devils of
ennui you can now blame me."
"I shall. Try that big chair, and one of these Egyptians."
He helped himself to a cigarette and lit up as casually as if he
had been in the habit of smoking in the lounging rooms of the
ladies he knew. She watched him sink lazily into the chair and let
his glance go wandering over the room. In his face she read the
indolent sense of pleasure he found in sharing so intimately this
sanctum of her more personal life.
The room was a bit barbaric in its warmth of color, as barbaric as
was the young woman herself in spite of her super-civilization.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146