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Page 54
He tried to speak, but had no words. His utterance was formless. "When
did _you_ first know?" she persisted. She was patting her hair into
place with both hands.
He didn't know; he didn't know that he knew now; but recalling her
speech he had overheard, he had the presence of mind to commit a soulful
perjury.
"From the very first," he lied glibly. "Something went over me--just
like _that_. I can't tell you how, but I knew!"
"You made me so afraid of you," confessed the flapper.
"I never meant to, couldn't help it."
"I'm horribly shy, but I knew it had to be. I felt powerless."
"I _know_," he sympathized.
"Our day has come!" roared Grandma from out of the gloom. "We know our
rights! We've broken glass! We break heads!" This was followed by "Ar!
Ar! Ar!" meant for sinister growls of rage. It seemed to be the united
voice of the mob.
They drew apart, once more self-conscious. They walked slowly out,
passed the mob scene, which ignored them, and went with awkward little
hesitations up the wide walk to the Breede portal. To Bean's suddenly
cooled eye, the vast gray house towered above him as a menace. He had a
fear that it might fall upon him.
At the entrance they stood discreetly apart. Bean wondered what he ought
to say. His sense of guilt was overwhelming. But the flapper seemed
clear-headed enough.
"You leave it to me," she said, as if he had confided his perplexity to
her. "Leave it all to me. _I've_ always managed."
"Yes," said Bean, meaning nothing whatever.
She made little movements that suggested departure. She was regarding
him now with the old curious look that had puzzled him.
"You're just as perfectly nice as I knew you were," she announced, with
an obvious pride in this bit of proved wisdom.
"Good-night!"
From a distance of five feet she bestowed the little double-nod upon him
and fled.
"Good-night!" he managed to call after her. Then he was aware that he
had wanted to call her "Chubbins!" He liked that name for her. If he
could only have said "Good-night, Chubbins--"
For that matter he basely wanted again to--but he thought with shame
that he had done enough for once. A pretty night's work, indeed! If
Breede ever found it out--
When he left with Breede in the morning, she was on the tennis-court.
Brazenly she engaged in light conversation across the net with no other
than Thomas Hollins, Junior. She did not look up as the car passed the
court, though he knew that she knew. Something in the poise of her head
told him that.
He didn't wonder she couldn't face him in the light of day. He smiled
bitterly, in scorn for the betrayed Tommy.
IX
Back in the lofty office that Saturday morning he sat under the eye of
Breede, in outward seeming a neat and efficient amanuensis. In truth he
was pluming himself as a libertine of rare endowments. He openly and
shamelessly wished he had kissed the creature again. When the next
opportunity came she wouldn't get off so lightly, he could tell her
that. It was base, but it was thrilling. He would abandon himself. He
would take her hand and hold it the very first time they were alone
together. Well might she be afraid of him, as she had confessed herself
to be. She little knew!
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