Part 12 (2/2)
As young Drake's eyes swept the room, he was aware of Jean on the balcony steps. She was in white and silver, with a touch of that heavenly blue which seemed to belong to her. Her crinkled hair was combed quaintly over her ears and back from her forehead. He smiled at her, but she apparently did not see him.
He made his way to Mrs. Witherspoon. ”I was so sorry to get here late.
But my other engagements kept me. If I could have dined at two places, you should have had at least a half of me.”
”We wanted the whole. You know Dr. McKenzie, Derry?”
The two men shook hands. ”May I dance with your daughter?” Derry said, smiling.
”Of course. She is up there on the stairs.”
Jean saw him coming. Ever since Derry had stood in the door she had been trying to make up her mind how she would treat him when he came.
Somebody ought to show him that his millions didn't count. She hadn't thought of his millions last night. If he had been just the shabby boy of the Toy Shop, she would have liked his eyes just as much, and his voice!
But a slacker was a slacker! A coward was a coward! All the money in the world couldn't take away the stain. A man who wouldn't fight at this moment for the freedom of the world was a renegade! She would have none of him.
He came on smiling. ”h.e.l.lo, Ralph. Miss McKenzie, your father says you may dance with me--I hope you have something left?”
The blood sang in her ears, her cheeks burned.
”I haven't anything left--for you--” The emphasis was unmistakable.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I haven't anything left for you.”]
Even then he did not grasp what had happened to him. ”Ralph will let me have one of his--be a good sport, Ralph.”
”Well, I like that,” Ralph began. Then Jean's crisp voice stopped him.
”I am not going to dance any more--my head aches. I--I shall ask Daddy to take me--home--”
It was all very young and obvious. Derry gave her a puzzled stare.
Ralph protested. ”Oh, look here, Jean. If you think you aren't going to dance any more with me.”
”Well, I'm not. I am going home. Please take me down to Daddy.”
It seemed a long time before the blurred good-byes were said, and Jean was alone with her father in the cozy comfort of the closed car.
”Do you love me, Daddy?”
”My darling, yes.”
”May I live with you always--to the end of my days?”
He chuckled. ”So that was it? Poor Ralph!”
”You know you are not sorry for him, Daddy. Don't be a hypocrite.”
He drew her close to him. ”I should be sorry for myself if he took you from me.”
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