Part 11 (2/2)
”Staff!” The young woman made an impatient movement. ”If I didn't like you--_you_ know how much--upon my word I'd snub you for that. You are a bear!”
”A moment ago I was a dear.”
”Oh, well, I'm fond of all sorts of animals.”
”Then I advise your future husband to keep you away from zoos.”
”Oh, Staff! But wouldn't you want me to come to see you once in a while?”
He jerked up one hand with the gesture of a man touched in a fencing-bout. ”You win,” he laughed. ”I should've known better....”
But she made her regard tender consolation for his discomfiture. ”You haven't told me about the play--our play--_my_ play?”
”It's finished.”
”Not really, Staff?” She clasped her hands in a charmingly impulsive way. He nodded, smiling. ”Is it good?”
”You'll have to tell me that--you and Max.”
”Oh--Max! He's got to like what I like. When will you read it to me?”
”Whenever you wish.”
”This afternoon?”
”If you like.”
”Oh, good! Now I'm off for my nap--only I know I shan't sleep, I'm so excited. Bring the 'script to me at two--say, half-past. Come to my sitting-room; we can be alone and quiet, and after you've finished we can have tea together and talk and--talk our silly heads off. You darling!”
She gave him a parting glance calculated to turn any man's head, and swung off to her rooms, the very spirit of grace incarnate in her young and vigorous body.
Staff watched her with a kindling eye, then shook his head as one who doubts--as if doubting his own worthiness--and went off to his own stateroom to run over the type-script of his fourth act: being fortunate in having chosen a s.h.i.+p which carried a typist, together with almost every other imaginable convenience and alleged luxury of life ash.o.r.e.
Punctual to the minute, ma.n.u.script under his arm, he knocked at the door of the sitting-room of the _suite de luxe_ occupied by the actress. Her maid admitted him and after a moment or two Alison herself came out of her stateroom, in a wonderful Parisian tea-gown cunningly designed to render her even more bewilderingly bewitching than ever. Staff thought her so, beyond any question, and as unquestionably was his thought mirrored in his eyes as he rose and stood waiting for her greeting--very nearly a-tremble, if the truth's to be told.
Her colour deepened as she came toward him and then, pausing at arm's length, before he could lift a hand, stretched forth both her own and caught him by the shoulders. ”My dear!” she said softly; and her eyes were bright and melting. ”My dear, dear boy! It's so sweet to see you.”
She came a step nearer, stood upon her tiptoes and lightly touched his cheek with her lips.
”Alison ...!” he cried in a broken voice.
But already she had released him and moved away, with a lithe and gracious movement evading his arms. ”No,” she told him firmly, shaking her head: ”no more than that, Staff. You mustn't--I won't have you--carry on as if we were children--_yet_.”
”But Alison--”
”No.” Again she shook her head. ”If I want to kiss you, I've a perfect right to; but that doesn't give you any licence to kiss me in return.
Besides, I'm not at all sure I'm really and truly in love with you. Now do sit down.”
He complied sulkily.
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