Volume VIII Part 19 (1/2)
I had nothing to offer, and subsided for a s.p.a.ce.
”If we should not find him!”
”I'll sit on his front stoop all night.... Forgive me if I sound flippant; but I mean it.” Snow was in the air, and I considered it a great sacrifice on my part to sit on a cold stone in the small morning hours. It looks flippant in print, too, but I honestly meant it. ”I am sorry. You are in great trouble of some sort, I know; and there's nothing in the world I would not do to save you from this trouble. Let me take you home and continue the search alone. I'll find him if I have to search the whole town.”
”We shall continue the search together,”--wearily.
What had she written to this other fellow? _Did_ she love some one else and was she afraid that I might learn who it was? My heart became as lead in my bosom. I simply could not lose this charming creature. And now, how was I ever to win her?
It was not far up town to the restaurant, and we made good time.
”Would you know him if you saw him?” she asked as we left the cab.
”Not the least doubt of it,”--confidently.
She sighed, and together we entered the restaurant. It was full of theater-going people, music and the hum of voices. We must have created a small sensation, wandering from table to table, from room to room, the girl with a look of dread and weariness on her face, and I with the Frenchman's hat grasped firmly in my hand and my brows scowling. If I hadn't been in love it would have been a fine comedy. Once I surprised her looking toward the corner table near the orchestra. How many joyous Sunday dinners we had had there! Heigh-ho!
”Is that he?” she whispered, clutching my arm of a sudden, her gaze directed to a near-by table.
I looked and shook my head.
”No; my Frenchman had a mustache and a goatee.”
Her hand dropped listlessly. I confess to the thought that it must have been very trying for her. What a plucky girl she was! She held me in contempt, and yet she clung to me, patiently and unmurmuring. And I had lost her!
”We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!”
”Where?” There was half a sob in her throat.
”The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the cigarette. I'll go alone.”
”But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor....”
I called a waiter. ”Give this lady a chair for a moment;” and I dropped a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to recall them.
”Monsieur de Beausire?” I said.
Beausire glanced up.
”Oh, eet ees ... I forget zee name?”
I told him.
”I am delight'!” he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life.
”Zee chair; be seat'....”
”Thank you, but it's about the hats.”
”Hats?”