Part 27 (1/2)
”And will you ever forget that magnificent winter night when we drove to Brookhollow after the party?”
”I have--remembered it.”
”So have I.... Are you waiting for somebody? Of course you are,” he added, laughing. ”But may I sit down for a moment?”
”Yes, I wish you would.”
So he seated himself, lighted a cigarette, glanced up at her and smiled.
”When did you come to New York?” he asked.
”Tonight.”
”Well, isn't that a bit of luck to run into you like this! Have you come here to study art?”
”No.... Yes, I think, later, I am to study art here.”
”At the League?”
”I don't know.”
”Better go to the League,” he said. ”Begin there anyway. Do you know where it is?”
”No,” she said.
He called a waiter, borrowed pencil and pad, and wrote down the address of the Art Students' League. He had begun to fold the paper when a second thought seemed to strike him, and he added his own address.
”In case I can do anything for you in any way,” he explained.
Rue thanked him, opened her reticule, and placed the folded paper there beside her purse.
”I do hope I shall see you soon again,” he said, looking gaily, almost mischievously into her grey eyes. ”This certainly resembles fate.
Don't you think so, Rue--this reunion of ours?”
”Fate?” she repeated.
”Yes. I should even call it romantic. Don't you think our meeting this way resembles something very much like romance?”
She felt herself flus.h.i.+ng, tried to smile:
”It couldn't resemble anything,” she explained with quaint honesty, ”because I am sailing for Europe tomorrow morning; I am going on board in less than an hour. And also--also, I----”
”Also?”--he prompted her, amused, yet oddly touched by her childishly literal reply.
”I am--married.”
”Good Lord!” he said.
”This morning,” she added, tasting her ice.