Part 64 (2/2)

”Caffy des Bulgars.”

”Where's that?”

”It's where we go to work--Roo Vilna.”

Stull's smile was ghastly, but Curfoot winked at Brandes.

Neeland listened, his eyes following the printed pages of his book.

CHAPTER XXV

CUP AND LIP

Through the crowded Paris terminal Neeland pushed his way, carrying the olive-wood box in his hand and keeping an eye on his porter, who preceded him carrying the remainder of his luggage and repeating:

”_Place, s'il vous plait, m'sieu', dames!_”

To Neeland it was like a homecoming after many years' exile; the subtle but perfectly specific odour of Paris a.s.sailed his nostrils once again; the rapid, emphatic, lively language of France sounded once more delightfully in his eager ears; vivacity and intelligence sparkled in every eye that met his own. It was a throng of rapid movement, of animated speech, of gesticulation. And, as it was in the beginning when he first arrived there as a student, he fell in love with it at first sight and contact.

All around him moved porters, pa.s.sengers, railroad officials; the red _kepis_ of soldiers dotted the crowd; a priest or two in shovel hat and buckled shoes, a Sister of Charity from the Rue de Bac lent graver accents to the throng; and everywhere were the pretty bourgeois women of the capital gathered to welcome relatives or friends, or themselves starting on some brief summer voyage so dear to those who seldom find it in their hearts to leave Paris for longer than a fortnight at a time.

As he pressed onward he witnessed characteristic reunions between voyagers and friends who awaited them--animated, cordial, gay scenes complicated by many embraces on both cheeks.

And, of a sudden, he noticed the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. She was in white, with a black straw hat, and her face and figure were lovely beyond words. Evidently she was awaiting friends; there was a charming expectancy on her fresh young face, a slight forward inclination of her body, as though expectancy and happy impatience alone controlled her.

Her beauty almost took his breath away.

”Lord!” he thought to himself. ”If such a girl as that ever stood waiting for me----”

At the same moment her golden-grey eyes, sweeping the pa.s.sing crowd, met his; a sharp thrill of amazement pa.s.sed through him as she held out both gloved hands with a soft exclamation of recognition:

”Jim! Jim Neeland!”

”Rue Carew!” He could scarcely credit his eyesight, where he stood, hat in hand, holding both her little hands in one of his.

No, there was no use in trying to disguise his astonishment. He looked into the face of this tall young girl, searched it for familiar features, recognised a lovely paraphrase of the freckled face and thin figure he remembered, and remained dumb before this radiant reincarnation of that other unhappy, shabby, and meagre child he had known two years ago.

Ruhannah, laughing and flushed, withdrew her hands.

”Have I changed? You haven't. And I always thought you the most wonderful and ornamental young man on this planet. I knew you at once, Jim Neeland. Would you have pa.s.sed without recognising me?”

”Perhaps I wouldn't have pa.s.sed after seeing you----”

”Jim Neeland! What a remark!” She laughed. ”Anyway, it's nice to believe myself attractive enough to be noticed. And I'm _so_ glad to see you. Naa is here, somewhere, watching for you”--turning her pretty, eager head to search for the Princess Mistchenka. ”Oh, there she is! She doesn't see us----”

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