Part 48 (1/2)
CHAPTER V
Rachel, removing her heavy coat, walked briskly to the grate fire burning in the rear of the studio. She stood looking into the flames and rubbing the cold out of her hands.
”Well, I kept the appointment, Frank.”
Brander, the artist, sprawled on a cus.h.i.+on-littered couch, sat up slowly. His heavy eyes regarded her.
”We had quite a talk. You know his wife has remarried.”
”That so?” Rachel laughed.
”Mr. Dorn sends you his regards.”
”That'll be enough.”
”I must say he's much cleverer than you, Frank.”
”What did you talk about? Soul stuff, eh?”
”Oh, not entirely.”
She came over to the couch and patted his cheeks.
”My hands--feel how cold they are.”
”Never mind your hands. What did our good friend have to say for himself?”
”Oh, talk.” Her dark eyes glanced enigmatically from his stare.
Brander swore. ”I want to know, d'you hear?”
”Dear me! Soulmate bares all.” She laughed and walked with a sensual swing down the long room.
Brander, without stirring, repeated, ”Yes, everything.”
Rachel's face sobered.
”Why, there's nothing Frank--of interest.”
”h.e.l.l, I've caught you crying over him.”
”Well, what of that? A woman's tears, you know, a woman's tears, don't mean anything.”
”They don't, eh?”
”No.” The sight of him hunched amid the cus.h.i.+ons seemed to appeal to her humor. A large, strong monkey face against blue, green, and yellow pillow faces. She laughed.
”Well, I'll tell you something. There's going to be no soul stuff in this. You're mine. And if you start any flapdoodle hand-holding with our good friend, I'll knock your heads together into a pulp.”