Part 22 (1/2)
”You're too d.a.m.nably clever to fail in your own particular work.
Something has got to be done to keep those two apart. I've often thought of raiding the house and boldly carrying off the whole family, Susan and all. But a wholesale affair like that would be too noisy.
Think it over, Olga; we have gone too far to back down now. There's always Russia; and while I'm the boss over here they never cease to watch me. They'll make me answer for a failure like this.”
She eyed him speculatively. ”You have money.”
”Oh, the money doesn't matter. It's the game. It's the game of playing fast and loose with society, of pilfering it with one hand and making it kow-tow with the other. It's the sport of the thing. What was your thought?”
”We could go away together, to South America.”
”And tire of each other within a month,” he retorted shrewdly. ”No; we are in the same boat. We could not live but for this never-ending excitement. And, more than that, we never could get far enough away from the long arm of the First Ten. We'll have to stick it out here.
Can't you see?”
”Yes, I can see.”
But in her heart she knew that she would have lived in a hut with this man till the end of her days. She abhorred the life, though she never, by the slightest word, let him become aware of it. There was always that abiding fear that at the first sign of weakness he would desert her. And she was wise in her deductions. Braine was loyal to her because she held his interest. Once that failed, he would be off and away.
The next afternoon the countess, having matured her plans against the happiness of the young girl who trusted her, drew up before the Hargreave place and alighted. Her welcome was the same as ever, and this strengthened her confidence.
The countess was always gesticulating. Her hands fluttered to emphasize her words. And the beautiful diamond solitaire caught the girl's eye. She seized the hand. Having an affair of her own, it was natural that she should be interested in that of her friend.
”I never saw that ring before.”
”A gift of yesterday.” The countess a.s.sumed a shy air which would have deceived St. Anthony. She twisted the ring on her finger.
”Tell me,” cried Florence. ”You are engaged?”
”Mercy, no!”
”Is he rich?”
”No. Money should not matter when your heart is involved.”
As this thought was in accord with her own, Florence nodded her head sagely.
”It's nothing serious. Just a fancy. I shall never marry again. Men are gay deceivers; they always have been and always will be. Perhaps I'm a bit wicked; but I rather like to prove my theory that all men are weak. If I had a daughter I'd rather have her be an old man's darling than a young man's drudge. I distrust every man I know. I came to ask you and Susan to go to the opera with me to-night. You will come to my apartments first. You will come?”
”To be sure we will!”
”Simple little fool!” thought the Russian on the way home. ”She shall see.”
”I believe the countess is engaged to be married,” said Florence to Jones.
”Indeed, miss?”
”Yes. I couldn't get anything definite out of her, but she had a beautiful ring on her finger. She wants Susan and me to go to the opera with her to-night. Will that be all right?”
Jones gazed abstractedly at the rug. Whenever a problem bothered him he seemed to find the solution in the delicate patterns of the Persian rugs. Finally he nodded. ”I see no reason why you should not go.
Only, watch out.”