Part 57 (1/2)

He was saying to himself, ”Five days since she left! Only five days!

G.o.d! How am I going to live through any more of them. How many more sleepless nights! Will she ever get back!”

”Yes, isn't it warm to-night?” said Eugenia, seeing that he was wiping his wet forehead with his handkerchief.

”Unseasonable, very,” agreed Neale. He had turned sick with his recurrent panic lest she _never_ come back. He ought to have taken that next train and gone right after her, as he wanted to.

The waiter brought the fish. It was not what Neale had ordered, but a more expensive variety. He looked somewhat apprehensively at the gentleman as he offered it, but the gentleman did not seem to notice. On this the waiter disappeared and brought back a bottle of wine, not the variety Neale had bargained for.

”Have you any news from Miss Allen?” asked Neale.

”Oh, no,” said Eugenia, slightly surprised. ”When she's coming back so soon, she probably doesn't see there's any need to write.”

She began on the fish. After the first mouthful she said to Neale with enthusiasm, ”You know how to order a dinner as well as to choose a table, that's evident.”

”It was the first fish he proposed,” said Neale.

Eugenia thought, ”How much better breeding he has, after all, than Mr.

Livingstone, always boasting of his savoir-faire.”

Neale's thoughts were jumping incoherently from one thing to another.

”Funny place Rome is, to be planning how to run a wood-working plant in Vermont. Funny change of direction, from planning to go out to China and the East, about-face to planning to settle down and take root. You wouldn't think that would appeal to a man who had had the idea of ranging the world a while longer, to tie himself....” This attempt at reasonable consideration of things vanished in an explosion of emotion, as if a spark had fallen into gunpowder. ”Oh, if she _will_! If she _will_! Why didn't I make a chance to see her alone before she went away?”

Eugenia was talking about traveling. She had noticed Neale's interest in travels. ”I'm thinking, Mr. Crittenden, of making a leisurely trip around the world--not one of those detestable, herded, conducted tours.

And yet how else can I go about it? What would _you_ do? I'm so ignorant of anything outside of Europe. I _wish_ I had some one intelligent and enlightened to go with me. It's so forlorn to travel alone!”

”Why, you'll _like_ traveling alone!” said Neale rea.s.suringly, thinking of his own past year. ”It's great not to have to bother with some one's else tastes and notions and foolishness and limitations.”

”Oh, but,” said Eugenia, looking down at her winegla.s.s pensively, ”of course it's better to be alone than with some one whose tastes and interests are nothing to you. But to have with you some one you really _care_ for....”

Neale thought suddenly what the past year would have been if he had had Marise with him, and cried out fervently, ”Oh, of course, _that_ would be the ideal!”

The waiter brought the roast and the Frascati. And still the gentleman made no objection. Well, he would bring a cordial with the coffee, ordered or not. The gentleman didn't seem to know what he had ordered or what he was eating. And no wonder, with such a beautiful girl across the table. The waiter shot an experienced, appraising eye at Eugenia's clothes. ”He ought to be good for a big tip,” he reflected hopefully.

Eugenia thought best to leave a thoughtful silence after the remarks on companions.h.i.+p in travel, and sipped her wine with downcast eyes.

Neale was trying again to think things over reasonably, trying to do as he had always done about everything, to get things clear and straight and sure in his head. There must be no possibility of a mistake where Marise was concerned. ”How _about_ this now? I've gone stale on other things. How do I know I won't have a slump some time later? A human being is so full of such d.a.m.n unexpected things--I must be _sure_ for Marise's sake. How can any man be....” At this he was shaken by so terrible a throe of desire, of longing for Marise that he was frightened. He sat pale, breathless, helpless before it; suffering, tortured, exalted.

When he could breathe he wiped his forehead again. His fingers were shaking. He would go out of his mind if she didn't come back soon. His need for her was like a man's need for air and food and water and sleep.

Think reasonably about such essential needs as that! A man cannot live without them. He could not live without Marise. He had not lived before he knew her.

”How moved he is,” thought Eugenia, seeing his pale, shaken look. ”But he doesn't dare speak. He will to-morrow. Or the day afterwards.”

The waiter brought the dessert. Also coffee with the unordered cordial.

CHAPTER LII