Part 17 (2/2)
Miss Lane had grown extremely serious. ”Who is she?” she asked.
”Her name is Christine Fenimer.”
”I've seen her name in the papers.”
”Who has not?” he returned bitterly.
”What is she like?”
Riatt felt some temptation to answer truthfully and say: ”She is designing, mercenary, hard-hearted and as beautiful as a G.o.ddess.” But he did not, and, as he paused he saw the head waiter spring forward from the doorway, smiling and holding up a pencil to attract the attention of some underling, and then he saw that Christine, Hickson and Mr. and Mrs.
Linburne were being ushered in. Christine approached, tall, beautiful, conspicuous, and as divinely unconscious of it as Adam and Eve of their nakedness; she moved between the tables, bowing here and there to people she knew, not purposely ignoring all others, but seeming to find them invisible as thin air. Riatt watched as if she were some great spectacle, and was recalled only by hearing Dorothy's voice saying:
”What a lovely creature!”
”That is Miss Fenimer.”
A sudden and deep flush spread over Miss Lane's face.
”And you have been telling me of your indifference to her?” she asked bitterly. ”How could any man be indifferent!”
”Good Heavens,” cried Riatt fiercely. ”All you women are alike! Beauty isn't the only thing in the world for a man to love. There are such things as truth and honor--”
”Yes, and old friends.h.i.+p, too,” said Miss Lane, ”but they don't always amount to much.”
”That is an unnecessary, unkind thing to say,” he answered. ”My friends.h.i.+p for you means a good deal more to me than my engagement to her.”
”Max, I don't need to be consoled or soothed about your engagement,” said Miss Lane with a good deal of spirit. ”As far as I am concerned you are quite free not only to become engaged, but to have any feeling you like for the lady you have chosen. I'm sure I congratulate you very heartily.”
”You mean you don't believe a word of what I have been trying to tell you.”
”Oh, yes, I do. I believe you are engaged.”
Perhaps it was as well that at this instant, Christine's eyes fell upon her; she stared, then laughed, and pointed him out to Hickson, who glanced at him coldly; he was evidently thinking that he would not have taken another girl out to lunch the very day his engagement was announced.
”I suppose I had better go and speak to them,” Max said.
”I should think so,” replied Dorothy tonelessly. ”Who are the others?”
Riatt, not sorry for a moment's respite, entered into a detailed account of Lee Linburne. He was the third generation of a great fortune, augmenting rather than decreasing with years. He was but little over thirty and had taken the whole field of amus.e.m.e.nt and sports as his own.
He played polo, had a racing stable and a racing yacht, had gone in recently for flying (hence Riatt's connection with him), occasionally financed a theatrical show, and now and then attended a directors'
meeting of some of his grandfather's companies. The result was that his name was as widely known through the country as Abraham Lincoln's.
Dorothy knew as soon as she heard his name, that he had married a girl from Pittsburg, and had gone through her native city in a private car on his honeymoon three years before, and had stopped, she rather thought, and had lunch with the Governor of the State.
On Hickson, Max touched more briefly.
When at last he did cross the room, Christine received him with the utmost cordiality.
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