Part 48 (1/2)
”Of course--why not?”
”You want to know? Right now?”
He was looking at her with an expression that was never intended to be worn in a public conveyance, and the thin-faced Polish woman on whose toes they were all but standing looked at them with such lively comprehension that Eleanor felt called upon to a.s.sume her most haughty and dignified manner for the rest of the way.
Miss Linton's party was in full swing when they arrived. It was an extremely hilarious party, the interest centering about a fat man in a dress-suit, with a bath towel around his waist, who was attempting to distil a forbidden elixir from an ingenious condenser of his own invention.
The studio, under a grimy skylight, was cluttered with bric-a-brac, animate and inanimate. A Daibutsu in a gilded shrine dominated one corner, and a handsome woman in a Manchu coat and swinging ear-rings of jade held court in another. At sight of the Martel group she laid down the small silver pipe she was smoking, and swam toward them through a cloud of incense and tobacco smoke.
”Dear old C. M.! Bless his heart!” she cried, kissing Papa Claude effusively. Then she nodded good-naturedly to Eleanor, and held out a welcoming hand to Quin.
”Who is this nice boy?” she asked, her languid black eyes sweeping his face.
”Allow me to present ex-Sergeant Quinby Graham,” said Papa Claude impressively--”a soldier of whom his friends and his country have every reason to be proud.”
Then, to Quin's utter chagrin, he was conscious of the fact that Papa Claude was giving, in an audible aside, an account of his prowess that placed him second only to another sergeant whom the world acclaimed its chief hero.
”For the Lord's sake, head him off!” he whispered in an agony of embarra.s.sment to Eleanor. ”I didn't do half those things he's telling about, and besides----”
But it was too late to interfere. Papa Claude, the center of one animated group after another, was kissing his way through the crowd, whispering the news as he went--that the guest of the evening was no other than the distinguished young Graham whom they all doubtless remembered, etc.
Within fifteen minutes Quin found himself the lion of the evening. Even the fat man and his improvised still were eclipsed by the counter-attraction. His very earnestness in disclaiming the honors thrust upon him added enormously to his popularity. The more clumsy and awkward he was, and the more furiously he blushed and protested, the more attention he received.
”So naf!” ”So perfectly natural!” ”Nothing but a boy, and yet think what he has done!” were phrases heard on every side.
Papa Claude corralled him in the corner with the Daibutsu and pompously presented each guest in turn. Quin felt smothered by the incense and the flattery. His collar grew tight, perspiration beaded his brow, and he began to cough.
”Effects of mustard-gas,” Papa Claude explained in a stage whisper.
For seeming hours the agony endured, until the advent of refreshments caused a momentary diversion, and he made a hasty bolt for Eleanor and freedom.
He found her sitting on the divan, looking rather bored by the attentions of a stout elderly person with small porcine eyes and a drooping black mustache. Without troubling to apologize, Quin interrupted the conversation to say abruptly:
”Miss Nell, I am going.”
Eleanor started to rise, but the red-faced one lifted a protesting voice.
”See here, young man,” he bl.u.s.tered. ”You can't run off with this little girl just when I've got my first chance at her this evening. She's going to stay right here and let me make love to her--isn't she?”
He turned a confident eye upon Eleanor, and even ventured to lay a plump detaining finger on her cool, slim wrist.
Eleanor rose instantly.
”I thought you were never coming!” she said impatiently over the stout man's head, ”I've been ready to go for an hour!”
CHAPTER 30
Down in the open square, under the clear cool stars, they looked at each other and laughed.