Part 49 (2/2)
”If that old walrus, Pfingst, has dared to send me flowers again!” she cried, pouncing on the card and holding it so they both could read it.
Penciled in small, even lines were the words:
Sorry to find the lady-bird flown. Will call up in the morning. H. P.
Even in the dimly lighted hall, Quin could see the flush that suffused Eleanor's face.
”It's Harold Phipps,” she said, trying to be casual. ”I--I didn't know he was in town.”
Quin followed her into the apartment, and stood dully by the table as she untied the box and lifted half a dozen exquisite white orchids from their bed of maidenhair ferns. Then, trying very hard to keep his voice steady, he asked gently:
”What does this mean, Miss Nell? I thought you weren't going to have anything more to do with that man.”
”Well, I haven't. That is, not--not until he came on last month to see about the play.”
”What play?”
”'Phantom Love.'”
”But why did you have to see him?”
”Because I am to be in the play.”
”Not in _his_ play?”
”No more his than Papa Claude's.”
Quin's face darkened.
”I saw him for only a few minutes,” Eleanor went on, ”and Papa Claude was with us. I give you my word, Quin, I've never spoken to him alone, or answered one of his letters.”
”Then he has been writing to you? What business has he got worrying you with letters and flowers when you have told him you are through with him?”
In spite of his effort to keep calm, there was a rising note of anger in his voice.
”He is not worrying me,” said Eleanor, evidently conscious of her weakness in admitting Harold at the window of friends.h.i.+p when she had banished him from the door of love. ”He understands perfectly that everything is over between us. But it would be silly for us to refuse to speak to each other when we shall necessarily be thrown together a lot.”
”Thrown together? How do you mean?”
”At rehearsals.”
”Do you mean he is to be here in New York?”
”Yes--after next month. He has given up his position in Chicago, so he can devote all the time to the play. You see, he not only helped to write it, but he is financing it.”
”So he is the--backer?” Quin was scarcely responsible for what he said, so suddenly had disaster trodden on the heels of ecstasy.
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