Part 25 (2/2)
”You dear old sweet,” she said, ”where have you been all this time?--Come, kiss me at once.” And she bent her head towards him.
”And now Newtimber, good-bye; I want to be with Mike. But you'll not forget me, you'll come and see me one of these days?” And she spoke so winningly that the boy hardly perceived that he was dismissed.
Mike and Kitty exchanged an inquiring look.
”Ah! do you remember,” she said, ”when I was at the Avenue, and you used to come behind? ... You remember the dear old marquis. When I was ill he used to come and read to me. He used to say I was the only friend he had. The dear marquis--and he is gone now. I went to his grave yesterday, and I strewed the tomb with chrysanthemums, and every spring he has the first lilac of my garden.”
”And who is your lover?”
”I a.s.sure you I haven't got one. Harding was the last, but he is becoming a bore; he philosophizes. I dare say he's very clever, but people don't kiss each other because they are clever. I don't think I ever was in love.... But tell me, how do you think I am looking? Does this dress suit me? Do I look any older?”
Mike vowed he had never seen her so charming.
”Very well, if you think so, I'll tell you what we'll do. As soon as Coburn has sung his song, we'll go; my brougham is waiting ... You'll come home and have supper with me.”
A remembrance of Lily came over him, but in quick battle he crushed it out of mind and murmured, ”That will be very nice; you know I always loved you better than any one.”
At that moment they were interrupted by cheers and yells. Muchross had just entered at the head of his gang; his lieutenants, Snowdown and d.i.c.ky the driver, stood beside him. They stood under the gallery bowing to the courtesans in the boxes, and singing--
”Two lovely black eyes Oh! what a surprise, Two lovely black eyes.”
”I wish we could avoid those fellows,” said Kitty; ”they'll only bother me with questions. Come, let's be off, they'll be up here in a moment.” But they were intercepted by Muchross and his friends in a saloon where Sally and Battlemoor were drinking with various singers, waiting their turns.
”Where are you going? You aren't going off like that?” cried Muchross, catching her by her sleeve.
”Yes, I am; I am going home.”
”Let me see you home,” whispered d.i.c.ky.
”Thanks, Mike is seeing me home.”
”You are in love,” cried Muchross; ”I shan't leave you.”
”You are in drink; I'll leave you in charge if you don't loose my sleeve.”
”This joker,” cried Sally, ”will take a ticket if something wins a Lincoln, and he doesn't know which.” She stood in the doorway, her arms akimbo. ”People are very busy here,” she snarled, when a woman tried to pa.s.s.
”I beg your pardon,” said the ex-chorus girl.
”And a good thing too,” said Sally. ”You are one of the busy ones, just got your salary for shoving, I suppose.” There was no competing with Sally's tongue, and the girl pa.s.sed without replying.
This queen of song was attired in a flowery gown of pale green, and she wore a large hat lavishly trimmed with wild flowers; she moved slowly, conscious of her importance and fame.
But at that moment a man in a check suit said, doffing his cap, ”Very pleased to see you here, Miss Slater.”
Sally looked him over. ”Well, I can't help that.”
”I was at your benefit. Mr. Jackson was there, and he introduced me to you after the performance.”
”No, I'm sure he didn't.”
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