Part 5 (1/2)

”No, it will take me too long to get to town. I must see my mother before going into the City. I shall not say 'Good-bye,'” Rupert added, as he held her hand in his, ”for you are coming up to town almost directly, are you not? And you have promised to dine with me, you know.”

”I am longing to see your house,” Agnes Brenton said. ”I hear it is full of beautiful things. Camilla has raved to me about it.”

”It is beautiful,” he agreed, and then he just smiled; ”you see, I can say that because I have had very little to do with putting it together.

I inherited nearly all my treasures.”

He was gone before Mrs. Lancing, in a pause of the game, realized that he was nowhere near. She got up from the card-table suddenly; there was a patch of hot colour on her cheeks.

”Give me a cigarette, Agnes,” she said; ”now that Mr. Bogie has gone, I can smoke in peace.”

”Mr. 'Bogie,' as you call him,” Mrs. Brenton said evenly, ”is leaving us very early to-morrow morning. But he wants you to use his motor if you care about doing so.”

”Thanks, no,” said Mrs. Lancing; ”I think I have had enough of a motor-car for a day or two. What have you been talking about, you two?”

she asked suddenly, after a little pause. She threw away the cigarette as she spoke; smoking with her was only a pretence.

”I don't know,” said Agnes Brenton, ”nothing in particular. He is the sort of man one need never try to make conversation with. I mean to see as much of him as I possibly can; I like him very much.”

Camilla made a _moue_ at her.

”You are well matched--just two dear preachy people together,” she said. ”He ought to have been a schoolmaster. I know I shock him awfully, don't I?”

”My dear child,” said Mrs. Brenton, ”Mr. Haverford has not confided in me, but if I speak the truth I don't think he troubles himself about you much one way or the other.”

Camilla Lancing was amazed and sharply hurt.

”Oh! _don't_ you?” she said. ”Oh! that is quite a new idea! As a matter of fact, I had a sort of notion he was thinking about me a great deal.”

”You are a vain little person,” said Mrs. Brenton, in the same even way; ”but there, trot along; they are calling for you. Sammy has finished dealing.”

No one was stirring when Rupert Haverford descended the stairs the next morning. He breakfasted alone; but just as he was about to get into the brougham and drive away, one of the maids brought him a little note. It was from Camilla.

”Thank you so much,” she wrote, ”for wis.h.i.+ng me to use your motor, but I don't care to go in it without you. Do let me know how your mother is. I hope with all my heart that you will find her better.

Don't forget you have promised to have tea with the children next week!

”Sincerely your friend, ”C. L.”

He slipped the note into his pocket-book. It was pleasant to have that little remembrance from her.

Pa.s.sing the corner of the house he bent forward unconsciously to look at the windows of the room where she was, but the blinds were drawn; in fact, as he took out the little note and read it again, he saw that it was dated at three o'clock that morning. She must have scribbled it before going to bed. He knew she had gone to her room very late, for he had sat waiting for the sound of her voice and the swish of her gown.

Their rooms had been on the same landing.

He slipped his pocket-book back with a sigh, and as he drove rapidly away he found himself wis.h.i.+ng with every turn of the wheels that he was going back again; that was the curious part of this charm which Camilla exercised over him.

When he was near to her she vexed him, she troubled him; when he was away he only felt the appealing claim of her beauty, of that simplicity, that ”insouciance” that was so apart from and yet, with her, so much a part of her womanliness.

She was such a curious mixture, pre-eminently womanly, tender, sympathetic, and, at the same time, tainted unmistakably with p.r.o.nounced worldliness. Much as he had studied her, he felt quite unequal to gauging her character.