Part 29 (1/2)

As she pa.s.sed close by him he felt an utterly new sensation, as though he were standing in a garden of narcotics, and la.s.situde were stealing through his limbs. When she had gone, a single memory clung to him--the memory of the wonderful texture of her skin. He had read in a child's book of physiology that our skin breathes. The affirmation had meant nothing to him beyond mechanics; now, suddenly, it meant much. He had seen, felt, this woman's skin breathe, and its breath had been like the fragrance of a flower.

For the first time in his life Lewis looked on woman with blind eyes.

During almost three weeks the years that he had lived in familiar contact with women stood him in good stead. He never spoke to the bright-eyed rival to the d.u.c.h.ess, but he watched her from afar. Men swarmed about her. She stood them as long as they amused her, and then would suddenly shake them all off. There were days when she would let no one come near her. There was no day when any man could say he had been favored above another.

Then came an evening when Lewis had dressed unusually early and slipped up to the boat-deck to cool off before dinner. He sat down on a bench and half closed his eyes. When he opened them again he saw a woman--the woman, Folly Delaires--standing with her back to him at the rail. He had not heard or seen her come. Almost without volition he arose and stepped to the rail. He leaned on it beside her. She did not move away.

”I want to kiss you,” said Lewis, and trembled as he heard his own words.

The woman did not start. She turned her face slowly toward his.

”And I want you to,” she said.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

Within two weeks of Lewis's departure for South America, Leighton returned from his shooting-trip. Despite the fact that he had not written telling Lewis he was coming, he felt a great chagrin at finding the flat deserted except for the ever-faithful Nelton.

”Where's the boy?” was Leighton's first question. Even as he stepped across the threshold he felt that he stepped into an empty house.

”South America,” said Nelton, relieving his master of hat, stick, and gloves.

”South America!” cried Leighton, dismayed, and then smiled. ”Well, he's getting his dad's tricks early. What for?”

”Don't know, sir. Mr. Lewis said as you'd get it from her ladys.h.i.+p.”

Lady Derl was out of town. Leighton followed her, stayed two days, decided her momentary entourage was not to his taste, and returned to London. He reached the flat in the afternoon, just in time to receive a caller. The caller was Vi.

”Hallo!” said Leighton as Nelton showed her in, ”this is fortune. Take off your things and stay.”

”I will--some of them,” drawled Vi; ”but not just yet.” She sat down.

”What on earth are you doing in town?” asked Leighton.

”Well,” said Vi, ”up to three weeks ago I was here at the beck and call of your son. Then he suddenly took French leave.” She turned and faced Leighton. ”Where has he gone? It isn't like one of you to be rude in little things.”

”I don't think Lew meant to be rude,” said Leighton. ”He's gone to South America. He heard about some cousins he 'd lost track of, and he just bolted the next morning.”

”Cousins!” said Vi. ”I didn't know any one still went in for family ties to the extent of South America, short of a fat death.”

”No,” said Leighton, smiling; there's no money in this trip. Why were you at his beck and call?”

”Model,” said Vi, coolly. ”He's been doing me.”

”Doing _you_!” said Leighton, looking at her curiously.

”There, there,” said Vi, ”don't let your imagination run away with you.

Not in the nude. By the way, can you let me have the key? I left something in the studio, and I didn't like to go to Nelton.”

”Certainly,” said Leighton. ”I'll walk by there with you.”