Part 22 (1/2)
”Not that, certainly,” he replied, smiling. ”Nothing much but traveling.”
”How did you like Esme Elliot?” she asked abruptly.
”Quite attractive,” said Hal in a flat tone.
”Quite attractive, indeed!” repeated his friend indignantly. ”In all your travelings, I don't believe you've ever seen any one else half as lovely and lovable.”
”Local pride carries you far, Lady Jeannette,” laughed Hal.
”And I _had_ intended to have her here to dine to-morrow; but as you're so indifferent--”
”Oh, don't leave her out on my account,” said Hal magnanimously.
”I believe you're more than half in love with her already.”
”Well, you ought to be a good judge unless you've wholly forgotten the old days,” retorted Hal audaciously.
Jeannette Willard laughed up at him. ”Don't try to flirt with a middle-aged lady who is most old-fas.h.i.+onedly in love with her husband,”
she advised. ”Keep your bravo speeches for Esme! She's used to them.”
”Rather goes in for that sort of thing, doesn't she?”
”You mean flirtation? Someone's been talking to you about her,” said Mrs. Willard quickly. ”What did they say?”
”Nothing in particular. I just gathered the impression.”
”Don't jump to any conclusions about Esme,” advised his friend. ”Most men think her a desperate flirt. She does like attention and admiration.
What woman doesn't? And Esme is very much a woman.”
”Evidently!”
”If she seems heartless, it's because she doesn't understand. She enjoys her own power without comprehending it. Esme has never been really interested in any man. If she had ever been hurt, herself, she would be more careful about hurting others. Yet the very men who have been hardest hit remain her loyal friends.”
”A tribute to her strategy.”
”A finer quality than that. It is her own loyalty, I think, that makes others loyal to her. But the men here aren't up to her standard. She is complex, and she is ambitious, without knowing it. Fine and clean as our Worthington boys are, there isn't one of them who could appeal to the imagination and idealism of a girl like Esme Elliot. For Esme, under all that lightness, is an idealist; the idealist who hasn't found her ideal.”
”And therefore hasn't found herself.”
She flashed a glance of inquiry and appraisal at him. ”That's rather subtle of you,” she said. ”I hope you don't know _too_ much about women, Hal.”
”Not I! Just a shot in the dark.”
”I said there wasn't a man here up to her standard. That isn't quite true. There is one,--you met him to-night,--but he has troubles of his own, elsewhere,” she added, smiling. ”I had hoped--but there has always been a friends.h.i.+p too strong for the other kind of sentiment between him and Esme.”
”For a guess, that might be Dr. Merritt,” said Hal.
”How did you know?” she cried.
”I didn't. Only, he seems, at a glance, different and of a broader gauge than the others.”