Part 21 (1/2)

Genevieve rang for tea, and changed the conversation to impersonal topics. A footman brought in a Russian samovar and a service of eggsh.e.l.l china. They sipped their tea and chatted lightly about English acquaintances, but with frequent glances towards the hall entrance.

Each was wondering which one would be first to come, Blake or Mr.

Leslie.

The conversation had languished to a mere pretext when Blake was announced. The engineer entered slowly, his face red and moist from the fierce drive of the sleet off the lake. He had come afoot.

Genevieve placed a trembling hand on the cover of her samovar, and called to him gayly: ”Hurry here at once and have a good hot cup of tea. You must be frozen.”

Blake came to them across the waxed floor with an ease and a.s.surance of step in part due to his visit to Ruthby Castle and in part to his walk over the sleet-coated pavements.

”No tea for me, Miss Jenny,” he replied with cheerful heartiness.

”Thanks, just the same. But I'm warm as toast--look it, too, eh?”

”Then take it to cool you off,” suggested Lord James. ”That's the Russian plan. When you're cold, hot tea to warm you; when you're hot, hot tea to cool you.”

”Not when water tastes good to me,” replied Blake with a significance that did not escape his friend. ”Well, Jimmy, so you beat me to it.”

”Waited till after three,” said Lord James.

”Thought you'd hang back to give me the start? Went you one better, eh?” replied Blake. He stared fixedly into the handsome high-bred face of his friend and then at Genevieve's down-bent head. ”Well? What's the good word? Is it--congratulations?”

”Not this time, old man,” answered the Englishman lightly. He rose.

”Take my seat. Must be going.”

Blake's eyes glowed. ”You're the gamest ever, Jimmy boy.”

”Don't crow till you're out of the woods,” laughed his friend. ”Can't wish you success, y'know. But it's to continue the same between us as it has been, if you're willing.”

”That's like you, Jimmy!”

”To be sure. But I really must be going. Good-day, Miss Genevieve.”

The girl looked up without attempting to conceal her affection and sympathy for him.

”Dear friend,” she said, ”before you go, I wish to tell you how highly I value and appreciate--”

”No more, no more, I beg of you,” he protested, with genial insistence.

”Tom, I'll be dropping in on you at your office.”

He bowed to Genevieve, and still cloaking his hurt with a cheerful smile, started to leave them. At the same moment Mr. Leslie came hurrying into the room. The sight of Lord James brought him to a stand.

”H'm!” he coughed. ”So it's you, Lord Avondale? Hodges said--” His keen eyes glanced past the Englishman to the big form across the corner of the table from Genevieve. ”What! Right, was he?--Genevieve.”

”Yes, papa?” replied the girl, looking at Blake with a startled gaze.

She was very pale, but her delicately curved lips straightened with quiet determination. She did not rise.

”Er--glad to meet you again so soon, Mr. Leslie,” said Lord James, deftly placing himself so that the other could not avoid his proffered hand without marked discourtesy. Mr. Leslie held out his flaccid fingers. They were caught fast and retained during a cordial and prolonged handshake.

”When we first met,” went on his lords.h.i.+p suavely, ”time was lacking for me to congratulate you on the fact that your daughter came through her terrible experience so well. She has a.s.sured me that she feels all the better for it. Only one, like myself, accustomed to knocking about the tropics, can fully realize the extraordinary resourcefulness and courage of the man who had the good fortune to bring her through it all safely and, as she says, bettered.”