Still Lena stared blankly at him, but as he did not return her gaze, her
eyes followed his to the other side of the room where Miss Elton bent
over a table, with Mr. Early on one side of her and Dick Percival on the
other.
"Oh!" she said with a little gasp. "Oh!" And Ram Juna looked back at her
and smiled again.
"Therefore I was right to desire your friendship and not your enmity,
was I not?" said he. "I, too, am a good friend and a bad enemy. See, Mr.
Early shows some wonderful Japanese paintings. Shall we join them in the
inspection?"
And Lena went with wonder, and in her mind there began to form vague
clumsy purposes which the Hindu would have despised if he had read them.
Nor did her conversation with her husband in the home-returning carriage
tend to soften Lena's heart.
Dick was in an uncomfortable and irritable state of mind which was
strange and disconcerting even to himself. Instead of giving her the big
hug that was his habit when they found themselves safely alone, he said
sharply, "Lena, you use too much perfume about you. I wish you wouldn't."
"Do I?" asked Lena ominously. "Is there anything else?"
"Well, since you give me the chance to say it, dear," Dick's tone was
now apologetic, "I'd a little rather you wore your dinner gowns higher.
I know many women do wear things like yours to-night, and your
dressmaker has dictated to you; but I think the extremes are not
well-bred. Just look at the best women. Look at Mrs. Lenox and
Madeline--"
But here Lena gave so sharp a little cry of anger that Dick stopped
dismayed.
"How dare you?" she screamed. "How dare you hold up a girl you know I
hate as an example to me! If she's so perfect, why didn't you marry her?
I'm sure she wanted you badly enough."
Dick shrank back a little. To him love--the desire for marriage--was
hardly a thing to be touched by outside hands. He wished Lena would not
tear down the veils of reticence so ruthlessly.
"Lena, she did not want me at all. Be reasonable."
"Well, then, you took me just because you couldn't get her, did you?
Everything she does and wears is perfection. And there's nothing about
me that's right!" Lena had now come to the point of angry tears.
"There's one thing about you that's right; and that's my arms,
sweetheart." Dick spoke sturdily in spite of trepidation, for this was a
new experience to him. "You know I love you, Lena, I did not mean to
hurt you. I thought only that you were a sweet little inexperienced
woman, and that you would welcome any hints from your husband's worldly
wisdom. Come, don't turn into an Undine, dear, and get the carriage all
wet,"--for his wife was now sobbing on his shoulder.