"I didn't know you had telephoned for a table," said Siward, as a head-waiter came up smiling and bowing to Plank. "I confess, in the new excitement of things, I clean forgot it! What a man you are to think of other people!"
Plank reddened again, muttering something evasive, and went forward with Leila.
Sylvia, moving leisurely beside Siward who was walking slowly but confidently without crutches, whispered to him: "I never really liked Mr. Plank before I understood his attitude toward you."
"He is a man, every inch," said Siward simply.
"I think that generally includes what men of your sort demand, doesn't it?" she asked.
"Men of my sort sometimes demand in others what they themselves are lacking in," said Siward, laughing. "Sylvia, look at this jolly crowd! Look at all those tables! It seems an age since I have done anything of this sort. I feel like a boy of eighteen--the same funny, quickening fascination in me toward everything gay and bright and alive!" He looked around at her, laughingly. "As for you," he said, "you look about sixteen. You certainly are the most beautiful thing this beautiful world ever saw!"
"Schoolboy courtship!" she mocked him, lingering as he made his slow way through the crowded place. The tint of excitement was in her eyes and cheeks; the echo of it in her low, happy voice. "Where on earth is Mr. Plank? Oh, I see them! They have a table by the balcony rail, in the corner; and it seems to be rather secluded, Stephen, so I shall, of course, expect you to say nothing further about beauty of any species. … Are you a trifle tired? No? … Well, you need not be indignant. I don't care whether you tumble. Indeed, I don't believe there is really anything the matter with you--you are walking with the same old careless saunter. Mr. Plank," as they arrived and seated themselves, "Mr. Siward has just admitted that he uses crutches only because they are ornamental. Leila, isn't this air delicious? All sorts of people, too, aren't there, Mr. Plank? Such curious-looking women, some of them--quite pretty, too, in a certain way. Are you hungry, St--Mr. Siward?"
"Are you, St--Mr. Siward?" mimicked Leila promptly.
"I am," said Siward, laughing at Sylvia's significant colour and noting Plank's direct gaze as the waiter filled Leila's slender-stemmed glass. And "nothing but Apollinaris," he said coolly, as the waiter approached him; but though his voice was easy enough, a dull patch of colour came out under the cheek-bones.
"That is all I care for, either," said Sylvia with elaborate carelessness.
Plank and Leila immediately began to make conversation. Siward, his eyes bent on the glass of mineral water at his elbow, looked up in silence at Sylvia questioningly.