Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit.
They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened
between them. Their conversation became stilted. A spot of colour,
brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks.
"She is marvellously clever," he said.
"She appears to be very popular here," she remarked.
"You too sing?" he asked.
"I have given it up," she answered. "One genius in the family is
enough." After a pause, she added, "Do you mind fetching back my
recalcitrant cavalier."
"Anything except that," he murmured. "I was half hoping that I might
be allowed to see you home."
"If you can tear yourself away from this delightful place in five
minutes," she answered, "I think I can get rid of the others."
"We will do it," he declared. "If only Sir John were not Sir John I
would ask you to come and have some supper."
"Don't imperil my reputation before I am established," she answered,
smiling. "Afterwards it seems to me that there are no limits to what
one may not do amongst one's own set."
"I am frightened of Sir John," he said, "but I suggest that we risk
it."
"Don't tempt me," she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak
together. "You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. That
is quite as far as I mean to tempt Providence to-night."
* * * * * Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the
direct route to pass by the door of Anna's flat. Impassive by nature
and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of
excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of
disappointment. Her sister had told him that it was true. Anna was
married. After all, she was a consummate actress. Her recent attitude
towards him was undoubtedly a pose. His long struggle with himself,
his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. There was no longer any
risk in association with her. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his
feet fell lightly upon the pavement. He slackened his pace as he
reached the flat. The windows were still darkened--perhaps she was not
home yet. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. He laughed once or
twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. He felt like a
boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the
whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and
passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an
adventurer upon the threshold.
Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. She stepped
on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to
ice as he saw that she was not alone. A young man turned to pay the
cabman. Then she saw him.