"You may go in, James."
They entered together; and he was startled to see how young she seemed
there on the pillows--how pitifully immature the childish throat, the
tear-flushed face lying in its mass of chestnut hair.
"Good-bye, Rue," he said, still awkward, offering his hand.
Slowly she held out one slim hand from the covers.
"Good voyage, good luck," he said. "I wish you would write a line to
me."
"I will."
"Then----" He smiled; released her hand.
"Thank you for--for all you have done," she said. "I shall not
forget."
Something choked him slightly; he forced a laugh: "Come back a famous painter, Rue. Keep your head clear and your heart
full of courage. And let me know how you're getting on, won't you?"
"Yes.... Good-bye."
So he went out, and at the door exchanged adieux with the smiling
Princess.
"Do you--like her a little?" he whispered.
"I do, my friend. Also--I like you. I am old enough to say it safely,
am I not?"
"If you think so," he said, a funny little laugh in his eyes, "you are
old enough to let me kiss you good-bye."
But she backed away, still smiling: "On the brow--the hair--yes; if you promise discretion, James."
"What has tottering age like yours to do with discretion, Princess
Naïa?" he retorted impudently. "A kiss on the mouth must of itself be
discreet when bestowed on youth by such venerable years as are
yours."
But the Princess, the singularly provocative smile still edging her
lips, merely looked at him out of dark and slightly humorous eyes,
gave him her hand, withdrew it with decision, and entered her
stateroom, closing the door rather sharply behind her.
* * * * *
When Neeland got back to the studio he took a couple of hours' sleep,
and, being young, perfectly healthy, and perhaps not unaccustomed to
the habits of the owl family, felt pretty well when he went out to
breakfast.
Over his coffee cup he propped up his newspaper against a carafe; and
the heading on one of the columns immediately attracted his
attention.
ROW BETWEEN SPORTING MEN EDDIE BRANDES, FIGHT PROMOTER AND
THEATRICAL MAN, MIXES IT WITH
MAXY VENEM A WOMAN SAID TO BE THE CAUSE: AFFRAY DRAWS
A BIG CROWD IN FRONT OF THE HOTEL
KNICKERBOCKER BOTH MEN, BADLY BATTERED, GET AWAY BEFORE THE
POLICE ARRIVE Breakfasting leisurely, he read the partly humorous, partly
contemptuous account of the sordid affair. Afterward he sent for all
the morning papers. But in none of them was Ruhannah Carew mentioned
at all, nobody, apparently, having noticed her in the exciting affair
between Venem, Brandes, the latter's wife, and the chauffeur.