"Then there are the intellectualsthe artistic, the illuminated, the musical sorts. II wish I knew more of them. They were my father's friendssome of them." She looked over her shoulder to see where Selwyn was, and whether he was listening; smiled at him, and turned, resting one hand on the window seat. "So many kinds of people," she said, with a shrug.
"Yes," said Selwyn lazily, "there are all kinds of kinds. You remember that beautiful nature-poem:
"'The sea-gull
And the eagul
And the dipper-dapper-duck
And the Jew-fish
And the blue-fish
And the turtle in the muck;
And the squir'l
And the girl
And the flippy floppy bat
Are differ-ent
As gent from gent.
So let it go at that!'"
"What hideous nonsense," she laughed, in open encouragement; but he could recall nothing moreor pretended he couldn't.
"You asked me," he said, "whether I know Sudbury Gray. I do, slightly. What about him?" And he waited, remembering Nina's suggestion as to that wealthy young man's eligibility.
"He's one of the nicest men I know," she replied frankly.
"Yes, but you don't know 'Boots' Lansing."
"The gentleman who was bucked out of his footwear? Is he attractive?"
"Rather. Shrieks rent the air when 'Boots' left Manila."
"Feminine shrieks?"
"Exclusively. The men were glad enough. He has three months' leave this winter, so you'll see him soon."
She thanked him mockingly for the promise, watching him from amused eyes. After a moment she said:
"I ought to arise and go forth with timbrels and with dances; but, do you know, I am not inclined to revels? There has been a littlejust a very little bit too much festivity so far. . . . Not that I don't adore dinners and gossip and dances; not that I do not love to pervade bright and glittering places. Oh, no. OnlyI"
She looked shyly a moment at Selwyn: "I sometimes feel a curious desire for other things. I have been feeling it all day."
"What things?"
"Idon't knowexactly; substantial things. I'd like to learn about things. My father was the head of the American School of Archæology in Crete. My mother was his intellectual equal, I believe"
Her voice had fallen as she spoke. "Do you wonder that physical pleasure palls a little at times? I inherit something besides a capacity for dancing."
He nodded, watching her with an interest and curiosity totally new.
"When I was ten years old I was taken abroad for the winter. I saw the excavations in Crete for the buried city which father discovered near Præsos. We lived for a while with Professor Flanders in the Fayum district; I saw the ruins of Kahun, built nearly three thousand years before the coming of Christ; I myself picked up a scarab as old as the ruins! . . . Captain SelwynI was only a child of ten; I could understand very little of what I saw and heard, but I have never, never forgotten the happiness of that winter! . . . And that is why, at times, pleasures tire me a little; and a little discontent creeps in. It is ungrateful and ungracious of me to say so, but I did wish so much to go to collegeto have something to care foras mother cared for father's work. Why, do you know that my mother accidentally discovered the thirty-seventh sign in the Karian Signary?"
"No," said Selwyn, "I did not know that." He forbore to add that he did not know what a Signary resembled or where Karia might be.
Miss Erroll's elbow was on her knee, her chin resting within her open palm.
"Do you know about my parents?" she asked. "They were lost in the Argolis off Cyprus. You have heard. I think they meant that I should go to collegeas well as Gerald; I don't know. Perhaps after all it is better for me to do what other young girls do. Besides, I enjoy it; and my mother did, too, when she was my age, they say. She was very much gayer than I am; my mother was a beauty and a brilliant woman. . . . But there were other qualities. Ihave her letters to father when Gerald and I were very little; and her letters to us from London. . . . I have missed her more, this winter, it seems to me, than even in that dreadful time"
She sat silent, chin in hand, delicate fingers restlessly worrying her red lips; then, in quick impulse:
"You will not mistake me, Captain Selwyn! Nina and Austin have been perfectly sweet to me and to Gerald."
"I am not mistaking a word you utter," he said.
"No, of course not. . . . Only there are times . . . moments . . ."
Her voice died; her clear eyes looked out into space while the silent seconds lengthened into minutes. One slender finger had slipped between her lips and teeth; the burnished strand of hair which Nina dreaded lay neglected against her cheek.
"I should like to know," she began, as though to herself, "something about everything. That being out of the question, I should like to know everything about something. That also being out of the question, for third choice I should like to know something about something. I am not too ambitious, am I?"
Selwyn did not offer to answer.
"Am I?" she repeated, looking directly at him.
"I thought you were asking yourself."
"But you need not reply; there is no sense in my question."
She stood up, indifferent, absent-eyed, half turning toward the window; and, raising her hand, she carelessly brought the rebel strand of hair under discipline.
"You said you were going to look up Gerald," she observed.
"I am; now. What are you going to do?"
"I? Oh, dress, I suppose. Nina ought to be back now, and she expects me to go out with her."
She nodded a smiling termination of their duet, and moved toward the door. Then, on impulse, she turned, a question on her lipsleft unuttered through instinct. It had to do with the identity of the pretty woman who had so directly saluted him in the Parka perfectly friendly, simple, and natural question. Yet it remained unuttered.
She turned again to the doorway; a maid stood there holding a note on a salver.
"For Captain Selwyn, please," murmured the maid.
Miss Erroll passed out.
Selwyn took the note and broke the seal:
"MY DEAR SELWYN: I'm in a beastly fixan I.O.U. due to-night and pas de quoi! Obviously I don't want Neergard to know, being associated as I am with him in business. As for Austin, he's a peppery old boy, bless his heart, and I'm not very secure in his good graces at present. Fact is I got into a rather stiff game last nightand it's a matter of honour. So can you help me to tide it over? I'll square it on the first of the month.
"Yours sincerely,
"GERALD ERROLL.
"P.S.I've meant to look you up for ever so long, and will the first moment I have free."
Below this was pencilled the amount due; and Selwyn's face grew very serious.
The letter he wrote in return ran:
"DEAR GERALD: Check enclosed to your order. By the way, can't you lunch with me at the Lenox Club some day this week? Write, wire, or telephone when.
"Yours,
"SELWYN."
When he had sent the note away by the messenger he walked back to the bay-window, hands in his pockets, a worried expression in his gray eyes. This sort of thing must not be repeated; the boy must halt in his tracks and face sharply the other way. Besides, his own income was limitedmuch too limited to admit of many more loans of that sort.
He ought to see Gerald at once, but somehow he could not in decency appear personally on the heels of his loan. A certain interval must elapse between the loan and the lecture; in fact he didn't see very well how he could admonish and instruct until the loan had been cancelledthat is, until the first of the New Year.