Chapter 30 - Page 2

some
light on hers.

In the open taxi-cab he seemed to recover his sense of well-being, and
leaned back, his hands on the knob of his stick, with the air of a man
pleasantly aware of his privileges. "This Paris is a thundering good
place," he repeated once or twice as they rolled on through the crush
and glitter of the afternoon; and when they had descended at Undine's
door, and he stood in her drawing-room, and looked out on the
horse-chestnut trees rounding their green domes under the balcony, his
satisfaction culminated in the comment: "I guess this lays out West End
Avenue!"

His eyes met Undine's with their old twinkle, and their expression
encouraged her to murmur: "Of course there are times when I'm very
lonely."

She sat down behind the tea-table, and he stood at a little distance,
watching her pull off her gloves with a queer comic twitch of his
elastic mouth. "Well, I guess it's only when you want to be," he said,
grasping a lyre-backed chair by its gilt cords, and sitting down astride
of it, his light grey trousers stretching too tightly over his plump
thighs. Undine was perfectly aware that he was a vulgar over-dressed
man, with a red crease of fat above his collar and an impudent
swaggering eye; yet she liked to see him there, and was conscious that
he stirred the fibres of a self she had forgotten but had not ceased to
understand.

She had fancied her avowal of loneliness might call forth some
sentimental phrase; but though Moffatt was clearly pleased to be with
her she saw that she was not the centre of his thoughts, and the
discovery irritated her.

"I don't suppose YOU'VE known what it is to be lonely since you've been
in Europe?" she continued as she held out his tea-cup.

"Oh," he said jocosely, "I don't always go round with a guide"; and she
rejoined on the same note: "Then perhaps I shall see something of you."

"Why, there's nothing would suit me better; but the fact is, I'm
probably sailing next week."

"Oh, are you? I'm sorry." There was nothing feigned in her regret.

"Anything I can do for you across the pond?"

She hesitated. "There's something you can do for me right off."

He looked at her more attentively, as if his practised eve had passed
through the surface of her beauty to what might be going on behind it.
"Do you want my blessing again?" he asked with sudden irony.

Undine opened her eyes with a trustful look. "Yes--I do."

"Well--I'll be damned!" said Moffatt gaily.

"You've always been so awfully nice," she began; and he leaned back,
grasping