Just to show that you forgive my
impertinences. Everybody does. I'm going to tell Bertie Cressey he must
bring you.... All right, Bertie! I wish you wouldn't follow me up
like--like a paper-chase. Good-night, Mr. Banneker."
To her indignant escort she declared that it couldn't have hurt them to
wait a jiffy; that she had had a most amusing conversation; that Mr.
Banneker was as charming as he was good to look at; and that (in answer
to sundry questions) she had found out little or nothing, though she
hoped for better results in future.
"But he's Io's passion-in-the-desert right enough," said the irreverent
Miss Forbes.
Banneker sat long over his cooling coffee. Through haunted nights he had
fought maddening memories of Io's shadowed eyes, of the exhalant,
irresistible femininity of her, of the pulses of her heart against his
on that wild and wonderful night in the flood; and he had won to an
armed peace, in which the outposts of his spirit were ever on guard
against the recurrent thoughts of her.
Now, at the bitter music of her name on the lips of a gossiping and
frivolous girl, the barriers had given away. In eagerness and
self-contempt he surrendered to the vision. Go to an afternoon tea to
see and speak with her again? He would, in that awakened mood, have
walked across the continent, only to be in her presence, to feel himself
once more within the radius of that inexorable charm.
Pages:
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300