The heart of the man had been unloosed from the bondage of early restraint. Now it was a-riot, claiming in its freedom an excess of interest for its years of deprivation. He had no power nor desire to check it. It was as though a new life had opened out before eyes which had all too long confronted the sober grey of mere existence, a life which had been hidden behind a dark curtain raised at last only to dazzle and amaze.
Mrs. Jenkins, a hard-faced lady with a sniff, who had undoubtedly seen "worse" days, had performed her duty as only a superior British char-lady-turned-cook-housekeeper could have possibly performed it. She had regarded Ruxton Farlow on the door-step of Vita's flat for a few speculative moments. Then she sniffed.
Then, shuffling down the passage, she thrust her head through the doorway of the sitting-room and sniffed again.
"It's 'im, miss," she announced, and beat a strategical retreat to the back regions of the flat, with the virtuous conviction that she had performed her duty in a manner which might well have been an example to a superior parlor-maid, or even a well-trained footman.
There seemed to be no necessity for greeting between Vita and Ruxton Farlow. For the man it was as if Vita had become a part of his life, as though she were always with him, ready to support him at every turn, ready to lead him on towards those great ideals which were his.
Just now the commonplaces of social intercourse had no meaning for Vita. She drew an armchair from its inevitable place beside the cold fireplace, and faced it towards the window, flinging the meagre cushion aside, so useless to a man's comfort.
"Take that chair," she said, with a warm smile of welcome. "You may smoke, too; I'd like you to. And there is refreshment on the table beside you." Then she seated herself upon a low chair in the vicinity. "Now tell me," she added, as Ruxton flung himself into the doubtful armchair with a contented sigh.
"Tell you?" he returned, with a smile in his dark eyes.
Then for some moments he was silent, contemplating the perfect oval of her face, the masses of her red-gold hair; the wonderful grace of the exquisitely clad body. But under his gaze her warm grey eyes were hidden. She felt the ardor of the man's regard, nor did it leave her unmoved.