“They say she has grown very bitter and haughty in her manner. I’m afraid Lady Mallowe is a very worldly woman. One hears they don’t get on together, and that she is bitterly disappointed because her daughter has not made a good match. It appears that she might have made several, but she is so hard and cynical that men are afraid of her. I wish I had known her a little--if she really loved Jem.”
Tembarom had thrust his hands into his pockets, and was standing deep in thought, looking at the huge bank of red coals in the fire-grate. Miss Alicia hastily wiped her eyes.
“I’ll excuse you all right,” he replied, still looking into the coals. “I guess I shouldn’t excuse you as much if you didn’t.” He let her cry in her gentle way while he stared, lost in reflection.
“And if he hadn’t fired that valet chap, he would be here with you now--instead of me. Instead of me,” he repeated.
And Miss Alicia did not know what to say in reply. There seemed to be nothing which, with propriety and natural feeling, one could say.
“It makes me feel just fine to know I’m not going to have my dinner all by myself,” he said to her before she left the library.
She had a way of blushing about things he noticed, when she was shy or moved or didn’t know exactly what to say. Though she must have been sixty, she did it as though she were sixteen. And she did it when he said this, and looked as though suddenly she was in some sort of trouble.
“You are going to have dinner with me,” he said, seeing that she hesitated--“dinner and breakfast and lunch and tea and supper and every old thing that goes. You can’t turn me down after me staking out that claim.”
“I’m afraid--” she said. “You see, I have lived such a secluded life. I scarcely ever left my rooms except to take a walk. I’m sure you understand. It would not have been necessary even if I could have afforded it, which I really couldn’t--I’m afraid I have nothing--quite _suitable_--for evening wear.”
“You haven’t!” he exclaimed gleefully. “I don’t know what is suitable for evening wear, but I haven’t got it either. Pearson told me so with tears in his eyes. It never was necessary for me either. I’ve got to get some things to quiet Pearson down, but until I do I’ve got to eat my dinner in a tweed cutaway; and what I’ve caught on to is that it’s unsuitable enough to throw a man into jail. That little black dress you’ve got on and that little cap are just ’way out of sight, they’re so becoming. Come down just like you are.”
