"Come on in," coaxed Westmore, linking his arm in Barres', and counting on the latter to give him countenance.
The arm of Barres remained rigid and unresponsive, but his legs were reluctantly obliging and carried him along with Westmore to what had been his own room before Thessalie had installed herself there.
And there she was on her knees, amid a riot of lingerie and feminine effects, while Dulcie lovingly smoothed out and folded object after object which Selinda placed between layers of pale blue tissue paper in the trunks.
"How are things going, Thessa?" inquired Westmore, in the hearty, cheerful voice of the intruder who hopes to be made welcome. But her attitude was discouraging.
"You know you are only in the way," she said. "Drive him out, Dulcie!"
Dulcie laughed and looked at them both with shyly friendly eyes:
"Is my trousseau not beautiful?" she asked. "If you'll step outside I'll put on a hat and gown for you----"
"Oh, Dulcie!" protested Thessalie, "I want you to dawn upon them, and a dress rehearsal would spoil it all!"
Westmore tiptoed around amid lovely, frail mounds of fabrics, until ordered to an empty chair and forbidden further motion. It was all the same to him, so long as his fascinated gaze could rest on Thessalie.
Which further annoyed Barres, and he backed out and walked to the studio, considerably disturbed in his mind.
"That man," he thought, "is making an ass of himself, hanging around Thessa like a half-witted child. She can't help noticing it, but she doesn't seem to do anything about it. I don't know why she doesn't squelch him--unless she likes it----" But the idea was so unpleasant to Barres that he instantly abandoned that train of thought and prepared for himself a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and an uncut volume of flimsy summer fiction.
In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations, there came a ring at his studio door. Only the superintendent or strangers rang that bell as a rule, and Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistol into his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.
Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from drink, his legs steady enough. As usual when drunk, he was inclined to be garrulous.