Barres waited for Dulcie. She came out among the first of those departing, walking all alone in her reconstructed white dress, and carrying his bouquet. When she caught sight of him, her face became radiant and she made her way toward him through the crowd, seeking his outstretched hand with hers, clinging to it in a passion of gratitude and emotion that made her voice tremulous:
"My bouquet--it is so wonderful! I love every flower in it! Thank you with all my heart. You are so kind to have come--so kind to me--so k-kind----"
"It is I who should be grateful, Dulcie, for your charming little song," he insisted. "It was fascinating and exquisitely done."
"Did you really like it?" she asked shyly.
"Indeed I did! And I quite fell in love with your voice, too--with that trick you seem to possess of conveying a hint of tears through some little grace-note now and then.... And there _were_ tears hidden in the words; and in the melody, too.... And to think that your mother wrote it!"
After a short interval of silence he released her hand.
"I have a taxi for you," he said gaily. "We'll drive home in state."
The girl flushed again with surprise and gratitude:
"Certainly I'm going to take you home. Don't you belong to me?" he demanded laughingly.
"Yes," she said. But her forced little smile made the low-voiced answer almost solemn.
"Well, then!" he said cheerfully. "Come along. What's mine I look after. We'll have lunch together in the studio, if you are too proud to pose for a poor artist this afternoon."
At this her sensitive face cleared and she laughed happily.
"The pride of a high-school graduate!" he commented, as he seated himself beside her in the taxicab. "Can anything equal it?"
"Her pride in your--friendship," she ventured.
Which unexpected reply touched and surprised him.
"You dear child!" he said; "I'm proud of your friendship, too. Nothing ought to make a man prouder than winning a young girl's confidence."
"You are so kind," she sighed, touching the blossoms in her bouquet with slender fingers that trembled a little. For she would have offered him a flower from it had she found courage; but it seemed presumptuous and she dropped her hand into her lap again.
Aristocrates opened the door for them: Selinda took her away.