"I wouldn"t if I were you."
"Why not?"
Lady Carey threw away the end of her cigarette, and looked for a moment thoughtfully at her long white fingers glittering with rings. Then she began to draw on her gloves.
"Well, in the first place," she said, "Lucille will have no time to spare for you. You will be de trop in decidedly an uncomfortable position. You wouldn"t find London at all a good place to live in just now, even if you ever got there--which I am inclined to doubt. And secondly, here am I--"
"Circe!" he murmured.
"Waiting to be entertained, in a strange country, almost friendless.
I want to be shown everything, taken everywhere. And I am dying to see your home at Lenox. I do not think your att.i.tude towards me in the least hospitable."
"Come, you are judging me very quickly," he declared. "What opportunities have I had?"
"What opportunities can there be if you sail by the Campania?"
"You might dine with me to-night at least."
"Impossible! The Dalkeiths have a party to meet me. Come too, won"t you?
They love dukes--even French ones."
He shook his head.
"There is no attraction for me in a large party," he answered. "I am getting to an age when to make conversation in return for a dinner seems scarcely a fair exchange."
"From your host"s point of view, or yours?"
"From both! Besides, one"s digestion suffers."
"You are certainly getting old," she declared. "Come, I must go. You haven"t been a bit nice to me. When shall I see you again?"
"It is," he answered, "for you to say."
She looked at him for a moment thoughtfully.
"Supposing," she said, "that I cried off the yacht race to-day. Would you take me out to lunch?"
He smiled.
"My dear lady," he said, "it is for Circe to command--and for me to obey."
"And you"ll come and have tea with me afterwards at the Waldorf?"
"That," Mr. Sabin declared, "will add still further to my happiness."
"Will you call for me, then--and where shall we have lunch, and at what time? I must go and develop a headache at once, or that tiresome Dalkeith boy will be pounding at my door."
"I will call for you at the Waldorf at half-past one," Mr. Sabin said.
"Unless you have any choice, I will take you to a little place downtown where we can imagine ourselves back on the Continent, and where we shall be spared the horror of green corn."
"Delightful," she murmured, b.u.t.toning her glove. "Then you shall take me for a drive to Fifth Avenue, or to see somebody"s tomb, and my woman shall make some real Russian tea for us in my sitting-room. Really, I think I"m doing very well for the first day. Is the spell beginning to work?"
"Hideously," he a.s.sured her. "I feel already that the only thing I dread in life are these two hours before luncheon."
She nodded.
"That is quite as it should be. Don"t trouble to come down with me. I believe that Dalkeith pere is hanging round somewhere, and in view of my headache perhaps you had better remain in the background for the moment.
At one-thirty, then!"
Mr. Sabin smiled as she pa.s.sed out of the room, and lit a cigarette.
"I think," he said to himself, "that the arrival of Felix is opportune."
CHAPTER VII
They sat together at a small table, looking upon a scene which was probably unique in the history of the great restaurant. The younger man was both frankly interested and undoubtedly curious. Mr. Sabin, though his eyes seemed everywhere, retained to the full extent that nonchalance of manner which all his life he had so a.s.siduously cultivated.
"It is wonderful, my dear Felix," he said, leisurely drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, "wonderful what good fellowship can be evolved by a kindred interest in sport, and a bottle or so of good champagne. But, after all, this is not to be taken seriously."
"Shamrock the fourth! Shamrock the fourth!"
A tall young American, his thick head of hair, which had once been carefully parted in the middle, a little disheveled, his hard, clean-cut face flushed with enthusiasm, had risen to his feet and stood with a br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s of champagne high over his head. Almost every one in the room rose to their feet. A college boy sprang upon a table with extended arms. The Yale shout split the room. The very gla.s.ses on the table rattled.
"Columbia! Columbia!"
It was an Englishman now who had leaped upon a vacant table with upraised gla.s.s. There was an answering roar of enthusiasm. Every one drank, and every one sat down again with a pleasant thrill of excitement at this unique scene. Felix leaned back in his chair and marveled.
"One would have imagined," he murmured, "that America and England together were at war with the rest of the world and had won a great victory. To think that this is all the result of a yacht race. It is incredible!"
"All your life, my dear Felix," Mr. Sabin remarked, "you have underrated the sporting instinct. It has a great place amongst the impulses of the world. See how it has brought these people together."
"But they are already of the same kin," Felix remarked. "Their interests and aims are alike. Their destinies are surely identical."
Mr. Sabin, who had lit his cigarette, watched the blue smoke curl upwards, and was thoughtful for a moment.
"My dear Felix!" he said. "You are very, very young. The interests of two great nations such as America and England can never be alike. It is the language of diplomacy, but it is also the language of fools."
Their conversation was for the moment interrupted by a fresh murmur of applause, rising above the loved hum of conversation, the laughter of women, and the popping of corks. A little troop of waiters had just wheeled into the room two magnificent models of yachts hewn out of blocks of solid ice and crowned with flowers. On the one were the Stars and Stripes, on the other the Shamrock and Thistle. There was much clapping of hands and cheering. Lady Carey, who was sitting at the next table with her back to them, joined in the applause so heartily that a tiny gold pencil attached to her bracelet became detached and rolled un.o.bserved to Mr. Sabin"s side. Felix half rose to pick it up, but was suddenly checked by a quick gesture from his companion.
"Leave it," Mr. Sabin whispered. "I wish to return it myself."
He stooped and picked it up, a certain stealthiness apparent in his movement. Felix watched him in amazement.
"It is Lady Carey"s, is it not?" he asked.
"Yes. Be silent. I will give it back to her presently."