Authors: Susan Barrie
Why, then, was it ...
?
He was looking almost disturbingly handsome tonight—and for the first time she recognized that he really was handsome—and very confident and immaculate in his evening clothes. A white tie suited him, as she hadn
’
t neglected to notice on the only other occasion when she had seen him dressed for a formal evening. On that occasion, when he had selected the same restaurant as the one Peter Fairfield had chosen for her own entertainment, the dark swarthiness of his skin had struck her as very noticeable in contrast with the whiteness of his shirt and waistcoat. Tonight, looking along the length of the lovely rosewood table, with its flowers and lace tablemats, sparkling silver and glass, to where he sat beside his hostess, she couldn
’
t help but observe how the light from the old-fashioned chandelier that swung from the ceiling shone down on the sleekness of his slightly bent head, with the little patches of frost at his temples, and she noticed what an unusually well-poised head it was.
His profile was clear-cut and without any signs of self
-
indulgence, his shoulders were broad, but not too broad. There were diamonds in his shirt cuffs and in the front of his waistcoat, but there was nothing vulgar about the way in which they flashed in the light. He was elegant without carrying his elegance to extremes, and above all, he was intensely masculine.
He looked up suddenly and their eyes met. She noticed again that his eyes were composed of fluid darkness, and the thought crossed her mind that if one gazed long enough into that fluid darkness one would become submerged by it and perhaps drown in it.
And then the very next instant she felt acutely self
-
conscious because she had thought such a thought and something leaped in her throat like an uncontrollable pulse and disturbed her still more. His eyes were unsmiling, not exactly grave, but thoughtful; and they seemed to be dwelling on her deliberately, as if he was turning over something in his mind in connection with her, and even assessing her potentialities.
She was wearing her black net dress that emphasized the extreme fairness of her skin and hair, and she felt suddenly as if the whole area of fair skin that was not concealed by the cloudy properties of the dress was turning slightly but definitely pink under his unwavering and almost deliberately embarrassing scrutiny.
Her slender neck, the tips of her ears, her wide attractive brow
...
Even her cheeks started to vibrate a little with color, as if the pulse that had leaped in her throat had affected two others beneath her light makeup, and they were palpitating. And deep down inside her, apart from a growing confusion, something seemed to be awaking from a deep sleep, and she was filled with the oddest sensations.
On one side of her the professor was talking about education and the unrivaled advantages of the Sorbonne. On the other, the young law student was waiting until she finished staring across the table to claim her attention, and realizing that he was waiting she dragged her eyes away from the one glance that compelled hers and said something quickly and apologetically, and the law student felt that at least he had scored over the professor.
For the remainder of the time that dinner lasted Valentine purposefully refrained from looking down the length of the table, and afterward she was glad that in the drawing room her hostess fastened onto her, and there was no opportunity for her attention to wander. One or two other guests talked to her, and she received several invitations to visit houses that she had not so far visited, and the law student hung around in her vicinity in the hopes that she might spare him a few moments before the evening broke up.
But Dr. Daudet didn
’
t come anywhere near the end of the room in which she was seated until the hour arrived when she knew she would have to leave. Her host said at once that he would drive her home, but then the doctor came forward and assured him that that wasn
’
t in the least necessary, because he could quite easily drive Miss Brooke home.
“
I was just thinking of leaving, in any case,
”
he said. He looked once more directly at Valentine.
“
I have a patient who is causing me a certain amount of concern and whom
I
must visit,
”
he added.
“
I
can drop Miss Brooke on the way there.
”
Valentine stood up and said her good-nights, and then in her hostess
’
s bedroom she donned her wrap and made a few scarcely noticeable repairs to her makeup, after which she joined the doctor in the hall.
She thought he seemed unusually tall as he stood looking down at her for a moment. Then her hostess kissed her somewhat impulsively, begged her to look in whenever she pleased, and the doctor placed her in his car.
As they drove away she had the feeling that within the enclosed space of the car she was physically closer to him than she had ever been before.
CHAPTER NINE
As
they drove
away
from the lit front of the house the doctor said smoothly,
“
Well, I am sure you were a great success. Madame Dubonnet obviously took an enormous fancy to you, and that young man who sat next to you at dinner is probably at this very moment scheming how soon he can attempt to get in touch with you again!
”
Valentine ignored the reference to the young man and replied that she had thoroughly enjoyed meeting her hostess. She had taken to Monsieur Dubonnet immediately, because he was so very kindly, and his wife had impressed her with her warm friendliness. It was a friendly household, and everyone had been slightly more than kind.
“
You
’
re not really a difficult person to be kind to, you know,
”
Leon Daudet observed, driving rather carefully because the streets were wet after a shower of rain, and there were little oil patches that showed up in the broad road ahead, as well as the reflections of shop signs and window displays.
“
And at the moment, of course, you
’
re the least bit of a sensation!
”
“
You mean—
”
looking at him quickly sideways
“
—because of Miss Constantia?
”
He shrugged slightly.
“
Miss Constantia has let you in for some limelight, but you mustn
’
t mind. There are compensations, aren
’
t there?
”
“
Are there?
”
Just then she really wondered whether
there really were compensations. All at once she was feeling acutely lonely, in spite of his nearness in the confined space of the car, and almost perturbed about the curious emptiness of her whole future as it stretched ahead of her.
“
At your age there are always compensations, and merely being alive when you
’
re only twenty-three should be an excitement in itself!
”
She said nothing. The theatre signs dazzled her, and he was staring intently ahead.
“
My aunt was enchanted by your visit yesterday afternoon,
”
he told her.
“
She hopes you will repeat it soon.
”
“
That is most kind of the
marquise
,”
she replied. And then she added,
“
I hope when
I
am her age
I
wi
ll
look as delightful as she does. Her complexion is perfect, and I have never seen such beautiful white hair!
”
“
You will,
”
he assured her.
“
You have the same fair skin and coloring.
”
“
But your aunt has dark eyes. They are wonderful!
”
“
Blue eyes are appealing.
”
She thought it better not to reply to this.
“
I
’
m afraid I didn
’
t realize you were taking me to see a real live
marquise
,”
she said.
“
When you mentioned you had an aunt who would be interested in meeting me, I thought she was someone like, well, like Miss Constantia.
”
“
Miss Constantia left far more money behind her than my aunt has handled in years,
”
he returned.
“
You mustn
’
t be misled by appearances and a family house. Her son is always having to cut down on something or other in order to live. At the present he
’
s in South Africa, because that is the climate that suits him.
”
“
Then he is an invalid?
”
“
He has a chest weakness. But as I said, South Africa suits him.
”
“
Then your aunt must often be lonely. I
’
m sorry.
”
He smiled without turning his head.
“
Drop in and see her whenever you feel like it, and she
’
ll be less lonely,
”
The theater signs and the display windows had been left behind, but for some time she didn
’
t realize it, continually asking herself a question that vexed her. Why hadn
’
t he told her the day before that he was dining at the Dubonnet house tonight? Or
h
adn
’
t he, at that time, received an invitation? No, that was hardly likely.
“
You
’
re wondering why I didn
’
t let you know I would see you tonight,
”
he said suddenly.
“
Well, as a matter of fact, I wasn
’
t quite certain about it. A doctor never can be absolutely certain of his movements, you know.
”
“
A G.P., like my father was, can never be certain of his movements, but I would have thought anyone as exalted as yourself could be reasonably certain of them.
”
He laughed softly.
“
Am I exalted?
”
“
Oh, yes, of course! Miss Constantia told me you were Paris
’
s leading heart specialist, and that your women patients outnumbered your male ones by about three to one. She also said you knew all there was to be known about the human heart.
”
His laughter this time had an ingredient of genuine amusement in it, although it was still very low.
“
Not
all
about the human heart! The physical heart!
”
“
You don
’
t pretend to be a specialist on its emotional functions?
”
“
They,
”
he admitted,
“
are quite beyond me.
”
All at once she remembered the patient he was anxious about and realized they were taking a great deal of time to reach her apartment. They seemed to have been traveling at considerable speed, too, in spite of the wet roads. Now there were no lights, only the trees forming dark shapes at the sides of the
r
oad and a feeling of loneliness beyond the trees. It was no longer raining. She could see one or two stars, and low down on the horizon the last quarter of the moon was lifting itself into a cloudy sky.
“
Why,
”
she exclaimed,
“
this is all strange to me! Does your patient live in an out-of-the-way place?
”
“
My patient?
”
He sounded puzzled.
“
The one you were anxious about.
”
“
Oh!
”
He didn
’
t laugh this time, but she could see how his white teeth flashed as he smiled.
“
That was a patient who existed solely in my imagination, but he was very useful because he enabled me to offer to drive you home. And as we left at quite an early hour
I
thought a drive into the country might do us both good, and you could tell me a lot of things about yourself that I don
’
t know.
”
She fell silent—so silent that he presently stopped the car under one of those overhanging trees, with a scent of fresh growing things coming in through the windows, and the starshine making a splendor of the still damp road.