The two men were waiting for them--Lord Bracondale and the French
Count--her father and Mrs. McBride had not yet appeared.
Theodora introduced them to her husband, and Lord Bracondale said: "Mrs. McBride is always late. I have found out which is your father's
table; don't you think we might go and sit down?"
And they did. Theodora got well into the corner of the velvet sofa, the
Count on one side and Lord Bracondale on the other, with Josiah beyond
the Count.
They made conversation. The Frenchman was voluble and agreeable, and the
next ten minutes passed without incident.
Josiah, not quite at ease, perhaps, but on the whole not ill-pleased
with his situation. The Count took all ups and downs as of the day's
work, sure of a good breakfast, sooner or later, unpaid for by himself.
And Lord Bracondale's thoughts ran somewhat thus: "She is even more beautiful in daylight than at night. She can't be more
than twenty--what a skin! like a white gardenia petal--and, good Lord,
what a husband! How revolting, how infamous! I suppose that old schemer,
her father, sold her to him. Her eyes remind one of forgotten fairy
tales of angels. Can anything be so sweet as that little nose and those
baby-red lips. She has a soul, too, peeping out of the blue when she
looks up at one. She reminds me of Praxiteles' Psyche when she looks
down. Why did I not meet her long ago? I believe I ought not to stay
now--something tells me I shall fall deeply into this. And what a
voice!--as gentle and caressing as a tender dove. A man would give his
soul for such a woman. As guileless as an infant saint, too--and
sensitive and human and understanding. I wish to God I had the strength
of mind to get up and go this minute--but I haven't--it is fate."
"Oh, how naughty of papa," said Theodora, "to be so late! Are you very
hungry, Josiah? Shall we begin without them?"
But at that moment, with rustling silks and delicate perfume, the widow
and Captain Fitzgerald came in at the door and joined the party.
"I am just too sorry," the lady said, gayly. "It is all Captain
Fitzgerald's fault--he would try to restrain me from buying what I
wanted, and so it made me obstinate and I had to stay right there and
order half the shop."
"How I understand you!" sympathized Lord Bracondale. "I know just that
feeling of wanting forbidden fruit. It makes the zest of life."