The Adventures of a Modest Man

But the very deuce seemed to possess him to talk on subjects from which she strove to lead him.

These are the other breaks he made, and as far as he got with each break – stopped neatly every time in time:

"Curious I haven't seen Jack Aus – "

"Mrs. Austin does resemble – "

"This is the first time I have ever been in Bev – "

And each time she managed to repair the break unnoticed. But it was telling on her; she couldn't last another round – she knew that. Only the figurative bell could save her now. And she could almost hear it as her sister rose.

Saved! But – but —what might some of these men say to him if he lingered here for coffee and cigarettes?

"You won't, will you?" she said desperately, as all rose.

"Won't – what?" he asked.

"Stay —long."

He rapidly made his way from the third into the fourth Heaven. She watched him.

"No, indeed," he said under his breath.

She lingered, fascinated by her own peril. Could she get him away at once?

"I – I wonder, Mr. Seabury, what you would think if I – if I suggested that you smoke – smoke – on the stairs – now – with me?"

He hastily scrambled out of the fourth Heaven into the fifth. She saw him do it.

"I'd rather smoke there than anywhere in the world – "

"Quick, then! Saunter over to the door – stroll about a little first – no, don't do even that! – I – I mean – you'd better hurry. Please!" She cast a rapid look about her; she could not linger another moment. Then, concentrating all the sweetness and audacity in her, and turning to him, she gave him one last look. It was sufficient to send him in one wild, flying leap from the fifth Heaven plump into the sixth. The sixth Heaven was on the stairs; and his legs carried him thither at a slow and indifferent saunter, though it required every scrap of his self-control to prevent his legs from breaking into a triumphant trot. Yet all the while that odd smile flickered, went out, and flickered in his eyes.

She was there, very fluffy, very brilliant, and flustered and adorable, the light from the sconces playing over her bare arms and shoulders and spinning all sorts of aureoles around her bright hair. Hah! She had him alone now. She was safe; she could breathe again. And he might harp on the Austins all he chose. Let him!

"No, I can't have cigarettes," she explained, "because it isn't good for my voice. I'm supposed to possess a voice, you know."

"It's about the sweetest voice I ever heard," he said so sincerely that the bright tint in her cheeks deepened.

"That is nicer than a compliment," she said, looking at him with a little laugh of pleasure. He nodded, watching the smoke rings drifting through the hall.

"Do you know something?" he said.

"Not very much. What?"

"If I were a great matrimonial prize – "

"You are, aren't you?"

"If I was," he continued, ignoring her, "like a king or a grand duke – "

"Exactly."

"I'd invite a grand competition for my hand and heart – "

"We'd all go, Mr. Seabury – "

" – And then I'd stroll about among them all – "

"Certainly – among the competing millions."

"Among the millions – blindfolded – "

"Blinfo – "

"Yes."

"Why?"

" – Blindfolded!" he repeated with emphasis. "I would choose a voice! – before everything else in the world."

"Oh," she said, rather faintly.

"A voice," he mused, looking hard at the end of his cigarette which had gone out: and the odd smile began to flicker in his eyes again.

Mischief prompting, she began: "I wonder what chance I should have in your competition? First prize I couldn't aspire to, but – there would be a sort of booby prize – wouldn't there, Mr. Seabury?"

"There would be only one prize – "

"Oh!"

"And that would be the booby prize; the prize booby." And he smiled his odd smile and laid his hand rather gracefully over his heart. "You have won him, Miss Gay."

She looked at him prepared to laugh, but, curiously enough, there was less of the booby about him as she saw him there than she had expected – a tall, clean-cut, attractive young fellow, with a well-shaped head and nice ears – a man, not a boy, after all – pleasant, amiably self-possessed, and of her own sort, as far as breeding showed.

Gone was the indescribably indefinite suggestion of too good looks, of latent self-sufficiency. He no longer struck her as being pleased with himself, of being a shade – just a shade – too sure of himself. A change, certainly; and to his advantage. Kindness, sympathy, recognition make wonderful changes in some people.

"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were queen, and" – she glanced at him – "a matrimonial prize… Shall I?"

"Why be both?" he asked.

"That rings hollow, Mr. Seabury, after your tribute to my voice!.. Suppose I were queen. I'd hold a caucus, too. Please say you'd come."

"Oh, I am already there!"

"That won't help you; it isn't first come, first served at my caucus!.. So, suppose millions of suitors were all sitting around twisting their fingers in abashed hopeful silence."

"Exactly."