The Titan [153]
of sky and clouds. Charmed by the picture she presented in both cases, he was genially complimentary. To-day she was stouter, ruddier--the fiber of her had hardened, as it does with so many as the years come on; but she was still in full bloom--a little late in the summer, but in full bloom.
"Oh yes; and this Rembrandt--I'm surprised! I did not know your husband's collection was so representative. Israels, I see, and Gerome, and Meissonier! Gad! It is a representative collection, isn't it?"
"Some of the things are excellent," she commented, with an air, aping Cowperwood and others, "but a number will be weeded out eventually--that Paul Potter and this Goy--as better examples come into the market."
She had heard Cowperwood say as much, over and over.
Finding that conversation was possible between them in this easy, impersonal way, Aileen became quite natural and interested, pleased and entertained by his discreet and charming presence. Evidently he did not intend to pay much more than a passing social call. On the other hand, Lynde was studying her, wondering what effect his light, distant air was having. As he finished a very casual survey of the gallery he remarked:
"I have always wondered about this house. I knew Lord did it, of course, and I always heard it was well done. That is the dining-room, I suppose?"
Aileen, who had always been inordinately vain of the house in spite of the fact that it had proved of small use socially, was delighted to show him the remainder of the rooms. Lynde, who was used, of course, to houses of all degrees of material splendor--that of his own family being one of the best--pretended an interest he did not feel. He commented as he went on the taste of the decorations and wood-carving, the charm of the arrangement that permitted neat brief vistas, and the like.
"Just wait a moment," said Aileen, as they neared the door of her own boudoir. "I've forgotten whether mine is in order. I want you to see that."
She opened it and stepped in.
"Yes, you may come," she called.
He followed. "Oh yes, indeed. Very charming. Very graceful--those little lacy dancing figures--aren't they? A delightful color scheme. It harmonizes with you exactly. It is quite like you."
He paused, looking at the spacious rug, which was of warm blues and creams, and at the gilt ormolu bed. "Well done," he said, and then, suddenly changing his mood and dropping his talk of decoration (Aileen was to his right, and he was between her and the door), he added: "Tell me now why won't you come to the barn-dance to-night? It would be charming. You will enjoy it."
Aileen saw the sudden change in his mood. She recognized that by showing him the rooms she had led herself into an easily made disturbing position. His dark engaging eyes told their own story.
"Oh, I don't feel in the mood to. I haven't for a number of things for some time. I--"
She began to move unconcernedly about him toward the door, but he detained her with his hand. "Don't go just yet," he said. "Let me talk to you. You always evade me in such a nervous way. Don't you like me at all?"
"Oh yes, I like you; but can't we talk just as well down in the music-room as here? Can't I tell you why I evade you down there just as well as I can here?" She smiled a winning and now fearless smile.
Lynde showed his even white teeth in two gleaming rows. His eyes filled with a gay maliciousness. "Surely, surely," he replied; "but you're so nice in your own room here. I hate to leave it."
"Just the same," replied Aileen, still gay, but now slightly disturbed also, "I think we might as well. You will find me just as entertaining downstairs."
She moved, but his strength, quite as Cowperwood's, was much too great for her. He was a strong man.
"Really, you know," she said, "you mustn't act this way here. Some one might come in. What cause have I given you to make you think you could do like this with me?"
"What cause?" he asked, bending over her and smoothing her plump arms with his brown hands. "Oh,
"Oh yes; and this Rembrandt--I'm surprised! I did not know your husband's collection was so representative. Israels, I see, and Gerome, and Meissonier! Gad! It is a representative collection, isn't it?"
"Some of the things are excellent," she commented, with an air, aping Cowperwood and others, "but a number will be weeded out eventually--that Paul Potter and this Goy--as better examples come into the market."
She had heard Cowperwood say as much, over and over.
Finding that conversation was possible between them in this easy, impersonal way, Aileen became quite natural and interested, pleased and entertained by his discreet and charming presence. Evidently he did not intend to pay much more than a passing social call. On the other hand, Lynde was studying her, wondering what effect his light, distant air was having. As he finished a very casual survey of the gallery he remarked:
"I have always wondered about this house. I knew Lord did it, of course, and I always heard it was well done. That is the dining-room, I suppose?"
Aileen, who had always been inordinately vain of the house in spite of the fact that it had proved of small use socially, was delighted to show him the remainder of the rooms. Lynde, who was used, of course, to houses of all degrees of material splendor--that of his own family being one of the best--pretended an interest he did not feel. He commented as he went on the taste of the decorations and wood-carving, the charm of the arrangement that permitted neat brief vistas, and the like.
"Just wait a moment," said Aileen, as they neared the door of her own boudoir. "I've forgotten whether mine is in order. I want you to see that."
She opened it and stepped in.
"Yes, you may come," she called.
He followed. "Oh yes, indeed. Very charming. Very graceful--those little lacy dancing figures--aren't they? A delightful color scheme. It harmonizes with you exactly. It is quite like you."
He paused, looking at the spacious rug, which was of warm blues and creams, and at the gilt ormolu bed. "Well done," he said, and then, suddenly changing his mood and dropping his talk of decoration (Aileen was to his right, and he was between her and the door), he added: "Tell me now why won't you come to the barn-dance to-night? It would be charming. You will enjoy it."
Aileen saw the sudden change in his mood. She recognized that by showing him the rooms she had led herself into an easily made disturbing position. His dark engaging eyes told their own story.
"Oh, I don't feel in the mood to. I haven't for a number of things for some time. I--"
She began to move unconcernedly about him toward the door, but he detained her with his hand. "Don't go just yet," he said. "Let me talk to you. You always evade me in such a nervous way. Don't you like me at all?"
"Oh yes, I like you; but can't we talk just as well down in the music-room as here? Can't I tell you why I evade you down there just as well as I can here?" She smiled a winning and now fearless smile.
Lynde showed his even white teeth in two gleaming rows. His eyes filled with a gay maliciousness. "Surely, surely," he replied; "but you're so nice in your own room here. I hate to leave it."
"Just the same," replied Aileen, still gay, but now slightly disturbed also, "I think we might as well. You will find me just as entertaining downstairs."
She moved, but his strength, quite as Cowperwood's, was much too great for her. He was a strong man.
"Really, you know," she said, "you mustn't act this way here. Some one might come in. What cause have I given you to make you think you could do like this with me?"
"What cause?" he asked, bending over her and smoothing her plump arms with his brown hands. "Oh,