Evans Rutledge was in a fever of anxiety lest that name should get to
the public. He was sure that he could not face Elise again if it did.
Senator Ruffin’s rebuke had sunk deep into his heart and he felt more
guilty than Smith. He looked over the morning and evening papers very
carefully to see whether they had discovered the young woman, before he
finally decided to go to Senator DeVale’s as he had promised Lola. When
he arrived he found, beside Elise, only Alice Mackenzie, Hazard and
young MacLane, an under-secretary of the British embassy. Others who
were to come failed to appear.
Elise was not pleased with the situation. She was quite willing to be
ordinarily civil to Mr. Rutledge, but she knew that nothing could
separate MacLane and Alice Mackenzie, and that Hazard had known Lola so
long and had proposed to her so regularly and insistently that he was
for her or for nobody. It looked a little too much, therefore, as if she
had chosen Evans for her very own for the evening. She did not want him
to think such a thing possible. She remembered his point-blank
editorial utterance that those small sentiments—loves and hates—melted
away before exhibitions of social equality with negroes—so at least she
construed it—and she could not but resent it, though she would not admit
she troubled herself to do that.
"Now, young people," said Lola, "as the programme has been spoiled we
will make this an evening of do-as-you-please."
"Good, very good," commented Hazard. "In that case you will please to
come over here and take this chair and let’s finish that conversation we
were having last night when the unpronounceable Russian took you away
from me."
"I am afraid that conversation is a serial story," she laughed, taking
the chair he placed for her.
MacLane asked Alice Mackenzie some vague question about a song, which
only she could interpret, and they by common impulse went through the
wide door to the piano in the back parlour, where after she had hummed a
short love ballad for him to piano accompaniment they dropped into a
pianissimo duet of love without accompaniment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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