The Definite Object: A Romance of New YorkFarnol, Jeffery
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The Definite Object: A Romance of New York
Farnol, Jeffery
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
She stopped, and turning on the stair above, looked down on him with a
pair of wondering blue eyes; her cheeks glowed, and she was panting a
little. For a long moment they fronted each other thus silently upon
that grimy, narrow stair, she above with gracious head stooped, her dark
eyes questioning and wistful. And looking up into the flushed loveliness
of her face, those eyes deep and soft beneath their long, black lashes,
the tender droop of those vivid lips, beholding all this, he knew her to
be a thousand times more beautiful than any photograph could possibly
portray, wherefore he bared his head, and striving to speak, could find
no words to utter. For a moment longer she hesitated while her clear
eyes searched his face, then the red lips curved in a little wistful
smile.
"Thank you!" she said, and, yielding him her burden, led the way
up-stairs. "I'm afraid it's rather heavy," she said over her shoulder
after they had climbed another flight.
"It's quite too heavy for you!" he answered.
"Oh, but I've carried it often before now."
"Then you shouldn't!"
"But I have to!"
"No," said Ravenslee, shaking his head, "you should let your brother
bring it up for you."
"My brother!" she exclaimed, pausing to look her amazement. And again as
she stood thus poised above him, he took joy to note the warmth of her
rich colouring, the soft, round column of her white throat, the gracious
breadth of hip and shoulder.
"You know I have a brother?"
"Oh, yes, Spike--er--that is, Arthur and I are quite--er--ancient
cronies--pals, you know--friends, I mean--" Mr. Ravenslee was actually
stammering.
"Oh, really?" she said softly; but all at once, becoming aware of the
fixity of his regard, the colour deepened in her cheek, the long lashes
drooped and, turning away, she went on up the stair.
"It's a long way up yet! Hadn't you better let me take it?"
"Not for worlds!" he answered.
"Isn't it getting heavier?" she enquired, as they climbed the next
flight.
"Decidedly heavier!"
"Then please," said she, slackening her pace, "please let me take it!"
"On the contrary," he answered, his gaze on her slender foot and ankle,
"I should like to carry it for you all my--er--ah, that is--I mean--"
Mr. Ravenslee was stammering again.
"Yes?"
He was aware that the shapely foot had faltered in its going.
"As often as I may, Miss Hermione."
Hereupon the shapely foot halted altogether, and once again she turned
to look at him in wide-eyed surprise.
"You know my name?"
"I learned it from Arthur, and--I shall never forget it!"
"Why not?"
"Well, because it is rather uncommon and--very beautiful!"
"Oh!" said Hermione, and went on up the stair again, yet not before he
had seen the flush was back in her cheek.
"Are you getting tired yet?" she enquired, without looking round.
"Not appreciably," he answered, "but if you think I need a rest--"
"No, no!" she laughed, "we should never get off these frightful stairs!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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