The Golden WebOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Golden Web
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
She turned back into the shop, and he followed her. The lace
dressing-gown was still lying upon a chair, and in a few moments Deane
found it being held up before him by a vivacious little Frenchwoman, who
was endeavoring to convince him that in it Madame would look a dream. It
was very filmy, very dainty, wonderfully expensive. Deane heard the
price without moving a muscle.
"I think you had better have it," he said. "I am sure," he went on,
looking into her eyes, "that you will look charming in it."
For the first time he seemed to score. She bent over some lace
handkerchiefs, as though anxious to avoid his gaze. "Very well," she
said, "I think that will be all now. Please pay, and let us go."
Once more they were in the streets.
"I want a dressing-bag," she said, a little abruptly.
"By all means," he answered. "We had better go back to the jeweller's.
Do you prefer mother-of-pearl fittings, or gold?"
"I am not sure," she answered. "I should like to look at some."
They were twenty minutes or so making a selection. Deane wrote another
cheque, and stuffed another receipt into his pocket. He had made a few
suggestions himself, which had increased the cost considerably.
"Where to now?" he asked.
"I want some gloves," she said. "Perhaps you would rather go back to
your office now. I must not take up your whole afternoon."
"I am entirely at your service," he assured her. "Believe me, I find
shopping quite an interesting novelty."
"You mean," she said, "that you like to watch the effect upon me. You
think I don't understand. It is quite easy. Tell me how I seem to you?"
"You seem very much to the manner born," he answered, "but you seem
also, if I may say so, as though you were getting rid of the pent-up
desires of years. For instance," he added, as they strolled along the
south side of the street, "there is a certain almost fierceness--I won't
say barbarism--in the way you absorb the things you desire. I am not
complaining," he added quickly. "As a matter of fact, I am rather
inclined to welcome any note of humanity. So long as we are engaged," he
added, looking at her sideways, "one would just as soon feel that one
were engaged to a living person as an automaton."
She kept her eyes averted, but he saw the faint spot of color burning in
her cheeks.
"This is where I think I shall get the gloves I want," she said.
"I will come in with you, if I may," he answered.
Her purchases here showed a little more restraint. Nevertheless,
everything she chose was the best of its sort. When she came out, her
appetite seemed somehow whetted. She walked along the street almost
listlessly.
"Do you know that it is nearly half-past four?" he said. "You had better
let me give you some tea."
She nodded indifferently. "Thank you. That would be very nice."
"Will you come to my rooms," he asked, "or shall we go into the Carlton
and hear the music?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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