"Not nearly," said Juliet, coming out of her silence. "Dick has rather
strong opinions on this subject, Charles, so please don't be flippant
about it! Will you give me another match?"
He held one for her, his eyebrows cocked at a comical angle, open
derision in the odd eyes beneath them. Then, her cigarette kindled, he
sprang up in his abrupt fashion.
"I'm going. Thanks for putting up with me for so long. I had to come and
see you, Juliette. You are one of the very few capable of appreciating me
at my full value."
"I hope you will come again," she said.
He bowed low over her hand. "If I can ever serve you in any way," he
said, "I hope you will give me the privilege. Farewell, most estimable
Romeo! You may yet live to greet me as a friend."
He was gone with the words with the suddenness of a monkey swinging off a
bough, leaving behind him a silence so marked that the fall of an unripe
apple from the tree immediately above them caused Columbus to start and
jump from his perch to investigate.
Then Juliet, very quiet of mien and level of brow, got up and went to
Dick who had risen at the departure of the visitor. She put her hand
through his arm and held it closely.
"You are not to be unkind to my friends, Richard," she said. "It is the
one thing I can't allow."
He looked at her with some sternness, but his free hand closed at once
upon hers. "I hate to think of you on terms of intimacy with that
bounder," he said.
She smiled a little. "I know you do. But you are prejudiced. I can't give
up an old friend--even for you, Dick."
He squeezed her hand. "Have you got many friends like that, Juliet?"
She flushed. "No. He is the only one I have, and--"
"And?" he said, as she stopped.
She laid her cheek with a very loving gesture against his shoulder.
"Ah, don't throw stones!" she pleaded gently. "There are so few of us
without sin."
His arm was about her in a moment, all his hardness vanished. "My own
girl!" he said.
She held his hand in both her own. "Do you know--sometimes--I lie awake
at night and wonder--and wonder--whether you would have thought of
me--if you had known me in the old days?"
"Is that it?" he said very tenderly. "And you thought I was sleeping like
a hog and didn't know?"
She laughed rather tremulously, her face turned from him. "It isn't
always possible to bury the past, is it, however hard we try? I hope
you'll make allowances for that, Dick, if ever I shock your sense of
propriety."
"I shall make allowances," he said, "because you are the one and only
woman I worship--or have ever worshipped--and I can't see you in any
other light."
"How dear of you, Dicky!" she murmured. "And how rash!"
"Am I such an unutterable prig?" he said. "I feel myself that I have got
extra fastidious since knowing you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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