The Crimson Tide Part 65

"So you don't like _Tiger-eyes_?" she demanded, coming from behind the piano.

"I sure don't," he admitted.

"The real Russian name of the song is 'Words! Words!' And that's all the song is--all that any song is--all that anything amounts to--words! words!--" She dropped onto the long couch,--"Anything except--love."

"You may include that, too," he said, lighting a cigarette for her; and she blew a ring of smoke at him, saying:

"I may--but I won't. For goodness sake leave me the last one of my delusions!"

They both laughed and he said she was welcome to her remaining delusion.

"Won't you share it with me?" she said, her smile innocent enough, save for the audacity of the red mouth.

"Share your delusion?"

"Yes, that too."

This wouldn't do. He lighted a cigarette for himself and sauntered over to the piano.

"I hope Vanya's concert is a success," he said. "He's such a charming fellow, Vanya--so considerate, so gentle--" He turned and looked at Marya, and his eyes added: "Why the devil don't you marry him and have a lot of jolly children?"

There seemed to be in his clear eyes enough for the girl to comprehend something of the question they flung at her.

"I don't love Vanya," she said.

"Of course you do!"

"As I might love a child--yes."

After a silence: "It strikes me," he said, "that you're pa.s.sionately in love."

"I am."

"With yourself," he added, smiling.

"With _you_."

This wouldn't do any longer. The place slightly stifled him with its stillness, rugs--the odours that came from lacquered shapes, looming dimly, flowered and golden in the dusk--the aromatic scent of her cigarette----

"h.e.l.l!" he muttered under his breath. "This is no place for a white man." But aloud he said pleasantly: "My very best wishes for Vanya to-night. Tell him so when he returns--" He put on his overcoat and picked up hat and stick.

"It's infernally late," he added, "and I've been a beast to keep you up. It was awfully nice of you."

She rose from the lounge and walked with him to the door.

"Good night," he said cheerily; but she retained his hand, added her other to it, and put up her face.

"Look here," he said, smilingly, "I can't do that, Marya."

"Why can't you?"

Her soft breath was on his face; the mouth too near--too near----

"No, I can't!" he said curtly, but his voice trembled a little.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because--there's Vanya. No, I won't do it!"

"Is that the reason?"

"It's a reason."

"I don't love Vanya. I do love you."

"Please remember----"

"No! No! I have nothing to remember--unless you give me something----"

"You had better try to remember that Vanya loves you. You and I can't do a thing like that to Vanya--"

"Are there no other reasons?"

He reddened to the temples: "No, there are not--now. There is no other reason--except myself."

"Yourself?"

"Yes, d.a.m.n it, myself! That's all that remains now to keep me straight. And I've been so. That may be news to you. Perhaps you don't believe it."

"Is it so, Jim?" she asked in a voice scarcely audible.

"Yes, it is. And so I shall keep on, and play the game that way--play it squarely with Vanya, too----"

He had lost his heavy colour; he stood looking at her with a white, strained, grim expression that tightened the jaw muscles; and she felt his powerful hand clenching between hers.

"It's no use," he said between his set lips, "I've got to go on--see it through in my own fas.h.i.+on--this rotten thing called life. I'm sorry, Marya, that I'm not a better sport----"

A wave of colour swept her face and her hands suddenly crushed his between them.

"You're wonderful," she said. "I do love you."

But the tense, grey look had come back into his face. Looking at her in silence, presently his gaze seemed to become remote, his absent eyes fixed on something beyond her.

"I've a rotten time ahead of me," he said, not knowing he had spoken.

When his eyes reverted to her, his features remained expressionless, but his voice was almost tender as he said good night once more.

Her hands fell away; he opened the door and went out without looking back.