CHAPTER II
THE HOUSEHOLD
About dusk Sir Peter arrived from lower Westchester while I wasdressing. Warned by the rattle of wheels from the coach-house at thefoot of the garden, and peering through the curtains, I saw the lampsshining and heard the trample of our horses on the stable floor; andpresently, as I expected, Sir Peter came a-knocking at my door, and myservant left the dressing of my hair to admit the master of the house.He came in, his handsome face radiant--a tall, graceful man of forty,clothed with that elegant carelessness which we call perfection, sostrikingly unobtrusive was his dress, so faultless and unstudied hisbearing.
There was no dust upon him, though he had driven miles; his clean skinwas cool and pleasantly tinted with the sun of summer, spotless hislace at cuff and throat, and the buckles flashed at stock and knee andshoe as he passed through the candle-light to lay a familiar hand uponmy shoulder.
"What's new, Carus?" he asked, and his voice had ever that pleasantundertone of laughter which endears. "You villain, have you been makinglove to Elsin Grey, that she should come babbling of Mr. Renault, Mr.Renault, Mr. Renault ere I had set foot in my own hallway? It wasindecent, I tell you--not a word for me, civil or otherwise, not aquestion how I had 'scaped the Skinners at Kingsbridge--only a flutterof ribbons and a pair of pretty hands to kiss, and 'Oh, CousinColeville! Is Mr. Renault kin to me, too?--for I so take it, havingfreely bantered him to advantage at first acquaintance. Was I bold,cousin?--but if you only knew how he tempted me--and he _is_ kin to you,is he not?--and you are Cousin Betty's husband.' 'God-a-mercy!' said I,'what's all this about Mr. Renault?--a rogue and a villain I shame toclaim as kin, a swaggering, diceing, cock-fighting ruffler, a-raking itfrom the Out-Ward to Jew Street! Madam, do you dare admit to me that youhave found aught to attract you in the company of this monument offoppery known as Carus Renault?'"
"Did you truly say that, Sir Peter?" I asked, wincing while my earsgrew hot.
"Say it? I did not say it, I bellowed it!" He shrugged his shouldersand took snuff with an air. "The minx finds you agreeable," heobserved; "why?--God knows!"
"I had not thought so," I said, in modest deprecation, yet warming athis words.
"Oh--had not thought so!" he mimicked, mincing over to thedressing-table and surveying the array of perfumes and pomades andcurling irons. "Carus, you shameless rake, you've robbed all QueenStreet! Essence, pomade-de-grasse, almond paste, bergamot, orange,French powder! By Heaven, man, do you mean to take the lady by storm orset up a rival shop to Smith's 'Sign of the Rose'? Here, have your manleave those two puffs above the ears; curl them loosely--that's it! Nowtie that queue-ribbon soberly; leave the flamboyant papillon style tothose damned Lafayettes and Rochambeaux! Now dust your master, Dennis,and fetch a muslinet waistcoat--the silver tambour one. Gad, Carus, I'dmake a monstrous fine success at decorating fops for a guinea ahead--eh?"
He inspected me through his quizzing glass, nodded, backed away infeigned rapture, and presently sat down by the window, stretching hiswell-shaped legs.
"Damme," he said, "I meant to ask what's new, but you chatter on sothat I have no chance for a word edgeways. Now, what the devil is newwith you?"
"Nothing remarkable," I said, laughing. "Did you come to terms with Mr.Rutgers for his meadows?"
"No," he replied irritably, "and I care nothing for his damned swampsfull of briers and mud and woodcock."
"It is just as well," I said. "You can not afford more land atpresent."
"That's true," he admitted cheerfully; "I'm spending too much. Gad,Carus, the Fifty-fourth took it out of us at that thousand-guinea main!Which reminds me to say that our birds at Flatbush are in primecondition and I've matched them."
I looked up at him doubtfully. Our birds had brought him nothing buttrouble so far.
"Let it pass," he said, noticing my silent disapproval; "we'll talk toHorrock in the morning. Which reminds me that I have no money." Helaughed, drew a paper from his coat, and unfolding it, read aloud:
"1 pipe Madeira @ L90 per pipe--L90 1 pipe Port @ L46 per pipe--L46 20 gallons Fayal @ 5s. per gal.-- 20 gallons Lisbon @ 5s. per gal.-- 10 gallons Windward I. rum @ 4s. per gal."
He yawned and tossed the paper on my dresser, saying, "Pay it, Carus.If our birds win the main we'll put the Forty-fifth under the table,and I'll pay a few debts."
Standing there he stretched to his full graceful height, yawning onceor twice. "I'll go bathe, and dress for supper," he said; "that shouldfreshen me. Shall we rake it to-night?"
"I'm for cards," I said carelessly.
"_With_ Elsin Grey or _without_ Elsin Grey?" he inquired in affectedearnestness.
"If you had witnessed her treatment of me," I retorted, "you'd nevermistake it for friendly interest. We'll rake it, if you like. There'sanother frolic at the John Street Theater. The Engineers play 'TheConscious Lovers,' and Rosamund Barry sings 'Vain is Beauty's GaudyFlower.'"
But he said he had no mind for the Theater Royal that night, andpresently left me to Dennis and the mirror.
In the mirror I saw a boyish youth of twenty-three, dark-eyed, somewhatlean of feature, and tinted with that olive smoothness of skininherited from the Renaults through my great-grandfather--a face whichin repose was a trifle worn, not handsome, but clearly cut, though nototherwise remarkable. It was, I believed, neither an evil nor a sullenbrooding face, nor yet a face in which virtue molds each pleasingfeature so that its goodness is patent to the world.
Dennis having ended his ministrations, I pinned a brilliant at mythroat--a gift from Lady Coleville--and shook over it the cobweb laceso it should sparkle like a star through a thin cloud. Then passing mysmall sword through the embroidered slashing of my coat, and choosing ahandkerchief discreetly perfumed, I regarded myself at ease, thinkingof Elsin Grey.
In the light of later customs and fashions I fear that I was somethingof a fop, though I carried neither spy-glass nor the two watches sacredto all fops. But if I loved dress, so did his Excellency, and JohnHancock, not to name a thousand better men than I; and while I confessthat I did and do dearly love to cut a respectable figure, frippery forits own sake was not among my vices; but I hold him a hind who, if hecan afford it, dresses not to please others and do justice to thefigure that a generous Creator has so patiently fashioned. "To pleaseothers!" sang my French blood within me; "to please myself!" echoed myEnglish blood--and so, betwixt the sanguine tides, I was minded toplease in one way or another, nor thought it a desire unworthy. Onething did distress me: what with sending all my salary to the prisons,I had no money left to bet as gentlemen bet, nor to back a well-heeledbird, nor to color my fancy for a horse. As for a mistress, or forthose fugitive affairs of the heart which English fashioncountenanced--nay, on which fashion insisted--I had no part in them,and brooked much banter from the gay world in consequence. It was notmerely lack of money, nor yet a certain fastidiousness implanted, noryet the inherent shrinking of my English blood from pleasure forbidden,for my Renault blood was hot enough, God wot! It was, I think, all ofthese reasons that kept me untainted, and another, the vague idea of awoman, somewhere in the world, who should be worth an unsulliedlove--worth far more than the best I might bring to her one day. And somy pride refused to place me in debt to a woman whom I had never known.
As for money, I had my salary when it was convenient for Sir Peter; Ihad a small income of my own, long pledged to Colonel Willett's secretuses. It was understood that Sir Peter should find me in apparel; I hadcredit at Sir Peter's tailor, and at his hatter's and bootmaker's, too.Twice a year my father sent me from Paris a sum which was engaged tomaintain a bed or two in the Albany hospital for our soldiers. I make nomerit of it, for others gave more. So, it is plain to see I had no moneyfor those fashionable vices in the midst of which I lived, and if I lostfive shillings at whist I felt that I had robbed some wretched creatureon the _Jersey_, or dashed the cup from some poor devil's lips who laya-gasping in the city prison.
My
finery, then, was part and parcel of my salary--my salary in guineasalready allotted; so it came about that I moved in a loose and cynicalsociety, untainted only through force of circumstance and a pride thataccepts nothing which it may not return at interest.
* * * * *
When I descended to the dining-room I found all seated, and so askedpardon of Lady Coleville, who was gay and amiable as usual, and, "for apenance," as she said, made me sit beside her. That was no penance, forshe was a beauty and a wit, her dainty head swimming with harmlessmischief; and besides knowing me as she did, she was monstrous amusingin a daring yet delicate fashion, which she might not use with anyother save her husband.
That, as I say, was therefore no penance, but my punishment was to seeElsin Grey far across the table on Sir Peter's right, and to find in myother neighbor a lady whose sole delight in me was to alternately shockme with broad pleasantries and torment me with my innocence.
My punishment was to see Elsin Grey far across thetable.]
Rosamund Barry was her name, Captain Barry's widow--he who fell atBreeds Hill in '76--the face of a Madonna, and the wicked wit of a ladywhose name she bore, _sans La du_.
"Carus," she said, leaning too near me and waving her satin paintedfan, "is it true you have deserted me for a fairer conquest?"
"The rumor nails itself to the pillory," I said; "who is fairer thanyou, Rosamund?"
"You beg the question," she said severely, the while her dark eyesdanced a devil's shadow dance; "if you dare go tiptoeing around theskirts of the Hon. Miss Grey, I'll tell her all--_all_, mind you!"
"Don't do that," I said, "unless you mean to leave New York."
"All about _you_, silly!" she said, flushing in spite of her placidsmile.
"Oh," I said, with an air of great relief, "I was sure you could notcontemplate confession!"
She laid her pretty head on one side. "I wonder," she mused, eying medeliberately--"I wonder what this new insolence of yours mightindicate. Is it rebellion? Has the worm turned?"
"The worm has turned--into a frivolous butterfly," I said gaily.
"I don't believe it," she said. "Let me see if I can make you blush,Carus!" And she leaned nearer, whispering behind her fan.
"Let me match that!" I said coolly. "Lend me your fan, Rosamund----"
"Carus!" exclaimed Lady Coleville, "stop it! Mercy on us, suchshameless billing and cooing! Captain O'Neil, call him out!"
"Faith," said O'Neil, "to call is wan thing, and the chune Mrs. Barrysings is another. Take shame, Carus Renault, ye blatherin', bouldinthriguer! L'ave innocence to yer betthers!"
"To me, for example," observed Captain Harkness complacently. "Mrs.Barry knows that raking fellow, Carus, and she knows you, too, you wildIrishman----"
"If you only keep this up long enough, gentlemen," I said, striving tosmile, "you'll end by doing what I've so far avoided."
"Ruining his reputation in Miss Grey's eyes," explained Lady Colevillepleasantly.
Elsin Grey looked calmly across at me, saying to Sir Peter, "He _is_ tooyoung to do such things, isn't he?"
That set them into fits of laughter, Sir Peter begging me to pause inmy mad career and consider the chief end of man, and Tully O'Neilgenerously promising moral advice and the spiritual support of RosamundBarry, which immediately diverted attention from me to a lightning duelof words between Rosamund and O'Neil--parry and thrust, innuendo andeloquent silence, until Lady Coleville in pantomime knocked up thecrossed blades of wit, and Sir Peter vowed that this was no place foran innocent married man.
When Lady Coleville rose we drew our swords and arched a way for her,and she picked up her silken petticoat and ran under, laughing, onehand pressed to her ears to shut out the cheers.
There were long black Spanish cigars, horribly strong, served withspirits after the ladies had left. O'Neil and Harkness used them; SirPeter and I accepted the long cool pipes, and we settled for acomfortable smoke.
Sir Peter spoke of the coming cock-fight with characteristicoptimism--not shared by Harkness, and but partially approved by O'Neil.Details were solemnly discussed, questions of proper heeling, of silverand steel gaffs, of comb and wattle cutting, of the texture of featherand hackle, and of the "walks" at Flatbush and Horrock's method offeeding in the dark.
Tiring of the subject, Harkness, spoke of the political outlook andtook a gloomy view, paying his Excellency a compliment by referring tohim as "no fox, but a full-grown wolf, with an appetite for a continentand perhaps for a hemisphere."
"Pooh!" said Sir Peter, lazily sucking at his pipe, "Sir Henry has himholed. We'll dig him out before snow flies."
"What folly, Sir Peter!" remonstrated Harkness, leaning forward so thatthe candle-light blazed on his gold and scarlet coat. "Look back fiveyears, Sir Peter, then survey the damnable situation now! Do yourealize that to-day England governs but one city in America?"
"Wait," observed Sir Peter serenely, expelling a cloud of smoke so thatit wreathed his handsome head in a triple halo.
"Wait? Faith, if there's anything else to do but wait I'll take thatjob!" exclaimed O'Neil ruefully.
"Why don't you take it, then?" retorted Sir Peter. "It's no secret, Ifancy--that plan of Walter Butler's--is it?" he added, seeing that weknew nothing of any plan.
"Sir Henry makes no secret of it," he continued; "it's talked over anddisparaged openly at mess and at headquarters. I can see noindiscretion in mentioning it here."
It was at such moments that I felt a loathing for myself, and suchstrong self-disgust must surely have prevailed in the end to make mefalse to duty if, as I have said, I had not an absolute faith that hisExcellency required no man to tarnish his honor for the motherland'ssalvation.
"What's afoot?" inquired Harkness curiously.
"Why, you remember how the rebel General Sullivan went through the SixNations, devastating the Iroquois country, laying waste, burning,destroying their orchards and crops--which, after all, accomplished thecomplete destruction of our own granary in the North?"
"'Twas a dhirty thrick!" muttered O'Neil. "Sure, 'tis the poor nakedhaythen will pay that score wan day, or I'm a Hessian!"
"They'll pay it soon if Walter Butler has his way," said Sir Peter."Sir John Johnson and the Butlers and Colonel Ross are gathering in theNorth. Haldimand's plan is to strike at the rebels' food supply--thecultivated region from Johnstown south and west--do what Sullivan did,lay waste the rebel grain belt, burn fodder, destroy all orchards--God!it will go hard with the frontier again." He swung around to Harkness:"It's horrible to me, Captain--and Walter Butler not yet washed cleanof the blood of Cherry Valley. I tell you, loyal as I am, humblesubject of my King, whom I reverence, I affirm that this blackened,blood-soaked frontier is a barrier to England which she can never,never overcome, and though we win out to-day, and though we hang therebels thick as pears in Lispenard's orchards, that barrier willremain, year by year fencing us in, crowding us back to the ocean, toour ships, back to the land from whence we English came. And for alltime will the memory of these horrors set America's face against us--ifnot for all time, yet our children's children and their children shallnot outlive the tradition burned into the heart of this quivering landwe hold to-day, half shackled, still struggling, already rising to itsbleeding knees."
"Gad!" breathed O'Neil, "'tis threason ye come singin' to the chune o'Yankee Doodle-doo, Sir Peter."
"It's sense," said Sir Peter, already smiling at his own heat.
"So Ross and the Butlers are to strike at the rebel granaries?"repeated Harkness, musing.
"Yes; they're gathering on the eastern lakes and at Niagara--Butler'sRangers, Johnson's Greens, Brant's Iroquois, some Jaegers, a fewregulars, and the usual partizan band of painted whites who disgrace usall, by Heaven! But there," added Sir Peter, smiling, "I've done withthe vapors. I bear no arms, and it is unfit that I should judge thosewho do. Only," and his voice rang a little, "I understand battles, notbutchery. Gentlemen, to the British Army! the regulars
, God bless 'em!Bumpers, gentlemen!"
I heard O'Neil muttering, as he smacked his lips after the toast, "Andto hell with the Hessians! Bad cess to the Dootch scuts!"
"Did you say the rendezvous is at Niagara?" inquired Harkness.
"I've heard so. I've heard, too, of some other spot--an Indianname--Thend--Thend--plague take it! Ah, I have it--Thendara. You knowit, Carus?" he asked, turning so suddenly on me that my guilty heartceased beating for a second.
"I have heard of it," I said, finding a voice scarce like my own."Where is it, Sir Peter?"
"Why, here in New York there has ever been a fable about a lost town inthe wilderness called Thendara. I never knew it to be true; but nowthey say that Walter Butler has assigned Thendara as his gatheringplace, or so it is reported in a letter to Sir Henry, which Sir Henryread to me. Have _you_ no knowledge of it, Carus?"
"None at all. I remember hearing the name in childhood. Perhaps betterwoodsmen than I know where this Thendara lies, but I do not."
"It must lie somewhere betwixt us and Canada," said Harkness vaguely."Does not Sir Henry know?"
"He said he did not," replied Sir Peter, "and he sent out a scout forinformation. No information has arrived. Is it an Iroquois word,Carus?"
"I think it is of Lenape origin," I said--"perhaps modified by theMohawk tongue. I know it is not pure Oneida."
Harkness glanced at me curiously. "You'd make a rare scout," he said,"with your knowledge of the barbarians."
"The wonder is," observed Sir Peter, "that he is not a scout on theother side. If my home had been burned by the McDonalds and theButlers, I'm damned if I should forget which side did it!"
"If I took service with the rebels," said I, "it would not be becauseof personal loss. Nor would that same private misfortune deter me fromserving King George. The men who burned my home represent no greatcause. When I have leisure I can satisfy personal quarrels."
"Lord!" laughed Sir Peter, "to hear you bewail your lack of leisure onemight think you are now occupied with one cause or t'other. Pray, mydear Carus, when do you expect to find time to call out these enemiesof yours?"
"You wouldn't have me deprive the King of Walter Butler's services,would you?" I asked so gravely that everybody laughed, and we rose ingood humor to join the ladies in the drawing-rooms.
Sir Peter's house on Wall Street had been English built, yet borecertain traces of the old Dutch influence, for it had a stoop leadingto the front door, and the roof was Dutch, save for the cupola; a finewide house, the facade a little scorched from the conflagration of '78which had ruined Trinity Church and the Lutheran, and many finebuildings and homes.
The house was divided by a wide hallway, on either side of which weredrawing-rooms, and in the rear of these was a dining-room giving on aconservatory which overlooked the gardens. The ground floor served as aservant's hall, with a door at the area and another in the rear leadingout through the garden-drive to the stables.
The floor above the drawing-rooms had been divided into two suites, onein gold leather and blue for Sir Peter and his lady, the other incrimson damask for guests. The third floor, mine, was similarlydivided, I occupying the Wall Street side, with windows on thatfashionable street and also on Broadway.
Thus it happened that, instead of entering the south drawing-room whereI saw the ladies at the card-table playing Pharaoh, I turned to theright and crossed the north, or "state drawing-room," and parted thecurtains, looking across Broadway to see if I might spy my friend thedrover and his withered little mate. No doubt prudence and a dislikefor the patrol kept them off Broadway at that hour, for I could not seethem, although a few street lamps were lit and I could make outwayfarers as far north as Crown Street.
Standing there in the dimly lighted room, my nose between the partedcurtains, I heard my name pronounced very gently behind me, and,turning, beheld Miss Grey, half lying on a sofa in a distant corner. Ihad not seen her when I entered, my back being turned to the east, andI said so, asking pardon for an unintentional rudeness--which shepardoned with a smile, slowly waving her scented fan.
"I am a little tired," she said; "the voyage from Halifax was rough,and I have small love for the sea, so, Lady Coleville permitting, Icame in here to rest from the voices and the glare of too brightcandle-light. Pray you be seated, Mr. Renault--if it does not displeaseyou. What were you looking for from the window yonder?"
"Treason," I said gaily. "But the patrol should be able to see to that.May I sit here a moment?"
"Willingly; I like men."
Innocence or coquetry, I was clean checked. Her white eyelids languidlyclosing over the pure eyes of a child gave me no clue.
"All men?" I inquired.
"How silly! No, very few men. But that is because I only know a few."
"And may I dare to hope that--" I began in stilted gallantry, cut shortby her opening eyes and smile. "Of course I like you, Mr. Renault. Canyou not see that? It's a pity if you can not, as all the others teaseme so about you. Do you like me?"
"Very, _very_ much," I replied, conscious of that accursed color burningmy face again; conscious, too, that she noted it with calm curiosity.
"Very, _very_ much," she repeated, musing. "Is that why you blush sooften, Mr. Renault--because you like me very, _very_ much?"
Exasperated, I strove to smile. I couldn't; and dignity would not serveme, either.
"If I loved you," said I, "I might change color when you spoke.Therefore my malady must arise from other causes--say from Sir Peter'swine, for instance."
"I knew a man who fell in love with me," she said. "You may do so yet."
"Do you think it likely?" I asked, scarcely knowing how to meet thiscool attack.
"I think it possible--don't you?" she asked.
I considered, or made pretense to. My heart had begun to beat too fast;and as for her, I could no more fathom her than the sea, yet her babblewas shallow enough to strand wiser men than I upon its sparklingshoals.
"I do like men," she said thoughtfully, "but not all men, as I said Idid. Now at supper I looked about me and I found only you attractive,save Sir Peter, and he counts nothing in a game of hearts."
"When you come to mingle with New York society you will, no doubt, findothers far more attractive," I said stupidly.
"No doubt. Still, in the interim"--she looked straight at me from underher delicate level brows--"in the meanwhile, will you not amuse me?"
"How, madam?"
"I shall not tell you if you call me 'madam.'"
"Will the Hon. Elsin Grey inform me how I may amuse her ladyship?"
"Nor that, either."
I hesitated, then leaned nearer: "How may I amuse you, Elsin?"
"Why, by courting me, silly!" she said, laughing, and spreading hersilken fan. "How else is a woman amused?"
Her smooth hand lay across the velvet arm of the sofa; I took it andraised it to my lips, and she smiled approval, then drew a languidlittle sigh, fanned, and vowed I was the boldest man she had everknown.
I told her how exquisite her beauty was, I protested at her coldness, Idedicated myself to her service, vowing eternal constancy; andpresently my elaborate expressions rang truer and grew more simple, andshe withdrew her hand with a laugh, looking at me out of thosebeautiful eyes which now were touched with curiosity.
"For a jester, Carus, you are too earnest," she said.
"Does pretense frighten you?"
She regarded me, silent, smiling, her fan at her lips.
"You are playing with fire," she said.
"Tell me, heart of flint, am I the steel to strike a spark from?" Iasked, laughing.
"I do not know yet of what metal you are made, Carus," she saidthoughtfully, yet with that dim smile hovering ever upon her lips.
She dropped her fan and held up one finger. "Listen; let me read you.Here is my measure of such a man as you: First of all, generous!--lookat your mouth, which God first fashions, then leaves for us to make ormar. Second, your eyes--sincere! for though you blush like a m
aiden,Carus, your eyes are steady to the eyes that punish. Third, dogged!spite of the fierce impatience that sets your chiseled nose a-quiver atthe nostrils. There! Am I not a very gipsy for a fortune? Read me,now."
After a long silence I said, "I can not."
"Truly?"
"Truly. I can not read you, Elsin."
She opened her palm and held her fingers, one by one, frowning in aneffort to be just: "First, I am a fool; second, I am a fool; third, Iam a fool; fourth----"
I caught her hand, and she looked at me with a charming laugh.
"I _am_," she insisted, her hand resting in mine.
"Why?"
"Why, because I--I am in love with Walter Butler--and--and I neverliked a man as well as I like you!"
I was astounded. She sighed, slowly shaking her head. "That is it, yousee. Love is very different from having a good time. He is so proud, sosad, so buried in noble melancholy, so darkly handsome, and all afirewith passion--which advances him not a whit with me nor commends him tomy mercy--only when he stands before me, his dark golden eyes lost indelicious melancholy; then, _then_, Carus, I know that it must be love Ifeel; but it is not a very cheerful sentiment." She sighed again,picking up her fan with one hand--I held the other.
"Now, with you--and I have scarce known you a dozen hours--it is socharming, so pleasant and cheerful--and I like you so much, Carus!--oh,the sentiment I entertain for you is far pleasanter than love. Have youever been in love?"
"I am, Elsin--almost."
"Almost? Mercy on us! What will the lady say to 'almost'?"
"God knows," I said, smiling.
"Good!" she said approvingly; "leave her in God's care, and practise onme to perfect your courtship. I like it, really I do. It is strange,too," she mused, with a tender smile of reminiscence, "for I have neverlet Captain Butler so much as touch my hand. But discretion, you see,is love; isn't it? So if I am so indiscreet with you, what harm isthere?"
"Are you unhappy away from him?" I asked.
"No, only when with him. He seems to wring my heart--I don't know why,but, oh, I do so pity him!"
"Are you--plighted?"
"Oh, dear me, yes--but secretly. Ah, I should not have told youthat!--but there you are, Carus; and I do believe that I could tell youeverything I know if our acquaintance endures but twelve more hours. And_that_," she added, considering me calmly, "is rather strange, I think.Don't you?"
Ere I could reply came Sir Peter, talking loudly, protesting that itwas a monstrous shame for me to steal away their guest, that I was avillain and all knew it, he himself best of all; and without more adohe tucked her arm under his and marched triumphantly away, leaving methere alone in the deserted room.
But as Elsin gained the door she turned, looking back, and, laying herhand upon her lips, threw me a kiss behind Sir Peter's shoulders.
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