She was convinced that he was entirely
honest, not only with regard to his actual relations toward her,
but with regard to all his purposes. Her sex did not even seem
to exist for him. The fact that she was good-looking, and with
her renewed health daily becoming more so, seemed to be of no
account to him whatever. He showed interest in her appearance
sometimes, but it was interest of an entirely impersonal sort.
He simply expressed himself as satisfied or dissatisfied, as a
matter of taste. It came to her at that moment that she had
never seen him really relax. Only when he sat opposite to that
great map which hung now in the further room, and wandered about
from section to section with a pencil in one hand and a piece of
rubber in another, did he show anything which in any way
approached enthusiasm, and even then it was always the
unmistakable enthusiasm born of dead things. Suddenly she
laughed at herself in the little mirror, laughed softly but
heartily. This was the guardian whom Fate had sent for her! If
Elizabeth had only understood!
CHAPTER VII
Mr. PRITCHARD OF NEW YORK
Later in the evening, Beatrice and Tavernake traveled together in
a motor omnibus from their rooms at Chelsea to Northumberland
Avenue. Tavernake was getting quite used to the programme by
now. They sat in a dimly-lit waiting-room until the time came
for Beatrice to sing. Every now and then an excitable little
person who was the secretary to some institution or other would
run in and offer them refreshments, and tell them in what order
they were to appear.
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