I
feel sure that this is going to be a thoroughly enjoyable
evening. We shall think of it often, Mr. Tavernake, when you lie
sleeping under the stars. Why, what a wonderful thing these
taxicabs are! You see, we have arrived."
They secured a small table in a corner at Imano's, and Tavernake
found himself curiously moved as he watched Beatrice take off her
worn and much mended gloves and look around uneasily at the other
guests. Her clothes were indeed shabby, and there were hollows
now in her cheeks.
Again he felt that pain, a pain for which he could not account.
Suddenly America seemed so far away, the loneliness of the great
continent became an actual and appreciable thing. The professor
was very much occupied ordering the supper. Tavernake leaned
across the table.
"Do you remember our first supper here, Beatrice?" he asked.
She nodded, with an attempt at brightness which was a little
pitiful.
"Yes," she replied, "I remember it quite well. And now, please,
Leonard, don't talk to me again until I have had a glass of wine.
I am tired and worn out, that is all."
Even Tavernake knew that she was struggling against the tears
which already dimmed her eyes. He filled her glass himself. The
professor set his own down empty with the satisfied smile of a
connoisseur.
"I think," he said, "that you will agree with me about this
vintage. Beatrice, this is what will bring color into your
cheeks. My little girl," he continued, turning to Tavernake,
"will soon need a holiday.
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