XX
Gray gathered the dog into his arms and strode swiftly out into thesunshot, purple light of early evening.
"What a girl!" he muttered to himself. "What a girl! What a corkingspecimen of her sex!"
Presently he came in sight of her, and the puppy scrambled violentlyuntil set down. Then he bolted for Constance Leslie, and it was onlywhen the little thing leaped frantically upon her that she turned with asoft, breathless little cry. And saw Gray coming toward her out of therose and golden sunset.
Neither spoke as he came up and looked into her brown eyes and saw thetraces of tears there still. The puppy leaped deliriously about them.And for a long while her slim hands lay limply in his. He looked at theocean; she at the darkening forest.
And after a little while he drew the note from his pocket.
"I had written this when I found yours," he said. And he held it for herwhile she read it, bending nearer in the dim, rosy light.
After she read it she took it from him gently, folded it, and slipped itinto the bosom of her gown.
Neither said anything. One of her hands still remained in his,listlessly at first--then the fingers crisped as his other arm encircledher.
They were both gazing vaguely at the ocean now. Presently they movedslowly toward it through the fragrant dusk. Her hair, loosened a little,brushed his sunburned cheek.
And around them gambolled the wise little dog, no longer apprehensive,but unutterably content with what the God of all good little doggies hadso mercifully sent to him _in loco parentis_.
* * * * *
"That," said the novelist, "is another slice of fact which would neverdo for fiction. Besides I once read a story somewhere or other about adog bringing two people together."
"The theme," I observed, "is thousands of years old."
"That's the trouble with all truth," nodded Duane. "It's old as Timeitself, and needs a new suit of clothes every time it is exhibited toinstruct people."
"What with new manners, new fashions, new dances, and the morallevelling itself gradually to the level of the unmoral," said Stafford,"nobody on the street would turn around to look at the naked truth inthese days."
"Truth must be fashionably gowned to attract," I admitted.
"We of the eccentric nobility understand that," said the little CountessAthalie, glancing out of the window; and to me she added: "Lean over andsee whether they have stationed a policeman in front of the PrincessZimbamzim's residence."
I went out on the balcony and glanced down the block. "Yes," I said.
"Poor old Princess," murmured the girl. "She detests moving."
"All frauds do," remarked Duane.
"She isn't a fraud," said Athalie quietly.
Our silence indicated our surprise. After a few moments the girl added:
"Whatever else she may be she is not a fraud in her profession. I thinkI had better give you an example of her professional probity. Itinterested me considerably as I followed it in my crystal. She knew allthe while that I was watching her as well as the very people she herselfwas watching; and once or twice she looked up at me out of my crystaland grinned."
"Can she see us now?" I inquired uneasily.
"No."
"Why not?" asked Duane.
"I shall not tell you why."
"Not that I care whether she sees me or not," he added.
"Do you care, Harry, whether I see you occasionally in my crystal?"smiled Athalie.
Duane flushed brightly and reminded her that she was too honourable tofollow the movements of her personal friends unless requested to do soby them.
"That is quite true," rejoined the girl, simply. "But once I saw youwhen I did not mean to."
"Well?" he demanded, redder still.
"You were merely asleep in your own bed," she said, laughing andaccepting a lighted match from me. Then as the fragrant thread of smoketwisted in ghostly ringlets across her smooth young cheeks she settledback among her cushions.