fair partner of a losing venture." He smiled grimly at the unconscious truth in his chance phrase. "To-morrow may give me the great pleasure of a further[138] acquaintance—and under less depressing circumstances." [138] Then, before the Comtesse could quite marshal her vocabulary to reply in a fitting manner, Paul had bowed her through the great entrance; the door of the carriage shut, and she was driven away. The uncomfortable sense of having made a thorough-going ass of himself was not conducive to sound slumber on the part of Sir Paul that night. Nor did it aid in preserving his temper during the unpleasant scene the following morning when Schwartzberger, still furious with rage, called at the hôtel. It was a relief, however, to Paul to have some object on which to vent his pent-up feelings, and if the pork-packer did not quite understand all that he said,[139] Paul at least left no mistake in Schwartzberger's mind as to the total lack of grounds for the latter's jealousy, and filled him with a proper awe of the wrath of an Englishman once aroused. [139] Paul realized that by the time she met Schwartzberger, if not before, the Comtesse would discover the veiled emphasis on mere probability in his parting suggestion as to any future meeting. So he was not surprised to see the tonneau of the big green motor car with its customary occupants whirling past him as he drove to the station that afternoon. Well! the unbelievable faux pas which he had committed—thanks to chance and his own imbecility—had turned him from his search. He no longer had the heart to linger about Nice peering into strange ladies' faces. The Lord only[140] knew what blunder he would make next if he continued to look for her there! [140] [141] [141] CHAPTER XIII hen Paul stepped down from a railway-carriage in the Gare de l'Est in Paris two days later, his language had improved slightly. But he was still cursing himself for a consummate ass.
Prev.
Back
Top