A rather tall man stepped in. He wore a snow-dusted, fur-lined
overcoat and carried in his white-gloved hands a top hat and a
silver-hooked walking stick.
He had made a mistake, of course; and Athalie hastily lowered her feet
and turned half around in her chair again to meet his expected
apologies; and then continued in that attitude, rigid and silent.
"Miss Greensleeve?" he asked.
She rose, mechanically, the heavy lustrous braids framing a face as
white as a flower.
"Is that you, Athalie!" he asked, hesitating.
"C. Bailey, Junior," she said under her breath.
There was a moment's pause, then he stepped toward her and, very
slowly, she offered a hand still faintly fragrant with "cream of
lilacs."
A damp, chilly wind came from the corridor; she went over and closed
the door, stood for a few seconds with her back against it looking at
him.
Now under the mask of manhood she could see the boy she had once
known,--under the short dark moustache the clean-cut mouth unchanged.
Only his cheeks seemed firmer and leaner, and the eyes were now the
baffling eyes of a man.
"How did you know I was here?" she asked, quite unconscious of her
own somewhat intimate attire, so entirely had the shock of surprise
possessed her.
"Athalie, you have not changed a bit--only you are so much prettier
than I realised," he said illogically.... "How did I know you lived
here? I didn't until we bought this row of flats last week--my
father's company--I'm in it now.... And glancing over the list of
tenants I saw your name."
She said nothing.
"Do you mind my coming? I was going to write and ask you. But walking
in this way rather appealed to me. Do you mind?"
"No."
"May I stay and chat for a moment? I'm on my way to the opera. May I
stay a few minutes?"
She nodded, not yet sufficiently composed to talk very much.
He glanced about him for a place to lay coat and hat; then slipping
out of the soft fur, disclosed himself in evening dress.
She had dropped into the arm-chair by the radiator; and, as he came
forward, stripping off his white gloves, suddenly she became conscious
of her bare, slippered feet and drew them under the edges of her
negligee.
"I was not expecting anybody,--" she began, and checked herself.
Certainly she did not care to rise, now, and pass before him in search
of more suitable clothing. Therefore the less said the better.