Le Moyne, grave and contained, sat across from her. To give so much
pleasure, and so easily! How young she was, and radiant! No wonder the boy
was mad about her. She fairly held out her arms to life.
Ah, that was too bad! Another table was being brought; they were not to be
alone. But, what roused him in violent resentment only appealed to
Sidney's curiosity. "Two places!" she commented. "Lovers, of course. Or
perhaps honeymooners."
K. tried to fall into her mood.
"A box of candy against a good cigar, they are a stolid married couple."
"How shall we know?"
"That's easy. If they loll back and watch the kitchen door, I win. If
they lean forward, elbows on the table, and talk, you get the candy."
Sidney, who had been leaning forward, talking eagerly over the table,
suddenly straightened and flushed.
Carlotta Harrison came out alone. Although the tapping of her heels was
dulled by the grass, although she had exchanged her cap for the black hat,
Sidney knew her at once. A sort of thrill ran over her. It was the pretty
nurse from Dr. Wilson's office. Was it possible--but of course not! The
book of rules stated explicitly that such things were forbidden.
"Don't turn around," she said swiftly. "It is the Miss Harrison I told you
about. She is looking at us."
Carlotta's eyes were blinded for a moment by the glare of the house lights.
She dropped into her chair, with a flash of resentment at the proximity of
the other table. She languidly surveyed its two occupants. Then she sat
up, her eyes on Le Moyne's grave profile turned toward the valley.
Lucky for her that Wilson had stopped in the bar, that Sidney's instinctive
good manners forbade her staring, that only the edge of the summer moon
shone through the trees. She went white and clutched the edge of the
table, with her eyes closed. That gave her quick brain a chance. It was
madness, June madness. She was always seeing him even in her dreams. This
man was older, much older. She looked again.
She had not been mistaken. Here, and after all these months! K. Le Moyne,
quite unconscious of her presence, looked down into the valley.
Wilson appeared on the wooden porch above the terrace, and stood, his eyes
searching the half light for her. If he came down to her, the man at the
next table might turn, would see her-She rose and went swiftly back toward the hotel. All the gayety was gone
out of the evening for her, but she forced a lightness she did not feel:-"It is so dark and depressing out there--it makes me sad."