Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/120

98 “Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking Cecily? It would be a tremendous favour.”

“Not at all,” I assured him, “but”

“It isn’t quite convenable?” he finished, as I hesitated. “Surely, we don’t need to stand on ceremony, and Cecily doesn’t care a hang for convention. It’s a great favour to both of us. She’ll cry her eyes out if she has to stay at home, and I simply can’t take her.”

“Very well,” I said, “I’ll be glad to take her,” and thanking me again, he hurried away.

She was dressed and waiting for me when I knocked at her door, and she caught me by both hands as I entered.

“This is good of you!” she cried. “Doudoux has been so busy for many days that we have gone nowhere; but he promised me to-night. Oh, I should not have stayed at home! I should have gone alone! I care not for the eyes of the men!”

“Oh, I shan’t let you go alone!” I protested, and watched her, fascinated, as she put on a little bonnet and gave her hair two or three final pats before the mirror.

She was in the highest spirits, singing to herself—really, I told myself, only a child—and at last she swung around and dropped me a courtesy.

“How is that, ché?” she cried, smiling up at me. “Does that please you?”

“Charming!” I cried, gasping a little, with a feeling of giddiness, as I looked down into her eyes.

“Then in a moment,” and turning, she struck a match and touched it to a wick floating on olive oil