Page:The Breath of Scandal (1922).djvu/272

 was seated so that he caught glimpse of her profile first,—the fine, even lines of her brow and nose and lips, the pleasing turn of her chin, the alluring curve of her neck and the round of her breast. She held one hand in her lap; with the other she touched a spoon and weighed it, pensively, in her slender, white, sensitive fingers. She did not play with the spoon; she hardly lifted it at all, but as it was the only motion she made, it drew his attention, especially as she gazed at the little silver thing musingly. It was as if he had surprised her, all alone and off guard in reverie. She had no food before her; likely, he thought, as the swift processes of his mind swept through the trifles as well as through that which was tremendous to him, likely she had ordered and the waiter not yet had returned.

His eyes rested on her fingers; and his sight seemed to supply him with tactual sensation of her fingers clasping his as he clasped her hand; then he seemed to feel her hand softly but so intensely touching his face. His eyes traveled up her white forearm; they lifted to her face and she slowly turned her head and glanced up, quietly, calmly—oh, so like her to show herself so calm—but he knew what passion she had underneath! She met his eyes and recognized him, but no one, except himself, would have known it. He hardly would have been sure of it, if he had not been staring straight into her eyes; for they alone gave any sign. She did not gasp or quicken at all the even rise and fall of her bosom; she did not start or even let slip the spoon lightly held in her fingers; no flush flamed up. She was without rouge, as always she had been, and therefore among other women she appeared slightly pale; he always liked that; her hair was dressed almost demurely; he preferred that; she wore a simple dinner