The Port of Adventure Part 26

"I know," said Angela. Just so had the idea of him been running through all her thoughts these last few days. "But," she added with an effort, "why should you have been thinking of me? We're such--_new_ friends."

"Yes," Nick admitted, "but you can't always account for your thoughts."

"Of course not. And I'm grateful for a few of yours. Have you been enjoying San Francisco? Do sit down. And would you mind putting on the electricity?"

"Must I? It's beautiful like this."

"Very well. Leave it so."

She sat on a sofa, still with her back to the window, and Nick took a chair facing the light.

"I've had a feeling on me of waiting," said Nick. "Just that. I haven't gone around much, though this is the first time I've been in San Francisco, except for a day, since the city's grown up after the fire. I was waiting to see if you'd let me show you things, as you----"

"As I--what?" Angela asked, when he paused.

"I was going to say, as you partly promised. But that wouldn't be fair, because you didn't really promise anything."

If he had claimed a right, it would have been easy to say that it didn't exist, but he made things harder by claiming nothing. Still, she went on: "No, of course, I couldn't promise. As I'm situated now, it's difficult to make plans. However, if you've really waited for me, it was kind, and there's no reason why I shouldn't ask you to show me San Francisco.

Already, even though I haven't gone about at all, except just 'taxying' up to the hotel, I can see it's wonderful. From this window, it's like looking out on Rome, with all its hills--Rome transplanted to the sea. And I know you, and don't know Mr. Morehouse, who's my only other resource here. Besides, he's a busy man; and if you're busy, you pretend not to be."

"I'm having a vacation," Nick explained.

"All the nicer of you, spending some of it on me. But I mustn't let you spend too much. Besides, I have as little time as you have for running about the country. Everything has changed with me since I saw you last."

"I was afraid so!" Nick exclaimed, before he could stop to think.

"Only because I've bought land," Angela said hastily. "Some of California--five acres on the peninsula of Monterey--is mine! I must decide on an architect. Isn't that exciting? Then, while he's working out our joint ideas, perhaps I'll make a visit to Mrs. Harland. I'm rather tired, and I believe it will do me good."

"I expect it will," said Nick bravely.

"Think of the journey I've had from Europe, and not a day's rest since,"

went on Angela, with the air of excusing herself.

"It must have been mighty hard on you," Nick agreed. He flushed faintly, as if he deserved reproach for inconsiderateness.

"Not that I felt the need of rest till--till now," she hurried on. "It was delicious sailing along with your Bright Angel. When I'm at Rushing River Camp I shall think of her again, wondering who is spinning about with you in my place. For you'll often take your friends out when you're at home?"

It was on the tip of Nick's tongue to answer, "Bright Angel was bought for you; named after you, and I can never bear to take anybody else, now you've finished with her--and me." But that, like claiming a promise half made, "wouldn't have been fair." If he hinted that the car had been got for her sake, she would be distressed. Some men in his place would have said--whether meaning it or not--"No other woman shall ever go with me in that auto." And the wish to say this was in Nick's mind, but he knew that it would be in bad taste. Besides, there was a woman who would want to try his car, and it would be unfriendly to deny her. So he said, "There _is_ one friend I must take: Mrs. Gaylor. I've talked to you about her. She'll be interested in Bright Angel when I get home."

"Yes; of course," replied Angela. It was extraordinary how much she disliked the picture of Nick and a beautiful dark woman together in the car where _her_ place had been by his side. Could it be that Theo Dene was right? Was Nick's interest in her--Angela--less than, and different from, his interest in Mrs. Gaylor? She had no right to know, no right to want to know, still less to try to find out. Yet she felt that not to know very soon would make her lose sleep, and appet.i.te, and interest in daily life.

Silence fell between them for a moment. The rose of sunset burned to ashes-of-rose. A small clock on the mantelpiece mentioned in a discreet voice that it was a quarter to eight. Nick got up, rather heavily for a man so lithe as he.

"Well, I must go," he said. "Thank you for letting me take, you around San Francisco. May I come to-morrow morning?"

"Oh, do. About half-past nine." She got up also, feeling miserable, though, as she pointed out to herself, for no real reason.

"I'll be prompt." He put out his hand, and she laid hers in it, looking up to his face with a smile which would not for the world have been wistful.

Suddenly his fingers gripped hers convulsively.

"So it's all over!" he whispered.

"No, no; not all over," she contradicted him. "There's to-morrow."

"Yes, there's to-morrow," he echoed.

"I told you at first," and she tried to laugh, "that 'sufficient for the day was the trip thereof.' Nothing was to be planned ahead."

"It's all right, Mrs. May," Nick answered.. "I want to be glad you're going to have that McCloud River visit. And, of course, you've got your new place to think of. No wonder you're sick of travelling and want to settle down. It's all right, and there's to-morrow, as you say."

He shook her hand, moving it up and down mechanically, then dropped it, and turned to go. Another second and the door was opening. Then it was shutting behind him. He had gone! And though he was coming to-morrow for a little while, nothing would ever be as it had been between them. It was now, not to-morrow, that she was sending him definitely out of her life; and he understood.

Never had Angela thought so quickly. She trembled as she stood staring at the shut door. Her cheeks burned, and a pulse beat in her throat, under the string of pearls. She clasped and unclasped her hands, and they were very cold.

"He _shan't_ go to that woman, and take her out in my place in the Bright Angel!" she said out aloud, and flew to the door.

"Mr. Hilliard!--Mr. Hilliard!" she called.

Everything seemed to depend--though this was nonsense!--on his not having got to the elevator. She stood in the doorway, waiting to see what would happen, her blood pounding as if she had taken a really important step; which, of course, was not the case.

He had turned a corner of the corridor and was out of sight, but her voice reached him, and he came back.

"Was there something you forgot to tell me?" he asked. Perhaps she was going to say that after all she would not go out to-morrow.

"No, not that I forgot--something I _want_ to say. Come in again."

She whisked the tail of her black chiffon dress back into the room. He followed her, wondering and silently anxious.

"I've changed my mind," she said in a low voice. (There! He had known it.

She was not going.)

"_Would_ you still care to be my 'trail guide' in the Yosemite Valley?"

"Would I care?" echoed Nick.

"Then we'll go. I'll give up the McCloud River. I'll telephone Mrs.

Harland--she's in San Francisco till day after to-morrow. I'll find an excuse--I haven't had time to think it out yet. But I don't care _what_ happens, I won't change again! I'm going to the Yosemite if you'll take me."

He looked at her searchingly. "Because you're kind-hearted, and afraid you've hurt me----"

"No--no! _Because I want to go!_"

Women are strange, and hard to understand, when they are worth taking the trouble to understand; and even then they cannot understand themselves.

XIX