Babs was lost to him.
Life held no further promise. Through all the years he could recall, the future had been dedicated to the happiness they would find together.
Babs had shattered that happiness. The illusion was torn away, leaving abject hopelessness in its stead.
Babs’ virginity, her purity, of mind and of body and of soul; these had been the only certain things in life. They had vanished. Torn away from him in one brief moment while he skulked in the shadow of the hedge.
What hurt him most was her evident lack of shame. He told himself he might have found strength and love in his heart to forgive her had she come weepingly to him in confessional.
But she had been brazen about it. Brazen and seemingly happy. She was no better than a prostitute, he told himself angrily. A wench who gave her virginity thus to a stranger was worse than a prostitute. They sold their bodies for food and shelter... Babs had given hers gladly.
He decided he would not think of it any more.
Then he found himself at the door of the hotel. He shook his head and looked about him in amazement. He didn’t remember walking through the streets. It seemed preposterous to think he had walked that distance without recalling a single incident.
He frowned vaguely as he entered the lobby. Perhaps he was going crazy. It seemed that only a portion of his mind was active. Perhaps the shock had paralyzed part of his brain cells.
He walked stupidly toward the stairway, and was halted by a voice which seemed to call his name from a great distance.
He turned about and dimly saw the night clerk waving an envelope at him. He opened it and read the brief scrawl several times before he understood Jim’s message.
Cousin Hattie? At the Dancing Dervish? What the devil did Jim mean? “She will meet you there!” Cousin Hattie would meet him at the Dancing Dervish? What did the fool mean?
Robert turned helplessly to the clerk.
“See here,” he said thickly. “My Cousin Hattie? You know, the lady that came with me. Is she here?”
“No. She went out with the other gentleman soon after you left, and he returned alone to leave you this note.”
“What the devil does he mean by ‘the Dancing Dervish’?” Robert asked dully.
“The Dancing Dervish? Probably the restaurant, sir. There’s a big one by that name on Canal. Two blocks toward the river. On the left-hand side.” The clerk tapped the desk with a pencil and wondered what had happened to Robert during the interval since he had gone out smilingly.
“I see,” Robert muttered. He turned away from the desk laggingly. He supposed it didn’t matter. Cousin Hattie, Jim, Dancing Dervishes, all were a part of the insanity of the night. He laughed shortly as he passed out the door again.
Nothing mattered. Perhaps he could find a Dervish in a dancing mood.
A few minutes later he stood inside the door of the restaurant and gazed about in mild awe. It was crowded with hilarious couples. The noise was deafening. It smote his ears with almost the force of a physical blow as he opened the door. Everyone seemed to be more or less drunk, and wholly happy. He couldn’t picture Cousin Hattie in this setting. And he was not surprised to fail to discover her among the merrymakers.
“Pardon me.” A cool voice spoke in his ear. “I’m a rotten Sherlock Holmes if this isn’t the long-awaited Robert Sutler in person.”
A tall girl was speaking to Robert. White teeth flashed behind carmine lips as she smiled. Heavy, dark hair was combed low on a wide forehead. She wore a low-cut gown of turquoise velvet. Diamond bobs twinkled in her ears, and lustrous pearls matched the sheen of her bare shoulders.
Robert gazed at her stupidly without replying. His mental processes had been impaired by the shock.
“Don’t deny it,” she laughed at him. “Gray eyes, and tall. A brown suit that just matches your delectable hair. Broad shoulders and nice hands. Ummm.” The girl surveyed him appraisingly. “Quite nice,” she murmured. “In fact, mighty damned nice. Cousin Hattie didn’t do you credit at all. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
“Cousin Hattie?” Robert repeated stupidly. “What are you talking about? Who are you?” He stared at her dumbly.
“I am Sonia,” she told him calmly, linking her arm in his. “To-night I had the pleasure of launching your amusing Cousin Hattie upon a spectacular career of sin and pleasure. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.” She led him toward her table and sat down opposite him.
“I don’t understand what on earth you’re talking about,” he protested. “How did you know me... and how did you know Cousin Hattie... and where is she... and...” He looked about the crowded restaurant helplessly.
“Cousin Hattie described you to me,” Sonia chuckled. “I promised to wait for you here when Cousin Hattie got hot and wanted to go places. After she and the Widower Simpson polished off two pitchers of Dervish Delight they decided their activities were too circumscribed here, so they staggered off to paint the old town red.” She laughed gleefully at the recollection.
“Widower Simpson...?”
“Sure. Hattie’s boy friend. Did she pick him up unbeknownst to you?”
“I never heard of him,” Robert protested. “What’s he like?”
“I bet he’s a devil in his own home town,” Sonia chuckled. “Sort of a diamond in the rough, but he’s got a mean eye. Tall and gangling, and wearing a Gaucho costume... he was a scream when Hattie pushed him over the table.” Sonia laughed uproariously.
“See here,” Robert said angrily. He half rose and leaned across the table to grasp Sonia’s shoulder harshly. “Come out of your hysterics and tell me what you’re talking about.”
His grip tightened and he shook her. Sonia’s eyes widened, and they seemed to deepen as Robert stared into them. Her face was white as he relaxed his hold, and she slipped back limply to stare at him.
Her fingers went up to her shoulder wonderingly and rubbed the cruel mark his fingers left on her smooth flesh. Her lips parted evenly, and a queer smile crept over her face. Her eyes were dolent pools of awakened passion.
“You... hurt me,” she accused unevenly. “Kiss the place.”
She leaned forward, her eyes holding him, and the strength of her passion enwrapping him. Everything in the room vanished except those two compelling pools of violet flame which were Sonia’s eyes.
Robert leaned forward hungrily. His lips brushed her shoulder and her fingers twined themselves in his hair. Fiercely she pressed his head down until his white teeth were forced deeply into the bruised flesh.
A queer emotion swept through Robert’s frame. A devastating emotion, shattering reality and staggering the imagination. For the first time he knew the savor of feminine flesh beneath his lips. It did disturbing things to him. Vagrant wisps of strange desires crept into his mind and forced back the hurt of Babs’ betrayal.
Sonia laughed shakily as she released her hold on his head and jerked her shoulder away. Robert continued to lean half across the table, his eyes burning into hers.
“My God!” Sonia’s lips said. “My God!”
Robert wanted to assure her he felt exactly the same way. But it didn’t seem necessary to use commonplace words to tell her that. His face was set in harsh lines.
He sank back into his chair and blinked confusedly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Sorry?” Sonia gazed at him with bright eyes which caught and held the mad spirit of the night.
“I... don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled.
“I do,” Sonia assured him. “Let’s go where we won’t have to be so conventional.” She arose swiftly. A bright iridescence seemed to envelop her. She grasped Robert’s hand, and he followed her willingly to the door and out to the street. A glittering, rakish roadster was parked at the curb. Sonia slipped into the driver’s seat and Robert went to the other side and got in beside her.