The great steamer swung side-to and was coaxed alongside the wharf. Peering out between rows of crowding shoulders, Mr. Wrenn coldly inspected the passengers lining the decks. Istra was not in sight. Then he knew that he was wildly agitated about her. Suppose something had happened to her!
The smallish man who had been edging into the crowd so politely suddenly dashed to the group forming at the gang-plank and pushed his way rudely into the front rank. His elbow dug into the proper waistcoat of a proper plump old gentleman, but he didn't know it. He stood grasping the rope rail of the plank, gazing goggle-eyed while the plank was lifted to the steamer's deck and the long line of smiling and waving passengers disembarked. Then he saw her-tall, graceful, nonchalant, uninterested, in a smart check suit with a lively hat of black straw, carrying a new Gladstone bag.
He stared at her. "Gee!" he gasped. "I'm crazy about her. I am, all right."
She saw him, and their smiles of welcome made them one. She came from the plank and hastily kissed him.
"Really here!" she laughed.
"Well, well, well, well! I'm so glad to see you!"
"Glad to see you, Mouse dear."
"Have good tr-"
"Don't ask me about it! There was a married man sans wife who persecuted me all the way over. I'm glad you aren't going to fall in love with me."
"Why-uh-"
"Let's hustle over and get through the customs as soon as we can. Where's N? Oh, how clever of it, it's right by M. There's one of my trunks already. How are you, Mouse dear?"
But she didn't seem really to care so very much, and the old bewilderment she always caused was over him.
"It is good to get back after all, and-Mouse dear, I know you won't mind finding me a place to live the next few days, will you?" She quite took it for granted. "We'll find a place this morning, n'est-ce pas? Not too expensive. I've got just about enough to get back to California."
Man fashion, he saw with acute clearness the pile of work on his desk, and, man fashion, responded, "No; be glad tuh."
"How about the place where you're living? You spoke about its being so clean and all."
The thought of Nelly and Istra together frightened him.
"Why, I don't know as you'd like it so very much."
"Oh, it'll be all right for a few days, anyway. Is there a room vacant."
He was sulky about it. He saw much trouble ahead.
"Why, yes, I suppose there is."
"Mouse dear!" Istra plumped down on a trunk in the confused billows of incoming baggage, customs officials, and indignant passengers that surged about them on the rough floor of the vast dock-house. She stared up at him with real sorrow in her fine eyes.
"Why, Mouse! I thought you'd be glad to see me. I've never rowed with you, have I? I've tried not to be temperamental with you. That's why I wired you, when there are others I've known for years."
"Oh, I didn't mean to seem grouchy; I didn't! I just wondered if you'd like the house."
He could have knelt in repentance before his goddess, what time she was but a lonely girl in the clatter of New York. He went on:
"And we've got kind of separated, and I didn't know-But I guess I'll always-oh-kind of worship you."
"It's all right, Mouse. It's-Here's the customs men."
Now Istra Nash knew perfectly that the customs persons were not ready to examine her baggage as yet. But the discussion was ended, and they seemed to understand each other.
"Gee, there's a lot of rich Jew ladies coming back this time!" said he.
"Yes. They had diamonds three times a day," she assented.
"Gee, this is a big place!"
"Yes." So did they testify to fixity of friendship till they reached the house and Istra was welcomed to "that Teddem's" room as a new guest.
Dinner began with the ceremony due Mrs. Arty. There was no lack of the sacred old jokes. Tom Poppins did not fail to bellow "Bring on the dish-water," nor Miss Mary Proudfoot to cheep demurely "Don't y' knaow" in a tone which would have been recognized as fascinatingly English anywhere on the American stage. Then the talk stopped dead as Istra Nash stood agaze in the doorway-pale and intolerant, her red hair twisted high on her head, tall and slim and uncorseted in a gray tight-fitting gown. Every head turned as on a pivot, first to Istra, then to Mr. Wrenn. He blushed and bowed as if he had been called on for a speech, stumblingly arose, and said: "Uh-uh-uh-you met Mrs. Ferrard, didn't you, Istra? She'll introduce you to the rest."
He sat down, wondering why the deuce he'd stood up, and unhappily realized that Nelly was examining Istra and himself with cool hostility. In a flurry he glowered at Istra as she nonchalantly sat down opposite him, beside Mrs. Arty, and incuriously unfolded her napkin. He thought that in her cheerful face there was an expression of devilish amusement.
He blushed. He furiously buttered his bread as Mrs. Arty remarked to the assemblage:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I want you all to meet Miss Istra Nash. Miss Nash-you've met Mr. Wrenn; Miss Nelly Croubel, our baby; Tom Poppins, the great Five-Hundred player; Mrs. Ebbitt, Mr. Ebbitt, Miss Proudfoot."
Istra Nash lifted her bowed eyes with what seemed shyness, hesitated, said "Thank you" in a clear voice with a precise pronunciation, and returned to her soup, as though her pleasant communion with it had been unpleasantly interrupted.
The others began talking and eating very fast and rather noisily. Miss Mary Proudfoot's thin voice pierced the clamor:
"I hear you have just come to New York, Miss Nash."
"Yes."
"Is this your first visit to-"
"No."
Miss Proudfoot rancorously took a long drink of water.
Nelly attempted, bravely:
"Do you like New York, Miss Nash?"
"Yes."
Nelly and Miss Proudfoot and Tom Poppins began discussing shoe-stores, all at once and very rapidly, while hot and uncomfortable Mr. Wrenn tried to think of something to say.... Good Lord, suppose Istra "queered" him at Mrs. Arty's!... Then he was angry at himself and all of them for not appreciating her. How exquisite she looked, with her tired white face!
As the soup-plates were being removed by Annie, the maid, with an elaborate confusion and a general passing of plates down the line, Istra Nash peered at the maid petulantly. Mrs. Arty frowned, then grew artificially pleasant and said:
"Miss Nash has just come back from Paris. She's a regular European traveler, just like Mr. Wrenn."
Mrs. Samuel Ebbitt piped: "Mr. Ebbitt was to Europe. In 1882."
"No 'twa'n't, Fannie; 'twas in 1881," complained Mr. Ebbitt.
Miss Nash waited for the end of this interruption as though it were a noise which merely had to be endured, like the Elevated.
Twice she drew in her breath to speak, and the whole table laid its collective knife and fork down to listen. All she said was:
"Oh, will you pardon me if I speak of it now, Mrs. Ferrard, but would you mind letting me have my breakfast in my room to-morrow? About nine? Just something simple-a canteloupe and some shirred eggs and chocolate?"
"Oh no; why, yes, certainly, "mumbled Mrs. Arty, while the table held its breaths and underneath them gasped:
"Chocolate!"
"A canteloupe!"
"Shirred eggs!"
"In her room-at nine!"
All this was very terrible to Mr. Wrenn. He found himself in the position of a man scheduled to address the Brewers' Association and the W. C. T. U. at the same hour. Valiantly he attempted:
"Miss Nash oughta be a good person for our picnics. She's a regular shark for outdoor tramping."
"Oh yes, Mr. Wrenn and I tramped most all night in England one time," said Istra, innocently.
The eyes of the table asked Mr. Wrenn what he meant by it. He tried to look at Nelly, but something hurt inside him.