The Crimson Tide

"Oh, I'm so glad, Jim! Shall we have tea?... You dear fellow! I'm so very happy that you came! Wait a moment--" she leaned wide from him and touched an electric bell. "Now you'll have to behave properly,"

she said with delightful malice.

He released her; she spoke to the maid and then went over with him to the sofa, flinging m.u.f.f, stole and purse on a chair.

"Pure premonition," she explained, stripping the gloves from her hands. "Ilse and Marya were all for the Plaza, but something sent me homeward! Isn't it really very strange, Jim? Why, I almost had an inclination to run when I turned into our street--not even knowing why, of course----"

"You're so sweet and generous!" he blurted out. "Why don't you raise h.e.l.l with me?"

"You know," she said demurely, "I don't raise h.e.l.l, dear."

"But I've behaved so rottenly----"

"It really wasn't friendly to neglect me so entirely."

He looked down--laid one hand on hers in silence.

"I understand, Jim," she said sweetly. "Is it all right now?"

"It's all right.... Of course I haven't changed."

"Oh."

"But it's all right."

"Really?"

"Yes.... What is there for me to do but to accept things as they are?"

"You mean, 'accept _me_ as I am!' Oh, Jim, it's so dear of you. And you know well enough that I care for no other man as I do for you----"

The waitress with the tea-tray cut short that sort of conversation.

Palla's appet.i.te was a healthy one. She unpinned her hat and flung it on the piano. Then she nestled down sideways on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other knee, her hair in enough disorder to worry any other girl--and began to tuck away tea and cakes. Sometimes, in animated conversation, she gesticulated with a b.u.t.tered bun--once she waved her cup to emphasise her point:

"The main idea, of course, is to teach the eternal law of Love and Service," she explained. "But, Jim, I have become recently, and in a measure, militant."

"You're going to love the unwashed with a club?"

"You very impudent boy! We're going to combat this new and terrible menace--this sinister flood that threatens the world--the crimson tide of anarchy!"

"Good work, darling! I enlist for a machine gun uni----"

"Listen! The battle is to be entirely verbal.

"The Reds may come and take a crack at you."

"The Reds are welcome. We wish to face them across the rostrum, not across a barricade!"

"Well, you dear girl, I can't see how any Red is going to resist you.

And if any does, I'll knock his bally block off----"

"Oh, Jim, you're so vernacularly inclined! And you're very flippant, too----"

"I'm not really," he said in a lower voice. "Whatever you care about could not fail to appeal to me."

She gave him a quick, sweet glance, then searched the tea-tray to reward him.

As she gave him another triangle of cinnamon toast, she remembered something else. It was on the tip of her tongue, now; and she checked herself.

_He_ had not spoken of it. Had his mother mentioned meeting her at the Red Cross? If not--was it merely a natural forgetfulness on his mother's part? Was her silence significant?

Nibbling pensively at her cinnamon toast, Palla pondered this. But the girl's mind worked too directly for concealment to come easy.

"I'm wondering," she said, "whether your mother mentioned our meeting at the Red Cross." And she knew immediately by his expression that he heard it for the first time.

"I was introduced at our headquarters by Leila Vance," said Palla, in her even voice; "and your mother and she are acquaintances. That is how it happened, Jim."

He was still somewhat flushed but he forced a smile: "Did you find my mother agreeable, Palla?"

"Yes. And she is so beautiful with her young face and pretty white hair. She always sits between Leila and me while we sew."

"Did you say you knew me?"

"Yes, of course."

"Of course," he repeated, reddening again.

No man ever has successfully divined any motive which any woman desires to conceal.

Why his mother had not spoken of Palla to him he did not know. He was aware, of course, that n.o.body within the circle into which he had been born would tolerate Palla's social convictions. Had she casually and candidly revealed a few of them to his mother in the course of the morning's conversation over their sewing?

He gave Palla a quick look, encountered her slightly amused eyes, and turned redder than ever.

"You dear boy," she said, smiling, "I don't think your very charming mother would be interested in knowing me. The informality of ultra-modern people could not appeal to her generation."

"Did you--talk to her about----"

"No. But it might happen. You know, Jim, I have nothing to conceal."

The old troubled look had come back into his face. She noticed it and led the conversation to lighter themes.

"We danced last night after dinner," she said. "There were some amusing people here for dinner. Then we went to see such a charming play--_Tea for Three_--and then we had supper at the Biltmore and danced.... Will you dine with me to-morrow?"

"Of course."

"Do you think you'd enjoy it?--a lot of people who entertain the same shocking beliefs that I do?"

"All right!" he said with emphasis. "I'm through playing the role of death's-head at the feast. I told you that I'm going to take you as you are and enjoy you and our friends--and quit making an a.s.s of myself----"

"Dear, you never did!"