He put on no airs.* Kitty did not know why she had resented hearing him so well spoken of, she could not help thinking he must be very conceited: she had been extremely silly; that was the last thing you could accuse him of.
She had enjoyed her evening.
They had talked of the theatres in London, and of Ascot and Cowes, all the things she knew about, so that really she might have met him at some nice house in Lennox Gardens; and later, when the men came into the drawing-room after dinner, he had strolled over and sat beside her again.
Though he had not said anything very amusing, he had made her laugh; it must have been the way he said it: there was a caressing sound in his deep, rich voice, a delightful expression in his kind, shining blue eyes, which made you feel very much at home with him.
Of course he had charm. That was what made him so pleasant.
He was tall, six foot two at least, she thought, and he had a beautiful figure; he was evidently in very good condition and he had not a spare ounce of fat on him.
He was well-dressed, the best-dressed man in the room, and he wore his clothes well.
She liked a man to be smart.
Her eyes wandered to Walter: he really should try to be a little better turned out.
She noticed Townsend's cufflinks and waistcoat buttons; she had seen similar ones at Carrier's.
Of course the Townsends had private means.
His face was deeply sunburned, but the sun had not taken the healthy colour from his cheeks.
She liked the little trim curly moustache which did not conceal his full red lips.
He had black hair, short and brushed very sleek.
But of course his eyes, under thick, bushy eyebrows, were his best feature: they were so very blue, and they had a laughing tenderness which persuaded you of the sweetness of his disposition. No man who had those blue eyes could bear to hurt any one.
She could not but know that she had made an impression on him.
If he had not said charming things to her his eyes, warm with admiration, would have betrayed him.
His ease was delightful. He had no self-consciousness.
Kitty was at home in these circumstances and she admired the way in which amid the banter* which was the staple of their conversation he insinuated every now and then a pretty, flattering speech.
When she shook hands with him on leaving he gave her hand a pressure that she could not mistake.
"I hope we shall see you again soon," he said casually, but his eyes gave his words a meaning which she could not fail to see.
"Hong Kong is very small, isn't it?" she said.
XV
WHO would have thought then that within three months they would be on such terms?
He had told her since that he was crazy about her on that first evening.
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He remembered the dress she wore; it was her wedding dress, and he said she looked like a lily of the valley.
She knew that he was in love with her before he told her, and a little frightened she kept him at a distance.
He was impetuous and it was difficult.
She was afraid to let him kiss her, for the thought of his arms about her made her heart beat so fast.
She had never been in love before.
It was wonderful.
And now that she knew what love was she felt a sudden sympathy for the love that Walter bore her.
She teased him, playfully, and saw that he enjoyed it.
She had been perhaps a little afraid of him, but now she had more confidence.
She chaffed him and it amused her to see the slow smile with which at first he received her banter. He was surprised and pleased.
One of these days, she thought, he would become quite human.
Now that she had learnt something of passion it diverted her to play lightly, like a harpist running his fingers across the strings of his harp, on his affections.
She laughed when she saw how she bewildered and confused him.
And when Charlie became her lover the situation between herself and Walter seemed exquisitely absurd.
She could hardly look at him, so grave and self-controlled, without laughing.
She was too happy to feell unkindly towards him.
Except for him, after all, she would never have known Charlie.
She had hesitated some time before the final step, not because she did not want to yield to Charlie's passion, her own was equal to his, but because her upbringing and all the conventions of her life intimidated her.
She was amazed afterwards (and the final act was due to accident; neither of them had seen the opportunity till it was face to face with them) to discover that she felt in no way different from what she had before.
She had expected that it would cause some, she hardly knew what, fantastic change in her so that she would feel like somebody else; and when she had a chance to look at herself in the glass she was bewildered to see the same woman she had seen the day before.
"Are you angry with me?" he asked her.
"I adore you," she whispered.
"Don't you think you were very silly to waste so much time?"
"A perfect fool."