Several times, the young man
noted that she glanced in his direction, half inquiringly, with a
suggestion of being pleased, as though she were glad to have seen him in
company with her celebrated friend. Then the man who held so large a place
in the eyes of the world drew back, lifting his hat; the automobile
started forward; the party called, "Good night." The woman's voice rose
clear--so that the spectators might easily understand--"Remember, Mr.
Lagrange--I shall expect you Thursday--day after to-morrow."
As Conrad Lagrange came up the hotel steps, the eyes of all were upon him;
but he--apparently unconscious of the company--went straight to the
artist; where, without a word, he dropped into the vacant chair by the
young man's side, and began thoughtfully refilling his brier pipe.
Flipping the match over the veranda railing, and expelling a prodigious
cloud of smoke, the novelist said grimly, "And there--my fellow artist--go
your masters. I trust you observed them with proper reverence. I would
have introduced you, but I do not like to take the initiative in such
outrages. That will come soon enough. The young should be permitted to
enjoy their freedom while they may.
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