The Beautiful and Damned / Прекрасные и обреченные. Уровень 4

“I will,” he promised fervently.

Magic

Anthony was convinced that no woman he had ever met compared in any way with Gloria. She was deeply herself; she was immeasurably sincere – of these things he was certain. Beside her the two dozen schoolgirls, young married women and waifs and strays whom he had known were just females, nothing more.

He went to the phone and called up the Plaza Hotel. Gloria was out. Her mother knew neither where she had gone nor when she would return.

One o’clock. Four o’clock. He sprang excitedly to his feet. How inappropriate that she should be out! He had realized what he wanted – to kiss her. She was the end of all restlessness, all malcontent.

Anthony dressed and went out to Richard Caramel’s room to hear the last revision of the last chapter of “The Demon Lover.” He did not call Gloria again until six. He did not find her in until eight and she could give him no engagement until Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday was freezing cold.

“I called you four times on Sunday,” he told her.

“Did you?”

There was surprise in her voice and interest in her expression.

“I was anxious to see you,” he said simply. “I want to talk to you – I mean really talk, somewhere where we can be alone. May I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, not at a tea table,” he said.

“Well, all right, but not today. Let’s walk!”

It was bitter and raw. All the evil of February was wrought into the forlorn and icy wind. It was almost impossible to talk, and discomfort made him distracted. He turned at Sixty-first Street and found she was no longer beside him. He looked around. She was forty feet in the rear standing motionless, her face showed anger or laughter – he could not determine which.

“Don’t let me interrupt your walk!” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he answered in confusion. “Did I go too fast?”

“I’m cold,” she announced. “I want to go home. And you walk too fast.”

“I’m very sorry.”

Side by side they started for the Plaza. He wished he could see her face.

“Men don’t usually get so absorbed in themselves when they’re with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s very interesting.”

“It is rather too cold to walk,” he said, briskly, to hide his annoyance.

She walked in without speaking, however, she threw him a single remark as she entered it:

“You’d better come up.”

He found himself in her room.

“Aren’t you interested in anything except yourself?”

“Not much.”

Anthony stared morosely at the fire. Then a strange thing happened. She turned to him and smiled.

He moved closer and taking her hand pulled her gently toward him until she half lay against his shoulder. She smiled up at him as he kissed her.

“Gloria,” he whispered very softly.

He had risen. She was fascinating, he told her. He had never met any one like her before. He besought her jauntily but earnestly to send him away; he didn’t want to fall in love.

What delicious romance!

“This is all. It’s very strange and wonderful to meet you. But this wouldn’t last.”

“A woman should be able to kiss a man beautifully and romantically without any desire to be either his wife or his mistress,” she said

Anthony pulled her quickly to her feet and kissed her. In an instant she was free.

“Don’t!” she said quietly. “I don’t want that.”

She sat down on the far side of the lounge and gazed straight before her.

“Why, Gloria!” He made a motion but she drew away.

“I don’t want that,” she repeated.

“I’m very sorry,” he said, a little impatiently. “Won’t you kiss me, Gloria?”

“I don’t want to.”

“A sudden change, isn’t it? Perhaps I’d better go.”

No reply. He rose and regarded her angrily, uncertainly. Again he sat down.

“Gloria, Gloria, won’t you kiss me?”

“No.” Her lips had faintly stirred.

Again he got to his feet, this time with less decision, less confidence.

“Then I’ll go.”

Silence.