"Right O! I'll come soon, in a few days. _Hasta manana_, fair lady."

After the door had closed on him she stood sunk in thought, from which
she emerged with a deep sigh. A slow, gradual smile curved her lips; she
raised her head, looked about her, then moving to the mirror, halted in
front of it. The day was drawing toward twilight, pale light falling in
from the bay window and meeting the shadows in the back of the room. Her
figure seemed to lie on the glass as if floating on a pool of darkness.
The black skirt melted into it, but the crimson blouse and the warm
pallor of the face and arms emerged in liquid clearness, richly defined,
harmoniously glowing. She looked long, trying to see herself with his
eyes, trying to know herself anew as pretty and bewitching.

Mayer walked home wondering. He was completely intrigued by her. Her
performance in "The Zingara" had led him to expect a girl of much more
poise and finish, and yet with all her rawness she was far from naive.
His own experience recognized hers; both had lived in the world's squalid
byways; he could have talked to her in their language and she would have
understood. But she was not of the women of such places, she had a clean,
clear quality like a flame. Daring beyond doubt, wild and elusive, but
untouched by what had touched the rest. He found it inexplicable, unless
one granted her unusual capacity, unsuspected depths and a rare and
seasoned astuteness. He had to come back to that and he was satisfied to
do so. It would add zest to the duel which had just begun.




CHAPTER X