"But you see, I
wasn't consulted. I've just got to go where I'm taken."
She sank into a chair opposite Merefleet and leant forward.
Merefleet sat perfectly rigid. There was a marvellous witchery about the
clasped hands and bent head before him. But he did not mean to let his
idiotic sentimentality carry him away again. So long as the enchantress
was speaking, the spell was wholly impotent. Therefore he should not
suffer her to relapse into silence. Yet--how he hated that high, piercing
voice! It was like the desecration of something sacred. It made him
shrink in involuntary protest.
"Say!" suddenly exclaimed his companion, looking at him sharply. "Aren't
you Bernard Merefleet of New York City?"
Merefleet frowned unconsciously at the notoriety that was his.
"I was in New York until recently," he said with some curtness.
"Exactly what I said," she returned triumphantly. "A friend of mine
snap-shotted you walking up Fifth Avenue. He said to me: 'Here's
Merefleet the gold-king, one of the cutest men in U.S.A. His first name
is Bernard. So we call him the Big Bear for short.' Ever heard your pet
name before?"
"Never," said Merefleet stiffly, with a suggestive hand on the evening
paper. He wished she would leave him alone. With his eyes averted at
length, the charm of her presence ceased to attract him. He even fancied
he resented her freedom. But the girl only laughed carelessly.
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