In the agitation of getting a table and
settling at it Gideon forgot for the moment her sickly pallor.
He began to order at once, not consulting her--for he prided
himself on his knowledge of cookery and assumed that she knew
nothing about it. "Have a cocktail?" asked he. "Yes, of
course you will. You need it bad and you need it quick."
She said she preferred sherry. She had intended to drink
nothing, but she must have aid in conquering her faintness and
overwhelming depression. Gideon took a dry martini; ordered a
second for himself when the first came, and had them both down
before she finished her sherry. "I've ordered champagne," said
he. "I suppose you like sweet champagne. Most ladies do, but
I can't stand seeing it served even."
"No--I like it very dry," said Susan.
Gideon glinted his eyes gayly at her, showed his white jaguar
teeth. "So you're acquainted with fizz, are you?" He was
feeling his absurd notion of inequality in her favor dissipate
as the fumes of the cocktails rose straight and strong from his
empty stomach to his brain. "Do you know, I've a sort of
feeling that we're going to like each other a lot. I think we
make a handsome couple--eh--what's your first name?"
"Lorna."
"Lorna, then. My name's Ed, but everybody calls me Gid."
As soon as the melon was served, he ordered the champagne
opened. "To our better acquaintance," said he, lifting his
glass toward her.
Pages:
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614