preference might have carried xenophon curry out to the beach, but ars longa; vita brevis—he settled cheerfully at the alexander young so as to be near the theatre.
scarcely had he descended from his room when a most surprising circumstance developed. over in one corner of the lobby stood a small booth where ladies of social prominence were selling flowers for the benefit of a local charity. all at once the impresario stopped and gazed, unbelieving, fascinated. and at the very same moment there was a stir inside the booth, and lo! one of the ladies came forth from it, came smiling and nodding toward him across the lobby, her face shining with welcome, and a ready hand outstretched.
flora utterbourne—yes, it was really she! their greeting, as may well be imagined, was effusive and faintly loud. it was really beautiful!
“but—i left you on the dock...!” he faltered lamely, but happily.
“i know,” she laughed, with warm joyousness, though without his amazement, “but you see—i took the next steamer down, for there were some friends who had been planning to spend a few weeks here and asked me to go along, and i found[95] i could get away, though i really hadn’t intended leaving town just at this time!”
they chattered, then, delightedly, and for ever so long couldn’t seem to exhaust the stock of superlative congratulations, self and mutual. at last, however, they seated themselves, and she went on flowingly: “it really was my friends”—just a faintly blushing insistence—“who ‘carried me off’—the trents, originally of toronto—perhaps you know them?—and mrs. clyde, who was miss spurling,—she is the friend i was with in madeira, the year we met signora martinella, who nearly ‘took her life’ in such a strange and tragic way!” and flora was enthusiastically launched, right then and there, upon a most amazing digression, all about the signora martinella, who was encountered first in the ball room—“rather flirting, we thought—quite a frivolous little thing!” and then it developed—oh, well, it was a very absorbing affair, and the signora in the end didn’t take poison. oh yes, it was most elaborately enthusiastic; and when the end was reached she and the impresario sat facing each other in a state of breathlessness: it was several seconds before they seemed to realize that all this had no essential point for them! when at length they did realize this, she smiled, a little self-consciously, while he was humorously devouring her with his bright black eyes, and trying to convince himself that this incredible fact really was a fact.
“we’ve been scanning the ‘horizon’ with such anxiety,” she told him, “hoping each day for a glimpse of the schooner—trusting and praying that nothing had ‘gone wrong’, and in the meantime we’ve been advertising your ‘songbirds’ really most extensively, and are planning to attend the ‘first night’ of each new production, which quite takes me back to the old days in paris, when i was doing a little studying myself, though of course i knew i never had anything more than a ‘parlour’ voice, and only wanted to train it a little so that i could give pleasure to my friends, in a way!” and then—it seemed so irresistibly to fit in here—he was told all about the funny old italian teacher who would jump up and down, exclaiming:[96] “troppo apperto!” till she would ask in despair: “but what can i do about it?” whereupon the italian would cry: “chiudi! chiudi!” flora smiled richly over the reminiscence.
and then, as they proceeded, she was so very sympathetic that the impresario just poured out, on the spot, all his business and artistic troubles, and told her about the clerk—“lord, a sheer stroke of luck from my point of view!” and she humorously sighed: “it’s always puzzled me how you’ve managed to keep everything going in your own head!” and he asked: “but you see how mysteriously life works? isn’t it really remarkable? you never know if people you just casually meet may be destined....” it trailed off in the wake of a gesture just a little wild; for obviously both had instantly caught from this a personal not to say a most thrilling application.
well, in a word, both of them rejoiced—like a couple of youngsters—at being together again!
“i know you’ve a thousand things to do,” she said at last, rising, “and i mustn’t keep you any longer, though i couldn’t help ‘waylaying’ you the first thing! you see, i’m helping some of my friends—we’re selling flowers for homeless babies!” she laughed softly. “i really feel almost like a ‘native’, and you know—i’ve taken a house, and have it nearly all furnished, though i’d intended merely to rest here in honolulu! i understand how busy you are, and that it won’t be possible for you to ‘drop in’ quite so frequently as before, though the little ‘villino’ by the sea will be always wide open to welcome you, and i must show you my charming japanese ‘breakfast’ dishes!”
“i think you’ll find i’ll manage,” he said, stroking his toupee delightedly with a couple of deft, tender fingers. he was perfectly radiant.
“perhaps i’ll give a little garden tea one day, for i’ve a really most delicious terrace, and invite your ‘songbirds,’ and maybe miss valentine would sing!” whereupon the big impresario[97] almost whooped—yes, right there in the lobby—because his temperamental heart was making such an enormous commotion. and for that matter the lady’s heart was making a commotion also.
“addio, signore!” she murmured cordially—and was gone, her skirts rustling very much.
