"Forgive me, sweetheart. I apologize. That young man of yours sets my teeth on edge. I can't abide a predestined parson. I'll wager anything he has been preaching at you." He smiled ironically as he saw the girl flush. "So he did preach,--and against me, I suppose."

"He did, and quite right, too. You are not at all a proper person for me to flirt with, just as he said. Even Miss Lottie told me that and when Miss Lottie objects to a man it means--"

"That she has failed to hold him herself," said Alan cynically. "Stop, Tony. I want to say something to you before we go in. I am not a proper person. I told you that myself. There have been other women in my life--a good many of them. I told you that, too. But that has absolutely nothing to do with you and me. I love you. You are the only woman I ever have loved in the big sense, at least the only one I have ever wanted to marry. I am like my mother. She had many lesser loves. She had only one great one. She married him. And I shall marry you."

"Alan, don't. It is foolish--worse than foolish to talk like that. My people would never let me marry you, even if I wanted to. d.i.c.k was speaking for them just now when he warned me against you."

"He was speaking for himself. d.a.m.n him!"

"Alan!"

"I beg your pardon, Tony. I'm a brute to-night. I am sorry. I won't trouble you any more. I won't even keep you to your promise to dance once with me if you wish to be let off."

The music floated out to them, called insistently to Tony's rhythm-mad feet and warm young blood.

"Ah, but I do want to dance with you," she sighed. "I don't want to be let off. Come."

He bent over her, a flash of triumph in his eyes.

"My own!" he exulted. "You are my own. Kiss me, belovedest."

But Tony pulled away from him and he followed her. A moment later the scarlet flame was in his arms whirling down the hall to the music of the violins, and d.i.c.k, standing apart by the window watching, tasted the dregs of the bitterest brew life had yet offered him. Better, far better than Tony Holiday he knew where the scarlet flame was blowing.

His dance with Tony over, Alan retired to the library where he used the telephone to transmit a wire to Boston, a message addressed to one James Roberts, a retired circus performer.

CHAPTER XII

AND THERE IS A FLAME

When Alan Ma.s.sey strayed into the breakfast room, one of the latest arrivals at that very informal meal, he found a telegram awaiting him. It was rather an odd message and ran thus, without capitalization or punctuation. "Town named correct what is up let sleeping dogs lie sick."

Alan frowned as he thrust the yellow envelope into his pocket.

"Does the fool mean he is sick, I wonder," he cogitated. "Lord, I wish I could let well enough alone. But this sword of Damocles business is beginning to get on my nerves. I have half a mind to take a run into town this afternoon and see the old reprobate. I'll bet he doesn't know as much as he claims to, but I'd like to be sure before he dies."

Just then Tony Holiday entered, clad in a rose hued linen and looking like a new blown rose herself.

"You are the latest ever," greeted Carlotta.

"On the contrary I have been up since the crack of dawn," denied Tony, slipping into a seat beside her friend.

Carlotta opened her eyes wide. Then she understood.

"You got up to see d.i.c.k off," she announced.

"I did. Please give me some strawberries, Hal, if you don't mean to eat the whole pyramid yourself. I not only got up, but I went to the station; not only went to the station, but I walked the whole mile and a half. Can anybody beat that for a morning record?" Tony challenged as she deluged her berries with cream.

Alan Ma.s.sey uttered a kind of a snarling sound such as a lion disturbed from a nap might have emitted. He had thought he was through with Carson when the latter had made his farewells the night before, saying goodnight to Tony before them all. But Tony had gotten up at some ridiculously early hour to escort him to the station, and did not mind everybody's knowing it. He subsided into a dense mood of gloom. The morning had begun badly.

Later he discovered Tony in the rose garden with a big basket on her arm and a charming drooping sun hat shading her even more charming face. She waved him away as he approached.

"Go away," she ordered. "I'm busy."

"You mean you have made up your mind to be disagreeable to me," he retorted, lighting a cigarette and looking as if he meant to fight it out along that line if it took all summer.

Tony snipped off a rose with her big shears and dropped it into her basket. It rather looked as if she were meaning to snip off Alan Ma.s.sey figuratively in much the same ruthless manner.

"Put it that way, if you like. Only stay away. I mean it."

"Why?" he persisted.

Thus pressed she turned and faced him.

"It is a lovely morning--all blue and gold and clean-washed after last night's storm--a good morning. I'm feeling good, too. The clean morning has got inside of me. And when you come near me I feel a p.r.i.c.king in my thumbs. You don't fit into my present, mood. Please go, Alan. I am perfectly serious. I don't want to talk to you."

"What have I done? I am no different from what I was yesterday."

"I know. It isn't anything you have done. It isn't you at all. It is I who am different--or want to be." Tony spoke earnestly. She was perfectly sincere. She did want to be different. She had not slept well the night before. She had thought a great deal about Holiday Hill and Uncle Phil and her brothers and--well, yes--about d.i.c.k Carson. They all armed her against Alan Ma.s.sey.

Alan threw away his cigarette with an angry gesture.

"You can't play fast and loose with me, Tony Holiday. You have been leading me on, playing the devil with me for days. You know you have. Now you are scared, and want to get back to shallow water. It is too late.

You are in deep seas and you've got to stay there--with me."

"I haven't _got_ to do anything, Alan. You are claiming more than you have any right to claim."

But he came nearer, towered above her, almost menacingly.

"Because that nameless fool of a reporter with his sanctimonious airs and impeccable morals, has put you against me you want to sack me. You can't do it. Last night you were ready to go any lengths with me. You know it.

Do you think I am going to be balked by a miserable circus brat--a mere n.o.body? Not so long as I am Alan Ma.s.sey. Count on that."

Tony's dark eyes were ablaze with anger.

"Stop there, Alan. You are saying things that are not true. And I forbid you ever to speak of d.i.c.k like that again to me."

"Indeed! And how are you going to prevent my saying what I please about your precious protege?" sneered Alan.

"I shall tell Carlotta I won't stay under the same roof with anybody who insults my friends. You won't have to restrain yourself long in any case.

I am leaving Sat.u.r.day--perhaps sooner."

"Tony!" The sneer died away from Alan's face, which had suddenly grown white. "You mustn't go. I can't live without you, my darling. If you knew how I worshiped you, how I cannot sleep of nights for wanting you, you wouldn't talk of going away from me. I was brutal just now. I admit it.

It is because I love you so. The thought of your turning from me, deserting me, maddened me. I am not responsible for what I said. You must forgive me. But, oh my belovedest, you are mine! Don't try to deny it. We have belonged to each other for always. You know it. You feel it. I have seen the knowledge in your eyes, felt it flutter in your heart. Will you marry me, Tony Holiday? You shall be loved as no woman was ever loved.

You shall be my queen. I will be true to you forever and ever, your slave, your mate. Tony, Tony, say yes. You must!"

But Tony drew back from him, frightened, repulsed, shocked, by the storm of his pa.s.sion which shook him as mighty trees are shaken by tempests. She shrank from the hungry fires in his eyes, from the abandon and fierceness of his wooing. It was an alien, disturbing, dreadful thing to her.