George felt its influence upon himself, upon
Lois, upon the whole scene. The eyes of the most feminine women in the
world, denying their smiles and their lure, had discovered to him
something which marked a definite change in his estimate of certain
ultimate earthly values.
Lois said:
"Perhaps a telegram is waiting for you at the hotel."
"Well, I can wait till I get back," he replied stoutly.
He thought, looking at her by his side:
"She is just like these Frenchwomen!" And for some reason he felt proud.
"You needn't," said Lois, "We can telephone from under the grand stand
if you like."
"But I don't know the number."
"We can get that out of the book, of course."
"I don't reckon I can use these French telephones."
"Oh! My poor boy, I'll telephone for you--unless you prefer not to risk
knowing the worst."
Yes, her tone was the tone of a strange woman. And it was she who
thirsted for the result of the competition.
Controlling himself, submissively he asked her to telephone for him, and
she agreed in a delightfully agreeable voice. She seemed to know the
entire geography of the Hippodrome. She secured a telephone-cabin in a
very business-like manner. As she entered the cabin she said to George:
"I'll ask them if a telegram has come, and if it has I'll ask them to
open it and read it to me, or spell it--of course it'll be in
English.
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