CHAPTER X

Barry had murmured something about "rush of work at the office" when
he came in a few minutes late for Mrs. Burgoyne's dinner, but as the
evening wore on, he seemed in no hurry to depart. Sidney was
delighted to see him really in his element with the Von Praags,
father and son, the awakened expression that was so becoming to him
on his face, and his curiously complex arguments stirring the old
man over and over again to laughter. She had been vexed at herself
for feeling a little shyness when he first came in; the unfamiliar
evening dress and the gravity of his handsome face had made him seem
almost a stranger, but this wore off, and after the other guests had
gone these four still sat laughing and talking like the best of old
friends together.

When the Von Praags had gone upstairs, she walked with him to the
porch, and they stood at the top of the steps for a moment, the rich
scent of the climbing LaMarque and Banksia roses heavy about them,
and the dark starry arch of the sky above. Sidney, a little tired,
but pleased with her dinner and her guests, and ready for a breath
of the sweet summer night before going upstairs, was confused by
having her heart suddenly begin to thump again. She looked at Barry,
his figure lost in the shadow, only his face dimly visible in the
starlight, and some feeling, new, young, terrifying, and yet
infinitely delicious, rushed over her. She might have been a girl of
seventeen instead of a sober woman fifteen years older, with
wifehood, and motherhood, and widowhood all behind her.