Chapter: <CHAPTER>
5. THE YOUNG GIRL.

In her blue dress, with her cheeks lightly flushed, her blue, blue eyes,
and her gold curls pinned up as though for the first time--pinned up
to be out of the way for her flight--Mrs. Raddick's daughter might have
just dropped from this radiant heaven. Mrs. Raddick's timid, faintly
astonished, but deeply admiring glance looked as if she believed it,
too; but the daughter didn't appear any too pleased--why should she?--to
have alighted on the steps of the Casino. Indeed, she was bored--bored
as though Heaven had been full of casinos with snuffy old saints for
croupiers and crowns to play with.

"You don't mind taking Hennie?" said Mrs. Raddick. "Sure you don't?
There's the car, and you'll have tea and we'll be back here on this
step--right here--in an hour. You see, I want her to go in. She's not
been before, and it's worth seeing. I feel it wouldn't be fair to her."

"Oh, shut up, mother," said she wearily. "Come along. Don't talk so
much. And your bag's open; you'll be losing all your money again."

"I'm sorry, darling," said Mrs. Raddick.

"Oh, do come in! I want to make money," said the impatient voice. "It's
all jolly well for you--but I'm broke!"

"Here--take fifty francs, darling, take a hundred!" I saw Mrs. Raddick
pressing notes into her hand as they passed through the swing doors.

Hennie and I stood on the steps a minute, watching the people. He had a
very broad, delighted smile.

"I say," he cried, "there's an English bulldog. Are they allowed to take
dogs in there?"

"No, they're not."

"He's a ripping chap, isn't he? I wish I had one. They're such fun. They
frighten people so, and they're never fierce with their--the people they
belong to." Suddenly he squeezed my arm. "I say, do look at that old
woman. Who is she? Why does she look like that? Is she a gambler?"

The ancient, withered creature, wearing a green satin dress, a black
velvet cloak and a white hat with purple feathers, jerked slowly, slowly
up the steps as though she were being drawn up on wires. She stared in
front of her, she was laughing and nodding and cackling to herself; her
claws clutched round what looked like a dirty boot-bag.

But just at that moment there was Mrs. Raddick again with--her--and
another lady hovering in the background. Mrs. Raddick rushed at me. She
was brightly flushed, gay, a different creature. She was like a woman
who is saying "good-bye" to her friends on the station platform, with
not a minute to spare before the train starts.

"Oh, you're here, still. Isn't that lucky! You've not gone. Isn't that
fine! I've had the most dreadful time with--her," and she waved to
her daughter, who stood absolutely still, disdainful, looking down,
twiddling her foot on the step, miles away. "They won't let her in. I
swore she was twenty-one. But they won't believe me. I showed the man
my purse; I didn't dare to do more. But it was no use. He simply
scoffed... And now I've just met Mrs. MacEwen from New York, and she just
won thirteen thousand in the Salle Privee--and she wants me to go back
with her while the luck lasts. Of course I can't leave--her. But if
you'd--"

At that "she" looked up; she simply withered her mother. "Why can't
you leave me?" she said furiously. "What utter rot! How dare you make
a scene like this? This is the last time I'll come out with you. You
really are too awful for words." She looked her mother up and down.
"Calm yourself," she said superbly.

Mrs. Raddick was desperate, just desperate. She was "wild" to go back
with Mrs. MacEwen, but at the same time...

I seized my courage. "Would you--do you care to come to tea with--us?"

"Yes, yes, she'll be delighted. That's just what I wanted, isn't it,
darling? Mrs. MacEwen... I'll be back here in an hour... or less... I'll--"

Mrs. R. dashed up the steps. I saw her bag was open again.

So we three were left. But really it wasn't my fault. Hennie looked
crushed to the earth, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark
coat round her--to escape contamination. Even her little feet looked as
though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us.

"I am so awfully sorry," I murmured as the car started.

"Oh, I don't mind," said she. "I don't want to look twenty-one. Who
would--if they were seventeen! It's"--and she gave a faint shudder--"the
stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men. Beasts!"

Hennie gave her a quick look and then peered out of the window.

We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with
orange-trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs.

"Would you care to go in?" I suggested.

She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself. "Oh well,
there seems nowhere else," said she. "Get out, Hennie."

I went first--to find the table, of course--she followed. But the worst
of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. That
was the last, final straw--having that child, trailing at her heels.

There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little
blue tea-napkins for sails.

"Shall we sit here?"

She put her hand wearily on the back of a white wicker chair.

"We may as well. Why not?" said she.

Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt
awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her
eyes and drummed on the table. When a faint violin sounded she winced
and bit her lip again. Silence.

The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her. "Tea--coffee? China
tea--or iced tea with lemon?"

Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really
want anything. Hennie whispered, "Chocolate!"

But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you
may as well bring me a chocolate, too."

While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in
the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed
her lovely nose.

"Hennie," she said, "take those flowers away." She pointed with her puff
to the carnations, and I heard her murmur, "I can't bear flowers on
a table." They had evidently been giving her intense pain, for she
positively closed her eyes as I moved them away.

The waitress came back with the chocolate and the tea. She put the
big, frothing cups before them and pushed across my clear glass. Hennie
buried his nose, emerged, with, for one dreadful moment, a little
trembling blob of cream on the tip. But he hastily wiped it off like a
little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare draw her attention to
her cup. She didn't notice it--didn't see it--until suddenly, quite by
chance, she took a sip. I watched anxiously; she faintly shuddered.

"Dreadfully sweet!" said she.

A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came
round with a tray of pastries--row upon row of little freaks, little
inspirations, little melting dreams. He offered them to her. "Oh, I'm
not at all hungry. Take them away."

He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look--it must have
been satisfactory--for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair,
a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh
strawberries. She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy
swerved away she held up her plate.

"Oh well, give me one," said she.

The silver tongs dropped one, two, three--and a cherry tartlet. "I don't
know why you're giving me all these," she said, and nearly smiled. "I
shan't eat them; I couldn't!"

I felt much more comfortable. I sipped my tea, leaned back, and even
asked if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened
her eyes, and really did smile. "Of course," said she. "I always expect
people to."

But at that moment a tragedy happened to Hennie. He speared his pastry
horn too hard, and it flew in two, and one half spilled on the table.
Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his ears flared, and one ashamed
hand crept across the table to take what was left of the body away.

"You utter little beast!" said she.

Good heavens! I had to fly to the rescue. I cried hastily, "Will you be
abroad long?"

But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too. She was
trying to remember something... She was miles away.

"I--don't--know," she said slowly, from that far place.

"I suppose you prefer it to London. It's more--more--"

When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled.
"More--?"

"Enfin--gayer," I cried, waving my cigarette.

But that took a whole cake to consider. Even then, "Oh well, that
depends!" was all she could safely say.

Hennie had finished. He was still very warm.

I seized the butterfly list off the table. "I say--what about an ice,
Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What
about a fresh pineapple cream?"

Hennie strongly approved. The waitress had her eye on us. The order was
taken when she looked up from her crumbs.

"Did you say tangerine and ginger? I like ginger. You can bring me one."
And then quickly, "I wish that orchestra wouldn't play things from
the year One. We were dancing to that all last Christmas. It's too
sickening!"

But it was a charming air. Now that I noticed it, it warmed me.

"I think this is rather a nice place, don't you, Hennie?" I said.

Hennie said: "Ripping!" He meant to say it very low, but it came out
very high in a kind of squeak.

Nice? This place? Nice? For the first time she stared about her, trying
to see what there was... She blinked; her lovely eyes wondered. A very
good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black
ribbon. But him she simply couldn't see. There was a hole in the air
where he was. She looked through and through him.

Finally the little flat spoons lay still on the glass plates. Hennie
looked rather exhausted, but she pulled on her white gloves again. She
had some trouble with her diamond wrist-watch; it got in her way. She
tugged at it--tried to break the stupid little thing--it wouldn't break.
Finally, she had to drag her glove over. I saw, after that, she couldn't
stand this place a moment longer, and, indeed, she jumped up and turned
away while I went through the vulgar act of paying for the tea.

And then we were outside again. It had grown dusky. The sky was
sprinkled with small stars; the big lamps glowed. While we waited for
the car to come up she stood on the step, just as before, twiddling her
foot, looking down.

Hennie bounded forward to open the door and she got in and sank back
with--oh--such a sigh!

"Tell him," she gasped, "to drive as fast as he can."

Hennie grinned at his friend the chauffeur. "Allie veet!" said he. Then
he composed himself and sat on the small seat facing us.

The gold powder-box came out again. Again the poor little puff was
shaken; again there was that swift, deadly-secret glance between her and
the mirror.

We tore through the black-and-gold town like a pair of scissors tearing
through brocade. Hennie had great difficulty not to look as though he
were hanging on to something.

And when we reached the Casino, of course Mrs. Raddick wasn't there.
There wasn't a sign of her on the steps--not a sign.

"Will you stay in the car while I go and look?"

But no--she wouldn't do that. Good heavens, no! Hennie could stay. She
couldn't bear sitting in a car. She'd wait on the steps.

"But I scarcely like to leave you," I murmured. "I'd very much rather
not leave you here."

At that she threw back her coat; she turned and faced me; her lips
parted. "Good heavens--why! I--I don't mind it a bit. I--I like
waiting." And suddenly her cheeks crimsoned, her eyes grew dark--for
a moment I thought she was going to cry. "L--let me, please," she
stammered, in a warm, eager voice. "I like it. I love waiting!
Really--really I do! I'm always waiting--in all kinds of places... "

Her dark coat fell open, and her white throat--all her soft young body
in the blue dress--was like a flower that is just emerging from its dark
bud.




</CHAPTER>

 Mrs. Raddick's and her beautiful daughter waited on the steps of the casino. The daughter was incredibly beautiful with flushed cheeks, blue eyes, and golden curls. She "might have just dropped from this radiant heaven" , and Mrs. Raddick seemed to think so too -- if her appreciative glances were any indication. The girl; however, appeared only bored as if heaven had been full of casinos and they no longer held any interest for her. Mrs. Raddick approached me, her handbag half open with its money in danger of falling out. Her twelve-year-old son Hennie followed behind. She thanked me for taking Hennie for the day so that she could go into the casino with her daughter. "Oh shut up, mother" the girl said and her mother did. Desperate to please the girl, Mrs. Raddick gave her a hundred francs to use in the casino. They breezed by me and went up the steps to gamble. Hennie spotted an older woman and was disturbed by her unkempt appearance and asked me if she was a gambler. While Hennie and I are still waiting on the steps of the casino for the car to arrive, I was surprised to see Mrs. Raddick, return, her daughter trailing behind her. Mrs. Raddick implores me to take both Hennie and the girl out. As it turns out her daughter is too young to gamble and Mrs. Raddick has had a terrible time dealing with her. The girl stood on the steps nearby, a disdainful expression on her face as if the whole world were beneath her. Another woman, Mrs. MacEwen from New York, hovered in the background. Mrs. Raddick explained that Mrs. MacEwen had already won a large sum of money and they were going back into the casino to try their luck with her winnings. Mrs. Raddick left the three of us on the steps and return to the casino. Hennie looked devastated and I was irritated but tried to make the best of a bad situation. When the car arrived the girl wrapped herself in her coat and "even her little feet looked as thought they scorned to carry her down the steps to us" . In the car the girl said she didn't want to go to the casino anyway and be stared at by fat old men. We drove to a large palace of pink and white marble for tea. Once inside I chose a table and the girl reluctantly sat down, wincing at the sound of a violin playing nearby. We ordered drinks and although the girl claimed to not to want anything she ordered a hot chocolate; Hennie did the same. I watched the girl take out her powder-box with a mirror on the lid and dab makeup on her nose with a small puff. She told Hennie to remove the flowers on the table and closed her eyes during the process as if she were in intense pain. The waitress arrived with the drinks and the girl pronounced her hot chocolate too sweet. A boy came around with a tray of pasties and Hennie took some for his own plate. The girl could not watch Hennie while he handled his food and asked for only one pastry from the tray. The boy gave her four instead and the girl laughed, saying she couldn't eat them all. I began to relax and felt more comfortable in the girl's presence. I asked her if I could smoke at the table, to which she replied, "Of course, I always expect people to" . Hennie speared one of his tartlets too hard and half of it shot off of his plate. The girl yelled at him and to defuse her anger I asked if she liked being abroad. She considered this for a long time and gave a noncommittal response. Her mind was miles away. They ordered ice cream next and I asked the girl if she liked it here and she looked around as if she did not know the place at all. An attractive older man stared openly at her from across the room but she looked through him, her lovely eyes trained on something no one else could see. Finally tea was over and I sensed that the girl wanted to leave. She had trouble getting her glove over her diamond bracelet and turned away while I paid the bill. We climbed back into the car and the girl asked that the chauffeur to drive as fast as he could back to the casino. The powder-box reappeared and she shared a "deadly-secret" glance with her reflection. Mrs. Raddick was not there to meet us when we arrived and I asked the girl to wait in the car but she grew distressed saying she wanted to wait on the steps and that she was always waiting around at one place or another. I watched her for a moment. "Her dark coat fell open, and her white throat- all her soft young body in the blue dress- was like a flower that is just emerging from its dark bud" .

