Page 44 - tender-is-the-night

Je n’ai plus de feu
Ouvre-moi ta porte
Pour l’amour de Dieu.’

The singing ceased and the children, their faces aglow
with the late sunshine, stood smiling calmly at their suc-
cess. Rosemary was thinking that the Villa Diana was the
centre of the world. On such a stage some memorable thing
was sure to happen. She lighted up higher as the gate tin-
kled open and the rest of the guests arrived in a body—the
McKiscos, Mrs. Abrams, Mr. Dumphry, and Mr. Campion
came up to the terrace.
Rosemary had a sharp feeling of disappointment—she
looked quickly at Dick, as though to ask an explanation of
this incongruous mingling. But there was nothing unusual
in his expression. He greeted his new guests with a proud
bearing and an obvious deference to their infinite and
unknown possibilities. She believed in him so much that
presently she accepted the rightness of the McKiscos’ pres-
ence as if she had expected to meet them all along.
‘I’ve met you in Paris,’ McKisco said to Abe North, who
with his wife had arrived on their heels, ‘in fact I’ve met you
twice.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Abe said.
‘Then where was it?’ demanded McKisco, not content to
let well enough alone.
‘Why, I think—‘ Abe got tired of the game, ‘I can’t re-
member.’
The interchange filled a pause and Rosemary’s instinct

44 Tender is the Night