Page 54 - tender-is-the-night

type, and being drunk rashly forgot that he was in awe of
him—this led up to the trouble in which he presently found
himself.
Feeling vaguely ashamed for McKisco, Rosemary waited,
placid but inwardly on fire, for Dick Diver’s return. From
her chair at the deserted table with Barban, McKisco, and
Abe she looked up along the path edged with shadowy myr-
tle and fern to the stone terrace, and falling in love with her
mother’s profile against a lighted door, was about to go there
when Mrs. McKisco came hurrying down from the house.
She exuded excitement. In the very silence with which
she pulled out a chair and sat down, her eyes staring, her
mouth working a little, they all recognized a person crop-
full of news, and her husband’s ‘What’s the matter, Vi?’
came naturally, as all eyes turned toward her.
‘My dear—‘ she said at large, and then addressed Rose-
mary, ‘my dear—it’s nothing. I really can’t say a word.’
‘You’re among friends,’ said Abe.
‘Well, upstairs I came upon a scene, my dears—‘
Shaking her head cryptically she broke off just in time,
for Tommy arose and addressed her politely but sharply:
‘It’s inadvisable to comment on what goes on in this
house.’

54 Tender is the Night