He permitted himself to think of her, too, in other gowns. His thoughts of her frocks were all definite. He had exquisite taste. If he married Jane, he would dress her so that people would look at her, and look again. Even in her poverty, she had learned to express herself in the things she wore. His money would make possible even more subtle expression.
So he thought of her in gray chiffon, black pearls in her ears--oh, to think of Jane in earrings!--with a touch of jade where the draperies swung loose--and with an oyster-white lining to the green cape which would cover the gown--a lynx collar up to her ears.
Or a tea-gown of tangerine lace--with bands of sable catching the open sleeves at the wrist--or in white--Jane’s wedding dress must be heavy with pearls--she lent herself perfectly to medieval effects.
His mind came back to the blue and silver. It hung on the bed-post, shimmering in the light from his lamp. He wondered if he offered it to Jane, would she accept? He knew she wouldn’t. Adelaide would have made no bones about it. There had been a lovely thing in black velvet he had given her, too, a wrap to match.
But Jane was different. She would shrug her shoulders and with that charming independence, decline his favors, tilting her chin, and challenging him with her lighted-up eyes.
Well, he liked her for it. Loved her for it. And some day she would wear the blue and silver frock. As he rose and put it back in the box, he seemed to shut Jane in with it. There hung about it the scent of roses. He knew of a rare perfume. He would order a vial of it for Jane. It merely hinted at fragrance.
The evening stretched ahead of him, full of radiant promise. He knew Jane’s strength but he was ready for conquest.
His telephone rang. And Jane spoke to him.
“Mr. Towne,” she said, “I can’t dine with you. But can you come over later? Judy is desperately ill. I’ll tell you more about it when I see you.”
Bob had cried when the news came from the hospital. It had been dreadful. Jane had never seen a man cry. They had been hard sobs, with broken apologies between. “I’m a fool to act like this....”
Jane had tried to say things, then had sat silent and uncomfortable while Bob fought for self-control.