Chapter VIII: The Upper Crust

The next time Billie went into the tele-conscious state, forty-eight hours later, she found that she had “arrived” in the midst of a conversation. It told her worlds.

“I answered the telephone,” some one was saying, “and Mr. Powart clearly said that he would be here within the hour.” [Footnote: The word hour is used advisedly. Of course, the Capellan hour may have an entirely different length from ours.]

“I suppose it is just as well,” answered the surgeon whom Billie now knew as Mona. “Yes, I dare say it is quite as well.”

“Is there any reason why he shouldn’t, dear?” inquired the other party, a middle-aged woman, magnificently dressed, of decidedly distinguished appearance.

“No, mother,” replied the girl; “not so far as he is concerned. But--Mr. Fort also is coming to-day.”

The older woman saw nothing alarming about this. “I am glad to hear it. He impressed me as being a very nice boy, although rather impulsive.”

“You don’t understand. It’s going to be very embarrassing for me. Mr. Fort warned me last night--laughingly, of course, but I think he meant it--that he intended to propose to-day.”

Swift anxiety came to the mother’s face. For a while she kept silence. And while Mona’s conscious mind was occupied with thoughts which Billie could not fathom, her subconscious mind was faithfully taking in all that her roving eyes beheld.

The two Capellans were seated upon the terrace of a large, handsome house, whose architecture Billie tentatively classified as semi-Moorish. Mona next glanced into the grounds, telling Billie that the house was set upon a knoll, high up on the ridge of a tremendous range of mountains. Similar houses dotted what landscape was visible through a mass of foliage. It was just the sort of residence colony that Billie herself would have chosen.

Then the eyes came back to the mother, who was saying: “Perhaps, my dear, you would rather that I told Mr. Fort of your engagement.” She watched the daughter as though expecting her to refuse the offer.

Which is just what the heart-specialist did, with a proud toss of the head. “Thank you; but I cannot have him think that I lack the nerve to tell him myself.”

She excused herself and went into the house, passing through rooms so rapidly that Billie learned little, save that the place fairly swarmed with men in livery. Once in Mona’s room, however, Billie discovered that metallic furniture was the rule; that the windows were without screens, [Footnote: The Capellans seem to have utterly stamped out all forms of insect life except those directly beneficial to man.] and that the bed was set down very close to the floor. Otherwise, the room was much like any on the earth.

Mona’s clothes interested Billie immensely. Without exception the garments were skirtless, and a large proportion of the suits were in one piece. Headgear was limited to caps, of which Mona owned an immense variety; while she wore nothing but high lace-up boots or pumps. Billie was sure that these were all of leather.

With the aid of no less than four maids, all of whom were very pretty girls, Mona changed to a garment of some lustrous brown material, like silk velvet but with a much longer nap, together with stockings of the golf pattern, and black pumps. Next she proceeded to inspect herself carefully in a mirror.

Billie saw that Smith’s estimate of “not over thirty” was accurate enough. The girl was still young as to face, although her body was remarkably robust. And Billie found that her delicacy of feature did not suffer from the close-up.

Instead, her refinement was made only the more striking. Probably it was the high arching of her eyebrows that had made her face patrician; that, together with the sensitiveness of her nostrils. For there was nothing at all cold about her eyes; they were a very dark brown, large and full. And her lips were anything but haughty; they were a deep red and piquantly upturned at the corners. The whole carriage of her head, however, marked her as an aristocrat, but a lovable one.

As she turned from the glass the sound of a laugh came from the front of the house. Billie instantly recognized Fort’s voice. Mona gave her hair a final touch and went straight to the terrace.

“How do you do?” said the surgeon coolly, as she took Fort’s eagerly outstretched hand. And again Billie was more interested in the man’s gray-leather flying suit, so well becoming his fine muscular development, than in the conventional reply he made. Next moment Mona’s mother was saying:

“I have been trying to thank Mr. Fort for what he did yesterday. It was a remarkably brave thing!”

“Indeed it was,” declared Mona, with feeling. “And yet, try as I might last night, I was unable to make him see that it was anything out of the ordinary, mother.”

“Why, of course,” protested the athlete carelessly. “There was nothing brave about it. One is not brave unless one is afraid; and I wasn’t afraid. I can take no credit for the thing.”

“Do you mean,” questioned Mona, “that you are never afraid?”

“Not when I am in the air.”

There was silence for a minute, and again Billie used Mona’s eyes to good advantage. Fort was certainly a good-looking chap, although slightly untidy in small items of his costume. He was the kind which looks best when somewhat disheveled, anyhow. As to face--a large, handsomely curved mouth, a slightly Roman nose, eyes as big as Mona’s and as blue as hers were brown. Decidedly, the man was worth looking at, again and again. Most daredevils are sharp-featured; Fort was kindly. There was something positively reassuring about his kind of audacity.

Presently the mother mentioned Ernol, the radical; seemingly these people had been privately informed of what Powart was keeping from the workers. Fort commented:

“I was really frightened when I heard of it. Why, if that fellow’s philosophy is listened to, we all may have to work for a living!” His laughter rang above the rest; then he thought of Mona. “Oh, I say, I quite forgot, I assure you.”

“Don’t mention it,” returned the surgeon humorously. “I don’t mind telling you that this service of mine is largely camouflage. I belong to the Delusion Brigade.”

Fort was greatly surprised. “You, a volunteer?”

“Quite so. There must always be some one of our class to whom people can look, whenever they suspect that we are not democratic. Besides, I have always fancied surgery.” She told briefly of her work.