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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of His Second Wife, by Ernest Poole
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: His Second Wife
+
+Author: Ernest Poole
+
+Release Date: December 9, 2005 [EBook #17259]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS SECOND WIFE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by MRK
+
+
+
+
+
+HIS SECOND WIFE
+
+BY
+
+ERNEST POOLE
+
+TO M.A.
+
+
+
+HIS SECOND WIFE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+On a train speeding toward New York, in one of the parlour cars two
+young women sat facing each other, talking and smiling, deeply absorbed.
+They took little apparent notice of any one else in the car, but most of
+the people near them kept throwing curious glances their way.
+
+These glances differed vastly, as did the thoughts behind them. A tall,
+genial Westerner, who looked as though he had come from a ranch, smiled
+frankly and hungrily on the pair and told himself with emphasis, "Those
+two girls are fifty-fifty. I'd like a dozen of each brand." And a slim
+college boy with fresh, eager eyes kept darting quick looks from time to
+time at the older of the two, the blonde. He asked himself confusedly,
+"How'd I start in with a woman like her?" And exciting pictures rose in
+his mind. In the meantime an elderly lady, with a sharp, inquisitive
+air, had put down the ages of the girls at twenty-two and thirty.
+
+"They're sisters," she decided, but then she nearly changed her mind.
+They were such contrasted types. The blonde gave an appearance of sleek
+and moneyed elegance, with carefully undulated hair, a rounded bust, and
+pretty features smooth and plump, with a retroussé nose and rich, full
+lips, and a manner of easy assurance. The brunette was younger and less
+developed, slim and lithe, her curling black hair rebellious, her
+features more clean-cut and clear, with wide, eager lips and warm brown
+eyes set wide apart.
+
+"Nevertheless, they are sisters," the little lady firmly concluded.
+"The family resemblance is quite unmistakable." And frowning in
+perplexity, "But if they are sisters," she went on, "why is only one in
+mourning?" She looked at the younger of the two, who was simply dressed
+in black; and then at the blonde, whose sable cloak put back from her
+shoulders revealed a stylish travelling suit. "And why is one rich and
+the other poor?"
+
+Meanwhile a young woman nearby, with a fat, discontented face, regarded
+the blonde with envy and thought:
+
+"She's an actress with her maid. Why can't Harry allow me a maid, a
+real clever one like that? Men see these actresses on the stage and get
+to expecting things from their wives--without being willing to pay for
+it! Think what that girl could make of me!"
+
+A quiet, able-looking woman sitting just across the aisle, who travelled
+for a clothing store, was watching the "maid," the brunette, and was
+thinking, "She makes her clothes herself. She has been the beauty of
+her small town. She's smart, too, and original. That collar was a
+clever idea--and that fichu of lace. A pity she's in mourning."
+
+But the large fat man behind the two girls had little thought for the
+brunette. His heavy eyes, quite motionless, were upon the older girl.
+He took in her sensuous shoulders, the rounded contour of her bust, her
+glossy coiffure, the small, fine hairs at the back of her neck. And he
+thought, "Yes, she has been loved pretty well." She was talking, and he
+could just hear her voice, soft and provocative, like the little gloved
+hand on her chair. By her eyes, which were of a violet hue, he saw she
+was aware of his gaze. Something gleamed in them that sent a thrill far
+down into his sluggish soul.
+
+In the meantime a kindly old lady, whose eyes were fixed on the
+brunette, noticed how hard she was listening, noticed the fresh
+expectancy in her parted lips and clear brown eyes, and asked with a
+touch of sadness:
+
+"I wonder what's waiting for you in New York? I'm afraid I don't like
+this companion of yours. And you're so very young, my dear, and eager
+and gay. And you are to be so beautiful."
+
+
+And while all these conjectures were being made about them both, the
+brunette was wrapt in her own inner fancies, vivid and exciting.
+Listening to her sister, swift thoughts and expectations mingled with
+the memories of the life behind her. As she stared out of the window,
+fields and woods and houses kept whirling back out of her view--and so
+it was with her memories. It was hard to keep hold of any one.
+
+She had lived with her father, a lonely old man in a small, quiet town
+in Ohio, down in the lower part of the State. He was dead, and she was
+going to live with her married sister in New York. He was dead and his
+daughter was not sad, though she'd been his only close companion and had
+loved him tenderly. And this brought a guilty feeling now, which she
+fought down by telling herself there had been little sadness in his
+death. She pictured her father making his speech at the unveiling of
+the Monument. How happy and proud he had appeared. For half his life
+old Colonel Knight had exhorted his fellow townsmen and painted dark the
+shame of their town: "The only county seat in Ohio with no soldiers'
+monument, sir!" He had held countless meetings, he had gone begging to
+his neighbours, and every dollar he himself could save had gone into
+that dream of his. At last he had triumphed; and after all the
+excitement of his final victory, the old soldier had made his speech,
+and died.
+
+Around him and the monument and the old frame house on River Street, the
+lazy, shallow river, the high school near the court house, Demley's
+Tavern across the square, the line of shops on either side, the new
+"movie" theatre of pink tile, and the old yellow church on the
+corner--the pictures of her life trooped by, the pictures of her last
+few years--with the miracle, the discovery that she herself, Ethel
+Knight, who had always been considered "plain," was slowly now
+developing into a beautiful woman. That brought memories which
+thrilled--various faces of men, young and old, looks and glances, words
+overheard, and countless small attentions. But these came in mere
+fragments, rising only to be whirled back again into the past, as the
+train sped on toward the city.
+
+She was going to live in New York with her married sister, Amy Lanier.
+And from looking out of the car window, Ethel would turn quickly, throw
+a swift glance at her sister and smile. Amy seemed quite wonderful--Amy
+with her elegance, her worldly assurance, her smiling good-humour and
+knowledge of "life," her apparent content, her sense of well being, of
+being a joy to look at and love; Amy who had an adoring husband, Amy who
+spent money like water, Amy with dash and beauty and style.
+
+"New York just fairly shimmering in everything she wears!" thought
+Ethel.
+
+Amy's sable cloak was long. She had worn it at the funeral, with a
+black skirt and a heavy veil. But the veil she had put into her bag as
+soon as they had left the town, and the cloak thrown back revealed rich
+colours, the glitter and glint of a diamond brooch; and she wore a small
+blue feathered hat which threw out changing colours in the play of light
+in the car. There was to be no more mourning. Amy didn't believe in
+that; she was good-humouredly arguing her young sister out of it. And
+Ethel, smiling back at her, saw how sensible it was. She felt death and
+sadness slipping away, and the life in the city opening.
+
+Since Amy's marriage five years ago, Ethel had only seen her twice--once
+when Amy had come home, appearing resplendent with Joe her husband in a
+large new touring car, and had sent a wave of excitement through the
+quiet little town; and again when she had asked Ethel to visit her for a
+week in New York. That had been a glamourous week, but it had not been
+repeated. For nearly three years they had not met. In that time had
+come the change in Ethel's own appearance. And glancing now at Amy, she
+read in those clear, smiling eyes that Amy was relieved and pleased and
+surprised at the striking beauty which had come to her young sister.
+There was even a tone of expectancy in Amy's talk of their life in New
+York.
+
+"She thinks I'll get on finely!" This exciting thought kept rising
+repeatedly in Ethel's mind. And with it came the sturdy resolve, "I
+mustn't be too humble now, or too dependent on her. I must show her I'm
+somebody all by myself--that I won't be a burden on her hands. I've got
+to make a life of my own--find work perhaps--or marry!"
+
+Then all such resolutions would merge in the images vivid and new, which
+kept rising in her mind, of the life she would have in the city.
+
+She had a good voice. Old Mr. Riggs, the organist in the yellow church
+at home, had planted that idea deep in her mind. If only her voice
+could be brought out! She hadn't much money for teachers, but how she
+would work if she got a chance! In her heart she knew she had no great
+voice, but gaily she let her fancy go and pictured herself on the stage.
+. . . This image passed and was replaced by a platform in an immense
+auditorium crowded with cheering women and girls. Suffrage banners were
+all about, and she was speaking to the crowd. Her voice rang clear and
+resolute. . . . There were other dreams and pictures--of dances in
+New York cafés, of theatre parties, trips to Paris, hosts of friends.
+And the vague thought flashed into her mind:
+
+"What possibilities for life--in me--me--Ethel Knight!"
+
+She went on listening, building. She took in fragments of what Amy said
+and mingled them with things she had read and pictures she'd seen in
+books, magazines and Sunday papers; or with things that she had heard in
+the long discussions in her club of high school girls, over suffrage,
+marriage, Bernard Shaw. She thought of the opera, concerts, plays. She
+saw Fifth Avenue at night agleam with countless motors, torrents of
+tempestuous life--and numberless shop windows, hats and dainty gowns and
+shoes. She pictured herself at dinners and balls, men noticing her
+everywhere. "As they are doing now," she thought, "this very minute in
+this car!" Out of all the pictures rose one of a church wedding. And
+then this picture faded, and changed to that of her father's funeral in
+the old frame yellow church. She frowned, her brown eyes saddened and
+suddenly grew wet with a deep homesick tenderness. But in a few moments
+she smiled again; once more her pulse-beat quickened. For Amy was
+talking good-humouredly. And Ethel's eyes, now curious, now plainly
+thrilled, now quizzical, amused and pleased, kept watching her, and she
+asked herself:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+The picture she had of her sister grew each moment more warm and
+desirable. Eagerly she explored it by the quick questions she threw
+out.
+
+They were coming into the city now, in a dusk rich with twinkling
+lights. In the car the passengers were stirring. Amy stood up to be
+brushed--sleek and alluring, worldly wise--and the fat man in the chair
+behind her opened wide his heavy eyes. Then Ethel stood up--and in the
+poise of her figure, slim and lithe with its lovely lines, in her
+carriage, in her slender neck, in her dark face with its features clear,
+her lips a little parted, and in the look in her brown eyes--there was
+something which made glances turn from all down the softly lighted car.
+There was even a brief silence. And Ethel drew a sudden breath, as from
+close behind her the soft voice of the darky porter drawled:
+
+"Yes'm--yes'm--dis is New York. We's comin' right into de station now."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"Well, Ethel my love, we're here at last! . . . It must be after
+midnight. I wonder when I'll get to sleep? . . . Not that I care
+especially. What a quaint habit sleeping is."
+
+She had formed the habit long ago of holding these inner conversations.
+Her father had been a silent man, and often as she faced him at meals
+Ethel had talked and talked to herself in quite as animated a way as
+though she were saying it all aloud. Now she sat up suddenly in bed and
+turned on the light just over her head, and amiably she surveyed her
+room. It was a pretty, fresh, little room with flowered curtains, a
+blue rug, a luxurious chaise longue and a small French dressing table.
+Very cheerful, very empty. "It looks," she decided, "just like the bed
+feels. I'm the first fellow who has been here.
+
+"No," she corrected herself in a moment, "that's very ignorant of you,
+my dear. This is a New York apartment, you know. All kinds of other
+fellows have been in this room ahead of me; and they've lain awake by
+the hour here, planning how to get married or divorced, or getting ready
+to write a great book or make a million dollars, or sing in grand opera
+or murder their child. All the things in the newspapers have been
+arranged in this spot where I lie! Now I'll turn out the light," she
+added, "and sink quietly to rest!"
+
+But in the dark she lay listening to the strange low hub-hub from
+outside. And it made her think of what she had seen an hour before,
+when at the open window, resting her elbows on the sill, she had begun
+to make her acquaintance with her backyard--a yawning abyss of brick and
+cement which went down and down to cement below, and up and up to a
+strip of blue sky, and to right and to left went stretching away with
+rows and rows of windows. And now as the murmurs and quick low cries,
+piano music, a baritone voice and a sudden burst of laughter, came to
+her ears, she gravely named her neighbours:
+
+"Wives and husbands, divorcees, secret lovers, grafters, burglars,
+suffragettes, actresses and anarchists and millionaires and poor young
+things--all spending a quiet evening at home. And that's so sensible in
+you all. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
+
+From the city far and near came numberless other voices. From street
+cars, motors and the L, from boats far off on the river this calm and
+still October night, from Broadway and from Harlem and the many teeming
+slums, came the vast murmuring voice of the town. And she thought:
+
+"I'm becoming a part of all this!" She listened a little and added, "It
+breathes, like something quite alive." She smiled and added approvingly,
+"Quite right, my dear, just breathe right on. But don't go and breathe
+as though you were sleeping. Keep me company tonight."
+
+Suddenly she remembered how in their taxi from the train, as they had
+sped up Park Avenue all agleam with its cold blue lights and she had
+chattered gaily of anything that came into her head, twice she had
+caught in her sister's eyes that glimmer of expectancy. "Amy feels sure
+I will be a success!" Ethel thrilled at the recollection, and thought,
+"Oh, yes, you're quite a wag, my love; and as soon as you get over being
+so young you'll probably make a name for yourself. No dinner or
+suffrage party will ever again be quite complete without your droll dry
+humour. . . . I suppose I ought to be going to sleep!"
+
+And she yawned excitedly. From somewhere far in the distance there came
+to her ears the dull bellowing roar of an ocean liner leaving dock at
+one o'clock to start the long journey over the sea.
+
+"I'm going to Paris, too!" she resolved. Her fancy travelled over the
+ocean and roamed madly for awhile, with the help of many photographs
+which she had seen in magazines. But she wearied of that and soon
+returned.
+
+"Well, what do I think of Amy's home?"
+
+She went over in her memory her eager inspection of the apartment. The
+rooms had been dark when they arrived; for they had not been expected so
+soon, and a somewhat dishevelled Irish maid had opened the door and let
+them in. With a quick annoyed exclamation, Amy had switched on the
+lights; and room after room as it leaped into view had appeared to
+Ethel's eyes like parts of a suite in some rich hotel. And although as
+her sister went about moving chairs a bit this way and that and putting
+things on the table to rights, it took on a little more the semblance of
+somebody's home, still that first impression had remained in Ethel's
+mind.
+
+"People have sat in this room," she had thought, "but they haven't lived
+here. They haven't sewed or read aloud or talked things out and out and
+out."
+
+To her sister she had been loud in her praise. What a perfectly lovely
+room it was, what a wonderful lounge with the table behind it, and what
+lamps, what a heavenly rug and how well it went with the curtains! When
+Amy lighted the gas logs, Ethel had drawn a quick breath of dismay. But
+then she had sharply told herself:
+
+"This isn't an old frame house in Ohio, this is a gay little place in
+New York! You're going to love it, living here! And you're pretty much
+of a kid, my dear, to be criticizing like an old maid!" She had gone
+into Amy's room, and there her mood had quickly changed. For the
+curtains and the deep soft rug, the broad low dressing table with its
+drop-light shaded in chintz, the curious gold lacquered chair, the
+powder boxes, brushes, trays, the faint delicious perfume of the place;
+and back in the shadow, softly curtained, the low wide luxurious
+bed--had given to her the feeling that this room at least was personal.
+Here two people had really lived--a man and a woman. There had come
+into Ethel's brown eyes a mingling of confused delight and awkward
+admiration. And her sister, with a quick look and a smile, had lost the
+slightly ruffled expression her face had worn in the other rooms. She
+had regained her ascendancy.
+
+It had not been until Ethel was left in her own small room adjoining,
+that with an exclamation of remembrance and surprise she had stopped
+undressing, opened her door and listened in the silence. "How perfectly
+uncanny!" Frowning a moment, puzzled, her eye had gone to the only other
+room in the apartment, down at the end of the narrow hall. The door had
+been closed. She had stolen to it and listened, but at first she had
+not heard a sound. Then she had given a slight start, had knocked
+softly and asked, "May I come in?" A woman's voice with a hostile note
+had replied, "Yes, ma'am." She had entered. And a moment later, down
+on her knees before a grave little girl of two who sat at a tiny table
+soberly having her supper, Ethel had cried:
+
+"Oh, you adorable baby!"
+
+For a time she had tried to make friends with the child, but the voice
+of the nurse had soon cut in. And in the motherly Scotch face Ethel had
+detected again a feeling of hostility. "What for?" she had asked. And
+the answer had flashed into her mind. "She's angry because Amy hasn't
+been in to see Susette." And Ethel had frowned. "It's funny. If I had
+been away three days--"
+
+She had gone back to her own room and began slowly to take off her
+things. And a few minutes after that, she had heard a gruff kindly
+voice, a man's heavy tread and a glad little cry from Amy's room.
+
+"Joe has come home," she had told herself. "I wonder how he and I will
+get on."
+
+And she had met him a little later with no slight uneasiness. But this
+had been at once dispelled. Rather tall and full of figure, with thick
+curling hair and close-cut moustache, Joe Lanier at thirty-five still
+gave to his young sister-in-law the impression of kindly friendliness
+she had had from him some years before. There was nothing to be afraid
+of in Joe. But she had noticed the change in his face, the slightly
+tightened harassed expression. And she had thought:
+
+"You poor man. How hard you have been working."
+
+And yet she could not say he looked tired, for at dinner his talk had
+been almost boyish in its welcoming good humour. Later he had drawn her
+aside and had said with a touch of awkwardness:
+
+"No use in talking about it, of course. I just want you to know I'm so
+glad you're here." She had clutched his hand:
+
+"That's nice of you, Joe." And then she had turned from him, and with a
+sudden quiver inside she had added quite inaudibly: "Oh, Dad, dearest!
+I'm so homesick! Just this minute--if I could be back!"
+
+But she had liked Joe that evening.
+
+She remembered the hungry light in his eyes. He and Amy had soon gone
+to their room. And as Ethel thought about them now, lying here alone in
+the dark she felt again that vague delight and confused expectancy.
+
+"How much of all this is coming to me? . . Everything, I guess, but
+sleep!"
+
+A wisp of her hair fell on her nose, and she blew it back with a
+vicious, "Pfew!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Her first month in town was a season of shopping and of warm
+anticipations--and then came a sudden crash. Afterward it was hard to
+remember. For tragedy entered into these rooms, and it was not easy to
+look back and see them clearly as they had been. That first month
+became confused, the memories uneven; in some spots clear and vivid, in
+others hazy and unreal.
+
+"I want you to be gay, my dear," Amy told her at the start. "You've
+been through such a lonely time. And what earthly good will it do poor
+Dad to have you go about in black? You're here now and you've got to
+make friends and a place for yourself. If he were alive I know he'd
+agree. He'd want you to have every chance."
+
+So they started in to shop. And though Ethel had her memories, her
+moods of homesick longing for the old soldier who was gone, these soon
+became less frequent. There was little time to be lonely or sad.
+
+Amy herself felt new youth these days. Relieved of the first uneasiness
+with which she had gone to Ohio to bring her young sister to New York,
+surprised and delighted at finding how the awkward girl she had known
+had developed since the last time they had met, Amy now took Ethel about
+to get her "clothes fit to be seen in." And as with intent little
+glances she kept studying "Ethel's type" in order to set off her charms,
+the slightly bored expression, the look of disillusionment left Amy's
+pretty countenance. For Ethel's freshness had given to Amy new zest and
+belief in her own life, in its purpose and importance. To get Ethel
+clothes, to show her about, to find her friends, to give her a gay
+winter in town and later to make a good match for her--these aims loomed
+large in Amy's mind. She felt her own youth returning, and she
+prolonged this period. She wanted Ethel all to herself. She even shut
+her husband out.
+
+"You can rest up a bit," she told him, "for what's coming later on." And
+Joe, with a good-natured groan at the prospect of late hours ahead, made
+the most of the rest allowed to him.
+
+Each morning the two sisters fared forth in a taxi. And Amy began to
+reveal to her sister the dazzling world of shops in New York: shops
+large and small, American, French and English, shops for gowns and hats
+and shoes, and furs and gloves and corsets. At numberless counters they
+studied and counselled, and lunching at Sherry's they shopped on. And
+the shimmer and sheen of pretty things made life a glamourous mirage, in
+which Ethel could feel herself rapidly becoming a New Yorker, gaining
+assurance day by day, feeling "her type" emerge in the glass where she
+studied herself with impatient delight.
+
+There were little reminders now and then of what she had left behind
+her. One day in a department store, as they stood before a counter
+looking at silk stockings, all at once to Ethel's ears came the deep
+tones of an organ, and turning with a low cry of surprise she looked
+over the bustling throngs of women to an organ loft above, where a girl
+was singing a solo in a high sweet soprano voice. In a flash to Ethel's
+mind there came a vivid picture of the old yellow church at home. And
+with a queer expression looking about her at the crowds, she exclaimed,
+"How funny!" She was again reminded of church when one afternoon in a
+large darkened chamber she sat with scores of women whose eyes were
+fixed as though in devotion upon a softly lighted stage where "models"
+kept appearing. What lovely figures some of them had. Others rather
+took her breath, and gave her the feeling she'd had before in her
+sister's bedroom. But then as her eye was caught again by the rapt
+faces all about, she chuckled to herself and thought, "There ought to be
+candles and incense here!"
+
+She was appalled at the prices. And as the exciting days wore on,
+uneasily in her room at night she would sit down with pencil and paper
+and ask, "How much did I spend today?" Her father had left her nothing
+but the shabby old frame house. This she had sold to a friend of his,
+and the small fund thus secured she had resolved to husband.
+
+"Oh, Ethel, go slow, you little fool. This is every penny you have in
+the world."
+
+But the adorable things she saw, and the growing hunger she felt as she
+began to notice with a more discerning eye the women in shops and on the
+streets--just why they were so dashing and how they got this and that
+effect--all swept aside her caution, the easier because of the fact that
+everything she bought was charged.
+
+One evening in a large café she sat watching Amy who was dancing with
+her husband. It was at the time when the new style dances were just
+coming into vogue. In Ohio they had been only a myth. But Amy was a
+beautiful dancer; and watching her now, Ethel reflected, "She expects me
+to be like that. If I'm not, she'll be disappointed, ashamed. And why
+shouldn't I be! What do you ever get in this world if you're always
+saving every cent? You miss your chance and then it's too late. I'll
+be meeting her friends in a few weeks more. I've simply got to hurry!"
+And with Amy's dancing teacher she arranged for lessons--at a price that
+made her gasp. But the lessons were a decided success.
+
+"You've a wonderful figure for dancing," the teacher said confidingly,
+"and a sense for rhythm that most of these women haven't any idea of."
+He smiled down at her and she fairly beamed.
+
+"Oh, how nice!" sighed Ethel. Something in the little look which
+flashed between them gave her a thrill of assurance. And this feeling
+came again and again, in the shops and while she was seated at luncheon
+in some crowded restaurant, or on the streets or back at home, where
+even Joe was beginning to show his admiring surprise.
+
+"You're making a fine little job of it," she heard him say to Amy one
+night.
+
+She caught other remarks and glances from strangers, men and women. And
+Ethel now began to feel the whole vast bustling ardent town centred on
+what in her high-school club, as they read Bernard Shaw, they had quite
+frankly and solemnly spoken of as "Sex." All the work and the business,
+the scheming and planning and rush for money, were focussed on this.
+And for this she was attracting those swift admiring glances. What she
+would be, what she wanted to be, what she now ardently longed to become,
+grew clearer to her day by day. For the picture was there before her
+eyes. Each day it grew more familiar, as at home in Amy's room she
+watched her beautiful sister, a stranger no longer to her now, seated at
+her dressing table good-humouredly chatting, and meanwhile revealing by
+numberless deft little things she was doing the secrets of clothes and
+of figure, and of cheeks and lips and eyes, with subtle hints behind it
+all of the ancient magic art of Pan. She felt Amy ceaselessly bringing
+her out. This gave her thrills of excitement. And looking at her
+sister she asked:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+And they kept talking, talking. And through it all the same feeling was
+there, the sense of this driving force of the town.
+
+With the sturdy independence which was so deep a part of her, Ethel
+strove to hold up her end of these intent conversations and show that
+she had views of her own. She was no old-fashioned country girl, but
+modern, something different! They had discussed things in her club
+which would have shocked their mothers, discussed them long and
+seriously. They had spoken of marriage and divorce, of love and having
+children, and then had gone eagerly on to suffrage, jobs and "mental
+science," art, music and the rest of life. She had gathered there an
+image of New York as a glittering region of strong clever men and
+fascinating women, who not only loved to dance but held the most
+brilliant discussions at dinners livened by witty remarks--a place of
+vistas opening into a world of great ideas. And now with her older
+sister, she questioned her about it all, the art and all the
+"movements," the "salons" and the clever talk. She asked:
+
+"Do you know any suffragists? Do you know any men who write plays or
+novels, or any musicians or painters--or actresses?" And again and again
+by an air of assurance Ethel tried to hide her dismay, as her sister
+subtly made all this seem like a school-girl's fancies.
+
+"Yes," Amy would say good-humouredly, "there are such people, I
+suppose--plenty of them, all over town. And they talk and talk and hold
+meetings, and they go to high-brow plays--and some women even work. But
+it doesn't sound very thrilling, does it? I don't know. They never
+seem to me quite real."
+
+And then Amy would go on to hint what did seem real to her in life. And
+again that picture of the town, all centred on what emerged from the
+shops and poured into the cafes to dance, was painted for her sister.
+
+But behind her smiling manner of one with an intimate knowledge of life,
+Amy would glance at the girl by her side in a curious, rather anxious
+way. For vaguely she knew that years ago when she herself had come to
+New York, she too had had dreams and imaginings of what her young sister
+called "the real thing." And she knew that these had dropped away--at
+first in the struggle, which for her had been so intense and narrowing,
+to gain a foothold in the town; then through rebuffs from the clever
+friends of Joe Lanier when she married him; and later through a feeling
+of lazy acceptance of her lot. But Ethel's talk and Ethel's eyes
+recalled what had been left behind. And Amy thought of her present
+friends, and again with a little uneasy pang she put off their meeting
+with Ethel. For they did not seem good to her then, and the picture she
+found herself painting of their lives and her own appeared a bit flat
+and trivial in the light of Ethel's eagerness. They dressed and went
+shopping, they went to tea dances, they dined in cafés or in their
+homes, rushed off in taxis to musical plays, and had supper and danced.
+They loved and were loved, they "played the game."
+
+"My dear," she said decisively, "it's not what you say that interests
+men; it's how you look and what you have on."
+
+But despite her air of assurance and her own liking of her life, she
+felt the picture growing flat, and so she added quietly:
+
+"Oh, my friends aren't all I'd like. They never are, if you've anything
+in you. If you really want to be somebody--" and here her whole
+expression changed to one of resolute faith in herself--"you need just
+one thing, money. And you can't do anything about that, you have to
+wait for your husband. Joe's a dear, of course, and he's working hard.
+And he's getting it, too, he's getting it!" A gleam of hunger almost
+fierce came into her clear violet eyes. "I want a larger
+apartment--I've picked out the very one. And I want a car, a limousine.
+I know just how I'll paint it a mauve body with white wheels. And I
+want a house on Long Island. I've picked out the very spot--just next
+to Fanny Carr's new place."
+
+As her sister spoke of these ideals, again Ethel had that feeling of
+church, but only for a moment.
+
+"Who's Fanny Carr?" she asked alertly.
+
+Amy was slowly combing her hair, and she smiled with kindly tolerance,
+for her little confession had brought back her faith in herself and her
+future.
+
+"Fanny was a writer once--"
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes. She ran a department on one of the papers." It had been the dress
+pattern page, but Amy did not mention that. Instead she yawned
+complacently. "Oh, she dropped it quick enough--she thought it rather
+tiresome. She's one of the cleverest women I know. She'd have got a
+long way up in the world, if it weren't for her second husband--"
+
+"Her second?"
+
+"Yes. The first one didn't do very well. She told me once, 'If you
+want to get on, change your name at least once in every three years.'
+Her second, as it happened, was no better than the first. But she was
+clever enough by then to get an able lawyer; and when it came to the
+divorce, Fanny succeeded in keeping the house, the one out on Long
+Island."
+
+"Oh," said Ethel tensely. Her sister shot a look at her.
+
+"I don't care especially for Fanny's ideas about husbands," she said.
+"But at least she has a love of a home." And Amy went on to explain to
+her sister the value and importance of being able to give "week ends."
+Again the gleam came into her eyes.
+
+"It's money, my dear, it's money. They are the same women in Newport
+exactly--just like all the rest of us--only they are richer. That's
+all--but it is everything. Put me in a big house out there, and my
+friends wouldn't know me in a few years."
+
+A cloud came on her face as she looked in the glass.
+
+"But that's just the trouble. A few years more and I'll be too late.
+You've got to get there while you're young. And there's so little time.
+You lose your looks. It's all very well for some women to talk about
+ideas and things--and travel and--and children. I did, too, I talked a
+lot--oh, how I wanted everything! But one has to narrow down. Thank
+heaven, Ethel, you've years ahead. I've only got a few more left--I'm
+already thirty-one. And my type ages fast in this town, if you do the
+things you're expected to do. But you--oh, Ethel, I want you to marry
+well! Not a millionaire--that's rather hard, and besides he'd probably
+be too fat--but the kind who will be a millionaire, who has it written
+all over his face and makes you feel it in his voice! Don't sell
+yourself too cheap, my dear! Don't go running about with men who'll
+keep you poor for the rest of your days. They talk so well--some of
+them do; and it sounds so fine--ideas and books and pictures and--I knew
+one who was an architect. And it's all very well for later on, but what
+you've got to do right at the start--while you have the looks and
+youth--is to find the man who can give you a house where all those other
+people will be tumbling to get in--because you'll have the money--you'll
+be able to entertain--and give them what they really want--in spite of
+all their talking."
+
+Once more, with a weary sigh, she dropped the religious intensity, and
+smiled as she wistfully added:
+
+"That's where some man can put you. They do, you know, they do it.
+Some man does it every day. You can see his name in the papers. Dozens
+of wives get to Newport each year. And what do they do it on? Money!
+
+"That's romance enough for me, my dear. And if you want work and a
+career, the most fascinating kind I know is to study the man you've
+married--find what's holding him back and take it away--what's pushing
+him on and help it grow! You've got to narrow, narrow down! You may
+want a lot of children. They're loves, of course, to have around. But
+you run a big risk in that. I could give you so many cases--mothers who
+have just dropped out. If you want to really get on in this town,
+you've got to stick to your husband and make your husband stick to you!
+There are things about that you will learn soon enough. It comes so
+naturally, once you are in it--married, I mean. And that's your hold.
+
+"And if you love him as I love Joe," she added almost in a whisper, "you
+find it so easy that often you forget what it is you're trying to do,
+what you're really doing it for. You're just happy and you shut your
+eyes. But then you wake up and use it all--everything--to drive him on.
+You can do that while you are still young and have what he wants--the
+looks, I mean--and can make him see that any number of other men would
+be glad to step into his shoes. But you give them only just enough to
+keep your husband from feeling too safe. You hold them off, you make
+him feel that he's everything to you if he'll work and give you what you
+ought to have! And unless you're a fool you don't listen to this talk
+of women's rights and women doing the work of men. You keep on your own
+ground and play the game. And you keep making him get what you
+need--before it's too late!" All at once she gave a sharp little laugh.
+"It's a kind of a race, you see," she said.
+
+The night after this talk, Ethel lay in her bed, and tried to remember
+and think it out. How new and queer and puzzling. So many vistas she
+had dreamed of had been closed on every hand.
+
+"What's the matter with me?"
+
+The matter was that her old ideals and standards were being torn up by
+the roots, roots that went deep down into the soil of life in the town
+in Ohio. But Ethel did not think of that. She scowled and sighed.
+
+"Well, this is real! I was dreaming! And after all, this is much the
+same, but different in the way you get it. This is New York. One thing
+is sure," she added. "Amy needs every dollar Joe can make--and she must
+not have me on her hands. I've got to find what I really want--a job or
+a man--and be quick about it!"
+
+It threw a tinge of uneasiness into those breathless shopping tours.
+And it changed her attitude toward Joe. He had not counted for much at
+first; he had been a mere man of business; and business men had had
+little place in her dreams of friends in the city. But watching him now
+she changed her mind.
+
+Joe Lanier was what is called "a speculative builder." He was an
+architect, building contractor and real estate gambler, all in one. He
+put up apartment buildings "on spec," buildings of the cheaper sort,
+most of them up in the Bronx, and sold them at a profit--or a loss, as
+the case might be. He dealt in the rapidly shifting values of
+neighbourhoods in the changing town. "The gamble in it is the fun," he
+remarked to Ethel one evening. Joe was just the kind of a man, as Amy
+had told her sister, to make a big sudden success of his work.
+Unfortunately he was tied to a partner, Nourse by name, who held him
+back. This man Amy keenly disliked. She said that Nourse was a perfect
+grind, a heavy tiresome creature who thought business was everything in
+the world.
+
+"Sometimes I really believe he forgets it's for making money," Amy
+declared. "He's as anxious about it as an old hen, and he wants it
+steady as a cow. He detests me, as I do him. He has stopped coming
+here, thank heaven. And the time is not so far away when I'll make Joe
+see that he's got to lose his partner."
+
+Joe's image gained steadily in importance to Ethel's awakening eyes. Of
+his force as a man, all that she saw made her more and more certain that
+Amy was right. Joe was the kind who was bound to succeed. He not only
+worked hard, his work was a passion. At night and on Sunday mornings he
+could sit for hours absorbed in the tiresome pages of real estate news
+in his paper. He went out for strolls in the evenings; one night he
+asked Ethel to come along; and his talk to her about buildings, the
+growth of the city by leaps and bounds, now in this direction, now in
+that, caught her imagination at once. Joe felt the town as a living
+thing, as she had felt it that first night. Different? Yes, this was
+business. But even business, to her surprise, as Joe saw and felt it,
+had a strange thrilling romance of its own.
+
+And she soon noticed something else that drew her to Joe. Almost every
+evening he would sit down at his piano and start playing idly. As a
+rule he played dance music, popular songs from Broadway. But sometimes
+leaning back he would drift into other music. And though his hand would
+bungle and only sketch it, so to speak--in his black eyes, scowling
+slightly over the smoke of his cigar, would come a look which Ethel
+liked. But vaguely she felt that Amy did not, that it even made her
+uneasy. For almost invariably at such times, Amy would come behind him,
+her plump softly rounded arm would find its way down over his
+shoulder--and little by little the music would change and would come
+back to Broadway.
+
+When Joe heard one evening that Ethel was "mad to learn to sing," he
+took her by the arm at once and marched her over to the piano. And they
+had quite a session together--till Amy suggested going out to a new
+cabaret she had heard of that day. Her voice sounded hurt and strained.
+And Ethel from that night on dropped all mention of singing.
+
+Her curiosity deepened toward this city love affair, this husband and
+wife who apparently had left so many things out of their lives, things
+vital in the Ohio town. The sober wee girl in the nursery kept just as
+quiet as before. Often Ethel opened that door and went in and tried to
+make friends with its grave shy little inmate and the hostile nurse.
+And returning to her room she would frown and wonder for a time. But
+the pretty things piling in from the shops, and the gay anticipations,
+soon crowded such questioning out of her mind. Swiftly this household
+was growing more real, the rooms familiar, intimate; the day's routine
+with its small events were becoming parts of her life. Her own room was
+familiar now, for by many touches she'd made it her own. And the
+dining-room and the living room, where she grew acquainted with Joe,
+these too assumed an intimate air. Most of all, her sister's room grew
+more and more vivid in her thoughts, though this was still far from
+familiar, It held too much, it meant too much.
+
+"Shall I ever live with a man like that?"
+
+The way they looked at each other at times! The way they seemed keeping
+watch on each other. If Joe were out very late at night, Amy would
+almost invariably grow uneasy and absentminded, and there would be a
+challenging note in the way she greeted him on his return. On one such
+occasion Ethel was in Amy's room. She went out when Joe came in; but a
+queer little gasping sigh behind gave her a start and a swift thrill,
+for although she did not turn around she knew they were in each other's
+arms. And again, late one afternoon when the sisters came home and
+found Joe at work with a tired anxious look on his face, his wife came
+up behind him. And the picture of her small gloved hand upon Joe's
+heavy shoulder remained in Ethel's memory. It seemed so soft and yet so
+strong.
+
+"She can do anything with him she likes. When I marry somebody how will
+it be?"
+
+Upon the living-room mantel was a photograph of Amy. And on the smooth
+and pretty face with the lips slightly parting, and in the smiling
+violet eyes, there was the expression of something which Ethel did not
+quite name to herself--for she had forgotten the night long ago in her
+high-school club when they had sturdily tackled the word "sensual" and
+what it meant. But the picture grew familiar and real, filled in by the
+living presence here of this woman who so carefully tended her beautiful
+body, her glossy hair, her cheeks and lips; this sister with so many
+moods, now intent and watchful, now good-humoured, indolent, now
+expectant, hungry, now smilingly content and gay.
+
+And as the picture grew more real, warm and close and thrilling, it
+symbolized for Ethel that mysterious force which she could feel on every
+side, driving the throngs of humanity--in this city where so many things
+she had once deemed important were fading rapidly away. That hungry
+hope of a singer's career, that craving for work and self-education,
+trips to Paris, London, Rome, books, art and clever people, "salons,"
+brilliant discussions of life; and deeper still, those mysterious dreams
+about having children and making a home--all began to drop behind, so
+quietly and easily that she barely noticed the change.
+
+For this was happening in a few weeks, in the first whirl and excitement
+of those dazzling streets and shops, those models, gowns, hats, gloves
+and shoes. "It's not what you say that interests men--it's how you look
+and what you have on." The image of her sister grew vivid in Ethel's
+eager mind. And with it came the question, now ardent though still a
+little confused:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Ethel had been about four weeks in town, and now she was to meet Amy's
+friends. Amy was giving a dinner the next evening in her honour; and to
+let the cook and the waitress have a rest on the preceding night, Joe
+took Amy and Ethel out to dine in a café. His business had gone well
+that week and Joe was a genial husband. They had a sea-food supper and
+later he took them to a play. When they came home, Ethel went to her
+room, for she felt very tired. It was not long before she was asleep.
+
+She was awakened by Joe, half dressed.
+
+"Amy is sick!" he said sharply. "Go in and help her, will you? I'll
+try to get a doctor!"
+
+On Amy's bed, a little later, Ethel saw a face so changed from the one
+of a few hours before, that she felt her heart jump into her throat.
+Amy's face was ugly and queer, distorted by frequent spasms of pain.
+But worse was the terror in her eyes.
+
+"Ethel, I think I'm dying!" she cried. "Something I ate--it poisoned
+me!" There was a violent catch in her breath.
+
+"Amy! Why, you poor little darling!" Ethel held her sister tight, asked
+quick anxious questions and did things to relieve her, but with little
+or no success. It seemed hours till Joe came back. With him was a
+doctor, who made an examination and then took Joe into the hall. Ethel
+followed anxiously. She heard the doctor questioning Joe, and she heard
+him say:
+
+"I'm afraid it's ptomaine.
+
+"What does _that_ mean?" Joe fiercely inquired. But before Ethel could
+hear the reply she was called back into the bedroom, where on her bed
+with both hands clenched Amy was saying:
+
+"I can't bear this! Make him give me something--quick!"
+
+The rest of the night was a blur and a haze, of which Joe was the
+centre--Joe half crazed and impatient, making impossible demands.
+
+"You can't get a nurse in a minute, my friend, at five A. M.," the
+doctor cried. "I'm doing my best, if you'll give me a chance!"
+
+The fight went on. The nurse arrived, and turning to Ethel the doctor
+said, "Get him out of this." And she took Joe into the living-room. But
+there with a sudden curse and a groan he began to walk the floor.
+
+"This doctor--what do we know of him? He was all I could find! We
+haven't been to a doctor in years! . . . Ah--that's it!" And he went
+to the telephone, where in a few moments she heard him saying tensely,
+"Bill, old man, I'm in trouble." And she thought, "It's his partner."
+
+"What have you done?" she asked him.
+
+"Got Bill Nourse on the 'phone. He's bringing another doctor."
+
+"But Joe! You should have asked this one first!"
+
+"Should I?" was his distracted reply.
+
+The second physician soon arrived, and was as surprised and annoyed as
+the first one when he found how he had been summoned. In a moment with
+angry apologies he was backing out of the door. But Joe caught his arm.
+
+"You two and your etiquette be damned! Go in and look at that woman!"
+he cried. And with a glance into Joe's eyes, the second doctor turned
+to the first, muttered, "Hold this man. He's crazy "--and went into the
+bedroom.
+
+It was long before Ethel forgot the look that appeared on Joe's face
+when the second physician came out and said:
+
+"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."
+
+She went in with Joe to Amy. And her sister looked so relieved, the
+lines of pain all smoothed away. Heavily drugged, she was nearly
+asleep. Her hand felt for Joe's and closed on it, and with a little
+nestling movement of her soft lovely body she murmured smiling:
+
+"Oh, so tired and sleepy now."
+
+Again, in spite of her grief and fright, Ethel noticed how her sister's
+hand closed on that of her husband. In the months and years that
+followed, she recalled it vividly so many times.
+
+Joe sat there long after Amy was dead.
+
+
+The doctor signed to Ethel to come into the living-room.
+
+"Are you to be in charge?" he asked. She looked at him and shivered.
+She felt a pang of such loneliness as she had never known before.
+
+"I know nobody--nothing--I don't know how you arrange," she said. "I've
+only been a month in town."
+
+The doctor gave her a curious look of pity and uneasiness. It was as
+though he had told her, "I'm sorry, but don't count on me for help. I'm
+busy. This is New York, you know." He said:
+
+"I'll see to the undertaker." She shivered again, and he added, "Don't
+you know some older woman here?"
+
+This reminded her of the dinner which Amy was to have given that night.
+A lump rose in her throat. She waited a moment and then she said:
+
+"Yes, I know of several."
+
+"That's good. You'd better send for them." And soon afterward he
+hurried away.
+
+But just as Ethel was rising to go to the telephone, there was a ring at
+the door. She opened it, and a tall man, rather stooped, with iron grey
+hair and moustache, a lean but rather heavy face and deep-set impassive
+eyes, came in and said:
+
+"I'm Joe's partner--Nourse, you know. How is it going? Better?"
+
+"She's dead."
+
+"God!" With that low exclamation, she thought she saw a gleam of shock
+but then of triumph come in his eyes. He went into Joe's room, and
+closed the door; and with a mingling of relief and of sharp hostility
+she felt at once how she was shut out. Who was she but a stranger now?
+She thought of Amy, and with a quick cry Ethel began to walk up and down
+in a scared hunted fashion. She stopped with a sudden resolute
+clenching of her teeth, and said, "Now I've got to do something! If I
+don't, I'll go right out of my mind!" But what? She stared about her,
+then went to the windows and threw back the curtains. It was well along
+toward noon. Daylight flooded into the room, with one yellow path of
+light which came down from the distant sun.
+
+"I'll go out and get her some flowers."
+
+When she came back a half hour later, Ethel still had that resolute
+look. The door of Joe's room was still closed and she saw Nourse's hat
+in the hall. She turned and went to the telephone, stopped and frowned.
+
+"Yes, that's the next thing."
+
+She called up Amy's friend Fanny Carr. But at the sound of the woman's
+voice which came back over the wire, Ethel gave a start of dismay. For
+it had a jarring quality, and although it was prompt in its exclamations
+of shocked surprise and sympathy and proffers of help--the words, "You
+poor child, I'll come over at once!"--made Ethel inwardly beseech her,
+"Oh, no, no! Please stay away!" Aloud she said, "Thank you," put up the
+receiver and stood staring at the wall. Was this Amy's best friend?
+
+"I want some one I know!" She thought of Susette. She went at once to
+the nursery, kissed the wee girl and sat down on the floor. And as they
+built a house of blocks, Ethel could feel herself softening, the
+strained tight sensation going. Suddenly in her hot dry eyes she felt
+in a moment the tears would come.
+
+"What's to become of me and this child?"
+
+She turned with a start and met the unfriendly eyes of the nurse. They
+had a jealous light in them.
+
+"You'll stay here, of course," said Ethel. "Surely you are not thinking
+of going--"
+
+"No. Are you?"
+
+A little cold sensation struck into her spine at the tone of that
+question.
+
+"I haven't decided yet on my plans. Hadn't you better take Susette out
+to the Park?"
+
+"All right."
+
+"And keep her there as much as you can--till it's over."
+
+"All right," said the nurse again.
+
+Ethel went out of the room. Were there only strangers here?
+
+Just after that Fanny Carr arrived, and Ethel had a feeling at once of a
+shrewd strong personality. A woman of about medium height, still young
+but rather over-developed, artificial and overdressed, with a full bust
+and thick red lips and lustrous eyes of greenish grey--her beauty was of
+the obtrusive type that is made to catch the eye on the street and in
+noisy crowded rooms. When Fanny kissed her, Ethel shrank. "I mustn't
+do that!" she exclaimed to herself. But the other woman had noticed it
+and shot a little look at her.
+
+"You poor girl. I can't tell you how sorry I feel," she was saying.
+"It's horrible. Tell me about it."
+
+And Ethel in a lifeless voice recounted the tragedy of the night.
+
+"Where's Joe?"
+
+"In there, with his partner."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Nourse. He would be." Mrs. Carr threw a glance of dislike at
+the door. "And you, my dear--I won't ask you now what are your plans.
+Just let me help you. What can I do? There's that dinner tonight, to
+begin with. Have you let the people know?"
+
+"Not yet--"
+
+"Have you a list of the ones who were asked?"
+
+"I think there's one on Amy's desk."
+
+"Then I'll attend to it."
+
+Soon Fanny was at the telephone. Her voice, hard and incisive, kept
+talking, stopping, talking again, repeating it to friend after friend,
+and making it hard, abrupt and real, stripping it of its mystery, making
+it naked and commonplace, like a newspaper item--Amy's death. And Ethel
+sat rigid, listening.
+
+"Amy's best friend! Oh, how strange!"
+
+Suddenly she remembered things Amy had said about this friend--admiring
+things. She bit her lips.
+
+"What a queer time for hating a person. But I hate you--oh, I hate
+you!" She went to the window and frowned at the street and slowly again
+got control of herself. "What's wrong with me? Why am I so dull I
+ought to be doing something. But what?" Again came the voice from the
+telephone, and again she clenched her hands. "How did you make Amy take
+you for a friend? Oh, what difference does it make?"
+
+But it did make a difference. The presence of Fanny got on her nerves;
+and when a little later two of the dinner guests arrived, to exclaim and
+pity and offer their help, she faced them and thought:
+
+"You're all alike! You're all just hard and over-dressed! You're
+cheap! Oh, please--please go away!"
+
+The two visitors seemed glad enough to find she did not want them here,
+that she was not going to cling to them and make this abyss she was
+facing a region they must face by her side. In their eyes again she
+caught the look she had seen on the face of the doctor. "After all,
+this is not my affair."
+
+The two women left her. Fanny, too, soon went out on an errand. And no
+other woman came to her that day. How different from the Ohio town.
+Only once a girl came from the dressmaker's.
+
+But just after Fanny had gone out, Joe's partner came into the
+living-room. In the last few hours several times she had heard his
+voice as he talked with Joe. Deep, heavy and gruff, it had yet revealed
+a tenderness that had given to Ethel a sudden thrill--which she had
+forgotten the next moment, for her thoughts kept spinning so. But now
+as he looked down at her she saw in his gaunt lean face a reflection of
+that tenderness; and there was a pity in his voice which set her lip to
+quivering.
+
+"The sooner we have this over," he said, "the better it will be for
+Joe."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tomorrow!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"At four!"
+
+"All right."
+
+"I'll see to it."
+
+"Thank you." There was a pause.
+
+"Is there any special cemetery? You have any preference?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know any in New York." And again there was a silence.
+
+"You haven't been here long," he said.
+
+"You'll be going back now to your home, I suppose."
+
+"I haven't any."
+
+"Oh," he said. She glanced up and saw a gleam of uneasiness in his
+steady tired eyes. She shrank a little.
+
+"You have no relatives living?" he asked.
+
+"None that I care about," she replied. She swallowed sharply. "They're
+scattered--gone West. We lost track of them."
+
+"Oh. . . . Then do you intend to stay here?"
+
+"For awhile--if Joe wants me."
+
+"I'll take care of Joe." Though the voice was low, it had an anxious
+jealous note which made her shiver slightly.
+
+"There's the child," she reminded him sharply. "Why not take it away?"
+he asked. "Joe never cared for it, did he? Do you think it has been
+happy here?"
+
+And at that she could have struck him. At her glare he turned away.
+
+"Forgive me. Of course I--should not have said that." A pause. "Nor
+talked of your plans. I'm not myself. Sorry for Joe. Forgive me." He
+turned away from her, frowning. "I'll see to everything," he said, and
+she heard him leave the apartment.
+
+And all the rest of the day and the night and through the morning which
+followed, no one else came but professional men, and Mrs. Carr. She
+came and went; and her voice grew familiar--hard, intrusive, naked. And
+the thought kept rising in Ethel's mind, like a flash of revelation in
+all the storm and blackness:
+
+"This kind of a woman was Amy's best friend!"
+
+
+The funeral was soon over, and of its ugly details only a few remained
+in her mind. She had a glimpse of Amy's face down in the handsome
+coffin, and at the sight she turned away with a swift pang of
+self-reproach. "I shouldn't have let Fanny do that!" Fanny had dressed
+her sister.
+
+She remembered the low respectful voice of the building superintendent:
+"There's an afternoon tea on the floor below, so the casket and the
+funeral guests had better go down by the freight elevator."
+
+She gave a strained little laugh at that and asked, "I wonder when I'll
+cry?"
+
+The preacher, a tall kindly young man, came in and seemed about to
+speak; but after a look at her face he stopped. He had come from a
+church two blocks away. Joe and Amy had never been to his church, and
+it was Nourse who had brought him here. Nourse had learned of him from
+the undertaker.
+
+Several boxes of flowers came.
+
+Later from a milliner's shop two pretty autumn hats arrived.
+
+The guests began arriving--silent, awkward strangers--ten or twelve.
+
+She heard the nurse come in with Susette and take her back to the
+nursery.
+
+There was no music. Not a sound.
+
+At last the silence was broken by the minister's low voice. Thank
+heaven that was kindly. He was brief, and yet too long; for from the
+apartment one flight below, before he had finished, the festive throb of
+a little orchestra was heard.
+
+He prayed just a minute or two.
+
+Then they followed the coffin out into the hall and back and down by the
+freight elevator.
+
+A motor hearse was waiting below.
+
+
+When the burial was over, she came home alone with Joe. She sat in the
+living-room watching his face, while the dusk grew mercifully deep.
+Then she made him eat some supper and take something to make him sleep.
+And later in her own small room she lay on her bed, dishevelled,
+tearless, her mind stunned, her feelings queer and uneven, now surging
+up, now cold and still.
+
+"Where has she gone? What do I know? . . . What do I believe?
+Where is God? . . . What is life? What am I here for?"
+
+With a pang she recalled the town in Ohio where she and Amy had been
+born, and her thoughts went drifting for awhile. Pictures floated in
+and out, pictures of her life at home. She was hungry for them now, the
+old stays and firm supports, the old frame house, her father and the God
+in the yellow church, the quiet river, the high school and that friendly
+group of eager girl companions, with work, discussions, young ideals,
+plans and dreams of life and love. . . . All up by the roots in a
+few swift weeks!
+
+"Shall I go back?" she asked herself. "Do I want to go--now that Dad is
+dead, and most of the girls have gone away, scattered all over the
+country?" Again she lapsed. "I'm too dull to think." She let the
+pictures drift again. Church sociables, a Christmas tree, dances,
+suppers and buggy rides, picnics by the river. How small and very
+far-away and trivial they now appeared. All had pointed toward New
+York. "Go back and marry, settle down? Do I want to? No. And anyhow,
+there's Joe and Susette. My place is right here--and I'm going to stay.
+But what is it going to mean to me? What do I want in this city now?"
+
+In the turmoil, startled, she looked about her for a purpose, some
+ideal. But the old beliefs seemed dim; the new ones, garish and
+confused. She recalled those faces of Amy's friends. "Yes, cheap and
+tough, for all their clothes!" Or was it just this ghastly time that had
+made them all appear so?
+
+Again she thought of her sister dead. "Oh Amy--Amy! Where have you
+gone?" And at last, quite suddenly, the tears came, and she huddled and
+shook on her bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+She slept that night exhausted, woke up early the next morning and lay
+motionless on her bed: at first staring bewildered about the room, and
+then, with a sharp contraction of her brows and a quick breath, looking
+intently up at the ceiling. A vigilant look crept into her eyes, for at
+once instinctively she was on guard against letting the feelings of
+yesterday rise.
+
+"What a selfish little beast I've been. Did I help in the funeral? Not
+a bit. Did I comfort poor Joe? Not at all. I was occupied wholly with
+my own morbid little soul. Now we're going to stiffen up, my love, and
+try to be of some use to Joe, and do as Amy would have liked." She began
+to tremble suddenly. "No, we're not going to think of her! It's
+dangerous! Be practical! To begin with, I must clear things up. I'll
+have a little talk with Joe. Poor Joe--it's going to be pretty
+dreadful. I'll stick by him, though, and I've got to learn how to keep
+him from going out of his mind." More staring at the ceiling. "One
+thing I know. I shan't wear black. Amy detested mourning, and Joe will
+see life black enough as it is. . . . Thank Heaven there's the
+housekeeping to do. That shall run smoothly if it kills me! . . .
+All right, now suppose we get out of bed."
+
+About an hour later, from behind Amy's silver coffee pot, Ethel had her
+talk with Joe. She felt ill, but she bit her lips and smiled. She had
+dressed her hair becomingly and had donned a blue silk waist, one of the
+countless pretty things that she had bought with Amy. Her brown eyes
+had a resolute brightness.
+
+"We'll have to help each other," she said. "And there's Susette to be
+thought of. The best way, I guess, is not to try to do much planning
+ahead just now. But I'd like to stay here if you want me, Joe. There's
+no other place where I want to be."
+
+He gave her a grateful tired smile. His hair was a bit dishevelled, and
+over his blunt kindly face had come a haggard lost expression. His
+voice was low:
+
+"Thank you, Ethel--you're a brick. I want you here at first, God knows.
+Later I'll try to fix things so that you can feel more free. You're
+only a kid, with a life of your own. Big city, you know, and you'll
+find your place."
+
+He stared over at the window, where the sun was streaming in.
+
+"Another cup of coffee, Joe?"
+
+"No, thanks." he rose slowly, and added, "Let's go now to--Amy's
+desk--and fix up the housekeeping part of it."
+
+Later he said, "I'll see the nurse and the other two maids and tell 'em
+they're to take orders from you." He paused a moment. "And Ethel--if
+you're to stay here, I want it to be as nearly like it was as I can." he
+gave a wincing frown. "I mean on the money side," he said. "I'll give
+you a check the first of each month. You'll need things of your own, of
+course--as she did. I want it just like that."
+
+"Thank you, dear." She saw a muscle in his cheek suddenly begin to
+twitch, and she thought, "It won't be easy."
+
+When Joe left for his office, she went with him to the door.
+
+
+She turned at once to the housekeeping. Her talks with the waitress and
+the cook left her both a little relieved and a good deal disappointed.
+For there seemed to be nothing for her to do; she was made to feel that
+things would run best with the least possible interference. She learned
+with surprise that hitherto the cook had done all the ordering.
+
+"All I need to know is how many is coming," said the cook.
+
+"There won't be any one for awhile."
+
+"Then it's very simple, ma'am." On the woman's face was a look which
+said, "Just you keep out of my kitchen."
+
+It was the same in her talk with the nurse. That tall gaunt creature
+briefly explained that, "Mrs. Lanier bought clothes Spring and Fall,
+and then she left the child to me. I go out every Thursday and every
+other Sunday--afternoon and evening. Lucy the waitress takes my place.
+The rest of the time I've managed alone." She looked around in a jealous
+way and asked, "I suppose you'll want things as before?"
+
+"Yes, for the present," Ethel said. She felt the woman glance at her
+sharply as she turned toward the door.
+
+She went into her sister's room, sat down and had a little cry. But the
+sunlight was streaming in through the pretty chintz curtains there; and
+its softness and its ease, its luxury and blithe content, stole into her
+spirit and quieted her. She sat looking about.
+
+"What is there for me to do?"
+
+It came over her that the cook and the nurse could tell her just about
+what they pleased. She had no means of checking them up, for Amy had
+never talked of such things. It had all been pretty clothes and shops,
+in those brief exciting weeks, and shrewd counsel about men and what it
+was they wanted of women. How appallingly shallow and meaningless those
+conversations now appeared. They gave no comfort or support. The
+remembrance of the terror in Amy's eyes at the thought of death rose
+vividly in Ethel's mind, and she got up and walked the floor.
+
+"We'll fight this down--we'll fight this down," she kept repeating
+determinedly. And as soon as she was quiet again: "What is there for me
+to do? Why Joe, of course--and heaven knows he'll be enough. He's the
+hardest kind, he doesn't cry, he keeps it all inside of him." She drew a
+deep breath. "How about this room?" She frowned and looked around her.
+"No, I don't think he wants anything changed. For the present at least,
+I'll leave it alone. But he ought not to be reminded of her by every
+little thing he sees."
+
+She looked into the closets. In Joe's she found some of Amy's things.
+She put them back in her sister's closet and then gently closed the
+door. As she stood there a moment longer, she had a curious feeling of
+Amy's presence by her side.
+
+"Now, my dear, we'd better go out for a walk," she told herself as she
+turned away. But she threw a glance behind her.
+
+In the weeks that followed she and Joe were more intensely alone
+together than she could have imagined.
+
+At first a few of Amy's friends kept dropping in every now and then.
+But although their intentions were kindly enough, Ethel felt repelled by
+them. She resented their having been Amy's friends. For swiftly and
+quite unconsciously, in her resolute groping in the dark for solid
+ground on which to stand, she was building up an ideal of her
+sister--and these women jarred on that. They came to her direct from a
+world, her sister's world, which she now vaguely felt to be cheap,
+shallow, disillusioning. And she needed her illusions. By nature frank
+to bluntness, she was not good at hiding dislikes; and her uneasy
+visitors soon realized with relief that they were not wanted here.
+
+Fanny Carr still came for a time. For some reason that Ethel could not
+understand, this shrewd person seemed reluctant to let go her hold as a
+friend. She was most solicitous about Joe and tried to come when he was
+at home. But as Ethel's dislike of the woman deepened in intensity,
+gradually Fanny's visits, too, grew less frequent and then ceased.
+
+During the first week or two, Joe's partner almost every night came home
+with him to dinner and took him out for evening walks. But his talk was
+all of business. It seemed to Ethel that purposely Nourse shut her out
+of the conversation. His manner to her, though not unkind, was like
+that of the cook and the nurse. "The less you meddle here," it said,
+"the better it will be for Joe. Leave him to me."
+
+Gleams of this feeling came in his eyes. It showed now and then so
+openly that even Joe took notice. He stopped bringing his partner home,
+and he drew closer to Ethel now, as together they cherished the memory
+of the woman who was gone.
+
+And slowly, in this companionship, this loneliness, this quiet, Joe grew
+very real to her, and appealing in his grief. Everything else seemed so
+remote--but he was close. "He needs me." It was a bright spot in the
+dark. At times this darkness had no end, it stretched away to eternity;
+but at least she did not face it alone. Of Joe's grief she could have
+no doubt. Each week his blunt strong features displayed more lines of
+suffering; his high cheek-bones showed hard and grim. He was grateful,
+affectionate at times, but more often silent, and she saw in his eyes
+what frightened her. He had so few resources here. In his office was
+his work, just as it had always been; but at home there was nothing; his
+wife was gone, and he seemed restless to get out.
+
+"Let's go somewhere," he would mutter.
+
+She went with him for strolls in the evenings. Often they walked on and
+on till both were ready to drop with fatigue, but she stuck doggedly by
+his side. One evening they passed the open door of a church. It was
+lighted, and the deep low rumble of an organ floated out. Joe stopped a
+moment irresolute, and then started to go inside. But a glance through
+the door revealed to him that the church was nearly empty; and he turned
+away as he would have turned from any show on Broadway which was so
+obviously "not a hit."
+
+"Sometimes on Sunday mornings I seem to hear 'em, preachers, droning and
+shouting all over the land," he told her once. "What's in it? What do
+they know about God or where you go when you are dead? Nothing, no more
+than you or I!"
+
+His voice was harsh and bitter then, but the next instant it was kind.
+With his arm about her he was saying:
+
+"Don't, Ethel--please--don't take it like that! I was a brute! I won't
+again! I'll keep it inside! I'm sorry, dear!"
+
+"Oh, Joe," she whispered, "if we only knew!"
+
+So these two faced eternity.
+
+But only at moments. They looked away. For she saw how good it was for
+Joe to have the distractions that he craved; and so on their long walks
+at night she took him to the noisy streets, or into the movies, where
+his mind appeared to stop and find some rest. Best of all, she
+discovered, was to go with him in the small car which he used for his
+business. Driving this car through crowded streets amid a clamour and
+blare of horns and shouts and peals of laughter, the look on Joe's face
+made Ethel see how this dulled his grief, how he lost himself and his
+questionings and became a mere part of the town. What a glamourous
+seething town! There was something terrific to her in its laugh. If
+you stopped to think and ask yourself, "What are we all doing here?" how
+soon it jostled you back into line!
+
+So passed another fortnight. Then Joe grew quieter, and with relief she
+saw he was ready to stay home. She herself felt tired and relaxed; and
+it was good to sit at home on these December evenings and feel that both
+had partly emerged from the sea of doubts in which they had been
+plunged. He had come out of it, she soon learned, with an image of his
+wife that even Ethel vaguely felt was swiftly becoming so ideal as to
+have little or no resemblance to the woman who had died. But eagerly
+she helped him in this building of Amy's memory. She dwelt upon Amy's
+appealing side, her lovable moods, her beauty and dash, her unerring
+instinct for pretty things, her unselfishness, her anxious planning for
+Ethel's good.
+
+And all this fitted in so well with the picture Joe was making of the
+wife who had been so true to him, who had never had a thought or a wish
+for anything but his career. How cheerfully she had given up all sorts
+of pleasures, trips abroad, a house in the country, summer vacations.
+Year after year she had spent the hot months almost wholly in town
+because he could not afford to leave, although she herself had had many
+chances to go to friends in the mountains or up along the seashore.
+Instead she had stayed with him in town; and in the evenings always she
+had been waiting, good-humoured and gay, ready to stay home or go out;
+with never a word of complaint for the delay of his prosperity, but only
+encouragement and praise.
+
+At times, as Joe talked on and on, in this mood of hungry wistful love
+and humility and self-reproach, Ethel would bring herself back with a
+jerk to the Amy she had known; but again she would feel herself borne
+along upon the tide of his belief, and she was glad that it was so. So
+the picture grew. Nor was it only when they talked. For often in long
+silences, when she thought he was reading his paper, she would glance up
+from her book and find him staring into the past. And again at the
+piano, smoking and playing idly, his music made her realize how his mind
+was groping back through the years, picking and choosing here and there
+what he needed to build up his ideal.
+
+This music at times made her curious, wondering what kind of a man he
+had been before Amy took him in hand.
+
+"Where did you learn to play like that, Joe?" He frowned a little.
+
+"Oh, long ago."
+
+He did not seem to care to go back of his marriage. So Ethel let him
+continue his building; and though at times she smiled a little at some
+of his fond recollections, still her own deep adoration of her older
+sister, the whirl of happy memories of that vivid month in town, and the
+sense of all that Amy had been planning to do for her, combined now with
+her desperate loneliness to put Ethel in a mood where she gladly and
+loyally believed almost anything good of her sister.
+
+Christmas was only one example of many similar incidents. They had a
+small Christmas tree for Susette, and they hung up her stocking as well,
+and went out Christmas Eve and bought candy canes and dogs and dolls and
+picture books. And although this was Ethel's idea, it was made to
+appear as only the thing which Amy would have done had she lived.
+
+So in these two hungry souls, groping for something bright and deep and
+strong upon which they could live, swiftly and unawares to them both the
+picture of Amy was stamped deep, idealized and beautified. In life it
+had been fascinating, but now it was almost heroic as well. It was as
+though the small gloved hand, which Ethel had noticed so many times, in
+death had increased the power of its light, firm, tenacious hold.
+
+
+Ethel began to feel more free, for Joe was no longer on her mind. More
+than once, in fact, she was surprised at the way he seemed to be
+settling down. She felt a deeper change in him, something she did not
+understand. The worn harassed expression she had so often seen on his
+face while his wife had been alive, the look of a man driven and drained
+of his vitality, was now gone; and in its place was an unconscious look
+of content. He often stayed very late at the office; and more and more
+in his evenings at home he went to his desk and became absorbed in
+documents and blue print plans.
+
+"What a refuge a man's business is," she thought with a twinge of envy.
+
+And wistfully she began to look about for some resource for herself.
+She felt the youth within her rise, but the city seemed so vast and
+strange. In her loneliness the big building of which her present home
+was a part, seemed doubly huge, impersonal, hard; and so did every other
+building on that block appear. She felt lost, left out amid ceaseless
+tides of gaiety on every hand. She took long determined walks, and on
+these walks she donned the smart attractive clothes that she had bought
+with Amy. She strove to keep her mind on the sights, the faces of
+people afoot and in cars, the adorable things in shop windows. And she
+chatted busily to herself in order to keep on admiring. This old habit
+of hers, of soliloquy, had grown upon her unawares, as a refuge from her
+loneliness. Sometimes she even talked aloud. Sturdily she told
+herself:
+
+"You've only begun. You'll get up out of this, Ethel Knight--just wait.
+Can't you give a few months to Amy now?"
+
+And scowling at her "morbidness" in feeling dreary and forlorn, she
+resolutely scanned the papers for news of lectures, plays and concerts.
+She went to a few in the afternoons, and dressed for them as carefully
+as though they were great social affairs. And in the intermissions when
+a buzz of talk would rise, she would begin with quick animation to
+converse with herself and be gay, or alert and argumentative. Her lips
+would move inaudibly. Now and then she would brightly smile and nod
+across the house at some friend she pretended to have seen. She
+enrolled for a course of lectures upon "Mental Science." She resumed her
+reading of magazines and books on all kinds of topics. It made her
+think of high school days, and hungrily she reached back for that old.
+zest and inquisitiveness about everything under the moon and stars.
+
+And through this searching she caught hints of the presence in the city
+of a life wider and deeper than shops and yet not antagonistic--a life
+of gaiety, grace and ease, but with it all the brilliancy to which Amy
+had been blind; the rich ferment of new ideas in women's lives,
+discussions, work of many kinds, art, music, "movements" all combined
+into one thrilling pulsing whole. And again she felt within herself
+that rising tide of youth and eager vitality.
+
+"Oh, what couldn't I do, my dear, if I only had a chance? Why doesn't
+somebody see it at once--notice me now, right here on the street? You,
+madam, in that limousine--look out and see me--don't go by! You're
+losing the chance of a lifetime! You're missing me--me--Ethel Knight!"
+
+As the dame in her car sped smoothly by, Ethel suddenly laughed aloud.
+But her laughter had a dangerous note, and she added fiercely, biting
+her lip:
+
+"Now, don't be silly and burst into tears!"
+
+"Ma'am?" said a voice.
+
+She stopped with a jerk and looked up into the startled eyes of a
+massive young policeman. Her last remark had been spoken directly up
+into his face, and the youth was blushing visibly.
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. "Excuse me!"
+
+"Certainly, ma'am."
+
+And she hurried on.
+
+This loneliness lasted several weeks. Then Joe grew dimly aware of it,
+and came to her assistance with awkward efforts to comfort her. He was
+at home more often at night. His gruff voice took on a kindlier tone,
+and in an offhand manner intended to seem casual he would ask where she
+had been that day or what book she was reading. And they would discuss
+it for a while. He took her to the theatre and to a concert now and
+then. They went for rides at night in his car, and he talked to her
+about his work. She could feel his anxious friendliness. "What a dear
+he is to me," she thought.
+
+As time went on this companionship grew so natural to them both that
+more than once Ethel felt in herself a content which made her a little
+uneasy. As in his blunt kindly way Joe drew closer to her now, she had
+an awkward consciousness of being in her sister's place. No, not that
+exactly. Still, she did not care to think of it. She kept out of Amy's
+room. It had subtly changed and become Joe's room--to her mind at
+least--though by little things he said and did she knew that Joe was
+keeping that idealized image of his wife still warm and living in his
+mind.
+
+But was he--altogether? At times she would frown to herself a bit. Joe
+loyal? Yes, of course he was, she would indignantly declare. In a
+novel Ethel had once read, the hero who had lost his wife had taken his
+grief in this same silent way; and the author had laid it down as a law
+that all quiet widowers are the kind who never, never marry again. This
+thought had taken root in her mind; and she applied it now to Joe.
+
+Soon at his suggestion she began to use some of Amy's things. One night
+when they were going out, he helped her slip into her sister's soft
+luxurious sable cloak. And as she turned, she detected a queerly
+uncertain look in Joe's eyes. But in an instant it was gone, and she
+soon dismissed her uneasiness. For through the weeks that followed he
+became engrossed in his business and barely noticed her at all.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+About this time a letter from home brought her a sharp disappointment.
+Ethel was not a good correspondent, but during the homesick winter
+months she had written several times to three of the girls she had known
+in school. Two had gone west, but the other one was still in Ohio and
+was planning to come to New York, to take a course of training as nurse
+in one of the hospitals. In fact it had been all arranged. And Ethel
+had not realized how much she had counted on this friend, until now a
+letter came announcing her engagement to a young doctor in Detroit. She
+was going there to live, and her letter was full of her happiness.
+Ethel was very blue that night.
+
+But only a few days after this she received another missive that had
+quite a different effect. It was a long bulky epistle, a "round robin"
+from the members of the little high school club to which she had
+belonged at home. The girls had scattered far and wide. One was
+teaching music in an Oklahoma town; another had gone to Cleveland and
+was a stenographer in a broker's office there; a third was in Chicago,
+the wife of a young lawyer; and a fourth had married an engineer who was
+working a mine in Montana. It made an absorbing narrative, and she read
+it several times. At first it took her out of herself, far, far out all
+over the land. How good it was to get news of them all, how nice and
+gossipy and gay. It was almost as though they were here in the room;
+she seemed to be talking with each one; and as they chatted on and on,
+the feeling grew in Ethel that each was starting like herself and that
+some were having no easy time in unfamiliar places. She could read
+between the lines.
+
+But the part that struck her most was the contribution of their former
+history "prof," a little lame woman with snappy black eyes, who had been
+the leading spirit in their long discussions. She was an ardent
+suffragist, and she it was who had brought so many modern books and
+plays and "movements" into their talk. Chained to her job in the small
+town, she had followed voraciously all the news of the seething changing
+world outside, of the yeast at work in the cities. And to the letters
+of some of the girls who seemed bent upon nothing but social success,
+the little teacher now replied by an appeal to all of them:
+
+"Girls, some of these letters worry me. I don't want to preach--you
+will lead your own lives. But I cannot help reminding you of the things
+we talked about--the splendid things, exciting things that are stirring
+in this land today. Oh, what a chance for women--what openings with
+narrow doors--what fights to make the doorways wide for the girls who
+will come after you! Keep yourselves strong and awake and alive--keep
+growing--remember that life is a school and for you it has only just
+begun. Don't sit at your desks--in your homes, I mean--blinking with a
+man at your side. Keep yourselves free--don't marry for money--don't
+let yourselves get under the thumb of any husband, rich or poor, or of
+social position or money or clothes or any such silly trumpery. Get the
+real things! Oh, I'm preaching, I know, as I did in spite of myself at
+home. But girls--dear friends and comrades--be strong--and don't give
+up the ship!"
+
+Ethel read it many times. She could hear the voice of the little
+"prof," now earnest, scornful, pleading, now obstinate and angry,
+again light-hearted, mocking. She recalled how their leader had warned
+them against the bribery of men. Most of the girls had smiled at her
+then, for they had felt themselves so strong and clear in their aims and
+desires.
+
+"Oh, Ethel--Ethel--Ethel Knight. How have the mighty fallen. One week
+in New York and your eyes were glued to the windows of shops. You got
+ready to dance and find a man."
+
+The thought rose in her mind--"That was Amy's idea." But she dismissed
+it with a frown. She turned back to the letters and read them all
+through over again. She rose and walked slowly up and down with her
+hands locked behind her. Then she went to her desk, and to the round
+robin she added this:
+
+"I am in New York and have nothing to say. I have been a fool. I have
+spent nearly all my money on a lot of silly clothes. No, not
+silly--fetching clothes--for they were meant to fetch a man. But in
+getting them I got nothing else. I have had a shock--a terrible one.
+My sister Amy suddenly died. I am here now to care for her child. But
+am I? Nothing of the kind. The nurse does that and I do nothing. I
+just sit or walk about and scowl at what I am missing. No more from me,
+girls, until the round robin--the dear splendid thrilling round
+robin--comes back here on its next yearly round. I swear I'll have a
+job by then! Good luck and God bless us all! We're young!"
+
+Quickly she crammed all the letters into a large envelope, licked it,
+pressed it firmly down, and addressed it to, "Miss Barbara Wells,
+Bismarck, North Dakota." She stamped it, felt the tears come, kissed the
+letter a fierce good-bye, took it out and dropped it in the mail box in
+the hall. Then she came back to her own room, and with swift,
+determined jerks took off the black cloth wrapping of a large
+old-fashioned typewriter, one of the few belongings she had brought from
+Ohio. She had purchased it several years ago, and by typing sermons and
+other occasional documents she had earned almost money enough for the
+clothes that had cost so little at home.
+
+She sat down and began to pound the keys, but soon she stopped and shook
+her head. She had never been an expert. Self-taught, her work had been
+laboured and slow, and the lapse of months had thrown her out.
+"However! Something must be done!" And the pounding went on for days
+and days, hour after hour; and when her fingers, wrists and arms felt
+like "two long tooth-aches," she exclaimed impatiently:
+
+"Oh, for goodness sake stop being so soft! You're a new woman, Ethel
+Knight, and you're going to earn your living!"
+
+At times, however, stopping to rest and carefully scan her labour for
+faults, her mind would rove far out into life. She was copying from two
+books the little "prof" had given her, the "Life and Letters of George
+Sand"; and "The Work of Susan B. Anthony." And as Ethel pounded on, each
+book in its own way revealed exciting vistas to her eyes of life in
+great cities both here and abroad, life earnest and inspiring, life
+bright and thrilling, brilliant, free!
+
+"Oh, your future life, my love, will be far from dull and blinking!"
+
+And this mood lasted for two weeks. Then as her hand grew more expert,
+and she scanned the papers for information of employment bureaus, there
+came some ugly hours when much pounding was required. She went out and
+tramped the streets, meeting the town with angry eyes that struggled for
+self-confidence. And twice, although she had dressed herself with a
+keen and vigilant eye to her own attractiveness and had gone to the
+bureau she had selected, with a sinking heart she turned back from the
+door. But the second time, after leaving, with a scowl she faced about,
+went back and marched into the office. And a little later when she
+emerged, her face had a stunned and dazed expression. She still could
+not believe it! For the woman in charge, after one sharp look and a
+number of questions, had remarked:
+
+"Why, yes, I think we can place you. I've one position waiting right
+now." There had been more questioning, but this had seemed rather
+perfunctory. The woman had not appeared to care very much that Ethel
+had only one reference--from the old minister back at home; and the
+brief exhibition of her skill which Ethel gave upon a machine, with her
+fingers excited, cold and tense, had lasted but a minute or two when the
+woman had said, "Yes, that will do."
+
+Ethel scowled as she tried to remember it all. There had been one flaw.
+What was it?
+
+"Oh, yes, she warned me about men." And here Ethel gave a sharp little
+laugh, with a lump of excitement in her throat. "Well, I think I can
+handle myself on that point." She recalled with assurance
+recollections--and there had been not a few--of youths at home who had
+tried to "get fresh," and had soon been shown where they got off!
+
+She was walking very rapidly toward a subway station, and soon she was
+on her way downtown.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I'm sorry to say that it isn't your skill, it is your
+face that has got you this chance. All right, Face, thank you very
+much. If you'll just keep steady, eyes easy and cool, jaw firm but not
+too ugly." . . .`
+
+
+And when a few minutes later she was shown into the private office of
+her future employer, she almost laughed in his fat round face--so absurd
+in that first moment did all her little qualms appear.
+
+"He's forty and he loves his meals."
+
+And she answered his questions so blithely, with such an anxious
+friendliness, that the dumpy man who sat at the desk was plainly
+attracted and easily caught. In fact, in his heavy-lidded eyes and
+about his thick lips came a look which repelled her a little. "I
+shouldn't wonder if even you might get feeling young again," she thought
+to herself disgustedly. "But I guess I can attend to that!"
+
+"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars a week," she was saying meanwhile in a firm
+brisk tone of voice. "Of course I know it's just a trial, but I'll do
+my best, I promise you."
+
+
+"Vell," said Mr. Greesheimer, "you be here tomorrow at nine und ve'll
+see." He sighed. "Ve'll see, my friend." He turned back to his desk
+with an abrupt and businesslike little gesture of dismissal.
+
+And this businesslike air he retained on the morrow. As he explained
+her work to her, the tone of his voice was crisp and dry. Ladies'
+cloaks were Greesheimer's "line," and though his business was still new
+he was increasing it rapidly. He was eager, hungry, almost fierce in
+the way he snapped off his letters at times; again he was a genial soul,
+boasting to her of his success and giving forth shrewd homely proverbs
+that he had learned long ago as a child in some Galician village. But
+never in those weeks of work did she catch a suggestion of "freshness."
+He was her boss, and at times her friend in a fatherly fashion--that was
+all. She worked hard, overcame her awkwardness, was punctual, laboured
+to please him. And he was not slow to praise.
+
+"You're a smart young goil," he said more than once. "Keep on--it's
+great--it suits me fine."
+
+And despite the monotonous bleak detail of her life in that room, Ethel
+grew steadily happier there. For she was gaining confidence fast, she
+was living up to her ideals. Soon she would be ready to leave this
+funny little man and get a place of a different kind--as secretary, for
+instance, to some clever woman novelist or noted suffrage leader. She
+had already put down her name at three employment bureaus, in each of
+which the woman in charge seemed to look upon her with a favourable eye.
+
+Too bad poor Joe disliked it so. When she informed him of what she had
+done, he had appeared quite taken back.
+
+"All right, Ethel, go ahead. I don't want to meddle," he had replied.
+"Only--" he had scowled at her in an effort to smile--"I don't quite
+see--well, go ahead."
+
+Plainly it had been a surprise. It was so utterly different from what
+Amy would have done. It had set him thinking, hurt him. "She wants to
+get away," he had thought. Ethel had caught his feeling and had pitied
+him for it. But mingled with this pity had been a vague resentment:
+
+"The minute you show you've made up your mind to be a little
+independent, they treat it like a slap in the face. All right, Mr.
+Male Provider, your tender feelings will have to be hurt. There's
+nothing the matter, I mean to stay here. I'll stick by you just as long
+as you need me. Only, I propose to be free!"
+
+Their relations had grown a little strained. He had stayed at the
+office more often at night. Very well, let him sulk in his masculine
+way. Only one remark of his had annoyed her. Like the woman in the
+employment bureau, he had warned Ethel against men.
+
+"When it comes to looks," he had ended, "you're one in a thousand. And
+in this town--"
+
+"Oh, Joe, for goodness sake hush up!" she had cried. A bright spot of
+colour had come in each cheek and her strong little mouth had set
+viciously. "You'll be telling me next that I got my position simply on
+my pretty face! No brains behind it, of course, no mind!" And she had
+tapped one foot on the floor in a way which made him look at her in a
+curious manner, startled and admiring.
+
+"Oh, no, I won't," he had told her meekly. "You've got the makings of
+more real mind than any girl I've ever seen."
+
+"Thank you," she had snapped at him, but she had liked him nevertheless.
+So long as one had to live with a man, even as his sister-in-law, it was
+well to have him in his place.
+
+So her annoyance had died down, and had only risen a little again when
+one day Joe came to her office. There was some excuse, of course, but
+his real reason obviously was to have a look at her employer and at the
+same time show the man that she had a male protector. Booh! . . .
+But Joe had smiled at Greesheimer and had withdrawn quite reassured,
+leaving her and her job in peace.
+
+As Ethel's business life went on, her self-confidence grew apace. And
+now that she had proved to herself that she had brains behind her face,
+she dropped her air of severity and even began to enjoy the glances
+which she knew were cast her way, on the streets and in the office.
+Even on old Greesheimer, when he was in one of his genial moods, she
+would bestow a winning smile. It was good to have both brains and face.
+She looked at the city with challenging eyes, a self-supporting woman.
+
+And this state of mind might have lasted some time, had it not happened
+that one sunny day toward the end of April Greesheimer opened a letter
+with eager trembling fingers, read it swiftly and glared with joy, his
+big glistening eyes nearly leaving their sockets. Then he whirled
+around in his chair, and as his eye lit on Ethel, he laughed, and in a
+harsh queer voice he cried, "Vell? Now you see? I'm rich alreatty, I'm
+vell off! I got the Zimmerman contract--see! I can do vot I like! I
+got it! I got it!" He capered in triumphant glee, laughing again and
+seizing her arms. "Vell, vot you say! Vy don't you speak? By Gott, I
+raise your salary!"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Greesheimer!" she cried, half laughing. "It's simply too
+wonderful for words!"
+
+"Ha--ha!" He still had her by the arms. "All you young goils could love
+me now--eh?--you could take an old fehlah! Ha-ha-ha!" And the next
+instant, furious, she felt herself hugged violently, kissed! His lips!
+His fat soft body! Ugh! She dug her elbow into him with a stifled cry
+and wrenched away. A moment she turned on him eyes ablaze.
+
+"You dirty--beastly--" she gasped for breath, then turned, and seizing
+her hat and coat she rushed blindly from the room and through the outer
+office. In the elevator crowded with men she felt a queer taste in her
+mouth. "That's blood," she thought. "Biting my lip, am I--well, bite
+on. I'm not going to cry--I'm not, I'm not--I'll reach that street if
+it kills me!"
+
+Meanwhile in his office Greesheimer was still staring, first at the door
+and then at the window, and upon his pudgy countenance was a glare of
+utter astonishment and honest indignation.
+
+"Mein Gott!" he exploded. "I give her a hug--a hug like a daughter--and
+off like a rocket--off she goes!" And in Yiddish and in Hebrew and
+Russian and American, Greesheimer expressed himself as he strode swiftly
+up and down.
+
+For seven years without a break he had "kept a goil" more fascinating to
+his taste than any female in New York. Her name was Sadie, she was a
+model in a dressmaker's shop uptown, and she owned him body and soul.
+Their marriage had only been put off until he had bridged the dangerous
+time in the launching of his business. For Greesheimer had a mother, an
+old uncle and a sister and two small nephews to support. But this
+Zimmerman contract, "Gott sei danke!" would clear the way for marriage
+at once. And as that glorious vision, of relatives all radiant and
+Sadie flushed and joyous leaping into his embrace, had burst upon his
+dazzled soul, his glance had lit on his employée, and he had hugged her
+in his joy! And she--Again did Greesheimer swear! He felt hot angry
+blushes rise. And later at his telephone he was saying to a woman
+friend who ran an employment bureau:
+
+"I got to have a stenographer. See? Und I don't vant a goil, I vant a
+man--a smart young fellah, y'understand. . . . Jewish? Yes! You
+betcher! No more Christian goils in mine! Dey have rotten minds--plain
+rotten minds!"
+
+But to Ethel, walking blindly, no such explanation occurred. She could
+still feel that body, those greedy lips and clutching hands, and out of
+her disgust and rage emerged another feeling which grew like a load on
+her shoulders, sagging her spirit and crushing her down.
+
+"Joe was right. It was only my face. That beast was only
+waiting! . . . I wonder if they're all like that? Probably not.
+But how can I tell the sheep from the goats? I thought I could. I
+thought I knew how to handle myself--I thought I knew how to get on in
+this town! But I don't, it seems--I've done nothing at all! I've just
+been a little fool! . . . And New York is like that!"
+
+She glared at the city around her, at its tall, hard unfriendly walls,
+the jangling trolleys down below, the trucks and drays and the crowds
+rushing by her. For all their hurry, some of the men shot glances at
+Ethel that made her burn. One tall thin man even stopped and turned and
+she felt his look travel right down to her toes! She walked on and on
+with her bare fists clenched. She had left her gloves in the office.
+Go back for them? No! Nor to any office, nor any man!
+
+"Oh, yes, I will, I'll go back to Joe--and hear him say, 'I told you
+so.'"
+
+She reached the apartment faint and sick. Joe had not come home, thank
+goodness. She went to her room and to her bed, and had a good cry,
+which relieved her a little. And so, after an hour or two, looking
+steadily up at the ceiling, she decided that after a few days' rest she
+would go to all three of those bureaus and say, "I'm in the market
+still, if you please, but only for a woman boss."
+
+But later, as she was dressing for dinner, her eye was caught by the
+photograph of her sister Amy. And the face appeared to her suddenly so
+strong and wise with its knowledge of life. She remembered Amy's smiles
+at all new "movements" and ideas and work for women. She seemed to be
+smiling now, with a good-humoured pitying air, and to be saying:
+
+"Now will you believe me? It isn't what you say to men, it's how you
+look and what you wear."
+
+And Ethel stared at it and frowned, in a disillusioned, questioning way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Joe did not say, "I told you so." It was after eight that evening when
+he came home from his office, and she was annoyed at the delay, for she
+wanted to have her confession of failure over and done with. As she
+waited restlessly, she envied him his business life. How much simpler
+everything was for a man! Her nerves were on edge. Why didn't he come!
+At last she heard his key in the door and sharply pulled herself
+together. "How I detest him!" she thought to herself.
+
+"Hello, Ethel." His voice from the hallway had a gruff and tired sound;
+but a moment later when he came in, it was with his usual friendly
+smile. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I've had a mean day at the office."
+
+"So have I," said Ethel, and with a frown she plunged right in. The
+sooner this was over the better. But when she had finished and looked
+up, she detected no triumph on his face. He was watching her so
+queerly.
+
+"Well," he said, "I ought to be sorry, I suppose--but I can't exactly
+say I am."
+
+"Why not?" At her sharp challenge he grimly smiled.
+
+"Because this kind of puts us--in the same boat--two of a kind."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?" she demanded. And then with a rueful
+grimace he said:
+
+"Because I too have bumped my head." As at that she felt a swift little
+thrill of surprise and liking for Joe, he continued, "I've been a fool.
+You're always a fool when you take a chance and aren't able to get away
+with it. You're a fool--because you missed out. I'm a fool--because I
+missed out. We both of us took chances. And I got very badly stung.
+We've got to be poor for a little while." Joe drew a deep breath and
+smiled again. "I've dreaded this. I've put off telling you for a
+week--I don't like eating humble pie. But it's all right now, God bless
+you--we can eat it side by side."
+
+"Why, Joe, dear, how nice!" she sighed. "Go on and tell me. What will
+it mean?" He held up his hand.
+
+"Hold on a minute, can't you? Let me make my little speech. I've made
+it so many times in my mind."
+
+"All right, you poor dear, just start right in."
+
+"Well," said Joe, "it begins like this." And his face grew a little
+portentous, with humour and a deeper feeling mingled awkwardly together.
+"You've been about as good to me as one fellow could be to another. I
+know what a hell it must have been, and the stiff upper lip was all on
+your side. I don't want to talk about it, but--when Amy died the life
+went out--of my business too. Later I got back my nerve, and because my
+job was all I had left I tried to make it more worth while. I've got a
+few old dreams in me--I mean I've always wanted to build something
+better than flats in the Bronx. So I--well, I took a chance and failed.
+I'm in debt and my only chance to scrape through is to cut down here as
+low as we can. I've figured out our expenses, and--"
+
+He walked for a moment. She quickly rose, went to him and took his arm
+and said:
+
+"A very fine speech. We'll go in to our dinner now--and later we'll get
+a pencil and paper, and we won't stop until everything's right."
+
+
+There came for Ethel busy days.
+
+The next morning she went to the nursery and told the nurse she would
+have to go. "I'm sorry," she added and then stopped short, startled by
+the woman's face. The way her eyes went to Susette made something leap
+in Ethel's breast. The nurse wheeled sharply:
+
+"What have I done! What's the matter with me?" Her voice was strained.
+
+"Nothing. There has been nothing at all." Ethel found it hard to speak.
+"You've been--quite wonderful with Susette. The trouble is that Mr.
+Lanier has found he must cut expenses."
+
+"Oh. Then why am I the one?" She broke off and grew rigid, but her
+thought struck into Ethel's mind: "Why am I the one? Why don't you go!
+What good are _you_ here?"
+
+"I'm sorry," Ethel repeated. "I wish I could keep you, but I can't.
+I'll have to take care of Susette myself--"
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes, and you'll have to teach me how."
+
+"I won't!"
+
+"You mean you'll let her suffer because you haven't shown me things?
+No, no, I'm sure you'll be sensible. You'll stay on a few days and help
+me, and meanwhile I'll do all I can to find you a good position. I only
+hope I can get you back again in the autumn. You see it may only be for
+a time." She went to the nurse, who now had her arms about the child.
+"I'm so sorry. Remember I want you back."
+
+There were tears in Ethel's eyes as she left the nursery. "Whew!" She
+went into her own small room. "I wonder if I'll ever feel like that
+about a child?" She stared a moment and added, "That was real enough,
+poor thing." She drew a resolute breath. "Well, no use in feeling like
+a criminal, my dear. Now for the cook and the waitress."
+
+
+She rather took satisfaction in that, for she had disliked both of them
+keenly. She gave them until the end of the week, and in the meantime
+telegraphed for Emily Giles, who for over five years had helped her keep
+house for her father at home. Of medium height, spare, thin chested and
+thin lipped, her hair already streaked with grey, Emily had been less a
+servant than a grimly devoted friend. Since Ethel's departure, she had
+been head-waitress at the small hotel.
+
+"Emily will come," thought Ethel, "unless she's dead or paralysed."
+
+And Emily came.
+
+"Well, Miss Ethel, here I am," she said on her arrival. She said, "Miss
+Ethel" quite naturally, although she had always said "Ethel" before.
+But her tone made it sound like, "Well, kid, here I am. Now let's see
+what kind of a mess it is you want me to get you out of."
+
+With the aid of a book entitled, "How To Live Well On Little," together
+they puzzled and contrived.
+
+
+"The things that have gone on in this kitchen," Emily muttered more than
+once, as her sharp grey eyes peered here and there, now into drawers and
+closets, now at the many unpaid bills. "When that cook of yours wasn't
+grafting she must have been getting drunk on your wine." As the record
+was unfolded of years of careless extravagance, Ethel would frown and
+turn away, for it seemed disloyal to pry so deep. Poor Amy was dead and
+buried.
+
+With Emily she went marketing, and they beat down and bullied mankind.
+Emily was so good at that. And at home they worked out a schedule of
+housekeeping on a rigidly economical scale, dividing the work between
+them. All this was rather pleasant. The trouble came in the nursery,
+where more than once the face of the stricken woman there made it hard
+to keep one's mind keen and clear for all the intricate details of the
+careful mothering in this room, from which barely a sound had ever
+gone out to disturb the peace of Amy's home.
+
+But it was soon over. The nurse had taken her departure and Ethel had
+moved to the nursery. And now the routine of her day brought such a
+change in Ethel's life as deeply affected her future course--though at
+first she had but little time to stop for self-analysis. At five in the
+morning she was roused by the low, sweet chirrup of Susette, who was
+peering over the edge of the crib. And her day from that time on was
+filled with a succession of little tasks, which at first puzzled and
+wearied her, made her often anxious and cross, but then attracted her
+more and more. What a change from the month before, from Mr.
+Greesheimer to Susette! She became engrossed in the washing and
+dressing and feeding of her tiny charge. Anxiously she watched Susette
+for the slightest sign of illness; and in this watching she grew to know
+the meaning of certain looks and gestures, baby talk. Susette became a
+person, wee but very intimate.
+
+In the park on those lovely days of May, Ethel liked to feel herself a
+part of the small world of nurses and mothers who chatted or sewed while
+children played and motor cars went purring by. There were little
+distractions; for Susette was a sociable creature, and the small friends
+she discovered brought Ethel into conversation with the women who had
+them in charge. Several of the mothers were French--very French in the
+way they dressed, in the way they sewed, in their quick gestures, shrugs
+and smiles and their pretty, broken English. They lent a piquant
+novelty to motherhood in Ethel's eyes.
+
+At times she thought of Amy. Why had Amy missed all this! How had she
+been able to keep away from this adorable child of hers! Ethel saw in
+the windows of shops the most tempting garments for small girls. And
+Amy had had money to spend! Susette's wardrobe was "simply pathetic!"
+And often, sitting in the Park and watching on the road nearby the
+endless procession of automobiles and the women like Amy so daintily
+clad, and puzzling and remembering innumerable little things from her
+first gay month in town--in Ethel's mind the picture of the sister she
+had adored began to change a little, and to lose its hold upon her. Amy
+beautiful, indolent toward Susette and the household; Amy tense, with a
+jealous, vigilant light in her eyes, when it was a matter of Joe and her
+love or the money so passionately desired.
+
+But these recollections she would dismiss with excuses for her sister.
+"There are two kinds of women," Ethel sagely told herself. "Mothers and
+wives. And she was a wife. It may be I'm a mother." And little by
+little, in spite of herself, her worship of her sister changed to a
+pitying tolerance. The question, "Shall I ever be like that? "--once
+so full of eagerness--had already been answered unconsciously. "Poor
+Amy, she's dead. She lived her life. I'm going to live another."
+
+Just what life it was to be was as unsettled as before. For as she grew
+used to this mothering, the old adventurous hunger for life welled up
+again within her. For long periods she forgot the child and sat
+frowning into space, her mind groping restlessly for ways and means to
+find herself and get friends of her own, independence, work and gaiety,
+a chance to grow and "be somebody here!" She had her angry, baffled
+moods.
+
+But from these Susette would bring her back. "What's your life to be,
+you poor little dear? And if you don't worry, why should I!" And
+resolutely she would turn to the small, absorbing life of the child.
+
+This went on for many months. It changed her feeling toward the town,
+for now she had a foothold here. It changed her feeling toward Amy,
+whose picture had begun to blur. But that queer sensation of intimacy,
+of being in her sister's place, was even deeper than before. For now
+she was mothering Amy's child--her child and her husband.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+For a time she had seen little of Joe. She had been absorbed in her new
+work; and Joe, in his business troubles. But as he began to see light
+ahead, again he took notice of things at home; and rather to his own
+surprise he enjoyed the change that had been made. The simpler ways
+appealed to him. He and Emily got on famously. And he began to notice
+Susette, to come home early now and then, in time to see her take her
+bath or to sit on the floor and build houses of blocks, he knew about
+building houses, and he could do fascinating things which made his small
+daughter stare at him in grave admiration.
+
+"How dear he is with her," Ethel thought. Although she was barely aware
+of the fact, her own new tenderness for the child had tightened the
+bonds between her and its father. His blunt, affectionate kindliness
+appealed to her often in a way that even brought little qualms of doubt.
+She would look at Joe occasionally in a thoughtful, questioning manner.
+
+He stayed home again in the evenings now; and while she sat at her
+sewing, often he would look up from his paper or his work to make some
+brief remark to her; and the conversation thus begun would somehow
+ramble on and on while his work lay forgotten. But almost always,
+unknown to them both, the spirit of Amy was in the room, and the
+influence of her memory was shown in Joe's attitude toward his home.
+For in spite of his enjoyment of the simpler régime, he revealed a
+feeling of guiltiness at not being able to give to Ethel the easy lot he
+hind given his wife. As business improved he began to suggest getting
+back a nurse and a waitress. And it was all that Ethel could do to
+dissuade him.
+
+"His idea of being nice to a woman," she told herself impatiently, "is
+to give her expensive things, and above all keep her idle." She did not
+add, "Amy taught him that." But it was in the back of her mind.
+
+He often talked of his business, he tried to explain to her the details
+of speculative building, real estate values and the like. And listening
+and watching his face, she felt his force and vitality, his doggedness,
+the fight in him. She recalled Amy's eager faith in Joe as a man who
+was "simply bound to make money." And at times she said to herself,
+"What a pity." Still, it was all rather puzzling. For his talk of the
+growth of the city, his view of its mighty pulsing life, restless,
+heaving, leaping on, gripped her more than ever before. And moreover,
+now that Amy was dead, Ethel soon began to feel another Joe emerging out
+of some period long ago. With a new and curious eagerness to find in
+him what her sister had never known (an eagerness she would have
+disclaimed with the utmost indignation), she began to probe into Joe's
+past. And in answer to her questions he threw out hints of old ideals
+in which the making of money had played only a second part. He had
+meant to be an architect, a builder of another kind. Instead of putting
+up "junk in the Bronx," he had meant to do something big and new,
+something bold and very French, "to make these infernal New Yorkers sit
+up and open their cold grey eyes." At times he rather thrilled her with
+hints of his early bachelor life in New York and Paris, his student
+days.
+
+About this time, one evening, he brought his partner home to dinner, but
+the experiment proved even more of a failure than it had in the past.
+Nourse made Ethel feel as before his surly, jealous dislike of her
+presence in Joe's home. And Ethel's hostility redoubled. She recalled
+what Amy had told her of his tiresome worship of work, its routine and
+its dull detail. No wonder Joe's ideals had died, with such a man in
+his office.
+
+"What a pity you're his partner," her manner plainly said to him, for
+she was not good at hiding dislikes. And to that his gloomy eyes
+rejoined, "What a damned shame it you were his wife."
+
+But Nourse did not come again. And with business dropped out of their
+talk, she and Joe turned to other things--small happenings of the
+household, amusing incidents of the day, and little problems to be
+solved. They were well into the summer by now, and Susette ought to go
+to the seashore. They began to discuss seaside hotels, and chose a
+place along the Sound. It was decided that Emily should stay here to
+look after Joe, and that he should run up for his week-ends. In the
+meantime, as his business improved, he began to bring Ethel little
+surprises, candy or spring flowers, and to take her out in his car at
+night. They went to the theatre several times. And everything which
+was said or done upon such occasions gave Ethel food for thinking.
+
+At the seashore, with Susette on the beach, hour after hour, she thought
+about Joe and about herself. This thinking was long and curious. It
+was confused, barely conscious at times, all mingled with the long
+bright waves that came rolling in from the shining sea. The picture of
+her sister's face kept rising up before her there--of Amy in her bedroom
+good-humouredly talking and smiling, and teaching Ethel how to get on;
+of Amy with her husband, throwing swift, vigilant glances at him,
+kissing him, nestling in his arms. In her thinking Ethel grew hot and
+cold, with jealousy, swift self-reproach and a new, alarming tenderness.
+She thought of Joe, of his every look, his smile and the tones of his
+gruff voice; of Joe grief-stricken and half crazed, of Joe awakening,
+coming back. Again with a warm rush of feelings, not unmingled with
+dismay, she would go over in her mind their talks and the queer, almost
+guilty expression that had often come in his eyes. For Amy had always
+been in the room.
+
+For this thinking, fresh fuel was given by Joe's weekly visits here.
+There was not much talk of Amy now, her name had subtly dropped away,
+but Ethel could feel it behind the talk. "It would always be there!"
+she would cry to herself. "Well, and why not?" she would demand. "Why
+be such a jealous cat? Would you let that hold you back?" It was all so
+involved, this Amy part, with Ethel's own earlier visions of happiness
+and a love of her own. Was this really love--this queer, leaping
+feeling, up and down, hot and cold, uncertain, tense, unhappy, hungry,
+undecided?
+
+"Oh, if I could only make up my mind!"
+
+When with Joe, she had many moods. In some she grew resentful toward
+him for forcing this upon her. But soon she would grow repentant. Her
+manner, from cool friendliness, would change in a few moments; and her
+eyes would grow absorbed, attentive, now to Joe and now to herself,
+grave, wistful, sad, and then suddenly gay--though they only talked of
+little things, of Susette, the beach, the city, the coming winter,
+household plans, his work, half spoken aspirations. Any one watching
+them in these talks might have thought she was his wife.
+
+Again came that disturbing sense of intimate relationship to her sister
+who was dead. "I'm stepping into Amy's shoes." But this feeling began
+to be left behind. It was back in the past; she was looking on. One
+day, when Susette had bumped her head and her aunt was comforting her,
+suddenly in a revealing flash came the thought, "I love you, oh, so
+hard, my sweet! But I want another one all my own!"
+
+When in September she and Susette went back to Joe in the city, all this
+grew more intense and clear. For he would not give her much longer now;
+she saw that he had made up his mind. She felt his strength and
+tenderness, his hunger for her growing. Sometimes it was frightening,
+the power he was gaining. A touch of his hand and she would grow cold.
+One evening when she had a headache, Joe bent over and kissed her.
+
+"Good-night," he said, and left the room--left her burning, trembling.
+She pressed both hands tight to her cheeks, pressed the hot tears from
+her eyes.
+
+
+At other times, she told herself, "Yes, I'm going to marry him. But
+there's nothing to be so excited about--or scared like this. I know him
+now, I know just what he is and what he is not. He is not a good many
+things I had dreamed of, but he's so dear and kind and safe. And I want
+to have children." Gravely wondering, she would look ahead. "You're no
+longer a child, my dear. Be strong and sensible. This is
+real. . . . It's getting rather cold tonight. I must run in and
+see if Susette is warm."
+
+She still felt Amy's presence. Out of the various rooms certain
+pictures, chairs and vases forced themselves upon her attention. For
+some time past she had disliked them. It seemed to her at moments as
+though she could not have them here.
+
+She knew what they were waiting for now. It was nearly the end of
+October, and the day which both dreaded was nearly at hand, the
+anniversary of her death. They spoke not a word to each other about it,
+except once when Joe said gruffly:
+
+"There's a bad time coming for both of us. Let's try not to be morbid
+about it." As it drew nearer she felt, she must speak. She felt how
+this unspoken name of her sister would keep rising, rising, between them
+for the rest of their lives. It was uncanny, it was like a spell, the
+force of this unspoken name; and she thought, "I must break it!"
+
+And yet she did not speak. She had little opportunity, for she saw very
+little of Joe that week. When the dreaded night arrived, he did not
+come home until very late. From her room she heard him come in, and
+presently by the silence she knew he had settled himself to work. She
+barely slept, rose early and dressed herself with a resolute air. But
+already Joe had gone.
+
+It was a beautiful morning. With Susette she went to a florist's shop
+and had the child pick out some flowers. Then they went out to Amy's
+grave. And a moment came to Ethel there, an overwhelming moment, when
+something seemed bursting up in herself and crying passionately:
+
+"I can't!"
+
+But a little miracle happened. For Susette, who was only three years
+old and understood nothing of all this, took half the purple asters from
+Amy's grave, and turning back confidingly she put the rest in Ethel's
+hand--and then saw a sparrow and chased it, and laughed merrily as it
+flew away.
+
+At night when Joe came home, although he did not speak of the flowers,
+she knew that he too had been at the grave. He appeared relieved, the
+tension gone.
+
+"Now is the time to speak of her." And Ethel looked up with a resolute
+frown. . . . But once again she put it off. Soon they were talking
+naturally.
+
+Weeks passed, and the memory of that day dropped swiftly back behind
+them. And there came a night when Joe, close by her side, had been
+talking slowly for some time, his voice husky, strained and low, and she
+had been sitting very still. She turned at last with a quick little
+smile, said:
+
+"Yes, Joe, I'll--marry you--and--oh, I'm very happy! Please go now,
+dear! Please go--go!"
+
+And when he had gone she still sat very still.
+
+From that night the name of her sister was not spoken between them--was
+not spoken for nearly two years.
+
+
+She grew used to being held in Joe's arms, to his kisses and to his
+voice that had changed, to the things he said and the way his eyes
+looked into hers. That hunger, it was always there, and growing, always
+growing! The feeling she'd never had before, that--"We're to be parts
+of one another!"--deepened, thrilled her with its depth, dazzled and
+confused her mind.
+
+One day she went to Amy's room, and slowly began looking over the
+clothes. From the closet and the drawers, in a careful, tender way she
+took the shimmering little gowns and dainty hats and slippers, silk
+stockings, filmy night-gowns--and packed them into boxes. All were to
+be given away. "I couldn't!" Her throat contracting, she turned away
+with a sharp pang of pity and of jealousy and of a deep, deep
+tenderness.
+
+She lavished her love upon Amy's child. What adorable little garments
+she bought for Susette, those autumn days. And at night, bending over
+her cradle, Ethel would whisper to her, "Oh, I'm dreaming, dreaming,
+dear!" And to Susette this was a huge joke, and they would laugh at it
+like mad. "Oh, my precious loved one! What a fine, happy life we'll
+lead!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+They were married early in December. There were no preparations to be
+made, for a wedding is nothing without friends, and they had none but
+Amy's and though Joe said nothing to Ethel about it, she knew he had not
+sent them word. "It's better," she thought. She herself wrote to a few
+girl friends, but they were scattered all over the country. No one of
+them would be coming East. And at times she felt very lonely. With
+memories of weddings at home and of her dreams for one of her own, which
+she had planned so often, she begged Joe to let her be married in
+church, and Joe gave in good-naturedly. He did not go to the minister
+who had buried Amy a year before, but to one who had a small
+Presbyterian church on the next street. There he soon arranged to be
+married. But then, in his ignorance of such matters, Joe said, in his
+blunt, off-hand way:
+
+"I like to settle these things ahead. So if you'll just name the
+amount--" he stopped. For the clergyman straightened up as though at an
+insult. Joe reddened. "Look here," he blurted, "I didn't mean--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right." The other man was smiling queerly. "How long
+have you been in New York?" he asked.
+
+"Nine years."
+
+"Ever been inside of a church?"
+
+"No, I can't say that I have."
+
+"Then why do you want to get married here?"
+
+Joe smiled frankly. "The bride's idea."
+
+"I thought so," said the preacher. A glint of humour came into his
+eyes. "You asked me what it would cost to get married. If you'll go
+down to City Hall, it will cost you exactly two dollars. But if you
+care to be married here--well, there's an old scrub-woman I know who for
+nine years every Sunday has come to this church and put a quarter in the
+plate to keep this institution going for you. And if you care to use it
+now it will cost you just what it has cost her. Figure it out and send
+me a check, or else go down to City Hall."
+
+"I'll pay up," was the prompt reply.
+
+At home he told Ethel about it with keen relish at the joke on himself.
+And Ethel smiled rather tensely and said:
+
+"Don't let's make a joke of it, dear. Let's make it as much of a one as
+we can."
+
+But there was little or nothing to do. And the next afternoon in church
+it felt so queer and unreal to her as she stood with Joe in front of the
+pulpit. Behind her in the shadowy place were only Susette and Emily and
+the building superintendent's wife. No long rows of faces--caring.
+Only the hard murmur of the busy street outside. No excited whispers
+here, no music and no flowers, no bridesmaids and no wedding gown.
+
+"I pronounce you man and wife."
+
+Then what?
+
+She took Susette tight in her arms for a moment. Then Emily--thank God
+for her!--was whispering fiercely in her ear:
+
+"It's going to be all right, my dear! In a minute you're going to laugh
+or cry! Laugh! It's better! Laugh! . . . That's right!"
+
+Joe had his small car waiting outside; and waving good-bye to Emily, who
+was taking Susette to the park, they sped away to the river and off into
+the country. Soon they were talking excitedly.
+
+It was after dark when they returned, and as had been already planned
+they went to a café to dine, a gay place crowded full of people, music
+throbbing, voices humming. Ethel wanted it like that. She wanted to be
+lifted through. Joe alarmed her now. "Oh, don't--don't be so
+considerate!" she wanted to exclaim to him. "What good does it do?" As
+they smiled at each other, again and again she had to fight down an
+impulse to cry--or shiver. She would bite her lips and turn away and
+watch people, then turn quickly back and start talking rapidly.
+
+At home, alone in Amy's room, she sat at the dressing table there, her
+movements swift and feverish. She had often looked at herself of late
+in her mirror in the nursery, but now she did not look into the glass.
+Her hands were cold. In a very few minutes she called to Joe.
+
+
+And a little later, on her old bed by the cradle in the nursery, she lay
+violently trembling and staring intently up at the ceiling.
+
+"What has happened?" she asked. "Whose fault was it? Mine?" With a
+strange thrill of fear and repulsion, she clenched her teeth and held
+herself until the fit of trembling passed. "Is this real, Ethel Knight?
+Do you mean to say this is what love is--just this, just this?" She
+shook her head and bit her lips. She asked, "Am I tied to this man for
+life? I am not! I can't be! This isn't real--it isn't me!"
+
+The night was a blur, like a bad dream. Once she remembered jumping up
+and quickly locking the nursery door. But that was the beginning of a
+return to her senses. "I needn't have done that," she thought. "It
+wasn't fair. It was even rather insulting." This thought made her
+quieter. And later, as the night wore on, a feeling of having been
+unjust and foolish little by little emerged from the chaos and began to
+steady her. But again the old dismay and dread and loathing would come
+back with a rush. All at once her body from head to foot would grow
+cold and rigid. And the power which a year ago with her sister she had
+excitedly sensed as the driving force of this whole town, now loomed
+brutal, savage! The thought rose suddenly in her mind, "Amy. She was
+his wife! Five years!" And then in a revealing flash, "Her love was
+like that! She taught him!"
+
+With a bound that feeling of intimacy with her sister leaped to a
+climax--burned!
+
+It was long till she could quiet herself. She had to do it by walking
+the floor. . . . Thank heaven for the daylight and the small, round
+face of Susette peering over the edge of the crib. Soon she had the
+child in her bed and they were looking at pictures.
+
+Later she went back to her husband. It cost her no slight effort of
+will, and it was a relief to find him gone. On her dresser he had left
+a note:
+
+"I am sorry, dear--it was all my fault. I was a fool--a clumsy fool.
+But remember there is plenty of time--and be certain absolutely that
+everything will be all right."
+
+She read it more than once that day, and it helped her prepare for the
+evening. When Joe came home and took her in his arms, she knew at once
+that he meant her to feel there was nothing to be afraid of.
+
+"I've got to be down at the office tonight," was all he said. But in
+his voice, low, kind and reassuring, like that of a big brother, there
+was a promise which gave her a thrill of gratitude and deep relief.
+With it came some self-reproach, which caused her again to struggle,
+alone, and then go to Amy's room to sleep. She lay listening there for
+hours, carefully holding herself in check. When she heard his key in
+the hall door, she sharply stiffened, held her breath. . . . She
+heard him go into the small guest room which had been hers a year
+before. . . . And then she cried softly to herself. With the
+blessed relief of it, her love for Joe was coming back.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+One evening about two months later Ethel was dressing for dinner. As
+usual they were dining alone, but long ago she had taken the habit of
+dressing each night as though there were people coming. Amy had taught
+her to do that; and after the death of her sister she had always made a
+point of "keeping up" for Joe's sake, although often it had been an
+effort. But it was no effort now. She had been here for nearly an
+hour, absorbed in this pleasant, leisurely art that had such a new
+meaning and delight. To keep being different, revealing her beauty in
+new ways, to see if he'd notice, to laugh in his arms and feel her power
+over Joe, had brought back her old zest for pretty clothes, and she had
+been wearing all the things she had bought when she first came to town.
+Last year's clothes, for they still smilingly called themselves "poor,"
+although Joe was doing much better now. Last year's clothes, and the
+styles had changed, but in ways which Joe, poor dear, was too blind to
+notice.
+
+The room in which she was dressing had somehow assumed a different air.
+Although in the main it was the same as when Amy had been here, and her
+picture was still on Joe's chiffonier--still subtly by degrees it had
+changed. Some of Ethel's clothes were lying about, her work-bag and a
+book or two; the dressing table at which she was sitting had been
+covered in fresh chintz, and Ethel's things were on it. Joe's picture
+and Susette's were here, and a droll little painted bird was perched
+above the mirror.
+
+As she glanced into the glass, gaily she thanked herself for the charms
+which she was deftly enhancing--in the glossy black hair, smooth and
+sleek, in the flushed cheeks and the red of her lips and the gleaming
+lights in her brown eyes. She nodded approvingly at herself. "You're a
+great help to me, Mrs. Lanier."
+
+In the glass she could see her husband; she felt his glances from time
+to time. This evening after dinner they were going out somewhere. To
+what, he would not tell her. There had been many of these small
+surprises. . . . Now her pulse beat faster, for he had come behind
+her. A sudden bending, a quick laugh, a murmur and a silence. Then at
+last he let her go; but as she drew a deep, full breath and shot a side
+look up at him, he laughed again, low, tensely, and bent over as before.
+
+Left alone, she smiled again into the glass. It was hard to
+believe--too wonderful--this amazingly intimate feeling, this living
+with somebody, body and soul. And what a child she had been before, a
+child in that solemn young resolve to marry Joe, this good, safe man,
+and raise a large family carefully. It had been like a small girl
+thinking of dolls. And like a small girl she had been in her panic on
+the night of her wedding, she thought. How silly, ignorant, funny!
+No--she frowned--it had been real, pretty ugly while it lasted. But
+like a bug-a-boo it had gone. And this good, safe man had become
+transformed in this amazing intimacy and had become a wild delight: a
+man to laugh at, tease, provoke, and cling to, silent, in a flame; a man
+to mother, study out, probe into deep with questions; a man to plan and
+plan with.
+
+"This love is to be the love of his life! It's to make us work and
+grow, make us fine and awake and alive to everything worth living for!
+No laziness for you, my dear, no soft, cosy kitten life! You're to be a
+woman, a real one! Don't let there be any mistake about that!"
+
+In the other room Joe was at his piano, and the music he was playing had
+nothing to do with--any one else. She did not say, "with Amy." She
+frowned a little and cut herself short, as she so often did in her
+thinking, these days, when it touched upon her sister. She could feel
+Amy here at so many points, and she did not want to be jealous.
+
+"I wonder where we're going tonight."
+
+What was it Joe was playing? Music she had heard before. She did not
+like to ask him and so betray her ignorance. "I ought to know this!
+What is it?" she asked herself impatiently. "Why, of course! It's from
+'Bohęme'!" She smiled as she felt he was playing to her. With the
+thrill now so familiar, she felt her power over him. She remembered
+little tussles in which she had been victorious. They had all been over
+his business. Joe, the poor darling, had formed the idea (she did not
+say from his first wife) that if a man is in love with a woman he must
+express it by loading her down with things which cost a lot of money,
+that he must work for her, slave for her! But Ethel was putting an end
+to that. They had taken back Susette's old nurse, for it was unfair to
+one's husband to be a child's slave if there was no need. But she had
+refused to get other servants. Emily Giles was still in charge, and
+though Emily of her own accord had gone to a shop on Fifth Avenue and
+purchased caps and aprons, "the nattiest things this side of France,"
+she wore them with a genial air and spoke of them as "my uniform." Ethel
+took care of her own room and helped Emily with the cleaning. She had
+kept expenses firmly down, and she had refused to be loaded with gifts.
+When Joe had urged that his affairs were going so much better now, she
+had said in her new decisive voice:
+
+"I'm so glad to hear it, my love, for it simply means you've no earthly
+excuse for staying late at your office. I don't mean I want you to
+loaf, you know," she had gone on more earnestly. "I want you to work
+and do, oh, so much, all the things you dreamed of doing--over there in
+Paris. But I'm not going to have you make your business a mere rush for
+a lot of money we don't need!" She had gone to him suddenly. "And just
+now I want you so."
+
+By these talks she had already worked a change. No more hasty
+breakfasts to let him be off by eight o'clock. They had breakfasted
+later and later each day; she had made an affair of breakfast. And as
+at last he kissed her and tore himself away from his home, she had
+smiled to herself delightedly at the guilty look in his eyes. This kind
+of thing would cause a decided coolness, no doubt, between Joe and his
+partner. So much the better, she had thought, for she detested that man
+Nourse, and in his case she could quite openly admit, "I'm jealous of
+you and your business devotion! Your time is coming soon, friend Bill!"
+The office was half way uptown, and several times in the last few weeks
+she had gone there for Joe at five o'clock, and once at four-thirty, as
+though by appointment. She chuckled now as she recalled the black look
+of his partner that day. Yes, four-thirty had been a blow!
+
+"Where are we going this evening?"
+
+It was delightful to be so free, she told herself repeatedly. Friends?
+They didn't need any friends. For the present they had each
+other--enough! "Yes, and for some time to come!" But there always came
+to her a little qualm of uneasiness when her thinking reached this
+point. How were friends to be found in this city?
+
+"Oh, later--later--later!"
+
+And rising impatiently with a shrug, she went into the nursery. The
+nurse had been so glad to get back that most of her old hostility toward
+Ethel had vanished. Still there were signs now and then of a sneer
+which said, "You'll soon be paying no more attention to this poor bairn
+than her mother did before you." And it was as well to show the woman
+how blind and ignorant she was--to make her see the difference.
+
+
+"Bohęme" was the surprise that night. It was Ethel's first night at the
+opera. And looking up at the boxes, at the women she had read about,
+the gorgeous gowns and the jewels they wore, and watching them laugh and
+chatter; or looking far above them to the dim tiers of galleries
+reaching up into the dark; or again with eyes glued on the stage
+feasting upon Paris, art, "Bohemia," youth and romance; squeezing her
+companion's hand and in flashes recollecting dazzling little incidents
+of the fortnight just gone by--her mind went roving into the future,
+finding friends and wide rich lives shimmering and sparkling like the
+sunlight on the sea. As that Italian music rose, all at once she wanted
+to give herself, "To give and give and give him all!" The tears welled
+up in her happy eyes.
+
+"However! To be very gay!"
+
+Later that evening in a café she leaned across the table and asked
+excited questions about "Bohęme" and Paris. What was Paris really like?
+The Latin Quarter, the Beaux Arts? What did he do there, how did he
+live? In what queer and funny old rooms? Did he live alone or with
+somebody else? Something was clutching now at her breast. (Farrar had
+sung "Mimi" that night). "Don't be silly!" she told herself. "Oh,
+Joe!" she said, and she looked down at the fork in her hand which she
+was fingering nervously. Then she looked quickly up and smiled. "What
+man did you room with? Any one?" He was smiling across the table still.
+"You inquisitive woman," said his eyes.
+
+"No, I lived alone," he replied. "And I sat at a drafting board--with a
+sweater on--it used to be cold."
+
+"Oh, you poor dear!"
+
+"And I worked," he continued, "like a bull pup. And along toward
+morning I tied a wet towel around my head--"
+
+"Oh, Joe!" Ethel's foot pressed his, and they laughed at each other.
+"But there must have been," she cried, "so much besides! Joe Lanier,
+you are lying! There were cafés--and student balls and fancy dress--and
+singing--and queer streets at night!"
+
+"That's so," he answered solemnly, "the city of Paris did have streets.
+You walked on them--from place to place."
+
+"Joe Lanier--"
+
+"First you put the right foot forward, then the left--you moved along."
+
+"Joe! For goodness sakes!"
+
+"Look here. Do you know what I want to do with you?"
+
+"No." And Ethel shook her head. She did know, precisely, and it was her
+motive for all this talk.
+
+"Take you there--and get rooms in the Quarter--not too far from the
+Luxembourg--"
+
+"Oh, Joe, you perfect darling!"
+
+He went on describing all they would do, in the cafés and on the
+streets, in old churches and at plays and at the Opera Comique, where
+she must surely see "Louise." They began excitedly planning ways and
+means, expenses, his business and when he could get away. He sobered at
+that, and she cried to herself, "Now he's thinking of his friend Bill!
+Oh, what a detestable, tiresome worm!"
+
+
+Then a man who was passing their table stopped in surprise as he
+recognized Joe, bowed, smiled and said something and went on, and joined
+a hilarious group down the room. And Ethel saw him speak to them and
+she felt their glances turned her way. Joe had grown suddenly awkward,
+his face wore a forced, unnatural smile, and he was talking rapidly--but
+she heard nothing that he said. The whole atmosphere had changed in an
+instant.
+
+
+For those people over there were some of Amy's friends, no doubt, amused
+at Joe and his young second wife, amused that Joe had not had the nerve
+to ask them to his wedding. Ethel could feel herself burning inside. A
+mistake not to have asked them? No! What had they to do with it? What
+right had they, what hold on Joe? They had been a mighty poor lot of
+friends, with empty minds and money hearts, just clothes and food,
+late hours and wine! They had been decidedly bad for him, had drawn him
+off from his real work and plunged him into the rush to be rich! A
+voice within her, from underneath, was asking, "Or was it Amy?" But she
+paid no heed to that. It asked, "Are you sure they are all so bad?
+Have you taken the trouble to find out?" But angrily she answered that
+she wanted friends of her own, that she couldn't be just a second wife.
+"I've got to be all different, new! I've got to be--and I will, I
+will!" She swallowed fiercely. Besides, it was what Joe needed,
+exactly! He showed already what it had meant to be rid of such friends!
+Had he ever talked of Paris before, or his dreams and ambitions or
+anything real? But the voice retorted sharp and clear:
+
+"Why hide it then? Why let this foolish dangerous habit of never
+mentioning Amy's name keep growing up between you and your husband? It
+may do a lot of harm, you know. What are you afraid of?"
+
+Nothing whatever, she replied. She decided to speak of it then and
+there. She would be perfectly natural, and ask him, "Who are your
+friends over there? Some people Amy used to know?" And she grew rigid
+all at once. Her throat contracted and felt dry. Angrily she bit her
+lip . . . But the habit of silence was too strong. . . . Soon,
+with a carefully pleasant smile, she was attending to his talk and by
+her questions drawing out more and more of his life abroad.
+
+"His work," she thought, "that's the strongest thing to hold his mind
+away from those people." And soon she had him talking of the Beaux Arts,
+architecture, plans and "periods" and "styles," things she was quite
+vague about, but she did not have to listen now. That was always so
+safe, she told herself. She was even a little jealous of this puzzling,
+engrossing work, which could so hold her husband's mind. She frowned.
+That was as it should be; a man's work was his own concern. But his
+living, his home, what he did at night?
+
+"This can't go on," she decided. "There will have to be friends for
+both of us. I need them, too. Oh, how I need one woman friend! And
+where shall I find her? Somewhere in this city there must be just the
+people I want--if only I could reach them!"
+
+And presently she was saying aloud in a lazy careless tone of voice:
+
+"Sometimes I get wondering, Joe, if there isn't a Paris in New York."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+It was a few weeks later. A doctor had been there and gone, and
+returning into the living-room Ethel sank down on a chair with a quiet
+intensity in her eyes. For some time she had not been feeling herself,
+but she did not want to worry Joe, and so at last she had telephoned to
+the clergyman who had married her.
+
+"You may not remember me," she had said, "but you married me in
+December. Perhaps you'll recall it if I say there were only three
+friends at the church."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember it--perfectly."
+
+"Thank you. I'm not quite well and I have no friends to turn to, so I'm
+wondering if you could recommend a good doctor I could see."
+
+The doctor recommended had just paid his visit. And now as the dusk
+deepened she had the strangest feelings. Her year and a half in the
+city seemed hurried and feverish as a dream. Her mind ran back into the
+past and on into the future. Only a few days before, the round robin
+letter had come again. In it the girl who had married the mining
+engineer out West had told of having a baby in a little town in Montana.
+Ethel had thought of the doctor then.
+
+She rose now and got the letter and re-read it slowly. Presently she
+put it down and began crying softly, though she felt neither sad nor
+frightened. Her life had so completely changed. All those girl
+friends, so scattered; all those years, so far behind. It was like
+getting on a ship, she thought, to start across the ocean. "You can't
+get off, you must go across. Oh, Ethel Lanier, how happy you'll be."
+But the happiness seemed a long way off.
+
+How quiet it was. The nurse came in with Susette from the park. Ethel
+went into the nursery and kneeling down she began to unbutton Susette's
+little jacket. The child's plump face was so rosy and cold. She kissed
+it suddenly.
+
+"Martha," she said, "I'll need you here for a long time now. I'm going
+to have a baby."
+
+She reddened then and held her breath. Queer, how she had blurted it
+out! She had not meant to tell any one yet. But the look of dawning
+joy and relief in Martha's eyes made her glad she had spoken. Plainly
+the nurse had been dreading the time so fast approaching when she would
+have to leave Susette, who was now nearly four years old. But all she
+said to Ethel was this:
+
+"I'm glad to hear it, Mrs. Lanier. I hope you'll be very careful now."
+She shot a look as keen as a knife, which asked, "Do you really want a
+child? Or are you like her? Was it a mistake?"
+
+And Ethel went quickly out of the room. In the living-room her eye was
+caught by Amy's photograph on the table. She had always kept it there.
+In her cleaning she had put it back. Emily, too, had put it back. They
+had never spoken Amy's name. But Ethel faced the picture now for some
+moments steadily. Somehow it had lost its beauty, it looked weak and
+soul-less, without power any longer over Ethel's future. "Poor Amy.
+Oh, how much you missed." And she added, "I'll never be like that." For
+an instant she let her mind dwell on the past, on how Susette's coming
+must have been--unwelcomed by her mother.
+
+"But this one will be welcomed! Our love is so--so different! This
+will bind us, oh, so close! It's done now, you're tied for life!" She
+had never felt it so before. The months of her marriage had been so
+exciting, and even in the long summer's thinking her love had seemed
+always a little unreal. "But this is real--inside of me!" Her fancy
+went careering ahead, with joy and wonder, a thrill of dismay. "I was
+so free, with my life to choose! I could have been almost anything!
+But now it is settled. This is my life. We talk and we talk about
+being free--and then all at once--a baby."
+
+
+In the days which followed and grew into weeks and months, the feeling
+of quiet remained with her. The pang of uneasiness as to how she was to
+find friends for Joe and herself, was allayed and put off to the future.
+He would not expect anything of her just now. And because it was
+pressing upon her no longer, it became a pleasure to dream and plan for
+herself and Joe and the children.
+
+She was only twenty-four, and although Joe was thirty-six he looked
+years younger. They could grow. Now she began asking him to read aloud
+in the evenings, nor was the reading all "mere fluff." Though she picked
+out amusing things to vary the monotony, she insisted on magazines and
+books which had been recommended by the little history "prof" at home,
+to whom Ethel wrote long letters. The books rather appalled her husband
+at times; but using her new hold on him, she said:
+
+"Go on, dear, now begin." And she picked up her sewing with a look which
+said, "We've got to grow, you know, if we're ever to get friends worth
+while or have a life worth living."
+
+But again she would shut out all that, and smile to herself and grow
+absorbed. And this habit grew to such a degree that by the beginning of
+summer their reading bees had come to an end. In June she took Martha
+and Susette and went to the seashore for three months. She came back in
+September, and now the time was drawing near. Her husband's love grew
+anxious and there came troubled gleams in his eyes.
+
+The trained nurse had arrived. The doctor kept coming. Martha was
+plainly "in a state." And Emily Giles, for all her grim ways, had
+moments almost tender. All centering, swiftly centering, as the long
+voyage neared its end.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+What deep relief and blessed peace. She lay on her bed, now smiling,
+now inert, eyes closed, weak and relaxed, but already aware from time to
+time of the beginnings within herself of new vitality, food for her
+child. Her body felt profoundly changed, and so it was with her spirit.
+Again the thought rose in her mind that this had settled and sealed her
+life. But she was glad of the certainty. Slowly, as her strength
+returned, all the vague desires and dreams of the last few months came
+back, grew clear; and she planned and planned for the small boy whom the
+nurse kept bringing to her bed. At such moments the new love within her
+rose like some fresh bursting spring.
+
+The city, though so vast, complex, came to be like a place full of
+miracles. The voices of its ceaseless life came into her window day and
+night, the hoots and distant bellows of ships, the rattle of wheels, the
+rush of cars, the long swift thunder of the "L," and bursts of laughter
+from the streets, and animated voices. She remembered her first night
+in New York; she recalled her earlier visions of the city as a place of
+thrilling aspirations, wide, sparkling, abundant lives. And Ethel
+smiled and told herself:
+
+"All the glory I dreamed of is here."
+
+The thought came to her clearly that Amy it was who had hidden it all,
+who had stood smilingly in the way and had said, "All this is nothing."
+But she felt a rush of pity now for the woman who was left behind, cut
+off so completely by the birth of this small son. The nurse was
+bringing him into the room, and Ethel smiled at her and said:
+
+"Ask Susette if she doesn't want to come, too."
+
+
+It was only a day or two later that her husband broke his news. He had
+been so dear to her, his visits had been such a joy, and although behind
+his tenderness vaguely she had sensed some change, some new excitement
+in his mind, in her own absorption in their boy she had attributed it to
+that. But early one evening he came in with a sheaf of roses in his
+arms, and when she had exclaimed at them and breathed deep of their dewy
+fragrance, Joe bent over and kissed her, and said a little huskily:
+
+"I've got some big news for you, little wife. It's big. It's going to
+mean so much."
+
+"What is it, Joe?"
+
+She stared up intently into his eyes. He was telling her he had made
+money. He was telling how the approaching birth of their small son had
+made him feel he must put an end to these ups and downs, and how he had
+worked and racked his brains. He told of heavy borrowing, of anxious
+weeks, of a wonderful stroke of luck at last which not only made him
+rich for the moment but opened the way to wealth ahead. He was speaking
+of what this would mean to them here. He knew how hard it had been for
+her and how pluckily she had come through without ever asking for
+anything. But all that was over now. He had made money! What was the
+matter? She heard it all in fragments, topsy turvy. What was wrong?
+"Here is a Joe I've never known!" Still staring up into his eyes, she
+saw their strange exultant light; the excitement in his husky voice
+struck into her sensitive ear and jarred; and she nearly shrank from the
+clutch of his hand. She lay wondering why she was not glad, till
+suddenly she saw in his face his sharp disappointment at the way she was
+taking his news. With a pang of alarm she roused herself and said:
+
+"Oh, Joe, it's too wonderful! It's so sudden it strikes me all of a
+heap!" And she laughed unsteadily, seized his hand and kissed it,
+talking rapidly, her eyes glistening all the while with foolish tears.
+Fiercely then she asked herself, "Why can't you enter in and be gay?"
+But though she was doing better now and had him talking as before, again
+and again she felt he was thinking how different Amy would have
+been--how in an instant, laughing and crying, she would have thrown
+herself into his arms!
+
+Yes, indeed, a Joe she had never known, shaped and moulded by the wife
+who had had him in those early years when a woman can do so much with a
+man, can do what sets him in a groove in work and living, tastes,
+ideals. "And I thought I had done so much!" But Amy's hand had still
+been there; he had been her husband, all the time!
+
+It was a relief to have him gone. Alone she could think more clearly.
+"What are you so frightened about? Of being rich, you little fool?" No,
+she had always wanted that, money enough to forget it existed, money to
+open all the doors. "But this money is coming too soon! I'm not ready.
+I'm too young! And he'll expect so much of me now. There'll be no
+excuse for holding back, for going slow till I find what I want. He'll
+expect me to find friends at once! But where shall I find them all of a
+sudden? It isn't as though we were millionaires, really big ones, all
+in a minute. The newspapers won't be very excited; the town will take
+it quite calmly, quite! And for the life of me I don't see any friends
+rushing at us! And yet he'll expect it! So much he'll expect! He'll
+give and give and give me things and then wonder why I don't get
+anywhere!" The angry tears leaped in her eyes. "Because he's different
+now, he's changed! All bursting with his big success, his 'strike,' his
+business--money mad! Oh, how I hate his business--and that detestable
+partner, too!"
+
+A wave of rebellion swept over her at the way she had been caught,
+tangled into the life of a man and the fortunes of his business. But
+then she thought of the son she had borne him, and this brought quick
+remorse and tears, from which she fell into a deep sleep. And when she
+awoke she found the nurse was waiting with the baby.
+
+And the days which followed with their peace, their slow return of
+health and strength, brought assurance, too, and she laughed at herself
+for having been such a foolish child. She recalled her panic on her
+wedding night. Then, too, she had found a Joe unknown. But had that
+turned out so dreadful? He came often to her bedside now; and although
+she could feel how changed he was, it no longer frightened her. She had
+her wee boy; and Emily Giles and Susette and her nurse kept coming in;
+and the room grew very gay, as they had little parties there.
+
+"Who needs friends so all of a sudden!"
+
+But one day Emily came in and grimly remarked, "There's a woman outside
+who owns this apartment."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She acts that way. She's walking 'round that sitting-room--picking
+things up and putting things down-" Emily's voice was rising in wrath.
+
+"Emily! Sh-h! She'll hear you! Who is she? Didn't she give her
+name?"
+
+"Here's her name!" And Emily poked out a card, at which Ethel looked in
+a startled way.
+
+"Fanny Carr! Now why has she come here?"
+
+"Will you see her or shall I tell her the flat is already rented?"
+
+"No, no! Emily--don't be rude! She's a friend of my--my husband's!"
+
+And a few moments later, propped up in bed with a pretty lace cap on her
+head, Ethel was smiling affably at her visitor, who was exclaiming:
+
+"My dear girl, I'm so glad to see you again! So good of you, letting me
+in like this! I didn't have the least idea! I didn't know of your
+baby--I hadn't even heard you were married! I've been abroad for over a
+year. I got back to New York only last week and heard from one of Joe's
+men friends of the luck he has had--how his business is simply booming
+along! It's perfectly gorgeous, Ethel dear, and I'm so glad for you, my
+child! When I heard the news--"
+
+She talked on vivaciously. And Ethel lay back, her gaze intent on
+Fanny's handsome features, on her rich lips, pearl earrings, her eyes
+with their curious color, grey green, that were so sparkling and alive.
+And Ethel thought to herself in dismay: "How much more attractive she
+is! Was my first feeling about her all wrong, or is it that I'm getting
+used to these New Yorkers? I thought she was just hard--all brass! She
+isn't! She's--she's dangerous! What is she poking 'round here for?
+What does she want? Is she married again? No, her name was the same on
+her card. Still single--yes, and looking around--for somebody with
+money!"
+
+By the questions Fanny was asking, plainly she was trying to find what
+friends Ethel had made in New York. And although the girl on the bed
+talked of the town in glowing terms, in a few moments Fanny was saying:
+
+"I'm afraid you've been rather lonely here."
+
+"Oh, no!" And Ethel laughed merrily. "If you knew how my time is
+filled--every hour! My small boy--" and she went eagerly on to show how
+full her life had become.
+
+"Oh, you darling!" Fanny laughed. And then with an envious sigh she
+said, "You make me feel so old and forlorn. With all your beauty, Ethel
+Lanier, and youth--your whole life starting--well, you've just got to
+let me in and take you about. Oh, I know, I know, it's so wonderful
+here, and fresh and new, and you're quite contented and all that. But
+after all, it's a city, you know--a perfectly good one, full of
+life--and people you'll like--old friends of Joe's." She went on in a
+crisp gay tone to paint the pleasures of the town. And meanwhile
+glancing at Ethel she thought, "What a perfect devil she thinks me, poor
+child, a bold bad creature on Joe's trail--when all I want is to take
+her around and help her spend her money. I need it badly enough, God
+knows!"
+
+At last she rose.
+
+"I mustn't tire you. Good-bye, dear. You'll let me come again, of
+course."
+
+"Oh, yes, do." At Ethel's tone, Fanny smiled to herself, as deftly she
+adjusted her furs. She turned to look in the mirror and her eye was
+caught by the photograph of Amy over on Joe's chiffonier. She moved a
+step toward it, paused, turned back, and with a good-bye to Ethel went
+out.
+
+Ethel's eyes went back to the photograph. How strong and alarming, all
+in an hour, Amy's picture had become. As she looked, it seemed to take
+on life, to be saying, "Money! Money at last!" And with dismay she told
+herself:
+
+"Now they'll come in a perfect horde!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"Shall I tell Joe! Most certainly."
+
+But she did not tell him all, that night. She did not say, "One of
+Amy's friends was here today, and she's coming again, and more are
+coming--and I hate them, every one!" She simply remarked:
+
+"Oh, Joe, dear--Fanny Carr was here today."
+
+"She was, eh?" he gave a slight start. "Where has she been all this
+time?"
+
+"Abroad." And Ethel answered his questions. "She'll be here a good
+deal, I fancy," she ended. Joe looked annoyed and uneasy. But he did
+not speak, that evening, of the memories rising in his mind. For on
+both the old spell of silence was strong. Subtly the spirit of the
+first wife came stealing back into the room, pervaded it and made it her
+own. But her name was still unspoken.
+
+The next day brought an exquisite baby's cap with Fanny's card tucked
+inside. And in the fortnight after that, Fanny herself came several
+times. She talked in such a natural way, and her smile and the look in
+her clever grey eyes was so good-humoured and friendly. "She's doing it
+beautifully," Ethel thought. But she pulled herself up. "Doing what
+beautifully? What do I mean? One would think we were millionaires, and
+Joe a perfect Adonis! Is she trying to eat us? And aren't you rather a
+snob, my love, to be so sure you hate the woman before you even know
+her?"
+
+At such moments Ethel would relax and grow pleasantly interested in
+Fanny's talk of Paris and Rome, or of New York. In each city Fanny
+seemed to have led very much the same existence. In each there had been
+Americans, and hotels, cafés and dances, motor trips and lunches, gossip
+and scandal without end. But she told of it all in a humorous way that
+made it quite amusing. And it was a good deal the same with the two
+women, Amy's friends, whom Fanny brought to tea a bit later. Their
+gossip and their laughter, their voices breaking into each other and
+making a perfect hubbub at times, their smart suits and hats and dainty
+boots, their plump faces, lively eyes, all were quite exciting to Ethel,
+when she threw off her hostility and the uneasiness they aroused. It
+felt good to be gossipy once more.
+
+But how they chattered! How they stayed! Joe would be coming home soon
+now, and she wanted them to go. But they did not go, and Ethel guessed
+that it was Joe they were waiting for. She was sure of it when he
+appeared. The way they all rushed at him with little shrieks of
+laughter, talking together, excited as girls! "Though they're all years
+older than I am!" Ethel angrily exclaimed, as she sat there matronly and
+severe. She eyed her husband narrowly, and at first with keen
+satisfaction she saw how annoyed and embarrassed he was. But the
+moments passed, and he grew relieved, more easy and more natural, his
+voice taking on its usual tone, blunt and genial. And she thought,
+"He's going to like it!" For a moment she detested him then. "They'll
+flatter him, make a tin god of him! No, I mean a money god! That's
+what they want, his money!" She positively snorted, but no one seemed to
+notice it. Now they were turning back to her and she was in the hubbub,
+too. And how amiably she smiled!
+
+When they were gone, there fell a silence which was like a sudden pall.
+"He can break it! I--won't!" she decided viciously. He had gone to
+their room, she had followed him there, and he was not having an easy
+time. He washed and dressed without a word. But at last he came to
+her.
+
+"Look here." His arm was about her, she jerked away, but he would not
+release her.
+
+"You're the most adorable little wife that ever made a man happy," he
+said. "But you're young, you know--"
+
+"Is that a crime?"
+
+"No, it's something those other women would all give their eye-teeth
+for."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"But you're human, you know, and you've got to grow older--and as you do
+you'll find, my dear, that it takes all kinds to make a world."
+
+"How original!" He went on unabashed:
+
+"And if you are to get any friends, you've got to get out and meet all
+kinds--many you don't like at all--and then little by little take your
+choice." He paused, and although he did not add, "After all, they're
+Amy's friends, and you might at least give 'em a chance"--Ethel knew he
+was thinking that, though he only ended gently, "But I guess I'll leave
+it all to you. Do as you like. I'll be satisfied."
+
+"He won't be, though," she told herself. She knew he would be
+distinctly annoyed if she did not enter in. "No, I've simply got to be
+nice to them. There's no keeping them away!"
+
+And in this she was right. Flowers and gifts for the baby came, and
+several more women friends; and one of them brought her husband. Nearly
+always they stayed until Joe came home; and in his manner, with dismay,
+she saw the hold they were getting. It was not only flattery they
+used, they appealed to his loyalty to his first wife. "Don't drop us
+now," they seemed to say. "We were your friends when you were
+poor--when she was poor. If she had lived, just think how welcome we
+should be."
+
+Early one evening when Ethel and Joe were dressing for dinner, Emily
+Giles came in with a long box of roses. Ethel thought they were for
+herself.
+
+"No," said Emily, "they're for your husband."
+
+"For me?" Joe laughed. "There's some mistake."
+
+"No--there's no mistake," said Ethel, in a low unnatural voice. In an
+instant she had grown cold. What a fool, to have forgotten that this
+was Amy's birthday! Inside the box was Fanny's card and on it she had
+written, "In memory of the many times I helped you buy a birthday gift."
+
+Ethel went quickly out of the room. It was an awkward evening.
+
+
+Fanny gave a dinner soon after that to celebrate Ethel's recovery. It
+was in a hotel grill room, and it was large and noisy--and noisier and
+noisier--till even above the boisterous hubbub at the tables all about,
+the noise of their party could be heard. At least so it seemed to
+Ethel's ears. And what were they saying? Anything really witty,
+sparkling? No--just chatter, peals of laughter! They were just plain
+cheap and tough! how red were their faces, warm and moist their lips
+and eyes!
+
+"You're not vivid enough, that's the trouble with you! You've got to be
+vivider!" she thought. "You ought to have taken that cocktail!" She
+drank wine now, a whole glass of it, and tried to be very boisterous
+with the man on her right, who was smiling back as though he could
+barely hear her voice. "He has had too much!" she told herself. "Oh,
+how I loathe you--loathe you all!"
+
+But later, when they began to dance, she found with a little glow of
+relief that she could do this rather well. Thank Heaven she had taken
+those dancing lessons a year ago; and she was younger than most of these
+creatures, and more lithe and supple. The men were noticing, crowding
+around her. She caught a glare from one of their wives. And that glare
+helped tremendously, it came like a gleam of light in the dark. She
+caught Joe's admiring glances. She danced with him, then turned him
+down for somebody else, kept turning him down. She threw into her
+dancing an angry vim; but joy was coming into it, too. This was not so
+bad, after all. "You may even grow to like all this!" But most of her
+thinking was a whirl.
+
+She went home in a taxi, in Joe's arms. She thought, "This is how he
+and Amy came home. Never mind, I'm not half so weak as I thought. I
+can play this game--"
+
+And play it she did.
+
+The next morning they slept very late. They had breakfast in bed, and
+when Joe had gone she lay thinking. Her mind was marvellously clear.
+It went swiftly over the night before. Yes, most of it had been simply
+disgusting, the eating and drinking, those warm moist eyes. "The way
+the men looked at you, held you! This is no life for you, Ethel
+Lanier!" The dancing was all she cared about. She wanted that, but with
+other men whom she would like to be friends with--"men who would treat
+you as something more than a, than a--I don't know what!" Yes, she must
+get away from these creatures, and get Joe away, too; but to do it she
+must show him first that she was really willing to do her best to like
+them all. The next thing was to ask them here. "It's the only way to
+break their hold. Show him you're no jealous cat. And how do I know
+that among them all, as I go about, I won't find a few that aren't so
+tough? And through them I'll find others."
+
+
+But she put off entertaining Joe's friends, for she had her hands full
+now in managing just Joe alone. Amy's husband was coming to life in
+him. Of that there could be no mistake. Under the spell of his
+success, and still more perhaps through his pride and delight in his
+handsome young wife, Joe was showing his love for her as Amy had taught
+him long ago. He showered gifts upon her. He delighted in surprises.
+One was a smart little town car, and this was a very pleasant surprise.
+But in it he insisted upon her shopping busily. No more wearing last
+year's clothes! And when she was a bit slow to move, to her dismay he
+went himself with Fanny Carr, and bought for Ethel's birthday a costly
+set of furs and a brooch. He nearly bought pearl earrings, too, but
+Ethel took them back at once. "Fanny knows as well as I do myself that
+I can't wear pearls!" she thought angrily. She exchanged them for opal
+pendants. And then, in order to put a stop to Fanny's detestable
+attempts "to make me look like a perfect fright," Ethel did start in and
+shop. And as soon as she got well into it, what a fever it became!
+Sternly eyeing herself in the mirrors of shops, she studied and made
+mistakes by the score, and corrected and went on and on. "I'll look
+right if kills me!"
+
+One night she learned what Fanny Carr had had in mind when she came
+"poking into our lives!" For Fanny was poor--she had long guessed that;
+and Fanny had a house on Long Island, and only by a hair's--breadth now
+did Ethel keep her from selling it to Joe as a surprise for his wife.
+
+"Well, Fanny, what next?" thought Ethel that night. She had been awake
+for hours, perfectly still and motionless, not to disturb her husband.
+"For you are not through yet, Mrs. Carr. So long as we're rich and you
+are poor and have no immediate husband, you're going to act like a
+ravening wolf--aren't you, my own precious. You mean to break my hold
+on him by keeping him thinking of her, of her! Now what am I to do
+about it?" She frowned. She knew that she ought to talk frankly to Joe,
+and get over this silly habit of never mentioning Amy's name! She grew
+determined, but then weak. For what could she say to him about Amy?
+What did she really want to say? "Do I know poor Amy was anything bad?
+Wasn't she good to me? Would I care to try to talk against her? No.
+And even if I did, you see, it would only hurt me with Joe--as it
+should."
+
+So she went on in different moods. And now she saw her sister's face
+smiling out of clear violet eyes, and again she felt a small gloved hand
+on her husband drawing him gently back--back and back into the past.
+Why was Amy so much stronger now? "Because Fanny Carr has been clever
+enough to take me out of the life I was making and pitch me into Amy's
+life, where her hold on Joe was strongest. I'm in her setting. That's
+the trouble!"
+
+But she had Amy's friends to dine one night, as in her calmer moods she
+knew was the only sensible course. And as they began arriving, by swift
+degrees amid the buzz of talk which rose, Ethel could feel the room each
+moment change and become Amy's home. And it was Amy's dinner, too. No
+cooking of Emily's that night, for Joe had suggested a caterer. "The
+one we've always used," he had said. And so the cocktails and the wines
+and the food in many courses, the two waiters in evening clothes, and
+the talk and the shrieks of mirth, were just as they must have been
+before so many, many times in this room. Ethel sat affably rigid there.
+
+And later at the piano Joe was not Ethel's husband. Nor was it her room
+when they stripped up the rugs and began to dance, nor her photograph
+their eyes kept seeking from time to time! She even thought she could
+hear them whisper about the hostess who was dead!
+
+And when very late they had departed, and last of all Joe had gone with
+Fanny downstairs to put her in her taxi, Ethel, left alone in the room,
+turned to her sister's photograph.
+
+"I won't be like you," she tensely declared. "I won't live in your
+home--with your husband--"
+
+The picture smiled good-naturedly back
+
+"All right," it seemed to answer, "then what do you expect to do?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+By the next day she had made up her mind to look for another apartment.
+The move had several points in its favour. It would not only take her
+away from this place where she felt the spell so strong; it would also
+give her something to do. "And I need it, heaven knows!" she thought.
+And besides it would provide an excuse for not seeing Amy's friends.
+"I'll be worn out every evening," she decided with grim satisfaction.
+
+She found Joe more than ready for the change. He himself had suggested
+it, some weeks before, and Ethel made the most of that. "I've been
+thinking over your idea of moving," she began one night. And in the
+talk which followed, the intent little glances she threw at him made her
+sure that in her husband's mind was a half conscious deep relief at the
+idea of getting away from these rooms and their memories.
+
+"Poor dear," she reflected tenderly, "what a place for a tired business
+man--a home with two assorted wives waiting for him every night."
+
+But when it came to looking about, to her surprise Ethel found it hard,
+on her own account, to make the move. For with all its faults and
+drawbacks, this was the place where she had struggled, groped and
+dreamed, had married Joe and discovered him in hours she would never
+forget, and here her baby had been born. The place had grown familiar.
+Even the huge building, for all its appearance of being exactly like
+every other on the street, had in some curious fashion taken on for
+Ethel a special atmosphere of its own; and coming back from a bleak
+succession of apartments she had inspected, this did at least seem more
+like a home.
+
+Joe came to her rescue. He was a part owner here, and with delight she
+learned from him that a large and sunny apartment at the top of the
+building was to be free the first of May. Ethel went up to see it at
+once. And the arrangement of the rooms, and the way the sun flooded
+into each one, made her exclaim with pleasure.
+
+The present tenants were a young widow and her companion, a most
+respectable elderly dame. The widow was about Ethel's age and
+excessively pretty and stylish, and in her low sweet voice and her
+manner was a peculiar attractiveness that Ethel could not analyse. She
+explained that she was going abroad, possibly to be gone a year, or
+she never would have given up this gem of an apartment. She seemed more
+than glad to show Ethel about, and displayed a friendly interest in her
+visitor's eager planning. When Ethel left at the end of an hour, the
+widow smiled at her and said, with a charming little hesitation:
+
+"I don't think you have my name. It's Mrs. Grewe. I do hope you'll
+come up whenever you like, and let me help you all I can. I shall so
+love to feel when I go that you and your kiddies will be here. I've
+noticed them so often, down-stairs and in the elevator. And they're
+both such darlings."
+
+And at that, with a thrill of pride, Ethel felt almost as though she had
+found a friend in the city at last.
+
+They saw each other frequently, for Ethel was always running in to look
+through the various rooms and puzzle and decide on curtains, rugs and
+portieres. In this she was aided more than she knew by the taste
+displayed in the furnishings, rich, subdued and yet so gay, that young
+Mrs. Grewe had collected here. The two had animated talks, and once
+when her new acquaintance suggested, "I'd be so glad if I could be of
+some help in your shopping," Ethel replied, "Oh, you could! I'd love to
+have you!" And they started in that day.
+
+And yet how curious, even here. For whenever Ethel endeavoured to get
+the conversation upon a little more intimate terms, Mrs. Grewe would
+almost instantly become evasive and remote. And once when Ethel asked
+her to "drop down and have dinner with us some night," she declined
+almost with a start, as though she were saying, "Ha! Look out! I'm in
+danger of letting you be a real friend!" And thinking this over, Ethel
+reflected, "The only New Yorker I've met so far, whom I'd like to know,
+is nice to me simply because she is going abroad in a month and so it's
+safe! Has she offered to introduce me to a single friend of hers?
+Well, then, don't! Keep your old friends! I don't want to eat them!"
+And for days together she would leave the young widow alone.
+
+But the latter would make pleasant advances, and soon they would be
+shopping again. This acquaintance was one of the few bright spots in a
+season which for Ethel was full of anxious worries. For it was by no
+means easy. Amy had been a shopper who simply could not resist pretty
+things, and so her apartment was crowded with furniture and bric-a-brac.
+"How much can I get rid of without offending Joe?" asked Ethel. He was
+the kind of man who says nothing. He would not object, but he would
+feel hurt. It took the most careful probing to find how far she could
+safely go. And she was tempted by the shops. In her smart town car,
+with plenty of money and with young Mrs. Grewe at her side, it was
+almost impossible to resist the adorable things she discovered. "No
+wonder Amy bought too much." But there they were, all Amy's
+belongings, and to be rid of each table, each chair, each rug, meant
+the most careful thinking.
+
+"Nevertheless," she told herself. "That apartment upstairs is to be my
+own home."
+
+In the meantime her new occupation was working out wonderfully as an
+excuse for not going about in the evenings. She was so dead tired every
+night. No need to feign fatigue, it was real. She even had to call in
+her physician, in the first "draggy" days of Spring; and he warned her
+that she was doing too much, it was too soon after the birth of her
+child. She was glad when Joe happened to come in and overhear the
+doctor. He became the same old dear to her that he had been a year
+ago. And with eagerness, tired though she was, she took pains every
+evening to dress in ways that she knew he liked. And at times it was
+almost like a second honeymoon they were having. She used the baby,
+too, and Susette; she often persuaded Joe to come home in time for
+Susette's supper, or better still for the baby's bath. And all this was
+so successful that even when her spring fever was gone she still stayed
+at home in the evenings.
+
+But in the meantime, what about friends? "I'm lazy," she thought, "I'm
+not facing it! I'm just putting it off--and it's dangerous!" For Joe
+was out so much at night. Over half the time he did not get home until
+the children were in bed, and often after a hurried dinner he would
+leave by eight o'clock--for business appointments, he told her, at some
+club or some café. He was putting through another big deal. At times,
+despite her efforts, angry suspicions would arise. He was dealing with
+some men from the West. No doubt they had to be entertained. She had
+heard a little of such entertaining from travelling men she had known at
+home. "Oh, Ethel Lanier, don't be so disgusting!" But after all, a man
+so tense all day in his office needed some gaiety at night.
+
+She began to suggest going out in the evenings. They went to
+"Butterfly" and "Louise," and each evening was a great success. But
+within a few days Fanny Carr called up and asked them to dinner and the
+play. Ethel made some excuse and declined. She did not mention it to
+Joe, but that night he said gruffly, "Sorry you turned Fanny down." And
+Ethel looked at him with a start. So Joe was seeing her these days!
+
+"I haven't been feeling very strong, Joe," she said in an unnatural
+tone.
+
+"You've been to the opera twice this week," was her husband's grim
+rejoinder.
+
+And this was only one little instance of many that made Ethel sure that
+Fanny Carr was still about. She was getting at Joe through his business
+side, going to his office. She had asked him to sell her house on Long
+Island, and through this transaction she had tangled him into her
+affairs. A lone woman, defenceless in business, needing the aid and
+advice of a man. "Oh, I can almost hear her lay it on--her
+helplessness!" And Ethel fairly ground her teeth. For Fanny, only the
+day before, having called and noticed that a sofa and a rug were
+missing, had asked to what dealer Ethel had sold them. "Now," thought
+Ethel, "she'll buy them herself, and then she'll ask Joe to drop in for
+tea at her hotel apartment--'on business,' of course-but the rug and
+sofa will be there! Poor Amy's things! Oh, yes, indeed, Fanny is
+clever enough! If only she would take his money--and get out and leave
+us alone!" Ethel had some lonely grapples with life. She was right, she
+angrily told herself, in wanting to go slowly until she could discover
+real friends; but on the other hand she admitted that Joe had reason for
+being impatient. At thirty-seven it is hard for a man to change his
+habits, and Amy had accustomed Joe to crave excitement every night.
+Even Ethel herself, in some of her moods, felt restless to go about and
+be gay. And again and again the youth in her rebelled against the trap
+into which she had fallen.
+
+"The minute I even propose a play, I show him I'm well enough to go out.
+And then he asks, 'Why not Amy's friends?' And he remembers the mean
+little things that Fanny Carr must have told him--the beast!--and so he
+says, 'I see it all. Ethel is only bluffing. Now that I'm rich she's
+trying to make me drop the friends and the memory of the wife who stood
+by me when I was poor.'"
+
+Ethel even went out twice to their detestable parties, in the faint hope
+of finding one woman at least she would care to know. But if there had
+been any such, Fanny was careful to leave them out.
+
+Friends, friends, friends of her own! Where to find them? On the
+streets, as she went about at her shopping, she saw so many attractive
+people, and she drew their glances, too. She had developed since her
+marriage; she had a distinctive beauty, and she had learned how to
+foster that. Almost always she felt the hungry eyes of men, good, bad
+and indifferent, rich men, beggars, Christians, Jews. But that of
+course was only annoying. Ethel wanted women friends. On the street,
+from her elegant little car, she could see women who were walking glance
+at her with envy, just as she herself had done in her first year in the
+city. The thought brought a humorous smile to her lips. And looking at
+the constant stream of motors passing, she inquired, "How many of us are
+there, in this imposing procession, who haven't a single friend in
+town?" How they all passed on. How coolly indifferent, self-absorbed!
+Was there no entering wedge to their lives?
+
+But her youth would rise with a sudden rush in her warm body, so smartly
+dressed, so tingling with ardent health, and glancing into the glass in
+her car and making a little face at herself, she would exclaim:
+
+"Oh, fiddlesticks! All this is going to have a nice fine happy ending!
+Nothing awful is to happen to me!"
+
+At one such time, as though interrupted, she leaned quickly and
+graciously forward, as she had seen women do in the Park, and bowed with
+a cordial little smile--to a vacant lot--and then turning back to the
+imagined friend at her side, she said sweetly, "Excuse me, dear. What
+were you saying? Why yes, we'd love to. Thursday night? What time do
+you dine?" A lump rose in her throat. "Now, Ethel, Ethel, you soft
+little fool--you're only twenty-five, you know. And of all the adorable
+babies waiting in a nursery--"
+
+One day she found Fifth Avenue crammed and jammed with a huge parade.
+She had her chauffeur get as close as he could, and with intent and
+curious eyes she watched the suffragists march by. What hosts and hosts
+of women, how jolly and how friendly. Oh, what a lark they were having
+together! Why not join them, then and there? For an instant she
+thought of leaving her car and falling right in with some marching
+group. "But how do I know they won't turn me down?" She waited and lost
+courage. Soon she saw marching ahead of one section a smartly dressed
+woman whose photograph she had often seen in the papers. At this
+Ethel's courage oozed again, and with a pang of envy she thought:
+
+"Oh, yes, this is all very fine for you! You're so safe and settled
+here; you've got position--everything!"
+
+In a moment she felt this was small and mean. The envy and the
+bitterness passed. She watched other women, such confident, easy,
+bright-looking creatures--not at all like Amy's set--who looked as
+though they could preside at big meetings or at their own tables at
+home, and be gracious and say witty things to the clever men at their
+sides. Behind them came whole regiments of women and girls of a simpler
+kind. Some of them earned their own living, no doubt--yes, and had to
+work hard to do it.
+
+"Wouldn't they do? Look at that one! Wouldn't I like her for a
+friend?"
+
+In a flash Ethel remembered the little history "prof" at home, who had
+begged her girls to live and grow.
+
+"Now, Ethel Lanier, you're going to get right out of this car and fall
+into line--friends or no friends!"
+
+In a moment, scowling to keep up her nerve, she was pushing through the
+standers-by right out into the Avenue; and feeling like a public sight,
+she tried quickly to get into line.
+
+"You can't march here! Our line is full!" a voice said sharply. Ethel
+gasped and reddened, turned blindly to the file behind.
+
+"Do you want to march with us?" somebody asked.
+
+"Yes! Oh, thank you!"
+
+"Fall right in. That's right, my dear--here, take one of my flags."
+
+"You're awfully kind!"
+
+"Hooray for the vote!"
+
+Through eyes a little misty Ethel saw striding along at her side a
+sturdy little old lady in black. And she blessed her fervently. It was
+a thrilling marvellous time. In less than ten minutes she felt herself
+boon companions with every one in her line. But then, before she
+realized what it was that had happened, her group had reached the end of
+their march and had melted suddenly into a throng of chattering laughing
+women. Ethel stared about her blindly.
+
+
+"Never mind," she decided, "I'm going to see more of this!"
+
+And the next day she presented herself at suffrage headquarters.
+
+"I want to work," she said to a girl at a desk. The girl looked up at
+her busily.
+
+"All right, go to that table," she answered. And at a long oak table,
+one of a dozen women and girls, Ethel folded envelopes and addressed
+them for about three hours. Down at the end, two girl companions
+chatted and laughed at their labour. But the rest were just busy.
+"Hand me those envelopes, if you please." And so it was all through the
+room. She came back the next morning and the next; and as she worked,
+her expression was grim. "It isn't their fault," she decided. "They
+want the vote, they don't want me."
+
+And she turned forlornly back to the work of moving up to her new
+apartment.
+
+The first of May was drawing near, and she saw signs of restlessness, as
+thousands of New Yorkers prepared to change their quarters. Moving,
+always moving. Did they never stop in one place and make it a home?
+The big building in which Ethel lived took on an impersonal air, as
+though saying, "What do I care? I'm all concrete, with good hard steel
+inside of that." What a queer place for people's homes! People moving
+in and out! Curiously she probed into its life. She had long ago made
+friends with the wife of the superintendent, and through her Ethel
+collected bits about these many families so close together and yet so
+apart; all troubles kept strictly out of sight, with the freight
+elevator for funerals, cool looks and never a word of greeting. "Keep
+off," writ clear on every face.
+
+"It isn't real, this living! It can't last!" she exclaimed to herself.
+"They'll have to work out something better than this--something, oh,
+much homier!" She thought of the old frame house in Ohio. "That's
+gone," she declared, with a swallow.
+
+Her acquaintance with young Mrs. Grewe was still the one bright spot at
+such times. When Ethel felt blue she would go upstairs to the sunny new
+home that was to be hers; and there the blithe welcome she received
+restored her own belief in herself. Mrs. Grewe would often lead her to
+talk of her home in Ohio, the eager dreams and plans of her girlhood;
+and on her side, the young widow gave pictures of life in London and
+Paris as she had seen it so many times. They still shopped together
+occasionally.
+
+But one afternoon about six o'clock, as Ethel's car drew up at the door
+and she and her one friend got out, Joe came along--and with one quick
+angry look he hurried into the building. Quite furious and ashamed for
+him, Ethel turned to her companion--but Mrs. Grewe smiled queerly and
+held out her small gloved hand.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear, it has been so nice--this afternoon and all the
+others." Her tone was a curious mixture of amused defiance and real
+regret. Ethel stammered something, but in a moment her friend was gone.
+
+Upstairs she met Joe with an angry frown, but to her indignant
+reproaches he replied by a quizzical smile.
+
+"Look here, Ethel." He took her arm, in a kind protecting sort of way
+which made her fairly boil. "Look here. I can't let you go about with
+a shady little person like that. I didn't know you'd picked her up.
+Now, now--I understand, of course--you met her up there in the new
+apartment. What a fool I was not to have thought of it."
+
+"Thought of what? For goodness sake!"
+
+"She won't do, that's all."
+
+"Why won't she?" Ethel's colour was suddenly high and her brown eyes had
+a dangerous gleam. Joe looked at her, hesitating.
+
+"Yes," he said, "you're the kind of a girl who has to be told the truth
+now and then. She's the mistress of one of our big millionaires."
+
+Ethel stared at him blankly.
+
+"I don't believe it!" she cried. "Her taste! The way she dresses!
+Her--her voice--the things she says!"
+
+"I know, I know," he answered. "That sort is rare and they come high.
+I've talked to her--"
+
+"Oh, you have, have you! Then why shouldn't I?"
+
+"Because, my dear, I'm one of the owners of this building. My talks
+were brief--just business."
+
+"What business had you letting her in?"
+
+"Because times were bad three years ago and tenants weren't so easy to
+find. What harm has she done? This isn't a social club, you know--"
+
+"I know it isn't! Nobody speaks--or even smiles!" A lump rose in
+Ethel's throat. "And she was so nice and friendly!"
+
+"I'll bet she was--"
+
+"I won't believe it!" Now her face was reddening with
+self-mortification. "Do you mean to tell me--living like that--with a
+companion, even--a prim old maid who looks as though she had left Boston
+only last night--"
+
+A twinkle came into her husband's eyes: "My dear, the friend of a big
+millionaire always keeps some one from Boston close by." His arm went
+around her. "Poor little girl. I guess I won't have to say any more--"
+
+"Perhaps you will and perhaps you won't!" Now again she was nearly
+choking with rage and with hurt vanity. Her one and only companion!
+The only woman she had been clever enough to find! That kind! Oh-h!
+Suddenly she turned to Joe to tell him that if he could give her no
+friends she'd pick and choose just where she liked! But quickly she
+remembered that he would answer, "Haven't I tried?" She turned away,
+broke into tears and left the room.
+
+Out of the little storm that followed, she emerged at last with the
+thought, "Well, I must see her, anyway, in the work of moving into her
+apartment. And am I sorry? Not at all! She was good to me--at least
+she was that! And besides," reflected Ethel, with the same caution and
+relief which she had so despised in New Yorkers, "she's going soon.
+It's safe enough."
+
+The talk occurred the next morning, up in the new apartment. There were
+no awkward preliminaries, for Mrs. Grewe's whole manner had changed.
+Quite a bit of its careful refinement was gone, and in its place was a
+rather bitter frankness.
+
+"I quite understand--you needn't explain," she said at once. "Your
+husband has made a fuss, hasn't he? And this is good-bye. Too bad,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Yes--it is." Ethel hesitated, then all at once she beamed on
+her friend. "I want you to know," she stoutly declared, "that neither
+is my husband my boss nor am I a prig! Back in school, we girls--we
+used to talk--and read and discuss things--Bernard Shaw--" Her hostess
+smiled:
+
+"Oh, Shaw, my dear, is a dear, witty man--and he's so funny and so fair.
+But to live with him--ugh!--rather icy!" She laughed. "See here. No
+matter what you have read, you've never met me until now. I mean the
+big Me that thrills all girls--who speak about me in whispers. Well,
+then, just for a minute, meet me--look at me and see what I am." On her
+piquante little face was a look of friendly challenge. "We've had such
+fine little shopping bees, and I'd like you not to be sorry. And what I
+want to say is this:
+
+"I was just like you. I came from a small town--I had my dreams--I
+reached New York--I married." She smiled. "Not once but twice. I was
+divorced. And my second was a love of a man, and we had such a blissful
+honeymoon. It lasted a year and a half, and then--he got taking
+things--dope--and that made it hard. It ended in another divorce. The
+next man didn't marry me. Meant to, you know, but hadn't time. Then he
+passed on--" with a wave of her hand--"and now I'm here." A humorous
+smile came over her face. "And for the life of me I can't see how
+changed it is from when I was married. The same sort of apartment, only
+it's nicer--the same ocean liners and hotels--the same cafés where one
+can dance exactly as one did before." Again she wrinkled up her brows.
+"The only real difference I can see is that when I was married like you,
+my husband only told me the truth once in a while--as yours did last
+night--while now they tell it all the time. Oh, I'm wise, I'm wise, my
+dear--for one so young. I'm twenty-eight. How old are you?"
+
+"I'm twenty-five."
+
+"Three years behind. Well, on the whole I guess I'd stay married if I
+were you. It's so nice, if he's still in love with you. But the minute
+he isn't, or makes any fuss, or gets ugly or mean, remember this." And
+her sweet, clear voice grew impressive. "Remember then you can never be
+sure what he's really doing in this town. I know--because they tell
+me--and most of them are married men. And second, and last and
+always--remember, my dear, that with your figure and your face and your
+lovely hair which you do so well, you don't have to put up with any man!
+You can get right out whenever you please! And the only trouble will be
+to choose your next from all the others who will come crowding about
+you! And whether you make him marry you--well--I honestly think there's
+not much choice." She rose and said, with a strange little smile.
+
+"Now that I've had my little revenge on your beast of a husband for
+spoiling it all, when I wasn't doing the least bit of harm and was
+leaving anyhow this week--let's say good-bye and each get to our
+packing."
+
+
+"She was once like me. I could be like her," thought Ethel late that
+night. She had been lying awake for hours. "I could be--but I won't!"
+she declared. "She had read Shaw. How funny! . . . I think it's a
+mighty big mistake to let young girls read Bernard Shaw. Susette
+certainly shan't!" Her lips compressed. In a moment she was frowning.
+
+"How easily Joe changed about from loving Amy to loving me. Here he
+lies asleep at my side. Where was he today? What do I know? . . .
+Oh, Ethel Lanier, don't be a fool and let every cheap little woman you
+meet get you thinking things! Such silly things! . . . I do wish
+that odious Fanny Carr would get out of my life and stay out! . . .
+You'd better be very careful, Joe." She had risen on her elbow now, and
+by the dim light from the window she could just see her husband's face.
+"Because if you're not very good to me--remember that a person whom you
+yourself consider one of the very best of her kind--told me that I--"
+
+She dropped back. All at once her face was burning.
+
+"Oh, how I loathe all this!" she thought. "And how silly and untrue!
+Do you want to know where you and I are different, little Mrs. Grewe?
+I'll tell you! I have a baby! And when he grows up he's going to have
+this same man still for a father! So there! I'm not sure about
+anything, even God, any more in this town--it's all a whirl! But I've
+got a baby, and Susette, and for them I'm going to have a real
+home--keep wide awake, make friends I'll love--and grow and learn and
+march in parades--and go to the opera in a box--and go to concerts, go
+abroad, shop in Paris--love my husband--be very gay--make friends,
+friends--I will, I will--I won't be downed--I'll beat this cat of a
+city--
+
+"However. Now I'll go to sleep-."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+She did not see Mrs. Grewe again, she did not want to see her. It was
+not until from the telephone girl she learned that the charming young
+widow was gone, that Ethel went up to her new home. In a little while
+her furniture would begin to pour in, but as yet the rooms were empty,
+flooded with warm sunshine. She looked about and thought of the life
+which had been here, and then of Mrs. Grewe's advice and her last
+smiling admonition. She could almost hear the voice.
+
+"Is every place I live in to be haunted?" Ethel asked herself. And then
+with a humorous little scowl: "Now see here, young woman, the sooner you
+learn that every apartment in this city has a complete equipment of
+ghosts, the better it will be for you. I don't care who lived here, nor
+how she lived nor what she said. I don't need her advice, and her life
+is not to affect mine in the slightest!" She stopped short. Of whom was
+she speaking, Mrs. Grewe or Amy? There were two of them now! Both had
+given her advice, and in each case the life portrayed had been very much
+alike, so much so as to be rather disturbing. Things were certainly
+queer in this town!
+
+"Very well, my dears," she said amiably, "if I must be haunted, it's
+much more gay and sociable to have two instead of one. Remember tea
+will be served at five, and from the present outlook there's little
+chance of our being disturbed by the intrusion of any live woman in New
+York."
+
+"At least the ghosts are friendly." She suddenly compressed her lips and
+looked about: "However!" She went to the telephone in the hall: "Please
+hurry up those porters! I'm up here waiting to begin!"
+
+And in the days that followed, she was far too engrossed in "settling"
+to spare any time for brooding on phantoms. "A home of my own and a
+life of my own, to be lived with my own husband!" But when at last they
+were settled, and Joe in a dear, genial mood had gone about admiring,
+and taking no notice apparently of the scarcity of Amy's things--he
+turned to Ethel with an air which was meant to be easy and natural:
+
+"Well, now that we're taking a fresh start, the time has come for a
+little talk."
+
+"What about?" she asked, endeavouring to make her smile as easy as his.
+
+"It will take about one minute." His gruff voice was low and kind. "I'm
+not going to force my friends on you. If you want to make friends of
+your own, go ahead. And when you get them let me know--and they'll be
+mine, too, if I have to break a leg in the effort. I'll dance in front
+of them, so to speak, until they're all enchanted. But in the meantime,
+on your side, I want you to let me down easy with these people I once
+knew. I don't want to hurt them or be a cad. A few I may keep in touch
+with for years."
+
+
+"Fanny!" flashed into Ethel's mind.
+
+"And all I ask of you is this. You'll soon be going away for the
+summer. Let's do the decent thing--just once--and have a little party
+here. I give you my word we won't do it again."
+
+"All right, Joe--that's fair, of course--and I'll do my best to make it
+exactly what you want."
+
+And in the dinner that she gave, Ethel lived up to her bargain. The
+dinner was large; there were twenty guests. The caterer was as before,
+and so were the food and the flowers. And all through the evening Ethel
+was gracious and affable. But behind her affability, hidden but subtly
+conveyed to each guest, was a serene good-bye to them. This was their
+dismissal. Did they all feel it, every one? To her at least it seemed
+so. Again and again she caught the men throwing looks of regret at Joe,
+and the women glancing about the rooms as though in search of what was
+gone. Amy's things! Oh, more than that. The whole atmosphere was
+gone. This was the home of the second wife.
+
+"Well, dear, did I live up to our bargain?" she asked her husband when
+they were alone.
+
+"You did," said Joe. He looked at her then in such a puzzled, masculine
+fashion. What she had done and how she had done it was plainly such a
+mystery to him. "You did," he repeated loyally. She slipped her arms
+about his neck.
+
+"Thank you, love," she answered. And in a moment or two she murmured,
+"Have them again in the Fall if you like."
+
+"No," said Joe. "Once was enough."
+
+
+"Now," she asked herself the next day, "let's try to see what all this
+means." She was almost speaking aloud. She was growing so accustomed to
+these sociable little chats with herself. "It means that I am getting
+on. But Fanny Carr will still be about. She won't come here except
+just enough to keep up appearances, but she'll still have her business
+dealings with Joe in the management of her property. He means to keep
+in touch, he said, 'with a few of them'--meaning her, of course--and his
+tone conveyed quite plainly that I am to leave him alone in that until I
+can produce friends of my own. Whereupon, my dear," she threw up her
+hands, "we come back to exactly the same point at which we have been all
+along. Where am I going to find friends?" And she gave an angry,
+baffled sigh. "Oh, damn New York!"
+
+As she glared viciously about the pretty, sunny living room, the image
+of its former tenant rose up in her memory. And Ethel's expression
+changed at once, became intent and thoughtful. How much more attractive
+was Mrs. Grewe than were any of Amy's set. Immoral? Yes, decidedly.
+But what did "immoral" mean in this town? Who was moral? Fanny Carr?
+Did these wives and divorcees do any good with their "moral" lives? She
+recalled what Mrs. Grewe had said: "And whether you marry or whether
+you don't, for the life of me I can't see any difference." And again:
+"With your face and figure, my dear, you don't have to put up with any
+one man." Ethel sat frowning straight before her.
+
+"What kind of a life am I going to find? I'm going to stay with my
+husband--that's sure. I'm in love with him and he with me. That much
+is decided."
+
+She rose abruptly, and walking the floor she firmly resolved to "be
+wholesome" and look on the bright side of things. In the next few weeks
+she busied herself with the small affairs of her household. There was
+plenty to occupy her mind. There were finishing touches to give to the
+rooms; there were Spring clothes to buy for Susette; and the baby was
+ready for short dresses and a baby carriage. There was the life in the
+nursery, a cheerful little world in itself. There was Martha, grown
+more friendly now, and Emily and the new waitress, Anne, and the
+telephone girl and the chauffeur and the clerks in various shops who had
+become acquaintances--altogether quite a circle of people who greeted
+Ethel on her rounds. One day as she passed a laundry shop she spied
+this sign in the window: "Fine linen respectfully treated." And Ethel
+chuckled at the thought that she herself was treated like that. On the
+whole it was rather pleasant, though, and she made the most of it. She
+was being carefully "wholesome."
+
+Now it was well along in June, time for the children to go to the
+seashore, so she began to hunt for a place. At the traveller's bureaus
+she visited she found the clerks more than ready to give advice by the
+hour to this gracious young creature so stylishly clad. And she had
+soon selected a quiet little resort in Rhode Island.
+
+But what was Joe doing all this time? She did not mean to keep prying,
+but for the life of her she could not help throwing out casual
+inquiries. His reply was always, "Business"; and he would go on to give
+her details--all of which were tiresome. How much was he seeing of
+Fanny Carr and her detestable money affairs? His manner, engrossed as
+it had grown, and even irritable at times, made Ethel feel he was
+putting her further and further out of that part of his existence which
+now interested him most, the part that lay outside his home. Was it all
+business, all of it? "And when I go to the seashore, he'll be here five
+nights a week!" Sometimes he came in so late at night! Business? At
+such an hour? "Now carefully, carefully, Ethel Lanier." But in spite of
+herself the smiling words of young Mrs. Grewe recurred to her mind:
+"Most of them are married men."
+
+Ethel's doubts, however, were all ended late one night, when at the
+sound of his key in the door she got out of bed and came into the
+doorway of her room. Joe was standing in the hall. He did not see her.
+In fact, his eyes, when he switched on the light, seemed to see nothing
+in the world but the package of business papers he took from his
+overcoat. His face was haggard but intent. He turned and went into his
+study to work. And any suspicion of Fanny Carr, or of any other friend
+of Joe's, was swept at once from Ethel's mind. Her rival was his
+business.
+
+And later at the seashore, where she had so many hours alone, she
+thought about this work of his with deepening hostility. Her mind went
+back into the past. How his office had always absorbed him. What a
+refuge it had been in the months that followed Amy's death. "I wasn't
+the one who first made him forget. Oh, no, it was his business!" And
+now, as it had weaned him once from his grief for the woman who had
+died, it was at him again to draw him away from the woman who was
+living.
+
+There had been a time when it was not so, when she could keep him late
+at breakfast and make him come home early at night, still fresh enough
+to read and talk, discuss things, go to the opera, take up his music,
+plan a trip to Paris. "Oh, yes! Then we were making a start!" But now
+this wretched work of his had got him worse than ever before--and she
+blamed his partner for that. She recalled how Nourse had disliked her,
+she remembered what Amy used to say about the man's worship of business.
+Yes, with his detestable greed for money, only money, Nourse was
+doubtless driving Joe. "You're making him just a business man, without
+a thought or a wish in his head for anything beautiful, really fine,
+ambition, things he dreamed of and told me about when he was
+mine--things that would have led us both to everything I wanted--"
+
+She set her lips and whispered:
+
+"All right, friend Bill, then it's you or it's me!" And all the rest of
+the summer she set herself determinedly to breaking up the partnership.
+
+"Joe, dear," she said pleasantly, when he had come out for the week end,
+"why don't you ever bring your partner with you over Sunday?" And at his
+quick look of surprise, "It seems too bad, I think," she added, "never
+to have him with us."
+
+"I thought you didn't like him," he said. Ethel gave a frank little
+smile.
+
+"I didn't--but that was a year ago. And besides, he didn't like me, you
+see. But people do change, I suppose--and as long as he means so much
+to you, I should so like to be friendly."
+
+It turned out just as she had expected. Nourse declined the invitation.
+"I'm sorry," she said when her husband told her. She felt her position
+strengthened a bit. At another time she suggested that Joe's partner be
+asked to spend the rest of the summer with him in the apartment back in
+town. It was doubtless so much cooler at night than Nourse's bachelor
+quarters. And Emily Giles could take care of them both. But this
+overture, too, Bill Nourse declined. She could just imagine him doing
+it, the surly, ungracious tone of his voice, the very worst side of the
+man shown up. Joe often now looked troubled when Ethel talked of his
+partner.
+
+But toward the end of the summer in one such talk he gave her a shock.
+It was after Nourse had again refused an invitation to come to the
+seashore.
+
+"He's queer," said Joe, "and he can be ugly. Being polite is not in
+Bill's line. I told him so myself today--and we had quite a session.
+
+"Oh, Joe, I'm sorry," Ethel said.
+
+"You needn't be. Bill Nourse and I will stick together as long as we
+live." Ethel looked at him sharply, but he did not notice. "Because,"
+he said, "with all his faults, his queerness and his grouches, Bill has
+done more than any man living to--well, to keep something alive in
+me--in my work, I mean--that I want later on--as soon as I've made money
+enough." She stared at him.
+
+"You mean that he--your partner--wants something more than money?" It
+was a slip, but she was stunned. He turned and looked at her and asked,
+in a voice rather strained and husky:
+
+"Do you think Bill cares about money alone?"
+
+"Why, yes!"
+
+"That's funny." But Joe's laugh was grim. "If Bill had had his way with
+me, I'd have had a name as an architect that would have been known all
+over the country--instead of being what I am, a gambler in cheap real
+estate."
+
+She questioned him further, her manner alert, her eyes with a startled,
+thoughtful look. But he did not seem to want to talk.
+
+"Then why," she asked herself in a daze, "if Bill is so against this
+business, does he keep at it day and night? Oh, yes, we'll have to look
+into this--as soon as I get back to town! You've got to come and see
+me, and explain yourself, friend Bill." She frowned in such a puzzled
+way. "You, a friend? How funny!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The week after Ethel's return to town, she was surprised one afternoon
+when in response to a note she had sent him her husband's partner came
+to see her. She had thought it would be more difficult.
+
+"Joe won't interrupt us," he said. "I put work in his way. He'll be
+home late."
+
+Tall, gaunt and angular, somewhat stooped, Nourse stood looking down at
+her; and as, perplexed and excited, Ethel scanned his visage, so heavy
+in spite of its narrow lines, she saw an expression in which contempt
+was tempered by a sort of regret and weariness. And of course he was
+awkward, too. She said to herself, "Be careful now."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" she asked him.
+
+"Thank you." And he took a seat.
+
+"I wanted to see you," she began, but Nourse interrupted her.
+
+"Would you object," he asked her, "if I do the talking for a while?
+I've got it fairly clear in mind, just what I want to say to you."
+
+"Why, yes, of course, if you prefer," she said, a little breathlessly.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Lanier, I think I know about what you want--and I'm here to
+say that I'll help you to get it--if in return you will leave us alone."
+He stopped for a moment, and went on: "In the last few months, it has
+seemed to me, you've been doing your best to bring on a clash between me
+and your husband. Every week in the office is worse than the last. I
+don't blame you for that, from your point of view. You felt I was
+trying to make him eat and sleep in his office. I was--and I am. But
+my point to you is that it won't be for long, and I'm doing this really
+on your account--to get money enough to satisfy you." She looked up in a
+startled way, but he went on unheeding. "You and I must understand each
+other. Tell me how much you really need--and we'll get it, Joe and I.
+And then I'll give him back to you nights--and in the daytime you leave
+him to me."
+
+He glanced at her with a weary dislike which gave her an impulse to say
+to him, "Isn't this rather insulting?" But she did not speak. For
+looking at him sharply, she caught in the man's heavy eyes a certain
+grim, deep wistfulness which drew her a little in spite of his speech.
+And she felt very curious, too.
+
+"What do you think I really want?" she asked him, then. Her voice was
+low.
+
+"Money," he said.
+
+"Where did you get that idea?"
+
+"From your sister," he replied. "She sent for me, too--long ago."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Money. She told me that we were not making enough--that I was holding
+her husband back--from 'his career' she called it. She said that if I
+kept him out of a certain job that meant money quick, she would break up
+our partnership. She said she could do it, and she was right. My hold
+on Joe wasn't in it with hers."
+
+"What was your hold on him? What do you mean?" asked Ethel. Again her
+voice was low. Nourse looked down at his big hands and answered very
+quietly:
+
+"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand." She bit her lip.
+
+"But until I do learn what you want of Joe," she retorted sharply, "I'm
+afraid that I can't tell you how much money I shall need." He glanced up
+at her, puzzled. "Suppose you try me," she went on. And as the man
+still frowned at her, "I learned the other day," she said, "that you
+knew Joe long before he was married. I want you to tell me about that."
+
+Little by little she drew him out. And as in a reluctant way, in
+sentences abrupt and bald, he answered all her questions, again and
+again did Ethel feel a little wave of excitement. For Nourse was
+speaking of Joe's youth--of college and later of Paris, and then of a
+group of young men in New York, would--be architects, painters and
+writers who had lived near Washington Square; of long talks,
+discussions, plans, and of all night work in the architect's office
+where he and Joe had worked side by side. Joe had been a "designer"
+there; he had been the brilliant one of the two, and the more
+impassioned and intense and bold in his conceptions. There was a
+feeling almost of reverence in the low, rough voice of Joe's friend. He
+told how Joe had risen, until in a few years he became the chief
+designer for his firm; and of how from other firms offers had come. To
+keep him his employers had been forced to raise his salary, and to do
+much more than that, for money didn't appeal to him then. They had
+given him more important work--"job after job, and Joe made good." The
+climax of this rising had come one night in the rooms they shared, when
+Joe told his friend he had made up his mind to set up an office of his
+own, though he was only twenty-nine.
+
+"And he offered me a partnership." The big man's voice was husky now,
+as, in a little outburst with a good deal of bitterness in it, he spoke
+of the glory of the work of which he and Joe had once been a part. He
+seemed appealing to Joe's wife to see, for God's sake, what it was in
+Joe that had been lost. Then he stopped and frowned and stared at her.
+"Oh, what's the use?" he muttered. But Ethel's voice was sharp and
+clear:
+
+"Oh, if you only knew," she cried, "how much good this is doing! I
+won't stop to explain but--please--go on!" Her brown eyes threw him a
+fierce appeal. And again she had him talking. He told of a plan for
+apartment buildings Joe had conceived in those early days. "I don't say
+it was practicable, I give it just to show you what the man had in him,"
+he said. "Big ideas that strike in deep, the kind that change whole
+cities." Instead of a street like a canyon with sheer walls on either
+side, the front of each building was to recede in narrow terraces, floor
+by floor, so letting floods of sunlight down into the street below and
+giving to each apartment a small terrace garden. As she listened, Ethel
+grew intent. It was not the mere plan that excited her, she was giving
+small heed to the details. But this had in it what she had craved ever
+since she had come to the city--beauty and creative work--and this had
+been in Joe's "business"!
+
+"There was only one point against it," she heard Nourse saying
+presently. "Those terraces took a lot of space. Each one meant so much
+rent was lost. For years, till the plan took hold of the town, it was a
+money loser. . . . And Joe met your sister then." The voice had
+changed, and its hostile tone brought Ethel back with a sharp turn. The
+man, as though uneasy at the revelations he had made, was looking at her
+as at first, with suspicion and dislike. "I won't go into details of
+how she got her hold on Joe. You know how that's done, I suppose. I'm
+speaking of the effect on his work. He soon put off that plan of
+his--and any others of the kind. For now he had to have money. And he
+has been putting it off ever since--not dropping it, he'll tell you,
+only putting it off till he's rich. But if he isn't rich enough soon,
+it'll be too late. For that part of him is nearly dead.
+
+"But to go back to your sister. It was not only his money, it was his
+time she needed. First it was a wedding trip, and after that late
+hours--a short day in his office. And he wasn't half the man he had
+been. He was thinking of the night before, and then of the night that
+was coming. She came for him at five o'clock." He saw Ethel start, and
+he added, "Just as you did later on.
+
+"And when he did wake up to work, it was different--it was for money
+alone. He began to throw over his ideals, and very soon there was only
+me to hold him back. You see, he had had so many friends before he met
+your sister, men and even women, too, who had been a spur to him. But
+when he brought his wife around, they wouldn't have her, turned her
+down--and that made her bitter against them all and she kept Joe from
+them. All but me. I stayed in the office, and now and then I got some
+of his friends and we would take him out to lunch. But then even that
+stopped. Joe hadn't time. He was too busy getting the cash.
+
+"He had dropped all pretence of any work that was really worth while,
+and had turned his art into a business. He became a real estate gambler
+and an architect, all in one. He got to speculating in land--and what
+he built on it he didn't care, so long as it produced the cash. Oh, it
+wasn't all at once, you know, you can't strangle the soul of a man in a
+hurry--but by the time your sister died, the buildings Joe was putting
+up were just about as common and cheap as the average play on
+Broadway--crowd pleasers. He had lost his nerve. Everything had to be
+popular. Play safe each time, on the same old flats that every woman
+seems to love. A woman is conservative. To have and to hold, to get
+and keep, to stand pat with both eyes shut--that's the average woman in
+this town. And Joe had to play her.
+
+"And because he still had a soul in him--and a stomach that turned--he
+began to vary the dulness of it by becoming sensational. He did daring
+things, cheap daring things--no real originality in it, but it took on
+and caught the eye. Pictures of his buildings got into the real estate
+pages of the Sunday papers. He hired a press agent then and went after
+the publicity. And all I need to tell you of that, is that just the
+other day the press agent came into the office with a scheme for a
+string of buildings up on the new part of the Drive. They were to be
+patriotic--see?--named after the presidents of our country--cheap and
+showy terra-cotta--main effect red, white and blue." Ethel leaned back
+with a little gasp. But Nourse added relentlessly, "And Joe didn't turn
+him down."
+
+She stiffened sharply in her chair and looked at Nourse with indignant
+eyes, as though he alone were to blame.
+
+"You mean to say my husband could even consider such a plan?"
+
+"Why not? There's money in it--big--the publicity value would be
+immense. It would make his name a joke of course, with every architect
+in town--but think of all the talk, free ads! And that means tenants
+pouring in--and money! Don't you like it? She would have--your sister
+would, I mean. It was just such a scheme on a smaller scale that made
+her send for me one day and tell me I could keep hands off or else get
+out of the office. I gave in because I couldn't go--I couldn't quite
+make up my mind to the fact that Joe was done for. So I stuck--and she
+tried to break me--again and again. But Joe, for all the change in him,
+had a loyal streak not only for me but for all he had once meant to do.
+Even still he kept saying he'd just put it off, and that when he'd got
+the money he'd turn back and we'd begin.
+
+"And when his wife died, I began to have hope. The only blot on her
+funeral was the fact that you were there--and you told me you intended
+to stay. Her sister--the same story. I soon shook that off,
+however--for I saw the way he turned to his work as a refuge from his
+grief for her. I had my chance and I took it. When his mind was dull
+and numb I began to slip in changes. And each change meant better work
+and less easy money. And soon I was making headway fast; for Joe had
+never cared for money for himself, but only for her--and she was dead.
+So he let our profits go down and down, while what we did got more worth
+doing. It even began to take hold of him--of the old Joe that was still
+there.
+
+"But after nearly a year of that, I had to laugh at myself for a fool.
+For Joe began wanting money again, and I knew he was thinking of
+marrying you. I fought, of course, and for a time I had some hope of
+beating you. I remembered you as you had been at the time of your
+sister's funeral. You had seemed so young and weak to me. But later,
+when you were his wife and began taking half his time, keeping late
+hours, draining him--for you women can drain a man, you know--then I
+knew that you were strong, your sister's sister. I gave in. Or I
+should say I took the only chance that was left. I threw over the
+things we had dreamed of and got him to work for money hard--harder than
+he'd ever done. I drove him! Why? Because I got him back that way.
+By making him work for money for you I began to get him away from you.
+In time I even got him to stay in the office late at night. I got him
+to keep away from you nights. And there was more than that in my
+scheme. For now we're making money enough to satisfy even you, I think.
+I'm not sure--I'm never sure--your sister taught me never to be.
+Perhaps you can't be satisfied. But if you can, I see a chance. Tell
+me how much you really need. We'll get it. And then for the love of
+God leave us alone before it's too late--before what's in the man is
+dead!"
+
+Nourse finished and rose, looking down at her. She sat rigid, keeping
+herself in hand. Again and again she had been on the point of bursting
+out, for the sheer brutality of so much he had told her had made it very
+hard to sit still. But then as he had spoken of Amy, Ethel had kept
+silent, watching his face intensely. How much Amy must have done to
+have aroused such bitterness! A sense of reality in his talk, a clear
+and sudden consciousness of having the real Amy held up here before her
+eyes, had gripped Ethel like a vise. Till now she had no clear idea of
+how much Joe had sacrificed. But all that finer side of him, that early
+life, those dreams, those friends, had all been known to Amy. And Amy
+had been willing to lose them all, to crush them out, for money, only
+money, and money for such an empty life! Ethel shivered a little. Her
+sister's picture was complete.
+
+"No," she said, looking up at Nourse, "I'm not going to leave you alone.
+What I've got to do now is to try my best to make you feel what I really
+want, and what a mistake you've been making. Please listen, while I try
+to be clear." Her expression was strained as she looked at him. She
+smiled a little. "I am not like my sister. I'd rather not say much
+about her now. She--had her good points, too--she's dead. And all you
+need to know is this. You were wrong about me in those first months--I
+was trying to get away from Joe. I had my own dreams and I wished to be
+free. I even tried to earn my living. I worked for a while. But the
+man I worked for--frightened me--and that threw me back on Joe. He was
+poor then, so I nursed his child and ran his home on very little. And I
+liked that. Believe me--please! I liked that! And I think the main
+reason for it was that I was falling in love, not with her husband but
+with the man whom you were bringing back to life. It was that in him,
+that kind of ambition and that kind of life and friends, that I
+wanted--oh, so hard! I was groping about to get them--but it's not easy
+in New York. And meanwhile we were married, and about that part of it
+you were right. I was selfish, I did want him all. I let everything
+go, kept everything out--especially his business. I was jealous of you
+as I was of his wife--of everything past--I wanted him new!
+
+"Then my baby came, and it was a time when I did a good deal of
+thinking. I--thought out my sister. I saw how different we were. What
+she wanted I didn't want at all. So I set to work to change him--and I
+thought I was doing it all by myself--just as you thought you were doing
+it. Each of us was working alone--and we thought we were working in
+spite of each other--against each other. I was against you in his
+office, you were against me in his home. And because you hadn't any
+idea of what I was trying, you made him work for money for me--to buy me
+off! But I don't want money--alone, I mean! And when he came and said
+he was rich, it frightened me--I wasn't ready--I had no friends! And so
+the money only brought back my sister's friends in a perfect horde--and
+with them her memory--her influence--her husband!
+
+"Oh, can't you understand what I mean--and how I'm placed and what it's
+like? Can't you believe that I want in him exactly what you want
+yourself? But it hasn't been easy! Don't you see? I am only a second
+wife! She's here--she has been--all the time--like a ghost--and we
+never speak her name! But if you will only work with me--"
+
+She stopped with a quick turn of her head. They listened, and heard
+Joe's key in the door. In a moment he had entered the hall.
+
+"Hello. Who's here?" he asked at once.
+
+"It's I," said his partner, quietly, going out to meet him. And sitting
+there rigid, she heard him continue in gruff low tones, "Something I'd
+forgotten--a point in those Taggert specifications. I want to clear it
+up tonight."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+What impression had she made? How far had she overcome the heavy weight
+of dislike and suspicion Amy had rolled up in his mind? As Ethel's
+thoughts went rapidly back over the things Nourse had told her, again
+and again with excitement she felt what a help he could be if he would.
+Here lay the gate to her husband's youth.
+
+"If only he'll believe in me! Shall I send for him? No," she decided.
+"If there's any hope, he'll come again."
+
+She waited three days. Then he telephoned, "Can I see you today at four
+o'clock?" She answered, "Yes, I'll be very glad." And she felt a little
+faint with relief as she hung up the receiver.
+
+When he came in, that afternoon, one glance at him made her exclaim to
+herself, "He half believes! He's puzzled!"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Lanier," he began at once, with more friendliness now in
+his heavy voice, "if I've made any mistake about you, I'm sorry. But
+you must show me first. If you're real about this, you look to me like
+a woman who would have thought it all out in the last few days and
+formed a plan. What is it?"
+
+His abruptness rather took her breath for a moment. Then she said,
+"Yes, I have a plan, but so have you. What is it?" At her quick retort
+she saw a smile of grim relish come over his large features.
+
+"My plan is simple," he replied. "Leave Joe to me. Keep him quiet at
+night so he can work, and I'll show you another husband." She shook her
+head.
+
+"He'd only make more money."
+
+"Tell him you don't want it, then!" She smiled at him.
+
+"Too simple," she said. He looked at her.
+
+"I thought it would be too simple for a woman," was his answer.
+
+"It's worse than that," she replied. "It's blind. You've never been
+married--apparently--not even to one woman--while Joe, you see, has been
+married twice. To you a man's life is all in his office--but half of
+Joe's is in his home--and you'll have to change that half of him, too.
+I told you her friends are about--and they have her memory on their
+side--and so I can't get rid of them until I get some friends of my
+own."
+
+"Then get them."
+
+"How? Go out on any street and call up, 'Heigh there' at the windows?"
+She leaned forward quickly and sternly: "The friends I want are the
+people he knew--the ones you told me of. That's my plan. Put me in
+touch with some of them, and let me bring them in touch with Joe. And
+I'll show you a different partner." He looked at her.
+
+"Well, that's too simple, too," he said.
+
+"Why is it?" she demanded.
+
+"Because in those first years of his marriage I went to them so often,
+in just the way you're thinking of. I got some of the men he used to
+know to come to his office and take him to lunch. And it did so little
+good they quit. They all got sick of it--and they're through."
+
+Ethel leaned forward intensely:
+
+"But it will be different now! Before, they had Amy here working
+against them! I'm here now, and I'll be on their side!" He frowned, and
+she cried impatiently, "You don't believe me, do you! You don't believe
+I can do anything--or even that I want to!"
+
+He looked at her for a moment.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I almost do."
+
+"Then please give me a chance," she said, very low. And by her eager
+questions she began to draw out of Nourse the information she wanted.
+It did not come easy, for the past seemed buried deep in his memory. As
+one by one he spoke of Joe's friends he would add, "But he's dead," or,
+"He's gone West." He had kept track of them, after a fashion, but he had
+seen them little of late. What a lonely life he had led, she thought.
+She wondered if he had grown too old and hopeless to be of any help.
+She fought down her discouragement.
+
+"There was Crothers," he was saying. "He's an architect, and he's doing
+good work. He never had Joe's boldness, but he always had a fine sense
+of things, and at least he has stuck to his ideals. He could do more to
+bring Joe back than any other man I know."
+
+"Then we must get him!"
+
+"That will be hard."
+
+"Why will it?"
+
+"Because some years ago I tried to get Crothers into our firm. The two
+of us together might have kept Joe from the mere money jobs and made it
+a firm to be proud of. Crothers was ready to come in, and I had nearly
+succeeded in bringing Joe to agree to it."
+
+"Then what was the matter?"
+
+"Your sister. Joe had told her he was thinking of some move in his
+business which would keep him poor awhile. And she flew into quite a
+rage. That was another time she sent for me." Nourse leaned grimly back
+in his chair. "She told me that if I ruined her husband's 'career,' as
+she called it, she'd break us apart once and for all. She wouldn't have
+Crothers in the firm--not only because it meant money lost, but because
+Crothers' wife had turned her down." Ethel looked at him sharply.
+
+"Oh--he has a wife," she said.
+
+"Yes, and she wasn't your sister's kind. She was a college woman who
+wanted to be a great painter--and when the painting petered out, she
+shut her jaw and said, 'Never mind. If I can't paint landscapes I can
+make them.' And she took up landscape gardening. She married Burt
+Crothers soon after that, but she stuck to her work and in course of
+time it fitted in with her husband's. He and Sally have struggled along
+up-hill, and though they've never made much money they've had a lot of
+fun out of life."
+
+"She sounds so nice," Ethel hungrily murmured.
+
+"Oh, yes, she's nice enough," he said, "until you go against her. Then
+Sally gets mad, and stays that way. And she got that way," he added,
+"when we turned her husband down. She hadn't liked your sister. In
+fact, when Joe married and brought his wife and the Crothers together,
+it wasn't a go. She called your sister 'hopeless.' And when Joe's wife
+came back at her by keeping Crothers out of our firm, then war was
+declared."
+
+Nourse broke off and looked at Ethel.
+
+"So you see what you're up against," he said. "Yes, I see," said Ethel.
+At every door to her husband's youth, Amy seemed to be barring the way.
+She gave an impatient little shrug. "If I could only show them!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That I'm different! And the hole I'm in! And what it is I want in
+Joe! . . . Can't you go and talk to them?" There was impatience again in
+her eyes. He saw it and smiled wearily.
+
+"You think I'm mighty weak," he said, "with not much fight left in me.
+You're right, I guess. But you don't know what I've been through in the
+last seven years. I stuck to Joe--and they didn't like that. Sally
+said I had knuckled down to Joe's wife. So she hasn't asked me there in
+years. And if I were to go to her now, I'm afraid my opinion of you
+wouldn't count."
+
+There was another silence. Again that dull weight of discouragement
+fell, and again she shook it from her.
+
+"Nevertheless," she said quietly, looking him full in the face, "I mean
+to have Crothers in our firm." She saw the mingled liking and
+compassion which came in his eyes, and she bit her lip to keep down the
+wave of self-pity which arose in her.
+
+"Perhaps you will," she heard him say. His voice sounded a long way
+off. She brought herself back to him with a jerk.
+
+"Of course I will! We will, I mean! You and I are to work together,
+you know. Now will you please tell me," she continued grimly, "one
+person who knew my husband and who will be so very kind as not to call
+for the police the minute I come into view?" A moment later she started
+forward. "Oh, please!" she cried. "Do that again! You chuckled!
+Don't deny it! Go on and really laugh with me!" Her voice, unsteady and
+quivering, broke into a merry laugh, and in this Joe's partner joined.
+Then she said sternly. "You give me a friend!"
+
+Nourse thought for a moment. "There's only one left on the list," he
+replied.
+
+"His name, please--"
+
+"Dwight."
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Music. He shows rich girls how to sing. She stared at him.
+
+"But look here," she said emphatically. "I'm a rich girl--I'm very well
+off--and I certainly propose to sing! I used to, in the choir at
+home--and I was told I had quite a voice! And I meant to take lessons
+in New York--of a tall dark man with curly hair--"
+
+"Dwight," said Nourse, "is fair and fat."
+
+"Never mind. Then he probably has blue eyes. And they twinkle at
+you--in the friendliest way--"
+
+"Young woman, I'm your husband's friend."
+
+"Never mind if you are. You're not enough. I want more of his friends.
+Now tell me--where did the fat man study? Abroad?"
+
+"In Paris."
+
+"Oh!" she cried. "Were he and Joe together there?"
+
+"They were, for a while--"
+
+"Oh, how nice!" She laughed at him. "What a dear you've been to me,"
+she said. "You like me, don't you!"
+
+"Yes--I do."
+
+"Quite a good deal!"
+
+"All right," he said. She was watching his face. "This is new to him,"
+she was thinking.
+
+"You believe I don't want money!"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"Nor friends like Amy's!"
+
+"You don't seem to."
+
+"And I don't. I want friends like you and this Mr. Dwight--and that
+odious Sally Crothers who won't even let me in at her door. And her
+husband--yes, he'll do. Why how the circle widens!"
+
+"So far," Nourse reminded her, "I'm the only circle you've got."
+
+"Yes, and a very nice one. And now you're going to be a dear, and go to
+this man Dwight and say what a remarkable voice I have--and tell him all
+my other points, and the hole I'm in and the money I have. Don't forget
+that--the money I have--for my acquaintance with Mr. Dwight leads me to
+believe that wealth is a great inducement with him. It makes his blue
+eyes twinkle so."
+
+"Very well," Nourse answered grimly. "But when you get them twinkling,
+what are you going to do with him?"
+
+"Sing with him," was her firm reply. "And between songs _talk_ with
+him--of Paris and my husband, and the great ideals I have--and the
+delicious dinners I have--for he's fat, you know, and he loves his
+meals--and then ask him to come to dinner, of course." She scowled.
+"That," she said severely, "is all I can tell you at present. My plans
+for resurrecting Joe will have to be made as I go along--step by step
+and friend by friend." All at once she turned on him fiercely. "There's
+that pity again in your eyes! 'Oh, how young,' you are thinking. Then
+let me tell you, Mr. Bill Nourse, that you are not to pity me! If you
+do," she cried, "the time will come when you will be pitying
+yourself--for being cast off like an old leather shoe--from one of the
+most brilliant and attractive circles in this town! Do you know what
+you almost do to me--you, the one friend I have in New York? You make
+me feel you've almost lost your faith and hope in everything--that
+you're nearly old! You make me wonder if I'm too late--whether my
+husband is nearly old, and the dreams he had in him cold and gone! You
+scare me--and you've got to stop! You've got to be just exactly as
+young as I am--this very minute! You've got to borrow some youth from
+me--for I have plenty to go around--and help me make this fight for
+friends! It may not come to anything--for the soul of this city is hard
+as nails! This music man may turn me down--or be perfectly fat and
+useless! Who knows? But how can I tell till I meet the man? And when
+will you go and see him? Today or tomorrow? I haven't very much time,
+you know, for any more shilly-shallying! I want some action out of
+you--"
+
+She faced him flushed and menacing, and he took her hand and said:
+
+"You'll get it. Where's your telephone!"
+
+"Right there in the hall!"
+
+"I'll call up Dwight."
+
+"Wait! Is he married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The next morning at eleven o'clock she met Dwight in his studio, and in
+a brisk pleasant businesslike way she began to tell him of her
+voice--what singing she had done at home and how she had always meant to
+take lessons when she should come to New York to live.
+
+"To find out how much of a voice I really have, you know," she said.
+Her manner was more affable now. "But my husband and my baby have kept
+me rather busy, you see, and so I've put it off and off--until just
+lately I began to look about and make inquiries. And then by good luck
+I learned of you--from my husband's partner."
+
+"You're Joe Lanier's wife, aren't you?" he asked.
+
+"His second," she said with emphasis. And a moment later she told
+herself, "Yes, his eyes do twinkle, and he seems to be quite nice. He
+isn't so excessively fat, and he has a big wide generous mouth, and I
+like his eyes. But he thinks my coming like this a bit queer, and he's
+wondering what's behind it." She downed her excitement and went on in
+the same resolute tone she had used with such success on Nourse. No
+personal conversation just yet, she would show him she meant business.
+And so she stuck to the lessons.
+
+"If you'll take me as a pupil," she said, "I'd like to begin
+immediately."
+
+"Let me try your voice," he proposed. He went to the piano, and there
+his manner had soon changed. From genial and curious it grew
+interested. He spoke rather sharply, asking her to do this and that,
+and she felt as though she were being probed. "You have a voice," he
+said, at the end. "Not a world shaker," he added, smiling, "but one
+that interests me a lot." She beamed on him.
+
+"You'll take me, then?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Oh, that's so nice." They decided on the time for her lessons. Then
+she glanced at her wrist watch. "Will you see if my car is waiting!"
+she asked. "I had him take the nurse and baby up to the Park--and he
+ought to be back by now, I think." But as Dwight went to the telephone,
+she added excitedly to herself, "Now if that idiot of a chauffeur is as
+late as I told him to be, you and I will have quite a talk, Mr.
+Dwight."
+
+"It isn't here yet," he informed her.
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll have to walk." She smiled and held out her hand
+to him. "Will you send the chauffeur home!"
+
+"If you like," he replied good-humouredly. "But I'd much rather you'd
+wait here--if you have nothing pressing." And as she hesitated, "It's
+not only your voice, you know--I used to be quite a friend of Joe's."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember his telling me. Over in Paris, wasn't it?"
+
+Soon they were talking easily. Dwight had lit a cigarette, and Ethel
+could see he was studying her. She tried to look unconscious.
+
+"I've wanted to go to Paris all my life," she told him. "How long is it
+since you left?"
+
+"Only a year." She looked at him.
+
+"Is there a Paris in New York?"
+
+"I'm not sure yet--I'm new, you see."
+
+"So am I," she confided frankly. And at that he gave her a swift glance
+which made Ethel add to herself, "Yes, he could be very personal."
+
+She asked him what he had found in New York as a contrast, coming from
+abroad. She spoke of the high buildings here, and from that she passed
+quite naturally to her husband's business.
+
+"It isn't the work I'd like for him," she said with a regretful sigh.
+"Joe is getting to be like all the rest--he's making too much money."
+She waited a moment and added, "I should so like him to be as he was
+when you knew him."
+
+"I'll be curious to see how he has changed. You must let me see him,"
+Dwight replied.
+
+"Why yes, of course."
+
+"Over in Paris he had so much. He was such a wonderful lad for
+dreams--with the most exuberant fancy in the way he used to talk of New
+York and what he wanted to do back here--to use the backyards and the
+roofs and turn them into gardens. This town, when Joe got through with
+it--well, from an aeroplane it was to look more or less like a bed of
+roses--or a hill town in Italy. But that was only his lighter vein.
+When his fancy was really, working hard, he took department stores,
+hotels and huge railroad terminals and jammed them all together into one
+big building. How deep in the earth it was to have gone I really can't
+remember, nor how far up into the skies. But there was a garden at the
+top--or a meadow or prairie or something."
+
+"Yes," thought Ethel, "I'm going to like him."
+
+"Joe could talk of his plans all night," Dwight went on good-naturedly.
+"And keep a poor lazy musician like me from my piano where I belonged."
+
+"Was it you who taught him to play?" she asked.
+
+"On the piano? It was," he replied. "Isn't his touch amazing? And so
+thoroughly Christian, too."
+
+"Christian?"
+
+"Yes. He doesn't let his right hand know what his left hand is doing."
+They laughed. And from that laugh she emerged with eagerness in her
+brown eyes.
+
+"Oh, please go on," she begged him. "I had no idea you knew him so
+well. Did he do nothing but talk over there?"
+
+"He did--he worked like a tiger. Joe could stand more hard labour in
+one consecutive day and night than any fellow I ever met. And he could
+do it night after night. I remember dropping in on him for coffee and
+rolls one morning. A chap named Crothers and myself--" Ethel started at
+the name--"had just come home from the 'Quatres Arts Ball.' We found Joe
+in his room with the curtains drawn--he didn't know it was morning yet.
+He had a towel bound round his head and was building an opera house for
+Chicago--or Kansas City--I'm not sure which. And he wasn't just
+dreaming of building it in his successful middle age--he was building it
+now, in a terrible rush, as though Kansas City were pushing him hard.
+Joe didn't live in the future, you see--he took the future and made it
+the present, and then lived in the present like mad."
+
+Dwight tossed away his cigarette.
+
+"But you say it's money now."
+
+"Yes," she replied. "It's money." He smiled at her dejected tone.
+
+"I wouldn't be so sad," he remarked. "Money isn't as bad as it seems."
+
+"Oh, yes, and I want it," Ethel declared. "But I want the others so
+much more!"
+
+When her car had come, she rose and said, "You and Joe must get together
+some time. Couldn't you call him up some day and get him to lunch with
+you?"
+
+"Gladly." They went to the door.
+
+"But don't be disappointed," she said, "if you find him changed even
+more than you think. Money has such a pull on a man."
+
+"I know, but I rather like it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, don't be so indignant, please. I am an artist--honestly. But some
+of these men I've met over here--well, they fascinate me. Such
+boundless energy and drive ought to go into a symphony. Plenty of drums
+and crashing brass. Good-bye, Mrs. Lanier," he added. "This has been
+a lucky day for me."
+
+"Thank you. Don't forget about Joe. And meanwhile--till next Tuesday."
+
+As she settled back in her car she thought,
+
+"All right, Ethel, very good."
+
+
+Twice a week, that autumn, she went to Dwight for lessons. But until
+some time had passed, she did not mention it to Joe.
+
+"When you meet him," she said to Dwight, "I'd rather you wouldn't speak
+of my lessons. I want my singing to be a surprise. And besides, I'd so
+much rather that any old friends of my husband's come to him through his
+partner. It seems so much more natural."
+
+"I see," said Dwight. "But he doesn't," she thought, "and I'll have to
+explain."
+
+"Later, of course, I'll tell him," she said, "But just now, in the state
+he's in, if you or any one else of his friends who knew him as he used
+to be should come and say, 'Sent by your wife, with her compliments and
+fervent hopes of your speedy resurrection '--oh, no, it wouldn't do at
+all." Dwight was watching her curiously.
+
+"How many of us are there!" he asked. She looked at him in a
+questioning way.
+
+"Of us," he explained, "Joe's old friends, who are to dig him up, you
+know."
+
+"Only you, at present--and of course his partner. He smiled:
+
+"Bill Nourse is not a very brisk digger."
+
+"Well," she remarked, in a casual tone, "if you know of brisker diggers
+about--people who knew him--"
+
+"Say no more. I'll search the town." Their eyes had met for an instant.
+"Yes," she thought, "I'm getting on."
+
+Dwight lunched with Joe soon after that, and later in the studio he and
+Ethel had a talk.
+
+"In a good many ways," he assured her, "he struck me as the same old
+Joe--friendly and hospitable--he insisted on ordering quite a meal. But
+we didn't eat much of it. We talked."
+
+"Of Paris!"
+
+"Very much so. There's a lot of Paris in him yet." And he told of their
+long conversation.
+
+"Now," she said, when she rose to leave, "if you'll just keep at him
+occasionally--while his partner does the same at the office, and I do
+what I can at home--"
+
+"You insist on his being home every night?"
+
+"That depends," said Ethel gravely.
+
+"Suppose I take him some night to my club. We have quite a number of
+architects there."
+
+"Oh, wonderful! How good of you!"
+
+"Mrs. Lanier," said her teacher, "I'm under your orders--digging for
+gold."
+
+He took Joe to his club on the following night, and later several times
+for lunch.
+
+"Joe likes it," he reported. "And he has already met some chaps who
+knew of him and his earlier work, not only in Paris but over here, he
+was one of the most brilliant designers in the city, I find--and a good
+many men were disappointed when he threw over his true profession and
+went after ready cash. How would you like me to put up his name?"
+
+"For club membership?"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+"I'd like it, sir.
+
+"And I obey."
+
+"This is getting rather intimate," Ethel told herself that night.
+"Never mind, my love, you've been perfectly honest. He knows very well
+what you're after. And if he likes you and wants to help, so much the
+better."
+
+Some days in the studio she stuck severely to her voice and showed him
+she meant business. She was practising quite hard, and her progress was
+by no means slow. But on other days half the hour at least was spent in
+learning from her new friend about "a Paris in New York." Dwight was
+already finding one, although he had been here less than a year. In
+this teeming city of endless change he had found a deep joy of creation,
+of newness, youth and boldness that made even Paris seem far behind.
+"It's all so amazingly big," he said, "with such revealing chances
+opening up on every side!" How simple it was for him, she thought, with
+a little pang of envy. A young musician with plenty of talent, easy
+manners, single, free. As he spoke of his club friends and some of
+their homes that were open to him, the glimpses exasperated her. Here
+were the people she wanted to know, a little world of artists,
+architects and writers, and goodness only knew what else. She was still
+rather vague about them. To her surprise she discovered that many were
+after money, too. "Decidedly," her teacher said. "Excessively," he
+added.
+
+"But at least," she rejoined, defending them, "when they get the money
+they know how to spend it on something better than food and clothes!
+They really live--I'm sure they do--and have ideas and really grow!" She
+caught her breath. What an idiot, to have said so much! "I'm so glad,"
+she added lamely, "that you got my husband into your club. It's bound
+to do so much for him." She threw a sharp little glance at Dwight, and
+scowled, for she thought she detected a smile.
+
+"He's doing something for the club," Dwight was saying cheerfully.
+"Some of those chaps are a bit too refined and remote for this raw crude
+city of ours. And Joe is getting back enough of his old vim and
+passion, his wild radical ideas of what may still be done with the town,
+so that he jars on such sensitive souls--makes 'em frown and bite their
+moustaches like the husbands in French plays. On the other hand some
+are decidedly for him. I hear them discuss him now and then."
+
+"Oh, how nice!" sighed Ethel.
+
+At times she grew so impatient to get Joe into this other world. But
+she had to be very careful. Repeatedly she warned herself that Dwight,
+for all his Paris past and his present friendliness, was very fast
+becoming a New Yorker like the rest: making his way and climbing his
+climb, and wanting no climbers who had to be carried. "Ethel Lanier,
+the first thing you know you'll be dropped like a hot potato," she
+thought. "There's nothing unselfish about this man. Don't make him
+feel he has you on his hands." And she would grow studiously abstract
+and detached in her talk about the town. But it kept cropping up in
+spite of her, this warm eagerness to "really live."
+
+"It's funny," she said to Dwight one day. "I had thought of music and
+all that I wanted as being so different from Joe's work. But now in
+this city that you seem to know, I find that what I've wanted most is
+just what he ought to want in his work! The two go together!"
+
+"Exactly!"
+
+"The city Joe once lived in." She frowned. "There are so many cities in
+New York. But I don't want to try to get into his, until I can do it
+through Joe himself. People will have to want me because I'm the wife
+of Joe Lanier."
+
+"I think they'll want you more than that." His tone was most reassuring.
+"But I like the way you are going about it. It's so delightfully novel,
+you see--conspiring to make your husband find his friends all by
+himself--so that when he has found them he'll come to you with a beaming
+smile and say, 'Woman, I bring you wealth and fame and friends in
+abundance. Take them, love, and bless me--for I have done all this for
+you.'"
+
+Ethel smiled. "I don't like you to joke about it," she said.
+
+"Very well," he agreed, "let's get back to the serious work of his
+resurrection. You asked me to recruit other brisk diggers, and I've
+hunted about quite a bit. There's that chap Crothers and his wife, but
+so far they're the best I can do--and the Crothers pair seem rather
+blind. They can't see the old Joe for the new."
+
+"You mean they think he's hopeless," Ethel scornfully put in.
+
+"Oh, we'll make them open their eyes in time. I drop in on them every
+now and then. I had Crothers to the club last week, and let him hear
+some of the gossip about the emerging Joe Lanier."
+
+Often he talked of the early group of students over in Paris, of their
+ideas, ambitions, and their youthful views of life, which for all their
+gaiety had been so fervid and intense. But to Ethel, because she
+herself was still young, their dreams seemed very wonderful. Some she
+had hungrily read about long ago with the history "prof" at home. But
+the world which the little suffragist had revealed to her pupils had
+been more heroic and severe. This was warmer, dazzling, this had
+beauty, this was art! And yet not weak nor tame nor old--this was
+gloriously new in the way it jabbed deep into life and talked of really
+changing it all. This was youth! And her own youth responded and she
+made it all her own. She was reading now voraciously, with a sparkle
+and gleam of hope in her eyes. She was coming so very close to her
+goal, or rather the gate of her promised land.
+
+At times she grew impatient at her teacher's calm, and the good-natured
+easy smile with which he looked upon all this. "Oh, why not get
+excited!" she thought. She felt the old dreams a bit cold in him, as
+they had been in her husband. And in dismay she would ask herself:
+
+"Are they all too old? Is just the fact that I'm ten years younger than
+Joe and his friends going to mean that I'm too late--to bring back what
+was in him!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+But all this was as nothing compared to the intensity, the ups and
+down, in her relations with Joe himself. He often looked tired and
+harassed. "What's the matter with me?" he seemed to ask. And she felt
+his two sides combatting each other. On the one hand were the
+influences of Nourse and Dwight and the men at the club, to which he
+went nearly every day. He took part in discussions there, long
+rambling talks and arguments. And his old ideals were rising hungrily
+within him. But meanwhile the business man in Joe kept savagely putting
+the dreamer down, and for days he would plunge into his work and the
+fever of the money game. Joe had been so successful of late; and she
+knew that in his office that odious press agent was for ever at him.
+From Nourse she learned that her husband was even still considering the
+scheme for a row of buildings named after the presidents. And Ethel had
+a sinking of heart.
+
+"If he does that, I'm lost," she decided. But she would shake off such
+fears, as she felt again the old Joe emerge, the Joe of dreams and
+startling plans. And she grew excited as she thought:
+
+"Oh, if he'll only let himself go! I don't want him just nice and tame
+and refined! I don't want only friends like that! I want--I want--"
+
+What she wanted was still exceedingly vague, and Ethel could not put it
+in words. It had something to do with the teachings of the little
+history "prof" at home. She wanted the artist in him to rise, the
+creative soul of him! Cautiously she probed his thoughts--now tender
+and maternal toward him in his tired moods, now alive and interested as
+she got him talking. Bits came out. Joe was so plainly tortured by the
+struggle going on inside. She felt at once pity and admiration, and was
+deeper in love with him than she had ever been before. She felt the
+excitement of a fight with hope of victory close ahead. She took care
+in her dress and manner to give him little surprises at night, and by
+her cheery comradeship and her warm beauty of body and soul, Ethel drew
+him on and on. At such times she would often lose all memory of her
+scheming and would give up to her love, which had become a passion now.
+
+But always she came back to her plan. Not openly, for she had to be
+careful; she worked at him in little ways. She stirred his youth and
+his cast-off dreams by her own youth and zest for it all. She got him
+to tell her of Nourse and Dwight, the old friends she herself had put on
+his trail, and of new friends he had met in his club--"the club I
+elected you to," she exulted. But the next instant she would add, "Oh,
+Ethel, you're so ignorant! If you only knew about his work!" And
+knitting her brows she would listen hard while he talked of steel
+construction. As with her encouragement he talked on rapidly, absorbed,
+Ethel would clutch at this and that. She learned of books and magazines
+on architecture here and abroad. Stealthily she noted them down, and
+those she could not purchase she hunted up in libraries. Nourse was a
+great help to her here. He came to see her now and then; and though he
+still had his discouraging moods, at other times he was friendly and
+kind. Enjoying this conspiracy with the charming young Mrs. Lanier, he
+expressed his gallantry by bringing her books of appalling size. But
+some had beautiful illustrations that set her to imagining. Eagerly she
+groped her way deep into the history of the building of cathedrals and
+palaces in times gone by. And the long majestic story of man's building
+on the earth thrilled her to the very soul. Joe must make his place in
+it all!
+
+When on coming home at night he dumped a pile of work on the table, she
+would unobtrusively slip some book beside it. She grew to know which
+ones tempted him most. He had been surprised and amused at first at her
+interest in architecture--and secretly a little disturbed, suspecting
+what lay behind it. But as autumn drew on he read more and more of the
+books she kept putting in his way. While he read she would sit with a
+novel or sew. She would glance up with some remark, and they would talk
+and then read on. Subtly she made the atmosphere. She often brought
+Paris into their talks. She spoke longingly of the shops and plays, and
+all she wanted to see over there. And she almost succeeded in making
+him promise to take her over the following spring.
+
+Joe was happy at such times, when she could make him leave business
+alone. And although he had many relapses, when night after night he
+would sit by the table planning more horrible "junk for the Bronx," with
+an inner smile she saw how often her husband scowled at such labour now.
+She heard of changes in the office.
+
+"We 're still building junk," Nourse confided one day, "but it isn't
+quite as bad as before. Joe wants the money just as hard, but he's
+plainly jarred by some of the jobs. He even fought his press agent last
+week!"
+
+One night Joe suggested awkwardly:
+
+"Suppose we try Bill Nourse again. Let me bring him home to dinner, I
+mean. He isn't especially cheery, God knows--but he seems so damnably
+lonely this fall."
+
+"Very well, dear--if you want to," she sighed. She had told Nourse to
+hint he was lonely.
+
+When Nourse came to dinner that Saturday night, Joe was surprised and
+delighted at the way his partner seemed to get on now with his wife.
+The visit indeed was such a success that it was not long before Joe
+proposed bringing home "an old pal of mine--fellow named Dwight." To
+this, too, Ethel assented, and when Dwight arrived one night she greeted
+him very graciously.
+
+"I feel as though I knew you," she said. "I've heard Joe talk of you so
+much."
+
+To Joe's delight they got on like old friends. And when Dwight spied
+the piano there and learned of her interest in music, he insisted on
+trying her voice, and was loud in his praise of its promise. Before he
+left, it was arranged that she should come to his studio and take
+lessons twice a week. Openly his pupil now, she could speak of him to
+Joe, and he came to dine with them often.
+
+
+How smoothly things were working out. If there were any cloud upon the
+horizon it was the occasional presence of Amy's old friend, Fanny Carr.
+Fanny had been abroad through the summer, but in October she had
+returned. She had come to see Ethel several times, in the same
+determinedly friendly way; and Nourse reported that she was going
+frequently to see Joe at his office about her eternal money affairs.
+And the fact that Joe never spoke of it only made the matter worse. For
+Joe still had his money side, and Fanny knew how to flatter him so. He
+still had his loyalty to his first wife, and Fanny so cleverly played to
+that. "And he likes her, too--clothes, voice, perfumery and all!" Ethel
+would declare to herself in anger and vexation. Oh, these women who
+used sex every minute! how could men be so easily fooled?
+
+"You can't change a man in a minute," she thought. "Remember Amy had
+him five years." Amy had planted so deep in him the feeling that money
+is everything; she had got the fever into his blood. And Fanny was
+there to keep it alive by her flattery of his money success. And for
+Ethel, even still, it was decidedly unsafe to criticize Joe in some of
+his moods. As autumn changed to winter, these moods grew much more
+frequent. What was worrying him? She couldn't find out. She sent for
+Nourse and asked him, "What's going on in the office?"
+
+"The press agent is pushing him hard," was Nourse's gloomy answer, "for
+that row of patriotic atrocities up on Riverside Drive." Ethel squirmed.
+
+"But he won't!" she cried. "He couldn't!"
+
+"Oh, yes he could," Joe's partner growled. "There's so much money in
+it!"
+
+"If he puts that through I'm done for!" Ethel told herself that night.
+"His name will be a perfect joke--among all the people I want to know!
+And they'll all keep away from us as though he were running a yellow
+journal! And then her friends will crowd about--because we'll be so
+rich, you see! Oh, damn money! Damn! Damn!"
+
+She was lying sleepless on her bed, and Joe was sleeping by her side.
+She sat up now and looked at his face in the dim light from the window.
+
+"If you get very rich," she thought, "and middle-aged and very fat in
+body and soul, get to care only for building 'junk' and for going about
+with Amy's friends--I wonder what would I do then." Again the words of
+young Mrs. Grewe came up in her mind: "You can get out whenever you
+choose." She frowned. "But there are the children. And besides, I love
+you, Joe--yes, more than ever, and in a queer way! I'm fighting for
+what I love in you, but at the same time I love you all--every bit of
+you!" Breathing quickly now, she sank back on her pillow, and there she
+soon grew quiet again. "So we'll fight it out once and for all. You've
+got to drop this plan of yours." One evening that same week when Nourse
+had come to dinner, she led the talk by slow degrees to that other plan
+of Joe's--the one with terrace gardens. Soon she had Nourse talking
+about it, and seeing her husband grow morose she grew cheerily
+interested.
+
+"Oh, I'm very dull, I suppose," she said at the end with a quizzical
+smile, "but I'm afraid I can't get it clear. Couldn't you draw it?"
+Nourse smiled at this, for he saw what she was driving at.
+
+"No, I'm poor at that," he said.
+
+"Then, Joe, you sketch it out for me."
+
+Joe put down his paper and began in surly fashion. But as he sketched
+more and more rapidly, she saw the thing take hold of him. With little
+exclamations and questions Ethel drove him on. She thought it a
+fascinating plan but the details puzzled her still, she said, and the
+rough sketch he had drawn was very unsatisfactory. She begged him to
+draw it on a large scale, and he set out to do so. But his hand was
+inexpert. Although once the most brilliant designer in town, for years
+Joe had stuck to the business side, and his hand had grown clumsy, his
+memory cold. Ethel had known of this from Nourse. And now probing by
+her questions as to details here and there, with Nourse helping at her
+side, she revealed Joe's weakness to himself. A scared angry look came
+into his eyes. Stubbornly he worked on and on, but the thing would not
+come as it used to!
+
+And this revealing process continued until Nourse with masculine pity
+dropped out of the torturing and went home. But Ethel gently encouraged
+Joe, and in his dogged persistency he kept at it half the night. The
+more tired he grew, the worse was his work. And again and again, as she
+glanced at his face, she saw that frightened look in his eyes. It
+almost brought the tears in her own, but steadily she kept thinking:
+
+"I'm scaring him badly, and that's what he needs. For years he has been
+telling himself that first he would make money and then he would work
+out his ideals. But he's frightened now. He's wondering if he has put
+it off too long?"
+
+Pitilessly she goaded him on. Then at last she relented and began to
+persuade him to go to bed. How white and haggard and queer he looked.
+Again a lump rose in her throat. Soon she was saying quietly:
+
+"I should think that some day, dear, you'd want to go back to Paris and
+work."
+
+He made no answer.
+
+But in the weeks that followed, she dropped this thought again and again
+into his mind. Paris, study, work, old dreams--she played these against
+his business, against Amy and her friends and the flattery of Fanny
+Carr, against that odious press agent and the plan for Riverside Drive.
+
+"Has he turned it down?" she inquired of his partner.
+
+"Not yet," was the answer. "It's still in the air.
+
+"I wish this were over," Ethel thought. Joe's face had grown so queer
+and drawn that sometimes as she looked at him a sickening dread stole
+into her mind. "Is he really too old?" she asked herself.
+
+One Saturday night when he came home, with a sudden leap of compassion
+she saw what a day he had been through. "But he is through! Something
+has happened!" she thought. And she treated him very tenderly--both
+because of the state he was in, and more perhaps because she knew how
+bad it would be for both of them if he had decided against her.
+
+"How has the work been going?" she asked. He looked at her almost with
+dislike.
+
+"For a month," he said, "you've been trying to make me give up that
+Riverside scheme." He paused, and her heart was in her mouth.
+
+"I haven't said so, have I?"
+
+"No--you haven't said so," he growled.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It's off. I've dropped it."
+
+She started to embrace him, but saw at once it would be a mistake.
+
+"Thank you, Joe," she said softly, and went into the nursery. It was so
+dark and quiet there. She had a cry.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+The next morning Emily Giles returned from a visit back in Ohio.
+
+"How have things been going?" she asked. "Very well indeed," said
+Ethel, with a scarcely perceptible smile. She and Emily understood each
+other, though very little had ever been said.
+
+"Mr. Lanier still working hard?"
+
+"Yes, poor dear," said Ethel, "but it has been so good for him." And at
+that a look of grim relish came on Emily's sallow face.
+
+"You know I'm getting to like this town," she remarked with a genial
+air. "I wonder what'll the winter be like?"
+
+"Oh, I think we'll do nicely, Emily. I've quite a few plans in my
+head."
+
+"I'll bet you have," said Emily. And she went to don her "uniform."
+
+In these days, again and again a sense of being just on the eve of
+something very exciting gave Ethel a new zest in life.
+
+One day in the hall downstairs she came upon young Mrs. Grewe. Ethel
+gave a little start and then swiftly reddened. And she saw the young
+widow smile at that, and it made her annoyed with herself for having
+been so clumsy. "I'll show her I'm not such a prude," she thought. And
+having learned that Mrs. Grewe had taken another apartment here, Ethel
+went to see her--with a safe little feeling that Mrs. Grewe would have
+too much sense to return the call. This would end it--pleasantly.
+
+The visit was a decided success. Mrs. Grewe was back from Europe
+sooner than she had expected--for reasons she did not explain. "And now
+I'm looking about," she said, "for another old lady from Boston. I rent
+a new one every year." Ethel stayed for tea. For nearly eight months
+she had had no woman to talk to, but Fanny Carr and Emily Giles. And
+she found it very pleasant to be chatting here so cosily. Not that she
+meant to keep it up. This sort of woman? H'm--well, no. But on the
+other hand, why not? After all, New York was a very big city.
+
+"I'm never going to shut myself up in one little circle of people," she
+thought. "I mean to keep rubbing up against life."
+
+There was an added pleasure, too, in the vague warm self-confidence
+which the young widow gave to her. "You can take care of yourself, my
+dear," said Mrs. Grewe's small lustrous black eyes.
+
+"Well? Is he treating you better?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Ethel.
+
+"He's very wise." They smiled at each other.
+
+"He's becoming quite sensible," Ethel said.
+
+"And have you found those friends you wanted?"
+
+"They're in sight," was Ethel's answer. Her hostess smiled good
+humouredly.
+
+"You won't be able to keep me," she said. "He won't stand that--"
+
+Ethel knit her brows.
+
+"He'll stand a good deal," she answered, "when once I know where I stand
+myself."
+
+"In the meantime you'd better leave me alone."
+
+The two parted in affable fashion.
+
+"There," thought Ethel in relief. "I got through that rather nicely. I
+needn't go again, of course."
+
+She had started out for a brisk walk, and she drew a deep breath of the
+frosty air. The air in New York was often so--gay! And Mrs. Grewe had
+given her such a feeling of independence. She saw a man turn and look
+at her--the beast! But she smiled as she hurried on toward the Park.
+
+Still, the brief visit had been rather daring. Joe would not have liked
+it at all. He would have been perfectly furious!
+
+"However!" She walked briskly on. "What's the difference between Mrs.
+Grewe and his own dear friend, Fanny Carr?" she asked. "Nothing
+whatever--except that Fanny, so far as we know, has taken the trouble
+with each man to have a wedding and a divorce. The only other
+difference is that Fanny has no taste at all, while Mrs. Grewe has
+heaps of it! And she reads things--even Shaw; and she likes good music,
+too. She is going tonight to 'Salome.'" . . . For a moment Ethel let
+her mind run over all the operas she herself was going to hear, and the
+concerts, and the plays she would see and the dinners she would go to,
+the talks in which she would take part. She could see herself--just
+scintillating! . . . With a jerk she came back to Mrs. Grewe. "Oh,
+I guess it isn't very defiling to turn to her from Fanny Carr! I'll do
+as I please!" she impatiently thought.
+
+Still, it had been rather daring. It fitted in exactly with several
+talks she had had of late with Dwight, her music teacher: talks in which
+each one of them had taken rather a challenging tone that had grown
+distinctly intimate. One night when Joe was out of town she had gone
+with Dwight to the opera. And she had not mentioned it to Joe--not that
+she felt guilty at all, she had simply dropped it out of her mind. In
+love with her husband? Yes, indeed. And let Dwight or any other man
+try to go the least bit too far--"As Fanny doubtless does with Joe," she
+suddenly added to herself. For a moment she walked viciously. Then she
+thought again of Dwight. He had told her she really had voice enough
+with which to go on the stage if she chose.
+
+"Though I hope you won't," he had added.
+
+"Why not?" she had asked. In reply he had hinted at perils that made it
+all sound rather thrilling.
+
+"Joe wouldn't like it," Dwight had said.
+
+"I might sing in concerts--"
+
+"Joe wouldn't like it."
+
+"Oh, bother Joe!"
+
+Dwight had smiled a bit. "I wonder what you will do," he had said, "if
+Joe flivvers!"
+
+"If he what?"
+
+"Flivvers--drops back and makes money--turns to those other friends of
+his."
+
+"He won't do that." But her voice had been tense, for the intimate
+feeling in Dwight's tone had made her a bit uneasy.
+
+"Well," he had told her in a low voice, "I'm a friend of Joe's, you
+know, and I don't propose to play the cad. But if you and Joe ever
+should have a break--don't drop me, too. Do you understand?"
+
+She had hesitated a moment upon just how to answer. Her heart had
+pounded rapidly.
+
+"That isn't going to happen," she had told him gravely.
+
+"Sure of that?"
+
+"Yes, and you would be--if you understood me better."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'm in love with that husband of mine for life," she had informed him
+impressively.
+
+"You're very old-fashioned," he had smiled.
+
+"Not at all!"
+
+"Suppose I understand you better than you do yourself?"
+
+She had glanced at him, seen the gleam in his eyes as he had drawn
+closer. And then very suddenly she had found it hard to breathe. What
+to say to stop him?
+
+"At this moment," she had nearly gasped, "you appear to me so
+very--fat!"
+
+That had bowled him over--naturally! In the next few moments the
+atmosphere had become chilly and depressed, and with a sudden rush of
+shame the certainty had grown upon her that she had made a fool of
+herself, that he had meant to do nothing at all. And from blushing
+furiously she had turned a little white, and had said to him:
+
+"Please forgive me. I didn't mean that. I was--just a silly fool.
+Let's go on with my lesson."
+
+"Now that I've learned mine, you mean."
+
+And then regaining control of herself she had turned upon him quickly:
+
+"Oh, be sensible, for goodness' sake! How are you and I to be friends
+if you act like this, you silly boy? You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself!"
+
+So she had got out of that all right, and had felt tremendously
+relieved. It was not only that she liked the man, he was besides her
+only hope, the one who could bring friends to her. "Women friends!
+That's what I need!" All this was so unsafe at times. Her husband's
+business, his two sides, Fanny Carr and her scheming, Dwight and his
+blue, twinkling eyes, Mrs. Grewe and her smiling good-fellowship--were
+all very nice and exciting. But safe? Oh, by no means!
+
+But today as Ethel walked on through the Park, she smiled to herself
+expectantly. For Dwight had promised the next week to bring Sally
+Crothers to see her. "If only I can get on with her! She's my kind--I
+know she is--she's just exactly what I want. I don't want to be
+anything wild--not Mrs. Grewe nor Fanny Carr. I want to be myself,
+that's all, and happy with my husband!"
+
+She turned abruptly toward her home. "In the meantime I am going back
+to give the baby his bath," she thought. She glanced at the watch on
+her gloved wrist. And a man who looked like a detective, or a villain
+in the "movies," looked after her in an envious way.
+
+"Who's her date with!" he wondered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+The days dragged by. She had anxious times. What would Sally Crothers
+be like? "And what in the world will she think of me? If she doesn't
+like me--very much--the very first time, I'll have lost my chance. For
+she's busy, her life is full of things--planning gardens and running
+about with her friends. And she won't so much as bother her head!"
+Ethel felt a dismal sinking. In vain she strove to assure herself.
+Joe, Nourse and then Dwight, one after the other, had all bowed down
+before her. "Oh, that was very simple!" she thought. "They're only
+men!" It would be a woman this time, and one of the most brilliant kind.
+"What a dull little fool she'll find me, in spite of all I do or say!"
+It would be all the more difficult because Mrs. Crothers was older.
+"That will count against me. No doubt she's beginning to show her age;
+and I'm young, and she doesn't want any young things to come snooping
+about her husband! Then there's Amy and the quarrel they had, and
+she'll put me and Amy in the same class! I'll have all that to fight
+against!" The idea of settling everything all in one brief encounter.
+Oh, it was too maddening!
+
+"Now, Ethel Lanier, for goodness' sake stop fidgeting like a nervous old
+maid! This isn't the minister coming to call!"
+
+On the day before the expected call, Ethel was just on the point of
+going out for the afternoon to do some shopping and shake off these
+silly fears, when the telephone rang and a few moments later the maid
+came in and told her there was a visitor downstairs. In an instant with
+a rush of excitement Ethel knew it was Sally at last. Dwight, in his
+easy, careless way, had mixed his dates and was bringing Sally a day
+ahead! How stupid of him! "What have I on?"
+
+"Did she come up?" she breathlessly asked.
+
+"No, Mrs. Lanier, she's waiting below."
+
+"Did she give her name?"
+
+"Yes--Mrs. Carr."
+
+"Oh." Ethel gasped and sank down in a heap. "All right, ask her to come
+up," she said, in a tone of indifference.
+
+When the maid had gone, she almost called her back. She did not want to
+see Fanny Carr. Still--why not? Oh, let her come. And in the two or
+three minutes that followed, Ethel passed from a mood of depression to
+one of easy good-natured contempt. She was no longer afraid of Fanny,
+for Ethel was getting Joe in hand. "And as soon as I do," she
+reflected, "and my husband makes a name as an architect doing great big
+things, what harm can Fanny do me?" As she thought of the brilliant
+people who were so soon to be her friends, she looked upon Fanny Carr
+and her like with no more hatred but only compassion. What stupid lives
+they were leading.
+
+And so when Fanny came into the room Ethel received her kindly.
+
+But Fanny rather smiled at that. She looked a bit seedy as to her
+dress, and yet she had a confident air. She took in the fine clothes of
+her handsome young hostess, and Ethel's very gracious air and the almost
+pitying tone of her voice--and then with a hard little smile, "My, what
+a change," said Fanny softly. Ethel frowned at her tone. This might be
+rather awkward.
+
+"You mean this way of doing my hair?" she rejoined good-humouredly. "I
+was hoping you would notice it."
+
+"Does he?" asked Fanny.
+
+"What do you mean? Oh, Joe never--"
+
+"No. Dwight, my dear." The hard voice of her visitor had become
+suddenly low and clear. Ethel looked at the woman then and slowly
+reddened to her ears. And the consciousness of blushing made her all
+the angrier.
+
+"What on earth do you mean!" she demanded. Her voice too was very low,
+and it trembled only a little; but there was a glint in her brown eyes.
+Fanny gave a tense little laugh.
+
+"Look here," she said. "Don't let's waste time. Joe may be coming
+home, you know, and we must get this over first."
+
+"We'll soon get it over." Ethel's voice was shaking ominously. Fanny
+noticed and spoke fast.
+
+"Well, then, it's just this," she said. "You've made up your mind to
+cut Joe off from all his old friends, including me. And I might have
+stood for that--"
+
+"How kind!"
+
+"If I hadn't learned of the raw deal you're giving him. Strip him of
+friends and then treat him like this? Oh, no, not if I can help it!"
+Plainly Fanny was working herself into a rage to match that of her
+hostess.
+
+"You'd better be very clear, Mrs. Carr," Ethel exclaimed, leaning
+forward. Her visitor looked straight back at her, and answered:
+
+"Very. I mean Dwight."
+
+Ethel rose abruptly.
+
+"That will be enough, I think."
+
+"Oh, will it?"
+
+Ethel wheeled upon her:
+
+
+"What a--loathsome mind you have! Will you leave me, please!"
+
+"No, I'll show you this. And then we'll get to business." And Fanny
+produced a large envelope, from which she took out a few typewritten
+pages. "Just look these over," she advised, "and then tell me whether I
+shall go." And as Ethel hesitated, "You'd better. They're very
+important."
+
+Ethel took them and read them, and as she did so her rage and scorn
+changed first into bewilderment and then into a sickening fright She
+felt all at once so off her ground. She had always heard of detectives
+and their reports of shadowed wives, but that sort of thing had just
+been in the papers and had never seemed very real. "This is about me!"
+she thought. It told of every meeting she had had with Dwight, in his
+studio and in other places, once at the Ritz where they had dined and
+gone to the opera, twice in the Park where they had walked. Such clean
+times, all three of them, but how cheap and disgusting they now
+appeared! For here were bits about Dwight's past, his record with
+women--two were named. He had been a co-respondent once! And his
+studio was described in detail, with emphasis on a big lounge in one
+corner! . . . Suddenly it was laughable! And so she laughed at
+Fanny! And Fanny replied:
+
+"You mean he won't believe it!"
+
+Ethel went on laughing. Joe wouldn't believe it. She wished he would
+come and turn this woman out on the street. She felt relief
+unspeakable.
+
+"You've forgotten," Fanny added, "that you lied to him about your
+friend."
+
+"How dare you say that?"
+
+"Because I have the facts. On the second of December Joe brought Dwight
+to dine with you, and you acted as though you'd never met. I gathered
+that from Joe himself when I saw him the next day. While the truth of
+it was you'd been seeing Dwight ever since the first of October."
+
+"Yes? That will be easy enough to explain." But Ethel felt herself
+turning white. She sank down and thought, "Now you'll need all your
+nerve. Don't get faint, you've got to think clearly." But she was not
+given time.
+
+"And all that had been going on while you were supposed to be home with
+the baby." Mrs. Carr leaned forward briskly. "Now the thing for you to
+do is exactly what I tell you. But before I do that, there's just one
+thing I wish you to understand about me. If you want to keep Joe, keep
+him. I don't want him--I never did. I've laughed at you again and
+again for what you thought I was trying to do. All I want is to be let
+alone to go on with Joe as I always have. What I mean by that you won't
+understand, because you don't understand my life. A woman like me in
+this city needs one man who'll be her friend--the big brother idea--to
+help and advise her, carry her through when she's down a bit. And Joe
+has always been like that.
+
+"Why? Because of Amy. When she first came to New York, you remember,
+it was on a visit to me. I had known her back in boarding school.
+Well, the visit lengthened out. I saw how crazy she was for the town,
+and I was fairly well off then, so I let her stay and gave her a
+home--let her meet my friends, Joe included. I had a husband at the
+time who was in the real estate business. He knew Joe. So I took Joe
+and handed him over to Amy. And though she would have been glad enough
+to forget the debt, Joe wasn't that kind. So that's my hold on
+him--perfectly clean and above-board. And I need him in my business.
+There are times when I'm down and need his money, other times when I
+need his name. But that is all. And if he has been fool enough to
+marry a giddy young girl like you, that's his own look-out--I won't
+interfere. I mean I won't interfere with you so long as you don't
+interfere with me. You let me go on with Joe as before, and he'll never
+see these papers."
+
+With a sudden fierce impulse, in spite of herself, Ethel crumpled them
+up in her hands.
+
+"Don't be a fool," said Fanny. "They're only copies. Give them back."
+Ethel did so, mechanically. "Now what will you do? Which way will you
+have it? He may be here any minute now."
+
+She waited, but got no reply. She saw the girl shiver a little.
+
+"What's the use of being so solemn and scared?" she impatiently asked.
+"You're running no more risk than before. So far as I'm concerned, my
+dear, you can go right on with Dwight if you wish. All I'm asking is a
+square deal."
+
+"But she'll ask and ask," thought Ethel. "She'll ask of me anything she
+wants. And she'll get me so tangled in other lies that then I wouldn't
+have even a chance of making Joe see how things really are."
+
+This thought cleared her mind a little.
+
+"No," she said. "You can tell him."
+
+"What!"
+
+Ethel looked down at her hands in her lap, and noticed how tightly
+they were clenched. She smiled at them.
+
+"Tell him."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+Ethel nodded.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+"She's uneasy," thought Ethel, "and disappointed--not sure of herself.
+I've done the right thing."
+
+But as in almost perfect silence they sat waiting for Joe to come home,
+her decision wavered again and again, and it took all her courage to
+hold herself in. She made occasional trite remarks, and received
+replies of the same kind. On them both the tension was growing.
+
+"This means everything to you, too, Fanny, dear!" Ethel reflected
+viciously. "If Joe believes me--you're done for!"
+
+At each slight stir that Fanny made, Ethel hoped she had lost her
+courage and was getting ready to go. But Fanny stayed And as she sat
+there motionless, what a strong figure she grew to be, moment by moment,
+in Ethel's eyes--strong in spite of the life she led, of clothes, rich
+feeding, drinking, dancing, old age swiftly coming on. Strong
+nevertheless, in an odious way, in the loathsome point of view of her
+world toward love and marriage. It had set her to prying and handed her
+here--with these papers in her hands! That was her way of looking at
+life, and a mighty strong way it appeared!
+
+Suddenly Ethel's eye was caught by Amy's photograph on the table. By
+degrees in the last few months Joe had ceased to notice it there. But
+how he would notice it now, very soon, as soon as he'd read what Fanny
+had brought. For Amy had taught Joe long ago to be jealous, never too
+sure of a wife.
+
+"So Amy is here again, after all. . . . I wonder what I shall say to
+Joe? . . . Oh, rubbish! Use more common sense! All I've got to do
+is to make him see why I never told him about Dwight. It was only part
+of that plan I had. But what a fool! Oh, what a fool!"
+
+When at last Joe's key was heard in the door, both women leaned slowly
+forward, as though the strain were unbearable. And then as Joe came
+into the hall, Fanny said suddenly, sharp and clear:
+
+"No, I won't keep quiet! Joe has got to be told of this!" Ethel wheeled
+on her:
+
+"How odious!"
+
+"I can't help it--he's my friend!"
+
+And the next moment, with Joe in the room, both women were talking to
+him at once--angrily, incoherently, almost shoving each other away. But
+only for a moment. It was too disgusting! Ethel left off and stood
+rigid there, while Fanny talked on rapidly. She was speaking of how
+Ethel had cut off Joe from Amy's friends. Ethel heard only bits of
+this, for it all seemed so confused and unreal. But she noticed how
+nervously tired he looked, all keyed up from his day at the office. She
+remembered that his partner was out of town on business, that Joe had
+been running the office alone. "He will be hard to manage," she
+thought. He interrupted Fanny in a sharp, excitable tone.
+
+"What's it all about?" he asked.
+
+"It's time you saw where you stand, Joe Lanier. Look at this girl. I
+don't blame her, God knows. Look how young she is, and then look at
+yourself. Here, take a look at yourself in that mirror. Are you still
+young? Can't you see the lines, the gray hairs, Joe? They're
+coming--oh, they're coming! Can you supply all the love she wants?"
+
+"Fanny?" he snapped out her name in so ugly a voice that she lost no
+time. She shoved those papers into his hands and began to tell him what
+they were. But Joe refused to read them and grew each moment angrier.
+
+"Joe!" cried Fanny sharply. "When you brought Dwight to dinner here, he
+met your wife as though for the first time. Did you know they had been
+friends for months?" And at his startled look, she added, "If you
+didn't, you'd better read all this!" There fell a sudden silence.
+
+"I'll explain everything--when we're alone," Ethel managed to put in.
+How queer and thick her own voice sounded.
+
+Now Joe had gone into the hall with Fanny. Curtly he said good-night to
+her. The door closed, and there was silence again. Why didn't he come?
+He must be standing there in the hall trying to get hold of himself.
+Oh, how terribly hurt he must feel! But she checked the sudden lump in
+her throat. "Remember now--just common sense!" This was a time for
+keeping clear! But Joe had come back into the room, and passing the
+gilt mirror into which Fanny had told him to look, he stopped a moment.
+
+"Don't do that, Joe!" In an instant, in spite of herself, her love for
+him rose up in a wave, with fear and pity and anger, too. She came to
+him, and her voice was shaking. "Oh, Joe--Joe! Can't you see it's all
+lies? It's so loathsome--every word! And so cheap--so cheap and mean!"
+
+As she spoke, his eyes were rapidly scanning the report he still had in
+his hands. Again she noticed how tired he was. He looked up at her:
+
+"I know it is! But why didn't you treat it like that? Why did you try
+to make her keep quiet? Weren't you trying, when I came in?"
+
+"No! No! It was just her odious trick--her pretending!"
+
+"Pretending? How about you? Why did you pretend, when I brought Dwight
+here, that you'd never laid eyes on him before? Had you or hadn't you?
+Careful, now! Fanny says it is all here!"
+
+"I'll explain in one word!"
+
+"What's the word? Say it, please--and for God's sake clear this up!"
+
+She was breathing hard, frightened, her mind in a whirl. Oh, to be able
+to think clearly! Use a little common sense!
+
+"Just a minute!" she gasped. "You'll see in a minute--"
+
+"I see a good deal! It's right in your eyes! What are you looking so
+scared about! And what did she say about my being old! I am old--and
+you're young, young! And a beauty--just the kind for Dwight! Don't I
+know of his love affairs? Wasn't he at it way back in Paris? Hasn't he
+been--ever since?"
+
+"Be careful, Joe," she cried angrily. But in his condition, nerves on
+edge, he paid no heed and went rapidly on:
+
+"I'm just a business man! And you've made me feel your contempt for all
+that! And he's a musician, he's different--he has exactly what you
+want! So you went to his studio twice a week--for months and
+months--without letting me know--although he was a friend of mine! And
+you went to the Ritz and the opera! And then I brought him here to
+dine! God, how you two must have smiled at each other--when I wasn't
+looking!"
+
+"Joe! Joe!"
+
+"You lied to me, didn't you, when he came! You say you'll explain it in
+a word! Well, what's the word? I'm waiting!"
+
+"There isn't any!" Her face was white. "I don't care to explain to you
+now!" she cried. He looked at her. She could see he was trembling, and
+she nearly changed her mind. But her anger came again. "I won't!" she
+thought. "Not tonight!"
+
+"Then you and I are through, you know," he said very huskily. He turned
+and went into the hall, and a moment later the outer door closed. Ethel
+sat down and stared blankly.
+
+"I acted like an idiot!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+As she sat there she grew furious with herself for having bungled so.
+Why hadn't she explained to him? Why hadn't she simply told him her
+plan for giving him back his friends? All at once she could hear
+herself saying what she should have said to Joe:
+
+"I may have been wrong about it, Joe, but I thought the best way to
+bring you back to all the things you used to love was to let you think
+_you_ were doing it. So I let you and Dwight come together alone. I
+kept in the background, as I did about getting you into that club of
+yours. I was afraid to show my hand." On and on she talked to him. Oh,
+how simple and convincing, strong, and sensible and true. "Why didn't
+you say it, you little fool? You acted just like a scared young girl
+found out in doing something wrong!" She was ready to cry, but checked
+herself. "At least don't be a baby now. What are you to do about it?"
+She bit her lip. Now it was too late. She had made it worse--a hundred
+times! All at once she rose and began to walk. "Oh, rubbish!" she
+thought, impatiently. "You're not to give up, when everything else in
+your whole life was going so perfectly splendidly! . . . Why, of
+course. That's it. I'll call up Nourse, and have him come and explain
+to Joe how I went to him at the very start."
+
+With a swift feeling of relief Ethel went to the telephone.
+
+"Mr. Nourse is out of town."
+
+"Oh, yes. Thank you. I'd forgotten. When do you expect him back?"
+
+"Not until the end of the week."
+
+As Ethel hung up the receiver she felt a little faint and queer. When
+Joe came back this evening she would have to face him alone! In vain
+she angrily told herself that it only needed common sense. The picture
+of his tired face, nerves all on edge, rose in her mind. The way his
+jealousy had flared up! No, it would not be easy! She might even--fail
+with him! At the thought, a foolish panic came. More walking was
+required. . . . She heard Susette beginning her supper, and she went
+in and sat with the child. And at first that worked out very well.
+Soon she was smiling and listening to the ceaseless chatter of the small
+girl. But suddenly Ethel exclaimed to herself, "Suppose I do fail,
+after all! If there's a divorce he'll take them both!" She jumped up in
+a frightened way, and went into her bedroom. She threw herself sobbing
+on the bed--but in a few minutes regained control with an effort and lay
+there motionless. The tangle was growing clearer now.
+
+The very best she could hope was to make Joe half believe her, she
+thought. And that would mean she would have to drop Dwight and all
+chance of meeting those people he knew. She would live with a Joe so
+suspicious that she would be under his friend, Fanny Carr. "She'll be
+my friend, and bring me in touch with whatever other people she likes.
+I'll have to be nice to them--every one. And I'll live her life. Amy's
+life." She looked at the large photograph over on Joe's chiffonier.
+"Perhaps after all I shall be like her. How do I know what she was at
+my age? As I grow older, all hemmed in, why not stop caring for
+anything else?
+
+"Oh, now do let's be sensible!" With an impatient movement of her lithe
+beautiful figure Ethel was up off the bed and walking the room with grim
+resolution in her brown eyes. Soon she was much quieter. She felt the
+warm youth within her rise. There must be a way! So far, so good. But
+the moment she tried to think what way, again at once she was off her
+ground. What could she do or say to Joe? Her failure to manage him
+that afternoon had shaken her confidence in herself. Ethel was only
+twenty-five, and now she felt even younger than that. All at once in a
+sickening way her courage oozed; she felt herself ignorant and alone.
+Why did not Joe come back, she asked. Was he going to stay away all
+night? And if he did, what would it mean? She remembered what he had
+said when he left: "Then you and I are through, you know." All right,
+then what was he going to do! "I don't even know how a man goes about
+it, if he wants to get a divorce!" And panic seized her as before. "I
+can't do this all by myself! I can't talk to him as I've got to
+talk--not till I know just what to say! I bungled it so! I need sound
+advice! Oh, for somebody to help me!" She thought of Dwight, but she
+would not go near him! She loathed the very sight of him now! Why had
+not he told her of those other affairs of his that could rise in this
+way against herself? Why had he allowed her to do those few little
+daring things, which looked so cheap and disgusting in the detective's
+typed report? And besides, if she did want to see him, could she,
+without being watched by some wretched detective? For the whole town
+seemed bristling with detectives and police. And the city of New York
+felt cold. As she lay on her bed, a sudden gay laugh from a
+neighbouring window recalled to her mind that night long ago, her first
+in New York, when she had listened excitedly and thought of all the
+stories here, both sad and comic.
+
+"Well, I'm a story now," she thought. "And I suppose I'm comic!" The
+angry tears rose in her eyes. Oh, for a real friend! There was Emily
+Giles, of course, but this was Emily's night out; and besides, in
+matters of this kind she would be worse than useless. "What I need is a
+woman who knows this town--and all its ways--and what to do!" As the
+evening drew on and still Joe did not come, again and again she felt
+ready to scream. And though she savagely held herself in, each time was
+harder than the last.
+
+"Something has simply got to be done!" she told herself after one
+outbreak like that. Then all at once came the recollection of young
+Mrs. Grewe downstairs. "I must have some one or I'll go mad!" And she
+hurried to the telephone. But in the hall she stopped and frowned.
+"No, I won't call her up," she thought. "That inquisitive telephone
+girl downstairs would begin to gossip about it at once." For the same
+reason Ethel did not take the elevator. She ran quickly down two
+flights and rang at Mrs. Grewe's door. There was silence. She waited
+some moments, then rang again. "Oh, she's out--I know she is!" The
+thought brought a sickening empty feeling. She would have to face this
+night alone!
+
+But abruptly the door opened, and a sleepy startled maid looked at her
+in dull surprise.
+
+"Is she out tonight? Is Mrs. Grewe out?" Ethel asked impatiently.
+
+"Yes--she's out," the girl replied.
+
+But glancing behind her Ethel saw a high hat and an overcoat on a chair,
+and with a quick little "Oh!" of dismay, she turned and hurried away
+down the hall. She heard the maid's chuckle behind her. "Oh-h!" She
+could feel her cheeks burning. And when she got back to her bedroom
+upstairs, out of the shame and humility rose a fierce anger which downed
+all her fears at the thought of this night or of anything else. "I'll
+never be like her!" she exclaimed. "There'll never be a high hat in my
+hall at this time of night--nor a Boston old maid--nor a snickering
+telephone girl downstairs! Never! I'll make myself ugly first! For
+I'm not like you, I'm not like you! I've had a child, to begin
+with--and I'm going to keep him, he's mine!"
+
+There came again a period of swift determined thinking. And at last
+with a quick thrill of relief she remembered Mrs. Crothers was coming
+with Dwight to call the next day. Sally Crothers--Joe's old friend!
+"If she believed in me--really believed in all that I was trying to
+do--she could give me just the advice I need! It may be I'm just
+silly--and she could give me her common sense! She might even talk to
+Joe herself--and make him realize my whole plan! If only I can get her
+to help me!"
+
+Ethel went at once to her desk and rapidly wrote a note to Dwight,
+saying she thought it would be better to let Mrs. Crothers come alone.
+
+"For I could do nothing, with him around. And I've got to do
+everything!" she thought as she folded the envelope.
+
+
+In the morning she heard from Joe. When a messenger came with a note,
+she tore it open and read this:
+
+"Please give this man my suit-case and put in what things I need. I
+shall stay here at the club awhile--it will be better all around. I am
+sorry for the scene I made and I don't want another. If you have any
+real explanation, send me word and I will come. But understand it has
+got to be real. If it is not we can't go on. I guess you see that."
+
+She read it again. Then glancing up at the messenger, who was plainly
+curious at the expression on her face, she frowned at him impatiently.
+
+"Will you wait downstairs!" she said. "It will take some little time to
+find the things my husband wants."
+
+Rid of him, she began again and read the letter with desperate care.
+Yes, Joe was trying to be fair. To have said he was sorry for that
+scene was rather decent in him. "Oh, yes, but he'll make another!" she
+thought. "Don't I know how he is--all tired and nervous and unstrung?
+If my explanation doesn't seem real he'll fly up and leave me, and then
+we'll be through!" She clenched the letter and told herself that her
+explanation must be real. It was her one chance--she must take time,
+and get good sensible advice. Joe had Fanny Carr about. That was
+certain. She'd never leave him alone. She was busily bolstering up her
+side. And Ethel needed somebody, too, on her side--right behind her.
+Sally Crothers--Joe's old friend!
+
+She packed Joe's things and sent them to him with a little letter: "I am
+glad you said you were sorry, Joe, for the way you acted was very
+unfair. You are quite right in waiting now--it is better for both of us
+to cool down. But my explanation is simple and real--as you will see.
+I shall send for you in a few days. I love you, dear. I love you."
+
+After that, she spent hours in anxious reflection. Now about Sally
+Crothers, she thought. Should she tell her the trouble she was in? No,
+not at once. New Yorkers hate trouble and always fly from it--so she
+must lead to it gradually. "When she comes I've got to make her like
+me--very much--so much she's surprised!" To begin with, looks--for looks
+did count. That much of what Amy had said was true. "But what I must
+do is not to look like her. Sally Crothers detested her, and I've got
+to overcome all that. I must show her I'm quite different." For a time
+Ethel's mind dwelt on details. It must all be so simple, yet not too
+severe. "For Sally is gay, I understand. What I want is to look
+halfway between Mrs. Grewe and Emily Giles. Black? No. Dark blue,
+with that old Rhinestone pin. Wave my hair? No, that's Amy again!"
+
+But from such thoughts about her dress, or her tea table, flowers, the
+lights in the room, her mind kept darting anxiously off. All this was
+nothing! What should she say? "It's a woman of brains who is coming to
+call. Think of all she knows--and she earns her living--she has a
+profession of her own! How in the world shall I talk to her? She
+thinks me like Amy--there's Amy again! Oh, Amy, Amy, I don't want to
+hate you! You helped me once, you were dear to me, and you had heaps
+and heaps of good points! But please, please stop coming up in my life!
+
+"Don't get into another panic, my dear. When she comes you must be
+natural. Your natural self--that always counts. Don't try to show off
+what you haven't got. Show her only what you have. Make her feel
+you're young and ready to learn--half mad to learn! No, that won't
+do--not mad, but keen for everything--interested in her life--in all she
+does and thinks and feels." She frowned. "No, that's too personal. And
+you can't be personal in New York--not very--they don't like it here.
+Every one's too busy. You must be interested in things--the town in
+general--music--books--people in a general way.
+
+"'Here's the kind of a girl who will grow,' she must say, 'and who is
+worth my taking up!' But will she! Now here's that panic again! And
+can't you see, you little goose, this is just what may spoil everything?
+If you're scared, you'll lose! You've got to keep cool every minute
+she's here! Who is this Sally anyhow? What has she done that you won't
+do when you're as old as she is? . . . Yes, but don't you strike
+that note! No woman likes to be reminded that she is ten years older
+than any other woman on earth. She'll put me down as a cute young thing
+who has a dangerous way with men. Dwight has praised me to her, of
+course--but she'll put his liking down to that--the--the--the sex side!
+I must show her it isn't, that I've got more, that I don't want men but
+women now! But not too hard or eager, you know. Oh, I must watch her
+all the time, to see if I'm getting any hold. And then, the minute I
+see my chance, I must tell her my trouble--no, my big chance--all I was
+just on the point of doing with Joe, and could do now--if only I had her
+for a friend!"
+
+Such thinking was spasmodic and often disconnected. Thoughts of Joe
+kept breaking in, and of what she should do if she failed with him.
+And again, putting down with an effort all such thoughts and fancies,
+she took Susette and the baby and went out for a walk in the Park. It
+was one of those balmy days that come in winter now and then, and Ethel
+sat down on a bench for a while.
+
+But then she looked around with a start. Who was that on a bench
+nearby? A fat man with a black moustache, his derby hat tipped over his
+forehead, and his two small piggish eyes morosely and narrowly watching
+her. A detective--working for Fanny Carr! Ethel angrily rose and
+called to Susette and wheeled the baby carriage away. But just as she
+passed the fat man, a small fat boy ran up to him.
+
+"Say, Pa," whined the urchin. "Buy me a bag of peanuts."
+
+"Like hell I will," the fat man growled.
+
+And Ethel blushed. How absurd she had been!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+In reply to her note, Dwight had telephoned that Sally would be there at
+five. Mrs. Crothers arrived at a quarter past. She was a small alert
+looking woman of thirty-five, slender, almost wiry, dark, with black
+hair worn over her temples. Her small mouth was strong and willful, but
+she had nice pleasant eyes. She was wearing a pretty tan hat and grey
+furs that she put back on her shoulders as she smiled and held out her
+hand.
+
+"I'm so glad to meet you at last, my dear."
+
+"Oh, thank you," said Ethel quickly. And then, because that sounded too
+grateful, she added, "Won't you sit down?" in rather a stilted little
+voice. This woman made her feel so young. "Now don't act like a
+school-girl!" With an appearance of lazy ease she turned and poked the
+small logs in the fire. "I do so love wood fires. Don't you?" she
+said, in carefully easy tones, but she did not hear the answer.
+
+Mrs. Crothers was wearing a trim street suit of brown and dark green.
+"She dresses as I do, so _that's_ all right," thought Ethel. "She's
+taking me in. So much the better. I'll do the same." And as they
+talked, she kept throwing glances at the dark face, rather narrow, the
+small and rather mischievous mouth, amid the grey eyes which looked as
+though they could be so very good-humoured and friendly. But with a
+little pang of dismay Ethel saw that these eyes were preoccupied and
+only half attending. "She has a hundred things on her mind, and she's
+asking, 'Now let's try to see if there's really anything here worth
+while.'" The preliminaries were already over. That part at least had
+gone smoothly enough. "We're off!" thought Ethel excitedly.
+
+"How will you have your tea?" she asked.
+
+"Clear with lemon."
+
+"One lump or two?"
+
+"Three or four."
+
+"Oh, how funny," Ethel laughed. And then she reddened. "You little
+goose," she exclaimed to herself, "why did you say, 'how funny'?" She
+poured the tea with a trembling hand and proffered it with a plate of
+cakes and small toasted crumpets, dainties she had purchased with care
+at a smart little shop in the neighbourhood. And meanwhile she was
+answering the questions, pleasant but searching, though thrown out in a
+casual voice.
+
+"Yes, my home was in Ohio. Such a dear old town," she said. But the
+next moment she bit her lips, for she had come so near to adding, "I
+wish I were back this very minute!" What was her visitor saying? She
+frowned and leaned forward attentively. Something about a small town in
+Vermont and the funny local politics there. "Where is she leading by
+that remark?" Oh, yes, suffrage! That was all right!
+
+"Yes, indeed," declared Ethel eagerly, "I'm for suffrage heart and soul!
+I marched in the parade last Fall! Wasn't it glorious? Were you
+there?"
+
+"Yes, I marched--"
+
+"With the gardeners?" Ethel blushed again. "Landscape, I mean!" And her
+visitor smiled.
+
+"Yes, with the gardeners," she said. "There were only four of us, but
+we felt like the Four Hundred." Ethel giggled excitedly.
+
+"Wasn't it glorious?" she exclaimed. "You ninny!" she thought. "You
+said that once!" And she hastened to add, "And isn't it perfectly silly
+for men to try to keep us from marching?"
+
+"You mean your husband doesn't approve?"
+
+"Approve!" Ethel echoed with a sniff. "I'd like to see him disapprove.
+I have him in fair control, I think." And she knitted her brows in an
+eager way, for this was a chance to tell how she had done it.
+
+"How long have you been married!" her visitor was asking.
+
+"Let me see. Four years? No, two," she replied, with a quick smile.
+"Time does so fly along in this town!"
+
+"It does indeed. It seems hardly any time at all since the days when
+your husband and I were friends."
+
+"Oh, yes, he has often told me about you!" And Ethel shot a swift
+anxious look. "I know you don't like him," she wanted to add. "But if
+you'll only give me a chance I'll show you what I have made of this
+man--or was making, at least, till all of a sudden right out of the
+clouds there dropped a fat detective!" She laughed at the thought and
+then grew rigid. How silly and pointless to laugh like that! Mrs.
+Crothers was telling now of the old group down about Washington Square,
+and Ethel was listening hungrily.
+
+"What gorgeous times you must have had," she exclaimed, "in those old
+days!" The next moment she turned crimson. "I've said it now. 'Old'!
+I knew I should!" She caught Sally's good-natured smile and felt again
+like a mere child.
+
+From this moment on she would take care! She avoided personal topics,
+and growing grave and dignified she turned the conversation from Joe to
+music, concerts, the opera, "Salome," "Louise." She carefully showed she
+was up to date, not only in music but in other things, books she had
+discussed years ago in the club of the little history "prof," and others
+she had been reading since--Montessori, "Jean Christophe." Hiding her
+tense anxiety under a manner smooth as oil, she talked politely on and
+on, and she felt she was doing better now. So much better! No more
+stupid breaks or girlish gush, but a modern intelligent woman of parts.
+And a glow of hope rose in her breast. A little more of this, she
+thought, and she would be ready to break off, and with a sudden
+appealing smile take her new friend into her confidence, tell of her
+trouble and ask for advice.
+
+But the smile came from her visitor. Mrs. Crothers had risen and was
+holding out her hand. And as Ethel stared in dismay at that smile,
+which displayed such an easy indifference to her and all her view of
+life, her only woman friend in New York said:
+
+"I'm so sorry I've got to run. I hope you'll come and see me."
+
+From the door in the hallway Ethel came back in a sort of a daze--till
+her eye lit on the blue china clock on the mantel.
+
+"Seventeen minutes!" she exclaimed. And then after one quick look
+around, she flung herself on the sofa in tears. "I bored her! How I
+bored her! How stupid I was, and comic--a child! And then solemn--too
+solemn--all music and art--and education and--how in the world do I know
+what I said? Or care! I hate the woman! I hate them all! Seventeen
+minutes! Isn't that just like New York?"
+
+But from this little storm she soon emerged. Grimly sitting up on the
+sofa, she reached out a hand icy cold, took the tea-pot and poured out a
+cup. It was strong now, thank Heaven! And frowning gravely into space,
+Ethel sat and drank her tea.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"Now the one thing," she told herself, "is to keep your nerve and be
+sensible. For this may decide your whole life, you know. . . All
+right, what next? What's to be done?
+
+"I hate Sally Crothers," she began, "but I may go to see her,
+nevertheless. She asked me to. Didn't mean it, of course, she was
+plainly bored! No, I won't do it! I loathe the woman! . . . All
+right, my dear, but who else can you go to? Mrs. Grewe? She's
+doubtless at home--but there may be that detestable hat, tall, rich and
+shiny, in her hall. It looked as though it owned her soul! No,
+thanks--not yet--not for me! . . . Though she told me you soon get
+used to it. . . .
+
+"Well, how about going back to Ohio, to the little history prof, and
+hating all men--one and all! That sounds exceedingly tempting! . . .
+I won't do it, though--because if I do, it means I'm beaten here--and
+I'd lose Susette and the baby!--. . . Quiet, now. . . . And then
+there's Dwight. He will probably call up soon and ask how Sally and I
+got on. I could go to him this very night! How perfectly disgusting!
+And yet it's just what Joe deserves! What right had he to believe that
+of me? . . . Now please keep cool. If I go to Dwight I become
+exactly like Mrs. Grewe--and I'd have to give up the children.
+
+"No, it's back to Joe on my knees, to beg him to let me stay right here.
+And I'll succeed--I know I will! But won't I be under Fanny's thumb?
+And won't I take back Amy's friends? Like a good repentant scared
+little girl! And eat their rich meals and chatter as they do, and dance
+and grow old--and push Joe on to make more money--more and more--so that
+I can get fat and soft--like the rest of these cats!"
+
+Again her face was quivering. But with an effort controlling herself,
+she went into the nursery. And on the floor with her wee son, slowly
+rolling a big red ball back and forth to each other, soon again she had
+grown quiet, almost like her natural self. She took supper alone, and
+then read a novel, page after page, without comprehending. An hour
+later she went to bed, and there lay listening to the town--to its
+numberless voices, distinct and confused, from windows close by and from
+the street, and from other streets by hundreds and from a million other
+homes, and from the two rivers and the sea--voices blurred and
+fused in one. And its tone, to Ethel's ears, was one of utter
+indifference--good-humoured enough but rather bored with "young things"
+weeping on its breast.
+
+"Be Mrs. Grewe, if you like," it said, "or Sally Crothers or Fanny
+Carr. Or go back home to your history prof. Each one of these things
+has been done before by so many thousands just like you. Nobody cares.
+You have no neighbours. Do exactly as you like."
+
+"Thank you very much," she said. "I choose to be Sally Crothers first.
+And if that fails--well, between Fanny Carr and Mrs. Grewe there isn't
+much choice. Do you think so?"
+
+"Oh, no," said the city. And it yawned. But Ethel lay there thinking.
+
+"Excuse me," she spoke presently. "Sorry to annoy you again--but is
+there any God about?"
+
+"None," came the sleepy answer. "Do as you like, I tell you."
+
+She opened her eyes and sat up in bed.
+
+"Now I've been getting morbid again! For goodness' sake let's try to be
+healthy and clear about this!"
+
+And she tried to be. But for some time she made little headway. It was
+easy to grimly shut her teeth and resolve, "I've got to do this by
+myself, talk to Joe and simply make him believe me!" But as soon as she
+came to the details of what she should say to her husband, his face as
+she had seen it last--worn and nervous, overwrought--kept rising up
+before her. Could she convince him! "It's my last chance!" If only she
+knew how to go about it! She wanted to be heroic and face this crisis
+all alone--but she had been alone so much. Tonight it seemed to Ethel
+as though she had struggled alone for years. Was it all worth while,
+she asked herself. She could feel her courage ooze again. Her thinking
+grew vague and uneven. . . . And more and more the picture rose of
+the woman friend she had counted on having--Sally Crothers, who was so
+clever, an older woman who knew New York, knew what to do in such
+tangles as this, knew Joe, had known him back in that past which Ethel
+was trying to raise again. And it was exasperating! "If I could only
+get at her!" she thought.
+
+Carefully, almost word by word, she went over in her mind her talk with
+Mrs. Crothers that day, in order to find out her mistakes.
+
+"Do you know what I think?" she said at the end. "I think in the first
+part you did pretty well. You made breaks and were clumsy, and she was
+amused--but she rather liked you, nevertheless. At least you were a
+novelty. But then you went and spoiled it all by making solemn fool
+remarks about the world in general. And thereupon Sally arose and went.
+. . . All right, next time I'll be different. I won't be solemn, nor
+afraid of saying anything incorrect. In fact I'll revel in it! She
+asked me to come and see her, in a tone which added, 'Don't.' But I'll
+be incorrect right there. I will go to see her; and what's more, I'll
+go tomorrow afternoon! And I won't call up first, for she'd say she was
+out. I'll get into her house and get her downstairs--and I'll break
+right through all smoothnesses and tell her exactly how and why I've got
+to have a woman friend! I'll give you the chance of your life, Sally
+Crothers, to throw out the life-line!
+
+"If you don't I'll--just swim about for awhile. No use in thinking of
+that, though."
+
+And suddenly she fell asleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+Mrs. Crothers lived in a small brick house on a side street close to
+Washington Square. As Ethel looked out from her automobile, how dear
+and homey it appeared, with such a quiet friendly face. "Now for the
+plunge." She went up the low steps and rang the bell. Thank Heaven it
+was a rainy day, for when the maid came Ethel went right in, and the
+rain made that seem natural. At least no door had been shut in her
+face. She wanted to get inside this house!
+
+"Is Mrs. Crothers at home?" she asked. The maid was not sure. Ethel
+gave her a card and was shown into a long cosy room with an
+old-fashioned air, where a small coal fire looked half asleep. She
+began to look around her. The walls were lined with book-shelves, with
+only a picture here and there. No wall-paper. "How funny." She frowned
+and added, "But it's nice." There was but little furniture, and plenty
+of room to move about. "What a love of a mirror." It was of gilt, and
+it reached from floor to ceiling between the two front windows. Gravely
+she looked at herself in the glass. "Oh, I'm not very excited."
+
+The maid reappeared, and said, "Mrs. Crothers asks you to excuse her.
+She's sick with a headache this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, what a lie!" thought Ethel. She stood for a moment irresolute, her
+heart in her mouth. "I will, though!" she decided, and took out another
+card. "Then take her this little note," she said. And she wrote: "I
+know I am being quite rude--but if the headache is not too severe
+will you see me just for a little while! I would not bother
+you--honestly--but it is something so important--and it must be settled
+today." It took two of her cards, and even then it was horribly crowded
+and hard to read. "Never mind," she thought. "That's as far as I'll
+go. If she can't read that I'm done for!"
+
+The maid had taken the message upstairs.
+
+"Now I've done it, I've gone too far. I'm done for--oh, I'm done for!
+Well, look about you, Ethel, my love--it's the last look you'll ever get
+at this room! How dear it is, what taste, what a home. Books,
+pictures, a piano of course--and the very air is full of the things that
+have been said here after dinner, over coffee and cigarettes, by all the
+people you want to know. Not rich nor 'smart' like Newport--just people
+with minds and hearts alive to the big things that really count, the
+beautiful things! . . . Good-bye, my dears--you're not very kind."
+
+"She'll be down in a moment," said the maid.
+
+"Thank you!" Ethel had wheeled with a start; and again left alone, she
+stood without moving. "Well, here you are--you've got your chance! And
+how do you feel? Plain panicky! Never mind, that's just what will
+catch her attention! Be panicky! Oh, I am--I am!" And her courage
+oozed so rapidly that when her hostess came into the room, and with a
+smile that was rather strained, said "I am so glad to see you--" the
+girl who confronted her only stared, and suddenly shivered a little.
+Then she forced a smile and said, "How silly of me to shiver like that."
+
+"Come here by the fire and sit down." Mrs. Crothers' voice was suddenly
+kind. "Now tell me how I can help you," she said.
+
+"Thank you. Why, it's simply this. I've had trouble with Joe, my
+husband--just lately--in the last few days. And the trouble is so
+serious that--it's my whole life--one way or the other. At least
+it--certainly feels so! And I have no women friends I can go to.
+They're all his--hers, I mean."
+
+"Hers!"
+
+"Yes. My sister's. She is dead--but very much alive at times--through
+the friends she left behind her. I've been fighting them all my life,
+it seems--ever since I married Joe!"
+
+"Why were you fighting them?" Ethel frowned:
+
+"Because they--well, they were all just fat--in body and soul--the
+women, I mean--and the men were just making money for food and things to
+keep them so. Do you know what I mean--that kind of New Yorker?"
+
+"I do," said Mrs. Crothers. "Was that the cause of your trouble with
+Joe!"
+
+"Partly--yes. You see when I tried to shake them off, they wouldn't be
+shaken--they hung on--because Joe was growing rich all of a sudden. Oh,
+I got pretty desperate! But then I learned of other friends that Joe
+had had here long ago--before he married _her_, you know. And I hunted
+for them--one by one. I could feel they were just what he needed, you
+see. I mean that back among such friends I hoped he'd stop just making
+money and get to work--on things he had dreamed of! You understand?"
+
+"I think so--but not fully. Go on in your own way, my dear. Don't try
+to think. Keep talking."
+
+"Thank you. I was in love with him. There was nobody else, man, woman
+or child--except Susette. She was Amy's little girl. You see, Mrs.
+Crothers, when Amy died I was there--I had just come to town. So I
+stayed with Joe to look after Susette. Then later on I began to feel
+that he was beginning to care for me. And I didn't like that--on Amy's
+account, for I worshipped her then. So I broke away and took a
+job. . . . Oh, what in the world am I getting at!"
+
+"Don't try to think. Just tell me. You took a job. What was it?"
+
+Ethel told of Greesheimer, and then of coming back to Joe, of his
+poverty and of her nursing Susette, of dreaming of children, of falling
+in love, of marriage and the birth of her boy.
+
+"But all the time Amy had been there. Do you understand! Like a
+spirit, I mean! She had Joe first! She had shaped him!"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"And so when he loved me even more, I do believe, than he ever loved
+her--still he did the thing she would have wanted. Amy had taught him
+to show his love by loading money on his wife. And that was what
+started everything wrong. For he got rich--for my sake--and the money
+brought Amy's friends back in a horde! Oh, now I'm repeating! I've
+said all that--"
+
+"Please say it again! You're doing so well!" Ethel told about Fanny and
+the rest. "I tried to like them--honestly! But I simply couldn't!" she
+cried.
+
+"Why couldn't you? Tell me plainly just what it was you wanted."
+
+"What I wanted? Plainly? Oh, dear--I can't exactly--"
+
+"What kind of people?"
+
+Ethel frowned.
+
+"Not just eaters!" she exclaimed. "I wanted men and women who--well,
+who were seeing something big--and beautiful and real in life! Life is
+so hard and queer in this town--so awfully crowded and mixed up--and
+empty, somehow. You know how I mean? But they see something in it all.
+Not clearly--it's way off, you know. And they're busy of course, and by
+no means saints. They have their worries and their faults and
+pettiness--they're human, too, But they're looking for something really
+worth while! Oh, I can't express it--I really can't!"
+
+"Oh, yes you can, you've done quite well," said Mrs. Crothers steadily.
+"And now to narrow this down to Joe, you wanted him to be like that--in
+his work and so in his life with you. Was that it?"
+
+"Yes! And he used to be! You must know that!"
+
+"Yes--I knew that. Your husband and I were once very good friends."
+
+"That's it, and I guessed it!" Ethel cried. "I was making wild guesses
+in the dark. And at last I put my finger on his partner, and we had a
+talk. It was a talk, a hard one--but I made him believe me in the end.
+And he told me a little about you--and I wanted to meet you, oh, so
+much! But he seemed to be out of touch with you, so he took me to Mr.
+Dwight instead. I had always wanted to sing, you know--and the rest of
+it--well, Mr. Dwight must have told you."
+
+"Only a little," was the reply. "I don't yet fully understand. How did
+all this bring trouble with Joe? It's something serious, you said--"
+
+"It's something very nasty." And Ethel began telling of Fanny's
+revelations. In the midst of it the door-bell rang.
+
+"One moment." And Sally went into the hall. "Whoever it is, say I've a
+headache," Ethel heard her tell the maid. "The same old headache,"
+Sally remarked as she grimly pulled the portieres. They waited in a
+tense little silence till the visitor had gone. "And Alice," Sally
+called to the maid. "If any one else comes, say I'm out." She turned
+back to Ethel, smiling:
+
+"Suppose you stay to supper. I'll telephone my husband to dine at his
+club--and we'll go right on with this talk of ours. We'll go on," she
+added determinedly, "until we have Joe so in our toils that he'll be
+yours so long as he lives."
+
+Ethel suddenly sniffed and swallowed hard, and said, "Oh, what a dear
+you are to me!"
+
+Sally looked at her queerly.
+
+"This is to be a talk without tears, but much good sensible planning,"
+she said. "I don't blame you a bit for having been frightened--you've
+been through an ugly time. But I think with a little common sense--"
+
+"I know," said Ethel, "that's just what I need. And that is why I came
+to you."
+
+"Thank you," Sally smiled again. "Now go on about Mrs. Carr."
+
+The talk went on, with interruptions for supper and Sally's two small
+children, far into the evening. And Mrs. Crothers did her
+share--filling in for Ethel the picture of Joe's old life, his work and
+dreams, and his first marriage. She told of several meetings with Amy.
+And all the time she kept watching, probing into this young second wife,
+skilfully raising Ethel's hopes, her vivid freshness and her youth, her
+hunger for a life she saw only in dazzling glimpses.
+
+"Do you want my advice about meeting Joe! Then here it is," she said at
+the end. "I needn't say don't go on your knees--"
+
+"You needn't!"
+
+"I thought so--you're not that kind. And I wouldn't explain too much
+about Dwight, and those little things you did with him. Make Joe take
+you on faith or not at all. Have a long talk and make him listen--don't
+give him a chance to say a word. Talk right on and give him the picture
+of his two wives, and then let him choose--between letting you go, while
+he takes her friends, or dropping them and keeping you and finding what
+he had before. I can help you in that--but before I do, I think you've
+got to lay a ghost. She's in the way of everything. She has been in
+your home long enough. And her strength is the fact that you and Joe
+never mention her name to each other. I wonder if you realize how great
+a danger that has been. At any rate I'm very sure that you must break
+the silence now. It has been like a spell between you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+The next afternoon she sat waiting for Joe. She had come home the night
+before feeling so strong and sure of her course. But beginning at the
+moment when she came into the empty apartment, subtly and by slow
+degrees again her home had cast its spell, as though the rooms were
+haunted. "I've got to lay the ghost," she thought. She had telephoned
+to Joe to come, and he had replied abruptly, "All right, I'll be there
+about four o'clock." It was just that now. Ethel poked the logs in the
+fireplace until there was a cheerful blaze. As she straightened up she
+caught sight of her face in the mirror over the mantel. Even in the
+firelight how gaunt and strained it looked to her.
+
+"Not very attractive," she grimly thought. "This has got to be done by
+brains, my dear."
+
+In a moment she heard Joe's key in the door. She heard him taking off
+his coat and then coming slowly into the room. With an effort she
+turned and looked at him. His face appeared even more tense and grey
+than it had two days before; the nerves seemed quivering under the skin.
+And she felt a pang of pity. "He wasn't to blame for the way he acted,
+it was his wretched nerves," she thought. "He'll have a break-down
+after this."
+
+"Well, Ethel!"
+
+"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad you're here." All at once she felt herself change.
+She had meant to be so firm with him; but now, after one quick anxious
+look, in a low eager voice she said, "I'm not going to talk much of
+myself. It won't do any good--I'm sure it won't. I love you, Joe, and
+I can see you still love me. We need each other. And if we can just be
+sensible now--and you can only believe in me--"
+
+"God knows I want to, Ethel!" His tone was low, but so sharp and tense
+that she drew suddenly closer. He turned from her and sank into a
+chair, with his hands for a moment pressed to his eyes. "I'm sick of
+this--I'm not myself. Maybe I acted like a fool. . . . Some of that
+stuff from Fanny Carr doesn't hold together--it's too thin." He looked
+up at her. "But some of it does. And what you'll have to clear up now
+is why you never let me know."
+
+"The reason I didn't," she answered quickly, "goes way back into the
+past. And it's not only about you and me--it's about--about somebody
+else." She stopped and her throat contracted. She set her teeth. "We
+must talk about Amy for a while."
+
+There! At last she had brought it out! And she had seen her husband
+flinch. For a moment both were silent.
+
+"Why!" he asked. She swallowed hard.
+
+"Because we never have before. We've--gone two years without speaking
+her name. I had no idea how bad that might be." She broke off, for her
+voice was trembling so. "I don't know how much you've learned in that
+time--about Amy, I mean--but I've learned a lot, and--I think I'd better
+tell you. I must, you see, or you won't understand what I've been doing
+lately. I couldn't have explained before, without speaking of her--and
+I didn't do that. But I should have, Joe, and I will now--if only
+you'll be patient and let me do the talking."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Some of it goes so very far back." She leaned forward with a queer
+little smile: "Amy was good to me when I came--and I had always
+worshipped her--I thought she was nearly everything. She made me feel
+how she--loved you, Joe--she had ambition, urged you on. But--oh, I've
+got to try to be clear. What kind of ambition was it, Joe! What did
+you have before you met her? How did you used to look at your work!
+You were coming up to do big things--but you married her and your work
+all changed. You threw over ideals to make money for her. And when
+your partner tried to hold you, Amy tried to break up the firm. Didn't
+she? Don't you remember?" She waited, but he did not speak. "How hard
+it is for him," she thought, "to admit a thing against her. This won't
+be easy." But she felt a little thrill of pride in him.
+
+"So Bill has been talking, has he," he said.
+
+"Yes, I made him." She went on. "Amy set herself against him--and
+against all your other old friends. Not at first--I want to be fair to
+her, Joe--don't think I'm blaming just her for all this. I'm sure that
+at first she was different--she wanted your friends to take her in.
+Remember those dinners you took her to, and that week-end party up in
+Vermont!"
+
+Joe looked at her sharply:
+
+"Who told you that?"
+
+"Sally Crothers," said Ethel. "She was there."
+
+"Sally Crothers? You know her!" he demanded. She smiled at the
+startled look on his face.
+
+"Why, yes," she replied "You see I've been hunting so hard for you, Joe,
+among those friends you used to have. And I did it without ever letting
+you know. Dwight, too--he was only one of them." She frowned, and added
+briskly, "Just incidental, so to speak. But I don't care to talk of him
+now--I'm speaking only of Amy. And from what Sally Crothers has told
+me, poor Amy must have had some hard times. They weren't fair to her.
+If they'd given her time and a real chance, everything might have been
+different. But they didn't, they turned her down. And feeling hurt and
+angry--and feeling besides how she'd have to grow--in her mind, I mean,
+and her interests, to take any place among people like that--I think she
+hesitated. You might have helped her then, perhaps--but you didn't--and
+Amy was lazy, Joe--that had always been a part of her. So she wouldn't
+make the effort. Instead of coming up to you, she made up her mind to
+pull you down!"
+
+"That isn't true!" he said harshly. "And if you've been taking for
+God's own truth what Sally Crothers told you--"
+
+"Stop! Please!" cried Ethel eagerly. "I didn't mean what I said just
+then--I put it badly--oh, so wrong! She didn't say, 'I'll pull him
+down.' She told herself your friends were snobs! And she said, 'I have
+friends who are human, and they're quite good enough for me!' So she
+went on with Fanny Carr. And others came, the circle grew. And it was
+all done day by day, and week by week. It happened--and you never knew.
+Nor did she. It was all so natural. But within a year she was going
+with people, and so were you, who cared for nothing you had
+wanted--women with no growth at all. They were all--oh, so common,
+Joe!"
+
+"That's a bit snobbish, isn't it?"
+
+"You can call it what you like! But I say you can find them all over
+town--richer and poorer, better and worse--women who want only common
+things--just clothes and food and what they call love--with not a wish
+that I can see except for money to live like that! I'm no prig, Joe! I
+want pretty clothes, and I want to be gay and have nice things. But you
+can get all I want of that and still get what is so much more!" Her
+voice dropped; she hurried eagerly on: "Real work you love and which
+makes you grow, and friends that keep you growing! Ideas and things to
+know about--and beauty, music, pictures--the opera--books and people,
+plays--and buildings! The new library--the station--the--the tower down
+on Madison Square! Your work, Joe! And your old friends! Men and
+women who really think and feel--not just alive in their bodies! I
+don't know much about all that. Do you, these days! Mighty little!
+Because she kept you away from it!"
+
+"No!" But she caught the uncertain look in his eyes.
+
+"Are you so sure? Why didn't she ever go to Paris? She must have been
+dying to go there and shop, but she never let you take her there. She
+was afraid to let you go near it again--the Beaux Arts work, the student
+life--afraid that you'd get thinking! So she kept you here and away
+from your friends. She even kept Crothers out of your firm. You
+partner fought her hard on that--and you held out--until one day
+Crothers came to your office and told you he had changed his mind. You
+remember?"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"Did he give you his reason!"
+
+"Yes--he did--"
+
+"Did he bring Amy into it!"
+
+"He did not--"
+
+"He should have, Joe. For just the afternoon before, Amy had made a
+call on his wife--and had said things insulting enough so that her
+husband had to break off!"
+
+"Sally told you that!"
+
+"Why should she lie?" Ethel threw a quick glance into Joe's eyes. "He
+believes it!" she thought, and hurried on: "I've talked to her, Joe, in
+a way that was bound to get the truth. Oh, I've been hunting hard for
+you, dear! If Fanny Carr had told her detectives to follow me
+everywhere I've been, and not just hunt for the nastiness that was in
+her own mind about me--they could have shown what a hunt it has been! I
+had so little time, you see! You were all in the balance--you'd waited
+so long! Even now you've found you can't draw the plans--the ones you
+used to dream about! I know because I made you try! And I went to
+Nourse, to your old friend Dwight, and then to Sally Crothers--and asked
+them all to help me. And as I went on and learned about you as you used
+to be, I fell in love all over again with the man I found--not Amy's
+husband--mine, all mine!
+
+"And I had almost got you back--when Fanny Carr, with her nasty view of
+me and what I was doing, brought you those perfectly rotten reports?
+And if you believe them, Joe, I'm through! Go to Nourse or to Sally
+Crothers, and they'll tell you I have spoken the truth. If you won't
+believe either them or me, go on alone without me--or else marry Fanny
+Carr. But if you do believe me and we're to go on together now, you'll
+have to drop Fanny for good and all, and leave Amy way behind. You'll
+have to take up your old friends and try to get Crothers into your firm.
+You may think your business is yours and not mine--but if it's my life,
+it's my business, too! It's like four walls around me now, and I want
+to break out and so do you--away from mere money! I've watched you,
+dear--seen what a struggle has gone on inside of you--it has worn you
+out! haven't you made money enough? Let's leave it, go to Paris, and
+get to work before it's too late for you to get back what you had! And
+if there's no money, never mind. It will come later on--but don't let's
+be afraid if it doesn't. Don't let's be afraid of pain--of fighting
+hard and suffering, Joe! I want more children! I want you! I want you
+mine, all mine, my dear--not her husband. Don't you see?"
+
+She had been eagerly leaning toward him. Joe was staring into the fire;
+the look in his eyes had frightened her and made her hurry to be
+through.
+
+"What is it?" she asked. And she waited a moment. "Don't you believe
+what I've told you, Joe?"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I believe all that. I believe a good deal more than
+that." There was a little silence, and then suddenly he reached for her
+hand, held it tight and smiled into the fire in a twitching sort of way.
+"I haven't been quite as blind as you think. I've seen a good deal of
+what you were doing. But--" he frowned--"I'm older than you are. I
+know this job of mine clear through--way back to those dreams you spoke
+of. I've had some hard mean tussles about it--lately--and that's my
+only excuse for acting like a damn fool as I did--the other day. No use
+in talking of that any more--or of--Amy either. She's--dead."
+
+"Joe!" Ethel whispered. Tears came in her eyes. He went steadily on:
+
+"She had some fine points--you'll never know. There were things we
+needn't talk about now. But you've made me see things, too. I don't
+think she'll be in the way any more--I think we'll be able to speak of
+her."
+
+"Of course! We must! I want to, dear!" Ethel's voice was shaking.
+
+"Not now." With an effort he rose. "There's something else to worry
+about. You don't quite know me yet, you see."
+
+"What do you mean?" She had risen, too, and caught his arm. "You're not
+well, Joe! You're white as a sheet!" He laughed a little.
+
+"I'm not quite right. Something wrong in here, I guess." He pressed one
+hand to the base of his brain and scowled as though it hurt him.
+"Nothing serious, probably. But before it goes too far, I want you to
+know that when I get well I'm going to have a try at all that--the work
+you spoke of. I'm going to try--_but I may be too late! I may be older
+than you think!_" The tone of his voice was sharp and strained. "I
+don't know," he said. "The doctor may. About him--that's another
+point! It's a nerve specialist we need! Telephone your doctor and have
+him send one here tonight! I'm sorry, Ethel--damnably!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+She got him to bed. The specialist came, and when he had examined Joe he
+had a talk with Ethel that left her very frightened. After that came
+days and nights, when Joe, as, though in delirium, said things in a
+jumble which revealed to her the inner chaos he had gone through in the
+last few weeks. He talked of Amy loyally, even pleading for her at
+times, excusing her. And he talked of Ethel in many moods. Now he was
+angry at her interference; again he saw her side of it, and then his
+love for her would rise. More often still, he talked about work, and
+here again the struggle went on. Money, money, money--figures,
+calculations, schemes and rivals, heavy chances. But suddenly all this
+was gone, and in a pitiful anger at his own futility he would storm at
+himself for not being able to put on paper his early dreams.
+
+But the weeks dragged by, and at last she felt he was coming back to
+sanity. With his partner, then, she conspired to take Joe over to Paris
+in April, to stay for a year if he would agree. And as part of the
+conspiracy, Ethel had several meetings with Nourse and Sally Crothers,
+in the hope of bringing Sally's husband into the firm to be there in
+Joe's absence. This was far from easy, for Crothers naturally held
+back; he did not care to commit himself until he knew that Joe would
+agree. And whether Joe would agree or not was by no means certain.
+Watching him as his health came back, Ethel wondered how he would be
+when he returned to the office. How much of what he had said to her,
+the first night of his illness, had come only from a mind keyed up? How
+much of his promise would he remember? Men sick and men well are in
+separate worlds. She could not speak of it to Joe, for the doctor had
+forbidden it.
+
+At the end of another month, however, Joe was up and about again; and
+soon, in spite of the doctor's instructions, he was back at his office
+hard at work. This of course looked ominous. What was he doing? She
+could not discover. For his partner, over the telephone, was far from
+satisfactory. Now that he had Joe back again in that beloved office of
+theirs, his manner toward Ethel seemed to her to be gruff and
+unfriendly, to say the least. "Stand-offish to the last degree--as
+though he believed he could handle Joe all by himself!" she thought in
+annoyance. At last she sent for him one day and gave him quite a piece
+of her mind; and although not fully successful, she at least made him
+acquiesce in the plan she and Sally had concocted for a little gathering
+to take place one night the following week. It was nearly seven o'clock
+upon the evening in question; and in her room, at her dressing-table,
+Ethel was completing her toilet. They were going to dine with the
+Crothers', and Joe was nervous about it.
+
+"Come on, Ethel, hurry up!"
+
+"Yes, love, I'm almost ready now. Are you sure the car is at the door?"
+
+"It's been there nearly half an hour!"
+
+"That's good. Just a minute more."
+
+As he angrily lit a cigarette, she looked in the glass at him and
+smiled. "How he dreads it, poor dear," she was thinking, as he strode
+into the living-room, "meeting Sally and all his old friends." She
+frowned. "Heaven knows I dread it myself. What am I going to say to
+them all? And suppose they don't care for me in the least? . . .
+Well, it will soon be over." Presently Joe popped in at the door:
+
+"Look here! If you're not dressed enough--"
+
+"I'm all ready now," was her placid reply. "Don't you think I look
+rather nice?"
+
+"Oh, yes. You'll do."
+
+"Thank you, dear. Aren't you going to kiss me!"
+
+"No! Yes! . . . Now come on!"
+
+She threw back her head and laughed at him.
+
+
+"It's beginning so well," murmured Sally to Ethel, as they went in to
+dinner. "Steady, my child."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right!" was the reply, and Ethel smiled excitedly. The
+chorus of exclamations that had greeted Joe and herself had been so warm
+and gay and real. There had been no time for awkwardness. In a moment
+after their entrance, the hubbub of talk and laughter had gone right on
+as though nothing had happened. At table it continued still, and she
+felt herself borne along on the tide. She looked at Joe, who was on
+Sally's right, and she thought he was doing exceedingly well. And as
+for these old friends of his, as she rapidly scanned their faces, they
+looked far from formidable. On her left side Sally's husband, a tall
+dark creature with nice eyes, was telling her about the men--two or
+three writers, an architect and a portrait painter rather well known,
+whose pictures she had read about. She had already learned from Sally
+what the women did with themselves. They worked, they went to women's
+clubs, they dined and did the social side. One of them spoke for
+suffrage, another was a sculptress, one sang, one had a baby. They did
+not look solemn in the least. Everything went so naturally.
+
+"Well, here I am at last," she thought. She kept throwing quick little
+glances about. Was it all so much worth while, she wondered. Yes, they
+were very pleasant and nice. But she had expected--well, something
+more, a kind of a brilliancy in their eyes and the things they were
+saying. For here were Art and Music, Movements, Causes and Ideas, and
+goodness only knew what else! Here were the people who really saw
+something richer and deeper in life than the sort of existence Amy had
+led--great bright vistas leading off from the city as it was today to
+some dazzling promised land. She thought of the little history "prof."
+They were so cosy about it here! She did not want them to be
+"highbrows"--Heaven forbid! But they took it all so easily!
+
+She thought of the struggles she had been through in order to get where
+she was tonight, the ardent hopes and the despairs, and all the eager
+planning. And just for a moment there came to her some little
+realization of those other women still outside, in this city of so many
+worlds, each with her particular world, her bright and shining goal, her
+shrine, and pushing and scheming to get in. She recalled the fierce
+light in Amy's eyes and the tone of her voice: "I may be too late!" Amy
+had wanted only money, and people like that. But how hard she had
+wanted it! . . . These people took it so pleasantly; they seemed so
+snug in their little group. She wondered if she would become like that.
+No, she decided, most certainly not! And suddenly she realized that
+this was only one more step in the life she was to lead in this town.
+These people? For a time perhaps.
+
+Then others--always others! That was how it was in New York.
+
+Ethel gave a queer little laugh--which at once she pretended had been
+caused by something Sally's husband had said. And she listened to him
+attentively now. "There's so much time for everything! I'm only
+twenty-five!" she thought. She turned to the painter on her right, and
+was soon talking rapidly.
+
+The moments seemed to fly away. Now they had left the men to smoke.
+But soon the men had followed them, and every one was smoking, and Ethel
+was trying a cigarette. The talk ran on, about this and that. But over
+on her side of the room, Sally had led the conversation back to Joe's
+old student days, to the Beaux Arts and life in the Quarter. Ethel
+heard snatches from time to time, and she kept throwing vigilant glances
+over at her husband's face. He seemed to be responding, with a
+hungriness that thrilled his wife. Again he would fall silent, with an
+anxious gleam in his eyes. "He's wondering if he's too old!" she
+thought, and she crossed the room and joined them.
+
+Sally was cleverly drawing him out about some of those early plans of
+his. And though awkward at first, he was warming up. In the room the
+hubbub died away. "They're listening to Joe!" thought Ethel. Joe kept
+talking on and on. Every few moments some one would break in to ask him
+something, or to raise a little laugh. Ethel tingled with pride in him,
+and with hope for the success of her scheming.
+
+Now the crucial time arrived. For one by one the guests had gone, till
+only she and Joe and Nourse remained with Sally and her husband. The
+moment for springing the great idea had come at last. Nourse was to do
+the talking. That had been arranged ahead, at a meeting of Nourse and
+the two wives. But all at once in a panic now, Ethel knew that Nourse
+would bungle it. Why had she entrusted so much to this man? Had he
+ever shown tact in his whole life? And why so soon? Oh, it had been
+rash! The evening had passed so gorgeously. Why not have waited and
+had other evenings to pave the way and make it sure! She tried to
+signal to Nourse to stop him, but he could or would not hear! Now he
+was getting ready to speak.
+
+"Well," he said, rising and turning on Ethel a curious smile, "I guess
+it's time I was going home."
+
+She stared at him in blank relief. So he had some sense about things,
+after all.
+
+
+"But look here, Bill," said her husband, "before you go, let's give
+these scheming women of ours to understand we don't want 'em to meddle
+in our affairs."
+
+"Right," growled Nourse. And a moment later the three men confronted
+two astonished wives, and Bill was gravely announcing, "We've done this
+thing all by ourselves. The firm is 'Nourse, Lanier and Crothers.' And
+from this night on we propose to do business without any interference
+from wives. Understand!" He frowned menacingly. "We settled that this
+afternoon. And the next thing we decided was that Joe packs up this
+wife of his, whether she happens to like it or not, and takes her over
+to Paris. See? And if she tries to keep him from work by yanking him
+all around to the shops--"
+
+While Nourse growled on in his surly way, Ethel slipped quietly into the
+hall--where presently Sally with one arm about her was proffering a
+handkerchief and murmuring.
+
+"Use mine, dear."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+On the night before they sailed for France, long after she had gone to
+bed Ethel came out in her wrapper into the warm dark living-room. There
+was something she had forgotten to do, and she wanted to get it off her
+mind. She switched on the light by the doorway, and looked about her
+smiling, but with a little shiver, too.
+
+The ghost was gone--or nearly so. Already the room had been stripped
+bare. Only Ethel's desk was left, and a chair or two and the long,
+heavy table with a lamp at either end. Amy's picture was still on the
+table, but it lay now on its back and looked up at the ceiling as though
+it knew it must soon depart. Tomorrow the movers would finish their
+work. Soon somebody else's things would be here, and somebody else's
+life would pour in and fill the room and make it new. Somebody else.
+What kind of a woman? Another Amy, or Fanny Carr, or Sally Crothers or
+Mrs. Grewe? What a funny, complicated town. On her return a year from
+now, Ethel had already decided to take a small house near Washington
+Square. How long would that experiment last! Doubtless in the years
+ahead she would try other homes, one after the other. "Why do we move
+so in New York!" She thought of that plan of her husband's for the
+future city street, with long rows on either hand of huge apartment
+buildings with receding terraces, numberless hanging gardens looking
+into the street below. And she wondered whether the city would ever be
+anything like that? "In New York all things are possible." . . .
+
+"However." Ethel went to her desk and rummaged for paper, pen and ink.
+Then she took out of a cubby-hole a bulky letter and read it through.
+It was the "round-robin" come again on its annual journey over the land.
+It had been in a lonely mining camp, on a cattle ranch, in a mill town
+and in cities large and small. There were many kinds of handwriting
+here, and widely different stories of the growth, the swift unfolding,
+of the lives of a new generation of women. "Girls like me." She read it
+through.
+
+Then she took up her pen and began to write swiftly:
+
+"I have been here for over three years--but it was hard to write before,
+because everything was far from clear." She stopped and frowned. "How
+much shall I tell them?" An eagerness to be frank and tell all was
+mingled with that feeling of Anglo-Saxon reticence which had been bred
+in Ethel's soul back in the town in Ohio. "Besides, I haven't time,"
+she thought.
+
+"I feel," she wrote, "as though I were just out of danger--barely out.
+In danger, I mean, of nervously dashing about after nothing until I got
+wrinkled and old at forty--nerves in shreds. I might have done that. I
+have met a nerve specialist lately--and the stories he has told me about
+women in this town!
+
+"However! I want to make myself clear. Am I a high-brow? Not at all.
+I want good clothes--I love to shop--and I propose to go on shopping.
+If you do not, let me tell you, my dears, that the men in New York are
+like all the rest--and you would soon be leading a very lonely
+existence! And I don't want that, I want bushels of friends--and some
+of them men--decidedly! I want to dance and dine about--but I don't
+want to be religious about it! Nor frantic and get myself into a state!
+
+"Well, but I did start out like that. When I came here to live--" She
+hesitated. "No, I'd better scratch that out."
+
+"Thank Heaven I got married," she wrote, "and fell in love with my
+husband." Again she stopped with a quick frown. "And I had a baby. And
+I began to find something real." Another pause, a long one.
+
+"I had quite a struggle after that. I was all hemmed in--" she stopped
+again--"by the city I found when I first arrived. But I huffed and I
+puffed and I hunted about--and at last I discovered our New York--the
+town we girls used to dream about at home in all those talks we had!
+Oh, I don't mean I have found it yet--but I've felt it, though, and had
+one good look. I dined with some people. How silly that sounds. But
+never mind--the point is not me, but the fact that this city is really
+and truly crammed full of the things we girls used to get so excited
+about--Art, you know, and Music of course, and people who make these
+things their God. The town opens up if you look at it right--and you
+find Movements--Politics--you hear people talk--you see suffrage
+parades--I marched in one not long ago feeling like Joan of Arc! And
+you find men, too, who are doing things. Big schemes for skyscrapers
+and homes! I mean that our New York is here!"
+
+Again there came a pause in the writing. Her eyes looked excited. She
+smiled and frowned. Now to finish it off!
+
+"What I want of it all I am not yet sure--for me personally, I mean.
+But there is my husband, to begin with, and his work that I can help
+grow--and his old friends. And they are not all. I keep hearing of new
+ones I must meet--and they are mixed in with all those things I have
+discovered in the town. A few of these people were born here--but most
+have come from all over the country. Sometimes I shut my eyes and
+ask--'Where are you now, all over the land, you others who are to come
+to New York and be friends of mine and of my children?'
+
+"I want children--more than one. How many I am not quite sure. That's
+another point--you decide these things." She frowned and scratched this
+sentence out. "And children grow--and the idea of bringing them up
+makes me feel very young and humble, too. But in that we are all in the
+same boat--for the whole country, I suppose, is a good deal the same.
+What a queer and puzzling, gorgeous age we are just beginning--all of
+us! I wonder what I shall make of it? What shall I be like ten years
+from now? How much shall I mean to my husband--and to other men and
+women? But most of all to women--for we are coming together so! I
+wonder what we shall make of it all? I wonder how much we women who
+march--march on and on to everything--are really going to mean in the
+world!
+
+"Oh, how solemn! Good-night, my dears! A kiss to every one of you!"
+
+
+She folded her letter with the rest, and then she quickly squeezed them
+all into a large envelope, which she addressed to Miss Barbara Wells,
+Bismarck, North Dakota. Ethel's eyes were very bright. She sniffed a
+little and smiled at herself. "Oh, don't be a baby! It's all over now,
+you know--I mean it's just beginning!"
+
+She stopped for a moment by the table, with the letter in her hand, and
+looked down at Amy's picture. "That is all any one needs to know."
+
+Her look was pitying, tender, but a little curious, too.
+
+"I wonder what you were like at my age! I wonder what you went through,
+poor dear? . . . But it's over now--all over. All we don't like
+will fade away, and you'll grow so beautiful again. Susette will love
+her mother. . . . But she won't be just like you, my dear."
+
+Ethel went slowly out of the room. At the doorway she switched off the
+light, and the bare, empty room was left in the dark. The photograph
+was invisible now. On the street below, a motor stopped; and there was
+a murmur of voices, a laugh. Tomorrow somebody else would be here.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Second Wife, by Ernest Poole
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of His Second Wife, by Ernest Poole
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: His Second Wife
+
+Author: Ernest Poole
+
+Release Date: December 9, 2005 [EBook #17259]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS SECOND WIFE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by MRK
+
+
+
+
+
+HIS SECOND WIFE
+
+BY
+
+ERNEST POOLE
+
+TO M.A.
+
+
+
+HIS SECOND WIFE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+On a train speeding toward New York, in one of the parlour cars two
+young women sat facing each other, talking and smiling, deeply absorbed.
+They took little apparent notice of any one else in the car, but most of
+the people near them kept throwing curious glances their way.
+
+These glances differed vastly, as did the thoughts behind them. A tall,
+genial Westerner, who looked as though he had come from a ranch, smiled
+frankly and hungrily on the pair and told himself with emphasis, "Those
+two girls are fifty-fifty. I'd like a dozen of each brand." And a slim
+college boy with fresh, eager eyes kept darting quick looks from time to
+time at the older of the two, the blonde. He asked himself confusedly,
+"How'd I start in with a woman like her?" And exciting pictures rose in
+his mind. In the meantime an elderly lady, with a sharp, inquisitive
+air, had put down the ages of the girls at twenty-two and thirty.
+
+"They're sisters," she decided, but then she nearly changed her mind.
+They were such contrasted types. The blonde gave an appearance of sleek
+and moneyed elegance, with carefully undulated hair, a rounded bust, and
+pretty features smooth and plump, with a retrousse nose and rich, full
+lips, and a manner of easy assurance. The brunette was younger and less
+developed, slim and lithe, her curling black hair rebellious, her
+features more clean-cut and clear, with wide, eager lips and warm brown
+eyes set wide apart.
+
+"Nevertheless, they are sisters," the little lady firmly concluded.
+"The family resemblance is quite unmistakable." And frowning in
+perplexity, "But if they are sisters," she went on, "why is only one in
+mourning?" She looked at the younger of the two, who was simply dressed
+in black; and then at the blonde, whose sable cloak put back from her
+shoulders revealed a stylish travelling suit. "And why is one rich and
+the other poor?"
+
+Meanwhile a young woman nearby, with a fat, discontented face, regarded
+the blonde with envy and thought:
+
+"She's an actress with her maid. Why can't Harry allow me a maid, a
+real clever one like that? Men see these actresses on the stage and get
+to expecting things from their wives--without being willing to pay for
+it! Think what that girl could make of me!"
+
+A quiet, able-looking woman sitting just across the aisle, who travelled
+for a clothing store, was watching the "maid," the brunette, and was
+thinking, "She makes her clothes herself. She has been the beauty of
+her small town. She's smart, too, and original. That collar was a
+clever idea--and that fichu of lace. A pity she's in mourning."
+
+But the large fat man behind the two girls had little thought for the
+brunette. His heavy eyes, quite motionless, were upon the older girl.
+He took in her sensuous shoulders, the rounded contour of her bust, her
+glossy coiffure, the small, fine hairs at the back of her neck. And he
+thought, "Yes, she has been loved pretty well." She was talking, and he
+could just hear her voice, soft and provocative, like the little gloved
+hand on her chair. By her eyes, which were of a violet hue, he saw she
+was aware of his gaze. Something gleamed in them that sent a thrill far
+down into his sluggish soul.
+
+In the meantime a kindly old lady, whose eyes were fixed on the
+brunette, noticed how hard she was listening, noticed the fresh
+expectancy in her parted lips and clear brown eyes, and asked with a
+touch of sadness:
+
+"I wonder what's waiting for you in New York? I'm afraid I don't like
+this companion of yours. And you're so very young, my dear, and eager
+and gay. And you are to be so beautiful."
+
+
+And while all these conjectures were being made about them both, the
+brunette was wrapt in her own inner fancies, vivid and exciting.
+Listening to her sister, swift thoughts and expectations mingled with
+the memories of the life behind her. As she stared out of the window,
+fields and woods and houses kept whirling back out of her view--and so
+it was with her memories. It was hard to keep hold of any one.
+
+She had lived with her father, a lonely old man in a small, quiet town
+in Ohio, down in the lower part of the State. He was dead, and she was
+going to live with her married sister in New York. He was dead and his
+daughter was not sad, though she'd been his only close companion and had
+loved him tenderly. And this brought a guilty feeling now, which she
+fought down by telling herself there had been little sadness in his
+death. She pictured her father making his speech at the unveiling of
+the Monument. How happy and proud he had appeared. For half his life
+old Colonel Knight had exhorted his fellow townsmen and painted dark the
+shame of their town: "The only county seat in Ohio with no soldiers'
+monument, sir!" He had held countless meetings, he had gone begging to
+his neighbours, and every dollar he himself could save had gone into
+that dream of his. At last he had triumphed; and after all the
+excitement of his final victory, the old soldier had made his speech,
+and died.
+
+Around him and the monument and the old frame house on River Street, the
+lazy, shallow river, the high school near the court house, Demley's
+Tavern across the square, the line of shops on either side, the new
+"movie" theatre of pink tile, and the old yellow church on the
+corner--the pictures of her life trooped by, the pictures of her last
+few years--with the miracle, the discovery that she herself, Ethel
+Knight, who had always been considered "plain," was slowly now
+developing into a beautiful woman. That brought memories which
+thrilled--various faces of men, young and old, looks and glances, words
+overheard, and countless small attentions. But these came in mere
+fragments, rising only to be whirled back again into the past, as the
+train sped on toward the city.
+
+She was going to live in New York with her married sister, Amy Lanier.
+And from looking out of the car window, Ethel would turn quickly, throw
+a swift glance at her sister and smile. Amy seemed quite wonderful--Amy
+with her elegance, her worldly assurance, her smiling good-humour and
+knowledge of "life," her apparent content, her sense of well being, of
+being a joy to look at and love; Amy who had an adoring husband, Amy who
+spent money like water, Amy with dash and beauty and style.
+
+"New York just fairly shimmering in everything she wears!" thought
+Ethel.
+
+Amy's sable cloak was long. She had worn it at the funeral, with a
+black skirt and a heavy veil. But the veil she had put into her bag as
+soon as they had left the town, and the cloak thrown back revealed rich
+colours, the glitter and glint of a diamond brooch; and she wore a small
+blue feathered hat which threw out changing colours in the play of light
+in the car. There was to be no more mourning. Amy didn't believe in
+that; she was good-humouredly arguing her young sister out of it. And
+Ethel, smiling back at her, saw how sensible it was. She felt death and
+sadness slipping away, and the life in the city opening.
+
+Since Amy's marriage five years ago, Ethel had only seen her twice--once
+when Amy had come home, appearing resplendent with Joe her husband in a
+large new touring car, and had sent a wave of excitement through the
+quiet little town; and again when she had asked Ethel to visit her for a
+week in New York. That had been a glamourous week, but it had not been
+repeated. For nearly three years they had not met. In that time had
+come the change in Ethel's own appearance. And glancing now at Amy, she
+read in those clear, smiling eyes that Amy was relieved and pleased and
+surprised at the striking beauty which had come to her young sister.
+There was even a tone of expectancy in Amy's talk of their life in New
+York.
+
+"She thinks I'll get on finely!" This exciting thought kept rising
+repeatedly in Ethel's mind. And with it came the sturdy resolve, "I
+mustn't be too humble now, or too dependent on her. I must show her I'm
+somebody all by myself--that I won't be a burden on her hands. I've got
+to make a life of my own--find work perhaps--or marry!"
+
+Then all such resolutions would merge in the images vivid and new, which
+kept rising in her mind, of the life she would have in the city.
+
+She had a good voice. Old Mr. Riggs, the organist in the yellow church
+at home, had planted that idea deep in her mind. If only her voice
+could be brought out! She hadn't much money for teachers, but how she
+would work if she got a chance! In her heart she knew she had no great
+voice, but gaily she let her fancy go and pictured herself on the stage.
+. . . This image passed and was replaced by a platform in an immense
+auditorium crowded with cheering women and girls. Suffrage banners were
+all about, and she was speaking to the crowd. Her voice rang clear and
+resolute. . . . There were other dreams and pictures--of dances in
+New York cafes, of theatre parties, trips to Paris, hosts of friends.
+And the vague thought flashed into her mind:
+
+"What possibilities for life--in me--me--Ethel Knight!"
+
+She went on listening, building. She took in fragments of what Amy said
+and mingled them with things she had read and pictures she'd seen in
+books, magazines and Sunday papers; or with things that she had heard in
+the long discussions in her club of high school girls, over suffrage,
+marriage, Bernard Shaw. She thought of the opera, concerts, plays. She
+saw Fifth Avenue at night agleam with countless motors, torrents of
+tempestuous life--and numberless shop windows, hats and dainty gowns and
+shoes. She pictured herself at dinners and balls, men noticing her
+everywhere. "As they are doing now," she thought, "this very minute in
+this car!" Out of all the pictures rose one of a church wedding. And
+then this picture faded, and changed to that of her father's funeral in
+the old frame yellow church. She frowned, her brown eyes saddened and
+suddenly grew wet with a deep homesick tenderness. But in a few moments
+she smiled again; once more her pulse-beat quickened. For Amy was
+talking good-humouredly. And Ethel's eyes, now curious, now plainly
+thrilled, now quizzical, amused and pleased, kept watching her, and she
+asked herself:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+The picture she had of her sister grew each moment more warm and
+desirable. Eagerly she explored it by the quick questions she threw
+out.
+
+They were coming into the city now, in a dusk rich with twinkling
+lights. In the car the passengers were stirring. Amy stood up to be
+brushed--sleek and alluring, worldly wise--and the fat man in the chair
+behind her opened wide his heavy eyes. Then Ethel stood up--and in the
+poise of her figure, slim and lithe with its lovely lines, in her
+carriage, in her slender neck, in her dark face with its features clear,
+her lips a little parted, and in the look in her brown eyes--there was
+something which made glances turn from all down the softly lighted car.
+There was even a brief silence. And Ethel drew a sudden breath, as from
+close behind her the soft voice of the darky porter drawled:
+
+"Yes'm--yes'm--dis is New York. We's comin' right into de station now."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"Well, Ethel my love, we're here at last! . . . It must be after
+midnight. I wonder when I'll get to sleep? . . . Not that I care
+especially. What a quaint habit sleeping is."
+
+She had formed the habit long ago of holding these inner conversations.
+Her father had been a silent man, and often as she faced him at meals
+Ethel had talked and talked to herself in quite as animated a way as
+though she were saying it all aloud. Now she sat up suddenly in bed and
+turned on the light just over her head, and amiably she surveyed her
+room. It was a pretty, fresh, little room with flowered curtains, a
+blue rug, a luxurious chaise longue and a small French dressing table.
+Very cheerful, very empty. "It looks," she decided, "just like the bed
+feels. I'm the first fellow who has been here.
+
+"No," she corrected herself in a moment, "that's very ignorant of you,
+my dear. This is a New York apartment, you know. All kinds of other
+fellows have been in this room ahead of me; and they've lain awake by
+the hour here, planning how to get married or divorced, or getting ready
+to write a great book or make a million dollars, or sing in grand opera
+or murder their child. All the things in the newspapers have been
+arranged in this spot where I lie! Now I'll turn out the light," she
+added, "and sink quietly to rest!"
+
+But in the dark she lay listening to the strange low hub-hub from
+outside. And it made her think of what she had seen an hour before,
+when at the open window, resting her elbows on the sill, she had begun
+to make her acquaintance with her backyard--a yawning abyss of brick and
+cement which went down and down to cement below, and up and up to a
+strip of blue sky, and to right and to left went stretching away with
+rows and rows of windows. And now as the murmurs and quick low cries,
+piano music, a baritone voice and a sudden burst of laughter, came to
+her ears, she gravely named her neighbours:
+
+"Wives and husbands, divorcees, secret lovers, grafters, burglars,
+suffragettes, actresses and anarchists and millionaires and poor young
+things--all spending a quiet evening at home. And that's so sensible in
+you all. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
+
+From the city far and near came numberless other voices. From street
+cars, motors and the L, from boats far off on the river this calm and
+still October night, from Broadway and from Harlem and the many teeming
+slums, came the vast murmuring voice of the town. And she thought:
+
+"I'm becoming a part of all this!" She listened a little and added, "It
+breathes, like something quite alive." She smiled and added approvingly,
+"Quite right, my dear, just breathe right on. But don't go and breathe
+as though you were sleeping. Keep me company tonight."
+
+Suddenly she remembered how in their taxi from the train, as they had
+sped up Park Avenue all agleam with its cold blue lights and she had
+chattered gaily of anything that came into her head, twice she had
+caught in her sister's eyes that glimmer of expectancy. "Amy feels sure
+I will be a success!" Ethel thrilled at the recollection, and thought,
+"Oh, yes, you're quite a wag, my love; and as soon as you get over being
+so young you'll probably make a name for yourself. No dinner or
+suffrage party will ever again be quite complete without your droll dry
+humour. . . . I suppose I ought to be going to sleep!"
+
+And she yawned excitedly. From somewhere far in the distance there came
+to her ears the dull bellowing roar of an ocean liner leaving dock at
+one o'clock to start the long journey over the sea.
+
+"I'm going to Paris, too!" she resolved. Her fancy travelled over the
+ocean and roamed madly for awhile, with the help of many photographs
+which she had seen in magazines. But she wearied of that and soon
+returned.
+
+"Well, what do I think of Amy's home?"
+
+She went over in her memory her eager inspection of the apartment. The
+rooms had been dark when they arrived; for they had not been expected so
+soon, and a somewhat dishevelled Irish maid had opened the door and let
+them in. With a quick annoyed exclamation, Amy had switched on the
+lights; and room after room as it leaped into view had appeared to
+Ethel's eyes like parts of a suite in some rich hotel. And although as
+her sister went about moving chairs a bit this way and that and putting
+things on the table to rights, it took on a little more the semblance of
+somebody's home, still that first impression had remained in Ethel's
+mind.
+
+"People have sat in this room," she had thought, "but they haven't lived
+here. They haven't sewed or read aloud or talked things out and out and
+out."
+
+To her sister she had been loud in her praise. What a perfectly lovely
+room it was, what a wonderful lounge with the table behind it, and what
+lamps, what a heavenly rug and how well it went with the curtains! When
+Amy lighted the gas logs, Ethel had drawn a quick breath of dismay. But
+then she had sharply told herself:
+
+"This isn't an old frame house in Ohio, this is a gay little place in
+New York! You're going to love it, living here! And you're pretty much
+of a kid, my dear, to be criticizing like an old maid!" She had gone
+into Amy's room, and there her mood had quickly changed. For the
+curtains and the deep soft rug, the broad low dressing table with its
+drop-light shaded in chintz, the curious gold lacquered chair, the
+powder boxes, brushes, trays, the faint delicious perfume of the place;
+and back in the shadow, softly curtained, the low wide luxurious
+bed--had given to her the feeling that this room at least was personal.
+Here two people had really lived--a man and a woman. There had come
+into Ethel's brown eyes a mingling of confused delight and awkward
+admiration. And her sister, with a quick look and a smile, had lost the
+slightly ruffled expression her face had worn in the other rooms. She
+had regained her ascendancy.
+
+It had not been until Ethel was left in her own small room adjoining,
+that with an exclamation of remembrance and surprise she had stopped
+undressing, opened her door and listened in the silence. "How perfectly
+uncanny!" Frowning a moment, puzzled, her eye had gone to the only other
+room in the apartment, down at the end of the narrow hall. The door had
+been closed. She had stolen to it and listened, but at first she had
+not heard a sound. Then she had given a slight start, had knocked
+softly and asked, "May I come in?" A woman's voice with a hostile note
+had replied, "Yes, ma'am." She had entered. And a moment later, down
+on her knees before a grave little girl of two who sat at a tiny table
+soberly having her supper, Ethel had cried:
+
+"Oh, you adorable baby!"
+
+For a time she had tried to make friends with the child, but the voice
+of the nurse had soon cut in. And in the motherly Scotch face Ethel had
+detected again a feeling of hostility. "What for?" she had asked. And
+the answer had flashed into her mind. "She's angry because Amy hasn't
+been in to see Susette." And Ethel had frowned. "It's funny. If I had
+been away three days--"
+
+She had gone back to her own room and began slowly to take off her
+things. And a few minutes after that, she had heard a gruff kindly
+voice, a man's heavy tread and a glad little cry from Amy's room.
+
+"Joe has come home," she had told herself. "I wonder how he and I will
+get on."
+
+And she had met him a little later with no slight uneasiness. But this
+had been at once dispelled. Rather tall and full of figure, with thick
+curling hair and close-cut moustache, Joe Lanier at thirty-five still
+gave to his young sister-in-law the impression of kindly friendliness
+she had had from him some years before. There was nothing to be afraid
+of in Joe. But she had noticed the change in his face, the slightly
+tightened harassed expression. And she had thought:
+
+"You poor man. How hard you have been working."
+
+And yet she could not say he looked tired, for at dinner his talk had
+been almost boyish in its welcoming good humour. Later he had drawn her
+aside and had said with a touch of awkwardness:
+
+"No use in talking about it, of course. I just want you to know I'm so
+glad you're here." She had clutched his hand:
+
+"That's nice of you, Joe." And then she had turned from him, and with a
+sudden quiver inside she had added quite inaudibly: "Oh, Dad, dearest!
+I'm so homesick! Just this minute--if I could be back!"
+
+But she had liked Joe that evening.
+
+She remembered the hungry light in his eyes. He and Amy had soon gone
+to their room. And as Ethel thought about them now, lying here alone in
+the dark she felt again that vague delight and confused expectancy.
+
+"How much of all this is coming to me? . . Everything, I guess, but
+sleep!"
+
+A wisp of her hair fell on her nose, and she blew it back with a
+vicious, "Pfew!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Her first month in town was a season of shopping and of warm
+anticipations--and then came a sudden crash. Afterward it was hard to
+remember. For tragedy entered into these rooms, and it was not easy to
+look back and see them clearly as they had been. That first month
+became confused, the memories uneven; in some spots clear and vivid, in
+others hazy and unreal.
+
+"I want you to be gay, my dear," Amy told her at the start. "You've
+been through such a lonely time. And what earthly good will it do poor
+Dad to have you go about in black? You're here now and you've got to
+make friends and a place for yourself. If he were alive I know he'd
+agree. He'd want you to have every chance."
+
+So they started in to shop. And though Ethel had her memories, her
+moods of homesick longing for the old soldier who was gone, these soon
+became less frequent. There was little time to be lonely or sad.
+
+Amy herself felt new youth these days. Relieved of the first uneasiness
+with which she had gone to Ohio to bring her young sister to New York,
+surprised and delighted at finding how the awkward girl she had known
+had developed since the last time they had met, Amy now took Ethel about
+to get her "clothes fit to be seen in." And as with intent little
+glances she kept studying "Ethel's type" in order to set off her charms,
+the slightly bored expression, the look of disillusionment left Amy's
+pretty countenance. For Ethel's freshness had given to Amy new zest and
+belief in her own life, in its purpose and importance. To get Ethel
+clothes, to show her about, to find her friends, to give her a gay
+winter in town and later to make a good match for her--these aims loomed
+large in Amy's mind. She felt her own youth returning, and she
+prolonged this period. She wanted Ethel all to herself. She even shut
+her husband out.
+
+"You can rest up a bit," she told him, "for what's coming later on." And
+Joe, with a good-natured groan at the prospect of late hours ahead, made
+the most of the rest allowed to him.
+
+Each morning the two sisters fared forth in a taxi. And Amy began to
+reveal to her sister the dazzling world of shops in New York: shops
+large and small, American, French and English, shops for gowns and hats
+and shoes, and furs and gloves and corsets. At numberless counters they
+studied and counselled, and lunching at Sherry's they shopped on. And
+the shimmer and sheen of pretty things made life a glamourous mirage, in
+which Ethel could feel herself rapidly becoming a New Yorker, gaining
+assurance day by day, feeling "her type" emerge in the glass where she
+studied herself with impatient delight.
+
+There were little reminders now and then of what she had left behind
+her. One day in a department store, as they stood before a counter
+looking at silk stockings, all at once to Ethel's ears came the deep
+tones of an organ, and turning with a low cry of surprise she looked
+over the bustling throngs of women to an organ loft above, where a girl
+was singing a solo in a high sweet soprano voice. In a flash to Ethel's
+mind there came a vivid picture of the old yellow church at home. And
+with a queer expression looking about her at the crowds, she exclaimed,
+"How funny!" She was again reminded of church when one afternoon in a
+large darkened chamber she sat with scores of women whose eyes were
+fixed as though in devotion upon a softly lighted stage where "models"
+kept appearing. What lovely figures some of them had. Others rather
+took her breath, and gave her the feeling she'd had before in her
+sister's bedroom. But then as her eye was caught again by the rapt
+faces all about, she chuckled to herself and thought, "There ought to be
+candles and incense here!"
+
+She was appalled at the prices. And as the exciting days wore on,
+uneasily in her room at night she would sit down with pencil and paper
+and ask, "How much did I spend today?" Her father had left her nothing
+but the shabby old frame house. This she had sold to a friend of his,
+and the small fund thus secured she had resolved to husband.
+
+"Oh, Ethel, go slow, you little fool. This is every penny you have in
+the world."
+
+But the adorable things she saw, and the growing hunger she felt as she
+began to notice with a more discerning eye the women in shops and on the
+streets--just why they were so dashing and how they got this and that
+effect--all swept aside her caution, the easier because of the fact that
+everything she bought was charged.
+
+One evening in a large cafe she sat watching Amy who was dancing with
+her husband. It was at the time when the new style dances were just
+coming into vogue. In Ohio they had been only a myth. But Amy was a
+beautiful dancer; and watching her now, Ethel reflected, "She expects me
+to be like that. If I'm not, she'll be disappointed, ashamed. And why
+shouldn't I be! What do you ever get in this world if you're always
+saving every cent? You miss your chance and then it's too late. I'll
+be meeting her friends in a few weeks more. I've simply got to hurry!"
+And with Amy's dancing teacher she arranged for lessons--at a price that
+made her gasp. But the lessons were a decided success.
+
+"You've a wonderful figure for dancing," the teacher said confidingly,
+"and a sense for rhythm that most of these women haven't any idea of."
+He smiled down at her and she fairly beamed.
+
+"Oh, how nice!" sighed Ethel. Something in the little look which
+flashed between them gave her a thrill of assurance. And this feeling
+came again and again, in the shops and while she was seated at luncheon
+in some crowded restaurant, or on the streets or back at home, where
+even Joe was beginning to show his admiring surprise.
+
+"You're making a fine little job of it," she heard him say to Amy one
+night.
+
+She caught other remarks and glances from strangers, men and women. And
+Ethel now began to feel the whole vast bustling ardent town centred on
+what in her high-school club, as they read Bernard Shaw, they had quite
+frankly and solemnly spoken of as "Sex." All the work and the business,
+the scheming and planning and rush for money, were focussed on this.
+And for this she was attracting those swift admiring glances. What she
+would be, what she wanted to be, what she now ardently longed to become,
+grew clearer to her day by day. For the picture was there before her
+eyes. Each day it grew more familiar, as at home in Amy's room she
+watched her beautiful sister, a stranger no longer to her now, seated at
+her dressing table good-humouredly chatting, and meanwhile revealing by
+numberless deft little things she was doing the secrets of clothes and
+of figure, and of cheeks and lips and eyes, with subtle hints behind it
+all of the ancient magic art of Pan. She felt Amy ceaselessly bringing
+her out. This gave her thrills of excitement. And looking at her
+sister she asked:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+And they kept talking, talking. And through it all the same feeling was
+there, the sense of this driving force of the town.
+
+With the sturdy independence which was so deep a part of her, Ethel
+strove to hold up her end of these intent conversations and show that
+she had views of her own. She was no old-fashioned country girl, but
+modern, something different! They had discussed things in her club
+which would have shocked their mothers, discussed them long and
+seriously. They had spoken of marriage and divorce, of love and having
+children, and then had gone eagerly on to suffrage, jobs and "mental
+science," art, music and the rest of life. She had gathered there an
+image of New York as a glittering region of strong clever men and
+fascinating women, who not only loved to dance but held the most
+brilliant discussions at dinners livened by witty remarks--a place of
+vistas opening into a world of great ideas. And now with her older
+sister, she questioned her about it all, the art and all the
+"movements," the "salons" and the clever talk. She asked:
+
+"Do you know any suffragists? Do you know any men who write plays or
+novels, or any musicians or painters--or actresses?" And again and again
+by an air of assurance Ethel tried to hide her dismay, as her sister
+subtly made all this seem like a school-girl's fancies.
+
+"Yes," Amy would say good-humouredly, "there are such people, I
+suppose--plenty of them, all over town. And they talk and talk and hold
+meetings, and they go to high-brow plays--and some women even work. But
+it doesn't sound very thrilling, does it? I don't know. They never
+seem to me quite real."
+
+And then Amy would go on to hint what did seem real to her in life. And
+again that picture of the town, all centred on what emerged from the
+shops and poured into the cafes to dance, was painted for her sister.
+
+But behind her smiling manner of one with an intimate knowledge of life,
+Amy would glance at the girl by her side in a curious, rather anxious
+way. For vaguely she knew that years ago when she herself had come to
+New York, she too had had dreams and imaginings of what her young sister
+called "the real thing." And she knew that these had dropped away--at
+first in the struggle, which for her had been so intense and narrowing,
+to gain a foothold in the town; then through rebuffs from the clever
+friends of Joe Lanier when she married him; and later through a feeling
+of lazy acceptance of her lot. But Ethel's talk and Ethel's eyes
+recalled what had been left behind. And Amy thought of her present
+friends, and again with a little uneasy pang she put off their meeting
+with Ethel. For they did not seem good to her then, and the picture she
+found herself painting of their lives and her own appeared a bit flat
+and trivial in the light of Ethel's eagerness. They dressed and went
+shopping, they went to tea dances, they dined in cafes or in their
+homes, rushed off in taxis to musical plays, and had supper and danced.
+They loved and were loved, they "played the game."
+
+"My dear," she said decisively, "it's not what you say that interests
+men; it's how you look and what you have on."
+
+But despite her air of assurance and her own liking of her life, she
+felt the picture growing flat, and so she added quietly:
+
+"Oh, my friends aren't all I'd like. They never are, if you've anything
+in you. If you really want to be somebody--" and here her whole
+expression changed to one of resolute faith in herself--"you need just
+one thing, money. And you can't do anything about that, you have to
+wait for your husband. Joe's a dear, of course, and he's working hard.
+And he's getting it, too, he's getting it!" A gleam of hunger almost
+fierce came into her clear violet eyes. "I want a larger
+apartment--I've picked out the very one. And I want a car, a limousine.
+I know just how I'll paint it a mauve body with white wheels. And I
+want a house on Long Island. I've picked out the very spot--just next
+to Fanny Carr's new place."
+
+As her sister spoke of these ideals, again Ethel had that feeling of
+church, but only for a moment.
+
+"Who's Fanny Carr?" she asked alertly.
+
+Amy was slowly combing her hair, and she smiled with kindly tolerance,
+for her little confession had brought back her faith in herself and her
+future.
+
+"Fanny was a writer once--"
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes. She ran a department on one of the papers." It had been the dress
+pattern page, but Amy did not mention that. Instead she yawned
+complacently. "Oh, she dropped it quick enough--she thought it rather
+tiresome. She's one of the cleverest women I know. She'd have got a
+long way up in the world, if it weren't for her second husband--"
+
+"Her second?"
+
+"Yes. The first one didn't do very well. She told me once, 'If you
+want to get on, change your name at least once in every three years.'
+Her second, as it happened, was no better than the first. But she was
+clever enough by then to get an able lawyer; and when it came to the
+divorce, Fanny succeeded in keeping the house, the one out on Long
+Island."
+
+"Oh," said Ethel tensely. Her sister shot a look at her.
+
+"I don't care especially for Fanny's ideas about husbands," she said.
+"But at least she has a love of a home." And Amy went on to explain to
+her sister the value and importance of being able to give "week ends."
+Again the gleam came into her eyes.
+
+"It's money, my dear, it's money. They are the same women in Newport
+exactly--just like all the rest of us--only they are richer. That's
+all--but it is everything. Put me in a big house out there, and my
+friends wouldn't know me in a few years."
+
+A cloud came on her face as she looked in the glass.
+
+"But that's just the trouble. A few years more and I'll be too late.
+You've got to get there while you're young. And there's so little time.
+You lose your looks. It's all very well for some women to talk about
+ideas and things--and travel and--and children. I did, too, I talked a
+lot--oh, how I wanted everything! But one has to narrow down. Thank
+heaven, Ethel, you've years ahead. I've only got a few more left--I'm
+already thirty-one. And my type ages fast in this town, if you do the
+things you're expected to do. But you--oh, Ethel, I want you to marry
+well! Not a millionaire--that's rather hard, and besides he'd probably
+be too fat--but the kind who will be a millionaire, who has it written
+all over his face and makes you feel it in his voice! Don't sell
+yourself too cheap, my dear! Don't go running about with men who'll
+keep you poor for the rest of your days. They talk so well--some of
+them do; and it sounds so fine--ideas and books and pictures and--I knew
+one who was an architect. And it's all very well for later on, but what
+you've got to do right at the start--while you have the looks and
+youth--is to find the man who can give you a house where all those other
+people will be tumbling to get in--because you'll have the money--you'll
+be able to entertain--and give them what they really want--in spite of
+all their talking."
+
+Once more, with a weary sigh, she dropped the religious intensity, and
+smiled as she wistfully added:
+
+"That's where some man can put you. They do, you know, they do it.
+Some man does it every day. You can see his name in the papers. Dozens
+of wives get to Newport each year. And what do they do it on? Money!
+
+"That's romance enough for me, my dear. And if you want work and a
+career, the most fascinating kind I know is to study the man you've
+married--find what's holding him back and take it away--what's pushing
+him on and help it grow! You've got to narrow, narrow down! You may
+want a lot of children. They're loves, of course, to have around. But
+you run a big risk in that. I could give you so many cases--mothers who
+have just dropped out. If you want to really get on in this town,
+you've got to stick to your husband and make your husband stick to you!
+There are things about that you will learn soon enough. It comes so
+naturally, once you are in it--married, I mean. And that's your hold.
+
+"And if you love him as I love Joe," she added almost in a whisper, "you
+find it so easy that often you forget what it is you're trying to do,
+what you're really doing it for. You're just happy and you shut your
+eyes. But then you wake up and use it all--everything--to drive him on.
+You can do that while you are still young and have what he wants--the
+looks, I mean--and can make him see that any number of other men would
+be glad to step into his shoes. But you give them only just enough to
+keep your husband from feeling too safe. You hold them off, you make
+him feel that he's everything to you if he'll work and give you what you
+ought to have! And unless you're a fool you don't listen to this talk
+of women's rights and women doing the work of men. You keep on your own
+ground and play the game. And you keep making him get what you
+need--before it's too late!" All at once she gave a sharp little laugh.
+"It's a kind of a race, you see," she said.
+
+The night after this talk, Ethel lay in her bed, and tried to remember
+and think it out. How new and queer and puzzling. So many vistas she
+had dreamed of had been closed on every hand.
+
+"What's the matter with me?"
+
+The matter was that her old ideals and standards were being torn up by
+the roots, roots that went deep down into the soil of life in the town
+in Ohio. But Ethel did not think of that. She scowled and sighed.
+
+"Well, this is real! I was dreaming! And after all, this is much the
+same, but different in the way you get it. This is New York. One thing
+is sure," she added. "Amy needs every dollar Joe can make--and she must
+not have me on her hands. I've got to find what I really want--a job or
+a man--and be quick about it!"
+
+It threw a tinge of uneasiness into those breathless shopping tours.
+And it changed her attitude toward Joe. He had not counted for much at
+first; he had been a mere man of business; and business men had had
+little place in her dreams of friends in the city. But watching him now
+she changed her mind.
+
+Joe Lanier was what is called "a speculative builder." He was an
+architect, building contractor and real estate gambler, all in one. He
+put up apartment buildings "on spec," buildings of the cheaper sort,
+most of them up in the Bronx, and sold them at a profit--or a loss, as
+the case might be. He dealt in the rapidly shifting values of
+neighbourhoods in the changing town. "The gamble in it is the fun," he
+remarked to Ethel one evening. Joe was just the kind of a man, as Amy
+had told her sister, to make a big sudden success of his work.
+Unfortunately he was tied to a partner, Nourse by name, who held him
+back. This man Amy keenly disliked. She said that Nourse was a perfect
+grind, a heavy tiresome creature who thought business was everything in
+the world.
+
+"Sometimes I really believe he forgets it's for making money," Amy
+declared. "He's as anxious about it as an old hen, and he wants it
+steady as a cow. He detests me, as I do him. He has stopped coming
+here, thank heaven. And the time is not so far away when I'll make Joe
+see that he's got to lose his partner."
+
+Joe's image gained steadily in importance to Ethel's awakening eyes. Of
+his force as a man, all that she saw made her more and more certain that
+Amy was right. Joe was the kind who was bound to succeed. He not only
+worked hard, his work was a passion. At night and on Sunday mornings he
+could sit for hours absorbed in the tiresome pages of real estate news
+in his paper. He went out for strolls in the evenings; one night he
+asked Ethel to come along; and his talk to her about buildings, the
+growth of the city by leaps and bounds, now in this direction, now in
+that, caught her imagination at once. Joe felt the town as a living
+thing, as she had felt it that first night. Different? Yes, this was
+business. But even business, to her surprise, as Joe saw and felt it,
+had a strange thrilling romance of its own.
+
+And she soon noticed something else that drew her to Joe. Almost every
+evening he would sit down at his piano and start playing idly. As a
+rule he played dance music, popular songs from Broadway. But sometimes
+leaning back he would drift into other music. And though his hand would
+bungle and only sketch it, so to speak--in his black eyes, scowling
+slightly over the smoke of his cigar, would come a look which Ethel
+liked. But vaguely she felt that Amy did not, that it even made her
+uneasy. For almost invariably at such times, Amy would come behind him,
+her plump softly rounded arm would find its way down over his
+shoulder--and little by little the music would change and would come
+back to Broadway.
+
+When Joe heard one evening that Ethel was "mad to learn to sing," he
+took her by the arm at once and marched her over to the piano. And they
+had quite a session together--till Amy suggested going out to a new
+cabaret she had heard of that day. Her voice sounded hurt and strained.
+And Ethel from that night on dropped all mention of singing.
+
+Her curiosity deepened toward this city love affair, this husband and
+wife who apparently had left so many things out of their lives, things
+vital in the Ohio town. The sober wee girl in the nursery kept just as
+quiet as before. Often Ethel opened that door and went in and tried to
+make friends with its grave shy little inmate and the hostile nurse.
+And returning to her room she would frown and wonder for a time. But
+the pretty things piling in from the shops, and the gay anticipations,
+soon crowded such questioning out of her mind. Swiftly this household
+was growing more real, the rooms familiar, intimate; the day's routine
+with its small events were becoming parts of her life. Her own room was
+familiar now, for by many touches she'd made it her own. And the
+dining-room and the living room, where she grew acquainted with Joe,
+these too assumed an intimate air. Most of all, her sister's room grew
+more and more vivid in her thoughts, though this was still far from
+familiar, It held too much, it meant too much.
+
+"Shall I ever live with a man like that?"
+
+The way they looked at each other at times! The way they seemed keeping
+watch on each other. If Joe were out very late at night, Amy would
+almost invariably grow uneasy and absentminded, and there would be a
+challenging note in the way she greeted him on his return. On one such
+occasion Ethel was in Amy's room. She went out when Joe came in; but a
+queer little gasping sigh behind gave her a start and a swift thrill,
+for although she did not turn around she knew they were in each other's
+arms. And again, late one afternoon when the sisters came home and
+found Joe at work with a tired anxious look on his face, his wife came
+up behind him. And the picture of her small gloved hand upon Joe's
+heavy shoulder remained in Ethel's memory. It seemed so soft and yet so
+strong.
+
+"She can do anything with him she likes. When I marry somebody how will
+it be?"
+
+Upon the living-room mantel was a photograph of Amy. And on the smooth
+and pretty face with the lips slightly parting, and in the smiling
+violet eyes, there was the expression of something which Ethel did not
+quite name to herself--for she had forgotten the night long ago in her
+high-school club when they had sturdily tackled the word "sensual" and
+what it meant. But the picture grew familiar and real, filled in by the
+living presence here of this woman who so carefully tended her beautiful
+body, her glossy hair, her cheeks and lips; this sister with so many
+moods, now intent and watchful, now good-humoured, indolent, now
+expectant, hungry, now smilingly content and gay.
+
+And as the picture grew more real, warm and close and thrilling, it
+symbolized for Ethel that mysterious force which she could feel on every
+side, driving the throngs of humanity--in this city where so many things
+she had once deemed important were fading rapidly away. That hungry
+hope of a singer's career, that craving for work and self-education,
+trips to Paris, London, Rome, books, art and clever people, "salons,"
+brilliant discussions of life; and deeper still, those mysterious dreams
+about having children and making a home--all began to drop behind, so
+quietly and easily that she barely noticed the change.
+
+For this was happening in a few weeks, in the first whirl and excitement
+of those dazzling streets and shops, those models, gowns, hats, gloves
+and shoes. "It's not what you say that interests men--it's how you look
+and what you have on." The image of her sister grew vivid in Ethel's
+eager mind. And with it came the question, now ardent though still a
+little confused:
+
+"Shall I ever be like that?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Ethel had been about four weeks in town, and now she was to meet Amy's
+friends. Amy was giving a dinner the next evening in her honour; and to
+let the cook and the waitress have a rest on the preceding night, Joe
+took Amy and Ethel out to dine in a cafe. His business had gone well
+that week and Joe was a genial husband. They had a sea-food supper and
+later he took them to a play. When they came home, Ethel went to her
+room, for she felt very tired. It was not long before she was asleep.
+
+She was awakened by Joe, half dressed.
+
+"Amy is sick!" he said sharply. "Go in and help her, will you? I'll
+try to get a doctor!"
+
+On Amy's bed, a little later, Ethel saw a face so changed from the one
+of a few hours before, that she felt her heart jump into her throat.
+Amy's face was ugly and queer, distorted by frequent spasms of pain.
+But worse was the terror in her eyes.
+
+"Ethel, I think I'm dying!" she cried. "Something I ate--it poisoned
+me!" There was a violent catch in her breath.
+
+"Amy! Why, you poor little darling!" Ethel held her sister tight, asked
+quick anxious questions and did things to relieve her, but with little
+or no success. It seemed hours till Joe came back. With him was a
+doctor, who made an examination and then took Joe into the hall. Ethel
+followed anxiously. She heard the doctor questioning Joe, and she heard
+him say:
+
+"I'm afraid it's ptomaine.
+
+"What does _that_ mean?" Joe fiercely inquired. But before Ethel could
+hear the reply she was called back into the bedroom, where on her bed
+with both hands clenched Amy was saying:
+
+"I can't bear this! Make him give me something--quick!"
+
+The rest of the night was a blur and a haze, of which Joe was the
+centre--Joe half crazed and impatient, making impossible demands.
+
+"You can't get a nurse in a minute, my friend, at five A. M.," the
+doctor cried. "I'm doing my best, if you'll give me a chance!"
+
+The fight went on. The nurse arrived, and turning to Ethel the doctor
+said, "Get him out of this." And she took Joe into the living-room. But
+there with a sudden curse and a groan he began to walk the floor.
+
+"This doctor--what do we know of him? He was all I could find! We
+haven't been to a doctor in years! . . . Ah--that's it!" And he went
+to the telephone, where in a few moments she heard him saying tensely,
+"Bill, old man, I'm in trouble." And she thought, "It's his partner."
+
+"What have you done?" she asked him.
+
+"Got Bill Nourse on the 'phone. He's bringing another doctor."
+
+"But Joe! You should have asked this one first!"
+
+"Should I?" was his distracted reply.
+
+The second physician soon arrived, and was as surprised and annoyed as
+the first one when he found how he had been summoned. In a moment with
+angry apologies he was backing out of the door. But Joe caught his arm.
+
+"You two and your etiquette be damned! Go in and look at that woman!"
+he cried. And with a glance into Joe's eyes, the second doctor turned
+to the first, muttered, "Hold this man. He's crazy "--and went into the
+bedroom.
+
+It was long before Ethel forgot the look that appeared on Joe's face
+when the second physician came out and said:
+
+"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."
+
+She went in with Joe to Amy. And her sister looked so relieved, the
+lines of pain all smoothed away. Heavily drugged, she was nearly
+asleep. Her hand felt for Joe's and closed on it, and with a little
+nestling movement of her soft lovely body she murmured smiling:
+
+"Oh, so tired and sleepy now."
+
+Again, in spite of her grief and fright, Ethel noticed how her sister's
+hand closed on that of her husband. In the months and years that
+followed, she recalled it vividly so many times.
+
+Joe sat there long after Amy was dead.
+
+
+The doctor signed to Ethel to come into the living-room.
+
+"Are you to be in charge?" he asked. She looked at him and shivered.
+She felt a pang of such loneliness as she had never known before.
+
+"I know nobody--nothing--I don't know how you arrange," she said. "I've
+only been a month in town."
+
+The doctor gave her a curious look of pity and uneasiness. It was as
+though he had told her, "I'm sorry, but don't count on me for help. I'm
+busy. This is New York, you know." He said:
+
+"I'll see to the undertaker." She shivered again, and he added, "Don't
+you know some older woman here?"
+
+This reminded her of the dinner which Amy was to have given that night.
+A lump rose in her throat. She waited a moment and then she said:
+
+"Yes, I know of several."
+
+"That's good. You'd better send for them." And soon afterward he
+hurried away.
+
+But just as Ethel was rising to go to the telephone, there was a ring at
+the door. She opened it, and a tall man, rather stooped, with iron grey
+hair and moustache, a lean but rather heavy face and deep-set impassive
+eyes, came in and said:
+
+"I'm Joe's partner--Nourse, you know. How is it going? Better?"
+
+"She's dead."
+
+"God!" With that low exclamation, she thought she saw a gleam of shock
+but then of triumph come in his eyes. He went into Joe's room, and
+closed the door; and with a mingling of relief and of sharp hostility
+she felt at once how she was shut out. Who was she but a stranger now?
+She thought of Amy, and with a quick cry Ethel began to walk up and down
+in a scared hunted fashion. She stopped with a sudden resolute
+clenching of her teeth, and said, "Now I've got to do something! If I
+don't, I'll go right out of my mind!" But what? She stared about her,
+then went to the windows and threw back the curtains. It was well along
+toward noon. Daylight flooded into the room, with one yellow path of
+light which came down from the distant sun.
+
+"I'll go out and get her some flowers."
+
+When she came back a half hour later, Ethel still had that resolute
+look. The door of Joe's room was still closed and she saw Nourse's hat
+in the hall. She turned and went to the telephone, stopped and frowned.
+
+"Yes, that's the next thing."
+
+She called up Amy's friend Fanny Carr. But at the sound of the woman's
+voice which came back over the wire, Ethel gave a start of dismay. For
+it had a jarring quality, and although it was prompt in its exclamations
+of shocked surprise and sympathy and proffers of help--the words, "You
+poor child, I'll come over at once!"--made Ethel inwardly beseech her,
+"Oh, no, no! Please stay away!" Aloud she said, "Thank you," put up the
+receiver and stood staring at the wall. Was this Amy's best friend?
+
+"I want some one I know!" She thought of Susette. She went at once to
+the nursery, kissed the wee girl and sat down on the floor. And as they
+built a house of blocks, Ethel could feel herself softening, the
+strained tight sensation going. Suddenly in her hot dry eyes she felt
+in a moment the tears would come.
+
+"What's to become of me and this child?"
+
+She turned with a start and met the unfriendly eyes of the nurse. They
+had a jealous light in them.
+
+"You'll stay here, of course," said Ethel. "Surely you are not thinking
+of going--"
+
+"No. Are you?"
+
+A little cold sensation struck into her spine at the tone of that
+question.
+
+"I haven't decided yet on my plans. Hadn't you better take Susette out
+to the Park?"
+
+"All right."
+
+"And keep her there as much as you can--till it's over."
+
+"All right," said the nurse again.
+
+Ethel went out of the room. Were there only strangers here?
+
+Just after that Fanny Carr arrived, and Ethel had a feeling at once of a
+shrewd strong personality. A woman of about medium height, still young
+but rather over-developed, artificial and overdressed, with a full bust
+and thick red lips and lustrous eyes of greenish grey--her beauty was of
+the obtrusive type that is made to catch the eye on the street and in
+noisy crowded rooms. When Fanny kissed her, Ethel shrank. "I mustn't
+do that!" she exclaimed to herself. But the other woman had noticed it
+and shot a little look at her.
+
+"You poor girl. I can't tell you how sorry I feel," she was saying.
+"It's horrible. Tell me about it."
+
+And Ethel in a lifeless voice recounted the tragedy of the night.
+
+"Where's Joe?"
+
+"In there, with his partner."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Nourse. He would be." Mrs. Carr threw a glance of dislike at
+the door. "And you, my dear--I won't ask you now what are your plans.
+Just let me help you. What can I do? There's that dinner tonight, to
+begin with. Have you let the people know?"
+
+"Not yet--"
+
+"Have you a list of the ones who were asked?"
+
+"I think there's one on Amy's desk."
+
+"Then I'll attend to it."
+
+Soon Fanny was at the telephone. Her voice, hard and incisive, kept
+talking, stopping, talking again, repeating it to friend after friend,
+and making it hard, abrupt and real, stripping it of its mystery, making
+it naked and commonplace, like a newspaper item--Amy's death. And Ethel
+sat rigid, listening.
+
+"Amy's best friend! Oh, how strange!"
+
+Suddenly she remembered things Amy had said about this friend--admiring
+things. She bit her lips.
+
+"What a queer time for hating a person. But I hate you--oh, I hate
+you!" She went to the window and frowned at the street and slowly again
+got control of herself. "What's wrong with me? Why am I so dull I
+ought to be doing something. But what?" Again came the voice from the
+telephone, and again she clenched her hands. "How did you make Amy take
+you for a friend? Oh, what difference does it make?"
+
+But it did make a difference. The presence of Fanny got on her nerves;
+and when a little later two of the dinner guests arrived, to exclaim and
+pity and offer their help, she faced them and thought:
+
+"You're all alike! You're all just hard and over-dressed! You're
+cheap! Oh, please--please go away!"
+
+The two visitors seemed glad enough to find she did not want them here,
+that she was not going to cling to them and make this abyss she was
+facing a region they must face by her side. In their eyes again she
+caught the look she had seen on the face of the doctor. "After all,
+this is not my affair."
+
+The two women left her. Fanny, too, soon went out on an errand. And no
+other woman came to her that day. How different from the Ohio town.
+Only once a girl came from the dressmaker's.
+
+But just after Fanny had gone out, Joe's partner came into the
+living-room. In the last few hours several times she had heard his
+voice as he talked with Joe. Deep, heavy and gruff, it had yet revealed
+a tenderness that had given to Ethel a sudden thrill--which she had
+forgotten the next moment, for her thoughts kept spinning so. But now
+as he looked down at her she saw in his gaunt lean face a reflection of
+that tenderness; and there was a pity in his voice which set her lip to
+quivering.
+
+"The sooner we have this over," he said, "the better it will be for
+Joe."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tomorrow!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"At four!"
+
+"All right."
+
+"I'll see to it."
+
+"Thank you." There was a pause.
+
+"Is there any special cemetery? You have any preference?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know any in New York." And again there was a silence.
+
+"You haven't been here long," he said.
+
+"You'll be going back now to your home, I suppose."
+
+"I haven't any."
+
+"Oh," he said. She glanced up and saw a gleam of uneasiness in his
+steady tired eyes. She shrank a little.
+
+"You have no relatives living?" he asked.
+
+"None that I care about," she replied. She swallowed sharply. "They're
+scattered--gone West. We lost track of them."
+
+"Oh. . . . Then do you intend to stay here?"
+
+"For awhile--if Joe wants me."
+
+"I'll take care of Joe." Though the voice was low, it had an anxious
+jealous note which made her shiver slightly.
+
+"There's the child," she reminded him sharply. "Why not take it away?"
+he asked. "Joe never cared for it, did he? Do you think it has been
+happy here?"
+
+And at that she could have struck him. At her glare he turned away.
+
+"Forgive me. Of course I--should not have said that." A pause. "Nor
+talked of your plans. I'm not myself. Sorry for Joe. Forgive me." He
+turned away from her, frowning. "I'll see to everything," he said, and
+she heard him leave the apartment.
+
+And all the rest of the day and the night and through the morning which
+followed, no one else came but professional men, and Mrs. Carr. She
+came and went; and her voice grew familiar--hard, intrusive, naked. And
+the thought kept rising in Ethel's mind, like a flash of revelation in
+all the storm and blackness:
+
+"This kind of a woman was Amy's best friend!"
+
+
+The funeral was soon over, and of its ugly details only a few remained
+in her mind. She had a glimpse of Amy's face down in the handsome
+coffin, and at the sight she turned away with a swift pang of
+self-reproach. "I shouldn't have let Fanny do that!" Fanny had dressed
+her sister.
+
+She remembered the low respectful voice of the building superintendent:
+"There's an afternoon tea on the floor below, so the casket and the
+funeral guests had better go down by the freight elevator."
+
+She gave a strained little laugh at that and asked, "I wonder when I'll
+cry?"
+
+The preacher, a tall kindly young man, came in and seemed about to
+speak; but after a look at her face he stopped. He had come from a
+church two blocks away. Joe and Amy had never been to his church, and
+it was Nourse who had brought him here. Nourse had learned of him from
+the undertaker.
+
+Several boxes of flowers came.
+
+Later from a milliner's shop two pretty autumn hats arrived.
+
+The guests began arriving--silent, awkward strangers--ten or twelve.
+
+She heard the nurse come in with Susette and take her back to the
+nursery.
+
+There was no music. Not a sound.
+
+At last the silence was broken by the minister's low voice. Thank
+heaven that was kindly. He was brief, and yet too long; for from the
+apartment one flight below, before he had finished, the festive throb of
+a little orchestra was heard.
+
+He prayed just a minute or two.
+
+Then they followed the coffin out into the hall and back and down by the
+freight elevator.
+
+A motor hearse was waiting below.
+
+
+When the burial was over, she came home alone with Joe. She sat in the
+living-room watching his face, while the dusk grew mercifully deep.
+Then she made him eat some supper and take something to make him sleep.
+And later in her own small room she lay on her bed, dishevelled,
+tearless, her mind stunned, her feelings queer and uneven, now surging
+up, now cold and still.
+
+"Where has she gone? What do I know? . . . What do I believe?
+Where is God? . . . What is life? What am I here for?"
+
+With a pang she recalled the town in Ohio where she and Amy had been
+born, and her thoughts went drifting for awhile. Pictures floated in
+and out, pictures of her life at home. She was hungry for them now, the
+old stays and firm supports, the old frame house, her father and the God
+in the yellow church, the quiet river, the high school and that friendly
+group of eager girl companions, with work, discussions, young ideals,
+plans and dreams of life and love. . . . All up by the roots in a
+few swift weeks!
+
+"Shall I go back?" she asked herself. "Do I want to go--now that Dad is
+dead, and most of the girls have gone away, scattered all over the
+country?" Again she lapsed. "I'm too dull to think." She let the
+pictures drift again. Church sociables, a Christmas tree, dances,
+suppers and buggy rides, picnics by the river. How small and very
+far-away and trivial they now appeared. All had pointed toward New
+York. "Go back and marry, settle down? Do I want to? No. And anyhow,
+there's Joe and Susette. My place is right here--and I'm going to stay.
+But what is it going to mean to me? What do I want in this city now?"
+
+In the turmoil, startled, she looked about her for a purpose, some
+ideal. But the old beliefs seemed dim; the new ones, garish and
+confused. She recalled those faces of Amy's friends. "Yes, cheap and
+tough, for all their clothes!" Or was it just this ghastly time that had
+made them all appear so?
+
+Again she thought of her sister dead. "Oh Amy--Amy! Where have you
+gone?" And at last, quite suddenly, the tears came, and she huddled and
+shook on her bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+She slept that night exhausted, woke up early the next morning and lay
+motionless on her bed: at first staring bewildered about the room, and
+then, with a sharp contraction of her brows and a quick breath, looking
+intently up at the ceiling. A vigilant look crept into her eyes, for at
+once instinctively she was on guard against letting the feelings of
+yesterday rise.
+
+"What a selfish little beast I've been. Did I help in the funeral? Not
+a bit. Did I comfort poor Joe? Not at all. I was occupied wholly with
+my own morbid little soul. Now we're going to stiffen up, my love, and
+try to be of some use to Joe, and do as Amy would have liked." She began
+to tremble suddenly. "No, we're not going to think of her! It's
+dangerous! Be practical! To begin with, I must clear things up. I'll
+have a little talk with Joe. Poor Joe--it's going to be pretty
+dreadful. I'll stick by him, though, and I've got to learn how to keep
+him from going out of his mind." More staring at the ceiling. "One
+thing I know. I shan't wear black. Amy detested mourning, and Joe will
+see life black enough as it is. . . . Thank Heaven there's the
+housekeeping to do. That shall run smoothly if it kills me! . . .
+All right, now suppose we get out of bed."
+
+About an hour later, from behind Amy's silver coffee pot, Ethel had her
+talk with Joe. She felt ill, but she bit her lips and smiled. She had
+dressed her hair becomingly and had donned a blue silk waist, one of the
+countless pretty things that she had bought with Amy. Her brown eyes
+had a resolute brightness.
+
+"We'll have to help each other," she said. "And there's Susette to be
+thought of. The best way, I guess, is not to try to do much planning
+ahead just now. But I'd like to stay here if you want me, Joe. There's
+no other place where I want to be."
+
+He gave her a grateful tired smile. His hair was a bit dishevelled, and
+over his blunt kindly face had come a haggard lost expression. His
+voice was low:
+
+"Thank you, Ethel--you're a brick. I want you here at first, God knows.
+Later I'll try to fix things so that you can feel more free. You're
+only a kid, with a life of your own. Big city, you know, and you'll
+find your place."
+
+He stared over at the window, where the sun was streaming in.
+
+"Another cup of coffee, Joe?"
+
+"No, thanks." he rose slowly, and added, "Let's go now to--Amy's
+desk--and fix up the housekeeping part of it."
+
+Later he said, "I'll see the nurse and the other two maids and tell 'em
+they're to take orders from you." He paused a moment. "And Ethel--if
+you're to stay here, I want it to be as nearly like it was as I can." he
+gave a wincing frown. "I mean on the money side," he said. "I'll give
+you a check the first of each month. You'll need things of your own, of
+course--as she did. I want it just like that."
+
+"Thank you, dear." She saw a muscle in his cheek suddenly begin to
+twitch, and she thought, "It won't be easy."
+
+When Joe left for his office, she went with him to the door.
+
+
+She turned at once to the housekeeping. Her talks with the waitress and
+the cook left her both a little relieved and a good deal disappointed.
+For there seemed to be nothing for her to do; she was made to feel that
+things would run best with the least possible interference. She learned
+with surprise that hitherto the cook had done all the ordering.
+
+"All I need to know is how many is coming," said the cook.
+
+"There won't be any one for awhile."
+
+"Then it's very simple, ma'am." On the woman's face was a look which
+said, "Just you keep out of my kitchen."
+
+It was the same in her talk with the nurse. That tall gaunt creature
+briefly explained that, "Mrs. Lanier bought clothes Spring and Fall,
+and then she left the child to me. I go out every Thursday and every
+other Sunday--afternoon and evening. Lucy the waitress takes my place.
+The rest of the time I've managed alone." She looked around in a jealous
+way and asked, "I suppose you'll want things as before?"
+
+"Yes, for the present," Ethel said. She felt the woman glance at her
+sharply as she turned toward the door.
+
+She went into her sister's room, sat down and had a little cry. But the
+sunlight was streaming in through the pretty chintz curtains there; and
+its softness and its ease, its luxury and blithe content, stole into her
+spirit and quieted her. She sat looking about.
+
+"What is there for me to do?"
+
+It came over her that the cook and the nurse could tell her just about
+what they pleased. She had no means of checking them up, for Amy had
+never talked of such things. It had all been pretty clothes and shops,
+in those brief exciting weeks, and shrewd counsel about men and what it
+was they wanted of women. How appallingly shallow and meaningless those
+conversations now appeared. They gave no comfort or support. The
+remembrance of the terror in Amy's eyes at the thought of death rose
+vividly in Ethel's mind, and she got up and walked the floor.
+
+"We'll fight this down--we'll fight this down," she kept repeating
+determinedly. And as soon as she was quiet again: "What is there for me
+to do? Why Joe, of course--and heaven knows he'll be enough. He's the
+hardest kind, he doesn't cry, he keeps it all inside of him." She drew a
+deep breath. "How about this room?" She frowned and looked around her.
+"No, I don't think he wants anything changed. For the present at least,
+I'll leave it alone. But he ought not to be reminded of her by every
+little thing he sees."
+
+She looked into the closets. In Joe's she found some of Amy's things.
+She put them back in her sister's closet and then gently closed the
+door. As she stood there a moment longer, she had a curious feeling of
+Amy's presence by her side.
+
+"Now, my dear, we'd better go out for a walk," she told herself as she
+turned away. But she threw a glance behind her.
+
+In the weeks that followed she and Joe were more intensely alone
+together than she could have imagined.
+
+At first a few of Amy's friends kept dropping in every now and then.
+But although their intentions were kindly enough, Ethel felt repelled by
+them. She resented their having been Amy's friends. For swiftly and
+quite unconsciously, in her resolute groping in the dark for solid
+ground on which to stand, she was building up an ideal of her
+sister--and these women jarred on that. They came to her direct from a
+world, her sister's world, which she now vaguely felt to be cheap,
+shallow, disillusioning. And she needed her illusions. By nature frank
+to bluntness, she was not good at hiding dislikes; and her uneasy
+visitors soon realized with relief that they were not wanted here.
+
+Fanny Carr still came for a time. For some reason that Ethel could not
+understand, this shrewd person seemed reluctant to let go her hold as a
+friend. She was most solicitous about Joe and tried to come when he was
+at home. But as Ethel's dislike of the woman deepened in intensity,
+gradually Fanny's visits, too, grew less frequent and then ceased.
+
+During the first week or two, Joe's partner almost every night came home
+with him to dinner and took him out for evening walks. But his talk was
+all of business. It seemed to Ethel that purposely Nourse shut her out
+of the conversation. His manner to her, though not unkind, was like
+that of the cook and the nurse. "The less you meddle here," it said,
+"the better it will be for Joe. Leave him to me."
+
+Gleams of this feeling came in his eyes. It showed now and then so
+openly that even Joe took notice. He stopped bringing his partner home,
+and he drew closer to Ethel now, as together they cherished the memory
+of the woman who was gone.
+
+And slowly, in this companionship, this loneliness, this quiet, Joe grew
+very real to her, and appealing in his grief. Everything else seemed so
+remote--but he was close. "He needs me." It was a bright spot in the
+dark. At times this darkness had no end, it stretched away to eternity;
+but at least she did not face it alone. Of Joe's grief she could have
+no doubt. Each week his blunt strong features displayed more lines of
+suffering; his high cheek-bones showed hard and grim. He was grateful,
+affectionate at times, but more often silent, and she saw in his eyes
+what frightened her. He had so few resources here. In his office was
+his work, just as it had always been; but at home there was nothing; his
+wife was gone, and he seemed restless to get out.
+
+"Let's go somewhere," he would mutter.
+
+She went with him for strolls in the evenings. Often they walked on and
+on till both were ready to drop with fatigue, but she stuck doggedly by
+his side. One evening they passed the open door of a church. It was
+lighted, and the deep low rumble of an organ floated out. Joe stopped a
+moment irresolute, and then started to go inside. But a glance through
+the door revealed to him that the church was nearly empty; and he turned
+away as he would have turned from any show on Broadway which was so
+obviously "not a hit."
+
+"Sometimes on Sunday mornings I seem to hear 'em, preachers, droning and
+shouting all over the land," he told her once. "What's in it? What do
+they know about God or where you go when you are dead? Nothing, no more
+than you or I!"
+
+His voice was harsh and bitter then, but the next instant it was kind.
+With his arm about her he was saying:
+
+"Don't, Ethel--please--don't take it like that! I was a brute! I won't
+again! I'll keep it inside! I'm sorry, dear!"
+
+"Oh, Joe," she whispered, "if we only knew!"
+
+So these two faced eternity.
+
+But only at moments. They looked away. For she saw how good it was for
+Joe to have the distractions that he craved; and so on their long walks
+at night she took him to the noisy streets, or into the movies, where
+his mind appeared to stop and find some rest. Best of all, she
+discovered, was to go with him in the small car which he used for his
+business. Driving this car through crowded streets amid a clamour and
+blare of horns and shouts and peals of laughter, the look on Joe's face
+made Ethel see how this dulled his grief, how he lost himself and his
+questionings and became a mere part of the town. What a glamourous
+seething town! There was something terrific to her in its laugh. If
+you stopped to think and ask yourself, "What are we all doing here?" how
+soon it jostled you back into line!
+
+So passed another fortnight. Then Joe grew quieter, and with relief she
+saw he was ready to stay home. She herself felt tired and relaxed; and
+it was good to sit at home on these December evenings and feel that both
+had partly emerged from the sea of doubts in which they had been
+plunged. He had come out of it, she soon learned, with an image of his
+wife that even Ethel vaguely felt was swiftly becoming so ideal as to
+have little or no resemblance to the woman who had died. But eagerly
+she helped him in this building of Amy's memory. She dwelt upon Amy's
+appealing side, her lovable moods, her beauty and dash, her unerring
+instinct for pretty things, her unselfishness, her anxious planning for
+Ethel's good.
+
+And all this fitted in so well with the picture Joe was making of the
+wife who had been so true to him, who had never had a thought or a wish
+for anything but his career. How cheerfully she had given up all sorts
+of pleasures, trips abroad, a house in the country, summer vacations.
+Year after year she had spent the hot months almost wholly in town
+because he could not afford to leave, although she herself had had many
+chances to go to friends in the mountains or up along the seashore.
+Instead she had stayed with him in town; and in the evenings always she
+had been waiting, good-humoured and gay, ready to stay home or go out;
+with never a word of complaint for the delay of his prosperity, but only
+encouragement and praise.
+
+At times, as Joe talked on and on, in this mood of hungry wistful love
+and humility and self-reproach, Ethel would bring herself back with a
+jerk to the Amy she had known; but again she would feel herself borne
+along upon the tide of his belief, and she was glad that it was so. So
+the picture grew. Nor was it only when they talked. For often in long
+silences, when she thought he was reading his paper, she would glance up
+from her book and find him staring into the past. And again at the
+piano, smoking and playing idly, his music made her realize how his mind
+was groping back through the years, picking and choosing here and there
+what he needed to build up his ideal.
+
+This music at times made her curious, wondering what kind of a man he
+had been before Amy took him in hand.
+
+"Where did you learn to play like that, Joe?" He frowned a little.
+
+"Oh, long ago."
+
+He did not seem to care to go back of his marriage. So Ethel let him
+continue his building; and though at times she smiled a little at some
+of his fond recollections, still her own deep adoration of her older
+sister, the whirl of happy memories of that vivid month in town, and the
+sense of all that Amy had been planning to do for her, combined now with
+her desperate loneliness to put Ethel in a mood where she gladly and
+loyally believed almost anything good of her sister.
+
+Christmas was only one example of many similar incidents. They had a
+small Christmas tree for Susette, and they hung up her stocking as well,
+and went out Christmas Eve and bought candy canes and dogs and dolls and
+picture books. And although this was Ethel's idea, it was made to
+appear as only the thing which Amy would have done had she lived.
+
+So in these two hungry souls, groping for something bright and deep and
+strong upon which they could live, swiftly and unawares to them both the
+picture of Amy was stamped deep, idealized and beautified. In life it
+had been fascinating, but now it was almost heroic as well. It was as
+though the small gloved hand, which Ethel had noticed so many times, in
+death had increased the power of its light, firm, tenacious hold.
+
+
+Ethel began to feel more free, for Joe was no longer on her mind. More
+than once, in fact, she was surprised at the way he seemed to be
+settling down. She felt a deeper change in him, something she did not
+understand. The worn harassed expression she had so often seen on his
+face while his wife had been alive, the look of a man driven and drained
+of his vitality, was now gone; and in its place was an unconscious look
+of content. He often stayed very late at the office; and more and more
+in his evenings at home he went to his desk and became absorbed in
+documents and blue print plans.
+
+"What a refuge a man's business is," she thought with a twinge of envy.
+
+And wistfully she began to look about for some resource for herself.
+She felt the youth within her rise, but the city seemed so vast and
+strange. In her loneliness the big building of which her present home
+was a part, seemed doubly huge, impersonal, hard; and so did every other
+building on that block appear. She felt lost, left out amid ceaseless
+tides of gaiety on every hand. She took long determined walks, and on
+these walks she donned the smart attractive clothes that she had bought
+with Amy. She strove to keep her mind on the sights, the faces of
+people afoot and in cars, the adorable things in shop windows. And she
+chatted busily to herself in order to keep on admiring. This old habit
+of hers, of soliloquy, had grown upon her unawares, as a refuge from her
+loneliness. Sometimes she even talked aloud. Sturdily she told
+herself:
+
+"You've only begun. You'll get up out of this, Ethel Knight--just wait.
+Can't you give a few months to Amy now?"
+
+And scowling at her "morbidness" in feeling dreary and forlorn, she
+resolutely scanned the papers for news of lectures, plays and concerts.
+She went to a few in the afternoons, and dressed for them as carefully
+as though they were great social affairs. And in the intermissions when
+a buzz of talk would rise, she would begin with quick animation to
+converse with herself and be gay, or alert and argumentative. Her lips
+would move inaudibly. Now and then she would brightly smile and nod
+across the house at some friend she pretended to have seen. She
+enrolled for a course of lectures upon "Mental Science." She resumed her
+reading of magazines and books on all kinds of topics. It made her
+think of high school days, and hungrily she reached back for that old.
+zest and inquisitiveness about everything under the moon and stars.
+
+And through this searching she caught hints of the presence in the city
+of a life wider and deeper than shops and yet not antagonistic--a life
+of gaiety, grace and ease, but with it all the brilliancy to which Amy
+had been blind; the rich ferment of new ideas in women's lives,
+discussions, work of many kinds, art, music, "movements" all combined
+into one thrilling pulsing whole. And again she felt within herself
+that rising tide of youth and eager vitality.
+
+"Oh, what couldn't I do, my dear, if I only had a chance? Why doesn't
+somebody see it at once--notice me now, right here on the street? You,
+madam, in that limousine--look out and see me--don't go by! You're
+losing the chance of a lifetime! You're missing me--me--Ethel Knight!"
+
+As the dame in her car sped smoothly by, Ethel suddenly laughed aloud.
+But her laughter had a dangerous note, and she added fiercely, biting
+her lip:
+
+"Now, don't be silly and burst into tears!"
+
+"Ma'am?" said a voice.
+
+She stopped with a jerk and looked up into the startled eyes of a
+massive young policeman. Her last remark had been spoken directly up
+into his face, and the youth was blushing visibly.
+
+"Oh!" she gasped. "Excuse me!"
+
+"Certainly, ma'am."
+
+And she hurried on.
+
+This loneliness lasted several weeks. Then Joe grew dimly aware of it,
+and came to her assistance with awkward efforts to comfort her. He was
+at home more often at night. His gruff voice took on a kindlier tone,
+and in an offhand manner intended to seem casual he would ask where she
+had been that day or what book she was reading. And they would discuss
+it for a while. He took her to the theatre and to a concert now and
+then. They went for rides at night in his car, and he talked to her
+about his work. She could feel his anxious friendliness. "What a dear
+he is to me," she thought.
+
+As time went on this companionship grew so natural to them both that
+more than once Ethel felt in herself a content which made her a little
+uneasy. As in his blunt kindly way Joe drew closer to her now, she had
+an awkward consciousness of being in her sister's place. No, not that
+exactly. Still, she did not care to think of it. She kept out of Amy's
+room. It had subtly changed and become Joe's room--to her mind at
+least--though by little things he said and did she knew that Joe was
+keeping that idealized image of his wife still warm and living in his
+mind.
+
+But was he--altogether? At times she would frown to herself a bit. Joe
+loyal? Yes, of course he was, she would indignantly declare. In a
+novel Ethel had once read, the hero who had lost his wife had taken his
+grief in this same silent way; and the author had laid it down as a law
+that all quiet widowers are the kind who never, never marry again. This
+thought had taken root in her mind; and she applied it now to Joe.
+
+Soon at his suggestion she began to use some of Amy's things. One night
+when they were going out, he helped her slip into her sister's soft
+luxurious sable cloak. And as she turned, she detected a queerly
+uncertain look in Joe's eyes. But in an instant it was gone, and she
+soon dismissed her uneasiness. For through the weeks that followed he
+became engrossed in his business and barely noticed her at all.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+About this time a letter from home brought her a sharp disappointment.
+Ethel was not a good correspondent, but during the homesick winter
+months she had written several times to three of the girls she had known
+in school. Two had gone west, but the other one was still in Ohio and
+was planning to come to New York, to take a course of training as nurse
+in one of the hospitals. In fact it had been all arranged. And Ethel
+had not realized how much she had counted on this friend, until now a
+letter came announcing her engagement to a young doctor in Detroit. She
+was going there to live, and her letter was full of her happiness.
+Ethel was very blue that night.
+
+But only a few days after this she received another missive that had
+quite a different effect. It was a long bulky epistle, a "round robin"
+from the members of the little high school club to which she had
+belonged at home. The girls had scattered far and wide. One was
+teaching music in an Oklahoma town; another had gone to Cleveland and
+was a stenographer in a broker's office there; a third was in Chicago,
+the wife of a young lawyer; and a fourth had married an engineer who was
+working a mine in Montana. It made an absorbing narrative, and she read
+it several times. At first it took her out of herself, far, far out all
+over the land. How good it was to get news of them all, how nice and
+gossipy and gay. It was almost as though they were here in the room;
+she seemed to be talking with each one; and as they chatted on and on,
+the feeling grew in Ethel that each was starting like herself and that
+some were having no easy time in unfamiliar places. She could read
+between the lines.
+
+But the part that struck her most was the contribution of their former
+history "prof," a little lame woman with snappy black eyes, who had been
+the leading spirit in their long discussions. She was an ardent
+suffragist, and she it was who had brought so many modern books and
+plays and "movements" into their talk. Chained to her job in the small
+town, she had followed voraciously all the news of the seething changing
+world outside, of the yeast at work in the cities. And to the letters
+of some of the girls who seemed bent upon nothing but social success,
+the little teacher now replied by an appeal to all of them:
+
+"Girls, some of these letters worry me. I don't want to preach--you
+will lead your own lives. But I cannot help reminding you of the things
+we talked about--the splendid things, exciting things that are stirring
+in this land today. Oh, what a chance for women--what openings with
+narrow doors--what fights to make the doorways wide for the girls who
+will come after you! Keep yourselves strong and awake and alive--keep
+growing--remember that life is a school and for you it has only just
+begun. Don't sit at your desks--in your homes, I mean--blinking with a
+man at your side. Keep yourselves free--don't marry for money--don't
+let yourselves get under the thumb of any husband, rich or poor, or of
+social position or money or clothes or any such silly trumpery. Get the
+real things! Oh, I'm preaching, I know, as I did in spite of myself at
+home. But girls--dear friends and comrades--be strong--and don't give
+up the ship!"
+
+Ethel read it many times. She could hear the voice of the little
+"prof," now earnest, scornful, pleading, now obstinate and angry,
+again light-hearted, mocking. She recalled how their leader had warned
+them against the bribery of men. Most of the girls had smiled at her
+then, for they had felt themselves so strong and clear in their aims and
+desires.
+
+"Oh, Ethel--Ethel--Ethel Knight. How have the mighty fallen. One week
+in New York and your eyes were glued to the windows of shops. You got
+ready to dance and find a man."
+
+The thought rose in her mind--"That was Amy's idea." But she dismissed
+it with a frown. She turned back to the letters and read them all
+through over again. She rose and walked slowly up and down with her
+hands locked behind her. Then she went to her desk, and to the round
+robin she added this:
+
+"I am in New York and have nothing to say. I have been a fool. I have
+spent nearly all my money on a lot of silly clothes. No, not
+silly--fetching clothes--for they were meant to fetch a man. But in
+getting them I got nothing else. I have had a shock--a terrible one.
+My sister Amy suddenly died. I am here now to care for her child. But
+am I? Nothing of the kind. The nurse does that and I do nothing. I
+just sit or walk about and scowl at what I am missing. No more from me,
+girls, until the round robin--the dear splendid thrilling round
+robin--comes back here on its next yearly round. I swear I'll have a
+job by then! Good luck and God bless us all! We're young!"
+
+Quickly she crammed all the letters into a large envelope, licked it,
+pressed it firmly down, and addressed it to, "Miss Barbara Wells,
+Bismarck, North Dakota." She stamped it, felt the tears come, kissed the
+letter a fierce good-bye, took it out and dropped it in the mail box in
+the hall. Then she came back to her own room, and with swift,
+determined jerks took off the black cloth wrapping of a large
+old-fashioned typewriter, one of the few belongings she had brought from
+Ohio. She had purchased it several years ago, and by typing sermons and
+other occasional documents she had earned almost money enough for the
+clothes that had cost so little at home.
+
+She sat down and began to pound the keys, but soon she stopped and shook
+her head. She had never been an expert. Self-taught, her work had been
+laboured and slow, and the lapse of months had thrown her out.
+"However! Something must be done!" And the pounding went on for days
+and days, hour after hour; and when her fingers, wrists and arms felt
+like "two long tooth-aches," she exclaimed impatiently:
+
+"Oh, for goodness sake stop being so soft! You're a new woman, Ethel
+Knight, and you're going to earn your living!"
+
+At times, however, stopping to rest and carefully scan her labour for
+faults, her mind would rove far out into life. She was copying from two
+books the little "prof" had given her, the "Life and Letters of George
+Sand"; and "The Work of Susan B. Anthony." And as Ethel pounded on, each
+book in its own way revealed exciting vistas to her eyes of life in
+great cities both here and abroad, life earnest and inspiring, life
+bright and thrilling, brilliant, free!
+
+"Oh, your future life, my love, will be far from dull and blinking!"
+
+And this mood lasted for two weeks. Then as her hand grew more expert,
+and she scanned the papers for information of employment bureaus, there
+came some ugly hours when much pounding was required. She went out and
+tramped the streets, meeting the town with angry eyes that struggled for
+self-confidence. And twice, although she had dressed herself with a
+keen and vigilant eye to her own attractiveness and had gone to the
+bureau she had selected, with a sinking heart she turned back from the
+door. But the second time, after leaving, with a scowl she faced about,
+went back and marched into the office. And a little later when she
+emerged, her face had a stunned and dazed expression. She still could
+not believe it! For the woman in charge, after one sharp look and a
+number of questions, had remarked:
+
+"Why, yes, I think we can place you. I've one position waiting right
+now." There had been more questioning, but this had seemed rather
+perfunctory. The woman had not appeared to care very much that Ethel
+had only one reference--from the old minister back at home; and the
+brief exhibition of her skill which Ethel gave upon a machine, with her
+fingers excited, cold and tense, had lasted but a minute or two when the
+woman had said, "Yes, that will do."
+
+Ethel scowled as she tried to remember it all. There had been one flaw.
+What was it?
+
+"Oh, yes, she warned me about men." And here Ethel gave a sharp little
+laugh, with a lump of excitement in her throat. "Well, I think I can
+handle myself on that point." She recalled with assurance
+recollections--and there had been not a few--of youths at home who had
+tried to "get fresh," and had soon been shown where they got off!
+
+She was walking very rapidly toward a subway station, and soon she was
+on her way downtown.
+
+"Yes, my dear, I'm sorry to say that it isn't your skill, it is your
+face that has got you this chance. All right, Face, thank you very
+much. If you'll just keep steady, eyes easy and cool, jaw firm but not
+too ugly." . . .`
+
+
+And when a few minutes later she was shown into the private office of
+her future employer, she almost laughed in his fat round face--so absurd
+in that first moment did all her little qualms appear.
+
+"He's forty and he loves his meals."
+
+And she answered his questions so blithely, with such an anxious
+friendliness, that the dumpy man who sat at the desk was plainly
+attracted and easily caught. In fact, in his heavy-lidded eyes and
+about his thick lips came a look which repelled her a little. "I
+shouldn't wonder if even you might get feeling young again," she thought
+to herself disgustedly. "But I guess I can attend to that!"
+
+"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars a week," she was saying meanwhile in a firm
+brisk tone of voice. "Of course I know it's just a trial, but I'll do
+my best, I promise you."
+
+
+"Vell," said Mr. Greesheimer, "you be here tomorrow at nine und ve'll
+see." He sighed. "Ve'll see, my friend." He turned back to his desk
+with an abrupt and businesslike little gesture of dismissal.
+
+And this businesslike air he retained on the morrow. As he explained
+her work to her, the tone of his voice was crisp and dry. Ladies'
+cloaks were Greesheimer's "line," and though his business was still new
+he was increasing it rapidly. He was eager, hungry, almost fierce in
+the way he snapped off his letters at times; again he was a genial soul,
+boasting to her of his success and giving forth shrewd homely proverbs
+that he had learned long ago as a child in some Galician village. But
+never in those weeks of work did she catch a suggestion of "freshness."
+He was her boss, and at times her friend in a fatherly fashion--that was
+all. She worked hard, overcame her awkwardness, was punctual, laboured
+to please him. And he was not slow to praise.
+
+"You're a smart young goil," he said more than once. "Keep on--it's
+great--it suits me fine."
+
+And despite the monotonous bleak detail of her life in that room, Ethel
+grew steadily happier there. For she was gaining confidence fast, she
+was living up to her ideals. Soon she would be ready to leave this
+funny little man and get a place of a different kind--as secretary, for
+instance, to some clever woman novelist or noted suffrage leader. She
+had already put down her name at three employment bureaus, in each of
+which the woman in charge seemed to look upon her with a favourable eye.
+
+Too bad poor Joe disliked it so. When she informed him of what she had
+done, he had appeared quite taken back.
+
+"All right, Ethel, go ahead. I don't want to meddle," he had replied.
+"Only--" he had scowled at her in an effort to smile--"I don't quite
+see--well, go ahead."
+
+Plainly it had been a surprise. It was so utterly different from what
+Amy would have done. It had set him thinking, hurt him. "She wants to
+get away," he had thought. Ethel had caught his feeling and had pitied
+him for it. But mingled with this pity had been a vague resentment:
+
+"The minute you show you've made up your mind to be a little
+independent, they treat it like a slap in the face. All right, Mr.
+Male Provider, your tender feelings will have to be hurt. There's
+nothing the matter, I mean to stay here. I'll stick by you just as long
+as you need me. Only, I propose to be free!"
+
+Their relations had grown a little strained. He had stayed at the
+office more often at night. Very well, let him sulk in his masculine
+way. Only one remark of his had annoyed her. Like the woman in the
+employment bureau, he had warned Ethel against men.
+
+"When it comes to looks," he had ended, "you're one in a thousand. And
+in this town--"
+
+"Oh, Joe, for goodness sake hush up!" she had cried. A bright spot of
+colour had come in each cheek and her strong little mouth had set
+viciously. "You'll be telling me next that I got my position simply on
+my pretty face! No brains behind it, of course, no mind!" And she had
+tapped one foot on the floor in a way which made him look at her in a
+curious manner, startled and admiring.
+
+"Oh, no, I won't," he had told her meekly. "You've got the makings of
+more real mind than any girl I've ever seen."
+
+"Thank you," she had snapped at him, but she had liked him nevertheless.
+So long as one had to live with a man, even as his sister-in-law, it was
+well to have him in his place.
+
+So her annoyance had died down, and had only risen a little again when
+one day Joe came to her office. There was some excuse, of course, but
+his real reason obviously was to have a look at her employer and at the
+same time show the man that she had a male protector. Booh! . . .
+But Joe had smiled at Greesheimer and had withdrawn quite reassured,
+leaving her and her job in peace.
+
+As Ethel's business life went on, her self-confidence grew apace. And
+now that she had proved to herself that she had brains behind her face,
+she dropped her air of severity and even began to enjoy the glances
+which she knew were cast her way, on the streets and in the office.
+Even on old Greesheimer, when he was in one of his genial moods, she
+would bestow a winning smile. It was good to have both brains and face.
+She looked at the city with challenging eyes, a self-supporting woman.
+
+And this state of mind might have lasted some time, had it not happened
+that one sunny day toward the end of April Greesheimer opened a letter
+with eager trembling fingers, read it swiftly and glared with joy, his
+big glistening eyes nearly leaving their sockets. Then he whirled
+around in his chair, and as his eye lit on Ethel, he laughed, and in a
+harsh queer voice he cried, "Vell? Now you see? I'm rich alreatty, I'm
+vell off! I got the Zimmerman contract--see! I can do vot I like! I
+got it! I got it!" He capered in triumphant glee, laughing again and
+seizing her arms. "Vell, vot you say! Vy don't you speak? By Gott, I
+raise your salary!"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Greesheimer!" she cried, half laughing. "It's simply too
+wonderful for words!"
+
+"Ha--ha!" He still had her by the arms. "All you young goils could love
+me now--eh?--you could take an old fehlah! Ha-ha-ha!" And the next
+instant, furious, she felt herself hugged violently, kissed! His lips!
+His fat soft body! Ugh! She dug her elbow into him with a stifled cry
+and wrenched away. A moment she turned on him eyes ablaze.
+
+"You dirty--beastly--" she gasped for breath, then turned, and seizing
+her hat and coat she rushed blindly from the room and through the outer
+office. In the elevator crowded with men she felt a queer taste in her
+mouth. "That's blood," she thought. "Biting my lip, am I--well, bite
+on. I'm not going to cry--I'm not, I'm not--I'll reach that street if
+it kills me!"
+
+Meanwhile in his office Greesheimer was still staring, first at the door
+and then at the window, and upon his pudgy countenance was a glare of
+utter astonishment and honest indignation.
+
+"Mein Gott!" he exploded. "I give her a hug--a hug like a daughter--and
+off like a rocket--off she goes!" And in Yiddish and in Hebrew and
+Russian and American, Greesheimer expressed himself as he strode swiftly
+up and down.
+
+For seven years without a break he had "kept a goil" more fascinating to
+his taste than any female in New York. Her name was Sadie, she was a
+model in a dressmaker's shop uptown, and she owned him body and soul.
+Their marriage had only been put off until he had bridged the dangerous
+time in the launching of his business. For Greesheimer had a mother, an
+old uncle and a sister and two small nephews to support. But this
+Zimmerman contract, "Gott sei danke!" would clear the way for marriage
+at once. And as that glorious vision, of relatives all radiant and
+Sadie flushed and joyous leaping into his embrace, had burst upon his
+dazzled soul, his glance had lit on his employee, and he had hugged her
+in his joy! And she--Again did Greesheimer swear! He felt hot angry
+blushes rise. And later at his telephone he was saying to a woman
+friend who ran an employment bureau:
+
+"I got to have a stenographer. See? Und I don't vant a goil, I vant a
+man--a smart young fellah, y'understand. . . . Jewish? Yes! You
+betcher! No more Christian goils in mine! Dey have rotten minds--plain
+rotten minds!"
+
+But to Ethel, walking blindly, no such explanation occurred. She could
+still feel that body, those greedy lips and clutching hands, and out of
+her disgust and rage emerged another feeling which grew like a load on
+her shoulders, sagging her spirit and crushing her down.
+
+"Joe was right. It was only my face. That beast was only
+waiting! . . . I wonder if they're all like that? Probably not.
+But how can I tell the sheep from the goats? I thought I could. I
+thought I knew how to handle myself--I thought I knew how to get on in
+this town! But I don't, it seems--I've done nothing at all! I've just
+been a little fool! . . . And New York is like that!"
+
+She glared at the city around her, at its tall, hard unfriendly walls,
+the jangling trolleys down below, the trucks and drays and the crowds
+rushing by her. For all their hurry, some of the men shot glances at
+Ethel that made her burn. One tall thin man even stopped and turned and
+she felt his look travel right down to her toes! She walked on and on
+with her bare fists clenched. She had left her gloves in the office.
+Go back for them? No! Nor to any office, nor any man!
+
+"Oh, yes, I will, I'll go back to Joe--and hear him say, 'I told you
+so.'"
+
+She reached the apartment faint and sick. Joe had not come home, thank
+goodness. She went to her room and to her bed, and had a good cry,
+which relieved her a little. And so, after an hour or two, looking
+steadily up at the ceiling, she decided that after a few days' rest she
+would go to all three of those bureaus and say, "I'm in the market
+still, if you please, but only for a woman boss."
+
+But later, as she was dressing for dinner, her eye was caught by the
+photograph of her sister Amy. And the face appeared to her suddenly so
+strong and wise with its knowledge of life. She remembered Amy's smiles
+at all new "movements" and ideas and work for women. She seemed to be
+smiling now, with a good-humoured pitying air, and to be saying:
+
+"Now will you believe me? It isn't what you say to men, it's how you
+look and what you wear."
+
+And Ethel stared at it and frowned, in a disillusioned, questioning way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Joe did not say, "I told you so." It was after eight that evening when
+he came home from his office, and she was annoyed at the delay, for she
+wanted to have her confession of failure over and done with. As she
+waited restlessly, she envied him his business life. How much simpler
+everything was for a man! Her nerves were on edge. Why didn't he come!
+At last she heard his key in the door and sharply pulled herself
+together. "How I detest him!" she thought to herself.
+
+"Hello, Ethel." His voice from the hallway had a gruff and tired sound;
+but a moment later when he came in, it was with his usual friendly
+smile. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I've had a mean day at the office."
+
+"So have I," said Ethel, and with a frown she plunged right in. The
+sooner this was over the better. But when she had finished and looked
+up, she detected no triumph on his face. He was watching her so
+queerly.
+
+"Well," he said, "I ought to be sorry, I suppose--but I can't exactly
+say I am."
+
+"Why not?" At her sharp challenge he grimly smiled.
+
+"Because this kind of puts us--in the same boat--two of a kind."
+
+"What on earth do you mean?" she demanded. And then with a rueful
+grimace he said:
+
+"Because I too have bumped my head." As at that she felt a swift little
+thrill of surprise and liking for Joe, he continued, "I've been a fool.
+You're always a fool when you take a chance and aren't able to get away
+with it. You're a fool--because you missed out. I'm a fool--because I
+missed out. We both of us took chances. And I got very badly stung.
+We've got to be poor for a little while." Joe drew a deep breath and
+smiled again. "I've dreaded this. I've put off telling you for a
+week--I don't like eating humble pie. But it's all right now, God bless
+you--we can eat it side by side."
+
+"Why, Joe, dear, how nice!" she sighed. "Go on and tell me. What will
+it mean?" He held up his hand.
+
+"Hold on a minute, can't you? Let me make my little speech. I've made
+it so many times in my mind."
+
+"All right, you poor dear, just start right in."
+
+"Well," said Joe, "it begins like this." And his face grew a little
+portentous, with humour and a deeper feeling mingled awkwardly together.
+"You've been about as good to me as one fellow could be to another. I
+know what a hell it must have been, and the stiff upper lip was all on
+your side. I don't want to talk about it, but--when Amy died the life
+went out--of my business too. Later I got back my nerve, and because my
+job was all I had left I tried to make it more worth while. I've got a
+few old dreams in me--I mean I've always wanted to build something
+better than flats in the Bronx. So I--well, I took a chance and failed.
+I'm in debt and my only chance to scrape through is to cut down here as
+low as we can. I've figured out our expenses, and--"
+
+He walked for a moment. She quickly rose, went to him and took his arm
+and said:
+
+"A very fine speech. We'll go in to our dinner now--and later we'll get
+a pencil and paper, and we won't stop until everything's right."
+
+
+There came for Ethel busy days.
+
+The next morning she went to the nursery and told the nurse she would
+have to go. "I'm sorry," she added and then stopped short, startled by
+the woman's face. The way her eyes went to Susette made something leap
+in Ethel's breast. The nurse wheeled sharply:
+
+"What have I done! What's the matter with me?" Her voice was strained.
+
+"Nothing. There has been nothing at all." Ethel found it hard to speak.
+"You've been--quite wonderful with Susette. The trouble is that Mr.
+Lanier has found he must cut expenses."
+
+"Oh. Then why am I the one?" She broke off and grew rigid, but her
+thought struck into Ethel's mind: "Why am I the one? Why don't you go!
+What good are _you_ here?"
+
+"I'm sorry," Ethel repeated. "I wish I could keep you, but I can't.
+I'll have to take care of Susette myself--"
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes, and you'll have to teach me how."
+
+"I won't!"
+
+"You mean you'll let her suffer because you haven't shown me things?
+No, no, I'm sure you'll be sensible. You'll stay on a few days and help
+me, and meanwhile I'll do all I can to find you a good position. I only
+hope I can get you back again in the autumn. You see it may only be for
+a time." She went to the nurse, who now had her arms about the child.
+"I'm so sorry. Remember I want you back."
+
+There were tears in Ethel's eyes as she left the nursery. "Whew!" She
+went into her own small room. "I wonder if I'll ever feel like that
+about a child?" She stared a moment and added, "That was real enough,
+poor thing." She drew a resolute breath. "Well, no use in feeling like
+a criminal, my dear. Now for the cook and the waitress."
+
+
+She rather took satisfaction in that, for she had disliked both of them
+keenly. She gave them until the end of the week, and in the meantime
+telegraphed for Emily Giles, who for over five years had helped her keep
+house for her father at home. Of medium height, spare, thin chested and
+thin lipped, her hair already streaked with grey, Emily had been less a
+servant than a grimly devoted friend. Since Ethel's departure, she had
+been head-waitress at the small hotel.
+
+"Emily will come," thought Ethel, "unless she's dead or paralysed."
+
+And Emily came.
+
+"Well, Miss Ethel, here I am," she said on her arrival. She said, "Miss
+Ethel" quite naturally, although she had always said "Ethel" before.
+But her tone made it sound like, "Well, kid, here I am. Now let's see
+what kind of a mess it is you want me to get you out of."
+
+With the aid of a book entitled, "How To Live Well On Little," together
+they puzzled and contrived.
+
+
+"The things that have gone on in this kitchen," Emily muttered more than
+once, as her sharp grey eyes peered here and there, now into drawers and
+closets, now at the many unpaid bills. "When that cook of yours wasn't
+grafting she must have been getting drunk on your wine." As the record
+was unfolded of years of careless extravagance, Ethel would frown and
+turn away, for it seemed disloyal to pry so deep. Poor Amy was dead and
+buried.
+
+With Emily she went marketing, and they beat down and bullied mankind.
+Emily was so good at that. And at home they worked out a schedule of
+housekeeping on a rigidly economical scale, dividing the work between
+them. All this was rather pleasant. The trouble came in the nursery,
+where more than once the face of the stricken woman there made it hard
+to keep one's mind keen and clear for all the intricate details of the
+careful mothering in this room, from which barely a sound had ever
+gone out to disturb the peace of Amy's home.
+
+But it was soon over. The nurse had taken her departure and Ethel had
+moved to the nursery. And now the routine of her day brought such a
+change in Ethel's life as deeply affected her future course--though at
+first she had but little time to stop for self-analysis. At five in the
+morning she was roused by the low, sweet chirrup of Susette, who was
+peering over the edge of the crib. And her day from that time on was
+filled with a succession of little tasks, which at first puzzled and
+wearied her, made her often anxious and cross, but then attracted her
+more and more. What a change from the month before, from Mr.
+Greesheimer to Susette! She became engrossed in the washing and
+dressing and feeding of her tiny charge. Anxiously she watched Susette
+for the slightest sign of illness; and in this watching she grew to know
+the meaning of certain looks and gestures, baby talk. Susette became a
+person, wee but very intimate.
+
+In the park on those lovely days of May, Ethel liked to feel herself a
+part of the small world of nurses and mothers who chatted or sewed while
+children played and motor cars went purring by. There were little
+distractions; for Susette was a sociable creature, and the small friends
+she discovered brought Ethel into conversation with the women who had
+them in charge. Several of the mothers were French--very French in the
+way they dressed, in the way they sewed, in their quick gestures, shrugs
+and smiles and their pretty, broken English. They lent a piquant
+novelty to motherhood in Ethel's eyes.
+
+At times she thought of Amy. Why had Amy missed all this! How had she
+been able to keep away from this adorable child of hers! Ethel saw in
+the windows of shops the most tempting garments for small girls. And
+Amy had had money to spend! Susette's wardrobe was "simply pathetic!"
+And often, sitting in the Park and watching on the road nearby the
+endless procession of automobiles and the women like Amy so daintily
+clad, and puzzling and remembering innumerable little things from her
+first gay month in town--in Ethel's mind the picture of the sister she
+had adored began to change a little, and to lose its hold upon her. Amy
+beautiful, indolent toward Susette and the household; Amy tense, with a
+jealous, vigilant light in her eyes, when it was a matter of Joe and her
+love or the money so passionately desired.
+
+But these recollections she would dismiss with excuses for her sister.
+"There are two kinds of women," Ethel sagely told herself. "Mothers and
+wives. And she was a wife. It may be I'm a mother." And little by
+little, in spite of herself, her worship of her sister changed to a
+pitying tolerance. The question, "Shall I ever be like that? "--once
+so full of eagerness--had already been answered unconsciously. "Poor
+Amy, she's dead. She lived her life. I'm going to live another."
+
+Just what life it was to be was as unsettled as before. For as she grew
+used to this mothering, the old adventurous hunger for life welled up
+again within her. For long periods she forgot the child and sat
+frowning into space, her mind groping restlessly for ways and means to
+find herself and get friends of her own, independence, work and gaiety,
+a chance to grow and "be somebody here!" She had her angry, baffled
+moods.
+
+But from these Susette would bring her back. "What's your life to be,
+you poor little dear? And if you don't worry, why should I!" And
+resolutely she would turn to the small, absorbing life of the child.
+
+This went on for many months. It changed her feeling toward the town,
+for now she had a foothold here. It changed her feeling toward Amy,
+whose picture had begun to blur. But that queer sensation of intimacy,
+of being in her sister's place, was even deeper than before. For now
+she was mothering Amy's child--her child and her husband.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+For a time she had seen little of Joe. She had been absorbed in her new
+work; and Joe, in his business troubles. But as he began to see light
+ahead, again he took notice of things at home; and rather to his own
+surprise he enjoyed the change that had been made. The simpler ways
+appealed to him. He and Emily got on famously. And he began to notice
+Susette, to come home early now and then, in time to see her take her
+bath or to sit on the floor and build houses of blocks, he knew about
+building houses, and he could do fascinating things which made his small
+daughter stare at him in grave admiration.
+
+"How dear he is with her," Ethel thought. Although she was barely aware
+of the fact, her own new tenderness for the child had tightened the
+bonds between her and its father. His blunt, affectionate kindliness
+appealed to her often in a way that even brought little qualms of doubt.
+She would look at Joe occasionally in a thoughtful, questioning manner.
+
+He stayed home again in the evenings now; and while she sat at her
+sewing, often he would look up from his paper or his work to make some
+brief remark to her; and the conversation thus begun would somehow
+ramble on and on while his work lay forgotten. But almost always,
+unknown to them both, the spirit of Amy was in the room, and the
+influence of her memory was shown in Joe's attitude toward his home.
+For in spite of his enjoyment of the simpler regime, he revealed a
+feeling of guiltiness at not being able to give to Ethel the easy lot he
+hind given his wife. As business improved he began to suggest getting
+back a nurse and a waitress. And it was all that Ethel could do to
+dissuade him.
+
+"His idea of being nice to a woman," she told herself impatiently, "is
+to give her expensive things, and above all keep her idle." She did not
+add, "Amy taught him that." But it was in the back of her mind.
+
+He often talked of his business, he tried to explain to her the details
+of speculative building, real estate values and the like. And listening
+and watching his face, she felt his force and vitality, his doggedness,
+the fight in him. She recalled Amy's eager faith in Joe as a man who
+was "simply bound to make money." And at times she said to herself,
+"What a pity." Still, it was all rather puzzling. For his talk of the
+growth of the city, his view of its mighty pulsing life, restless,
+heaving, leaping on, gripped her more than ever before. And moreover,
+now that Amy was dead, Ethel soon began to feel another Joe emerging out
+of some period long ago. With a new and curious eagerness to find in
+him what her sister had never known (an eagerness she would have
+disclaimed with the utmost indignation), she began to probe into Joe's
+past. And in answer to her questions he threw out hints of old ideals
+in which the making of money had played only a second part. He had
+meant to be an architect, a builder of another kind. Instead of putting
+up "junk in the Bronx," he had meant to do something big and new,
+something bold and very French, "to make these infernal New Yorkers sit
+up and open their cold grey eyes." At times he rather thrilled her with
+hints of his early bachelor life in New York and Paris, his student
+days.
+
+About this time, one evening, he brought his partner home to dinner, but
+the experiment proved even more of a failure than it had in the past.
+Nourse made Ethel feel as before his surly, jealous dislike of her
+presence in Joe's home. And Ethel's hostility redoubled. She recalled
+what Amy had told her of his tiresome worship of work, its routine and
+its dull detail. No wonder Joe's ideals had died, with such a man in
+his office.
+
+"What a pity you're his partner," her manner plainly said to him, for
+she was not good at hiding dislikes. And to that his gloomy eyes
+rejoined, "What a damned shame it you were his wife."
+
+But Nourse did not come again. And with business dropped out of their
+talk, she and Joe turned to other things--small happenings of the
+household, amusing incidents of the day, and little problems to be
+solved. They were well into the summer by now, and Susette ought to go
+to the seashore. They began to discuss seaside hotels, and chose a
+place along the Sound. It was decided that Emily should stay here to
+look after Joe, and that he should run up for his week-ends. In the
+meantime, as his business improved, he began to bring Ethel little
+surprises, candy or spring flowers, and to take her out in his car at
+night. They went to the theatre several times. And everything which
+was said or done upon such occasions gave Ethel food for thinking.
+
+At the seashore, with Susette on the beach, hour after hour, she thought
+about Joe and about herself. This thinking was long and curious. It
+was confused, barely conscious at times, all mingled with the long
+bright waves that came rolling in from the shining sea. The picture of
+her sister's face kept rising up before her there--of Amy in her bedroom
+good-humouredly talking and smiling, and teaching Ethel how to get on;
+of Amy with her husband, throwing swift, vigilant glances at him,
+kissing him, nestling in his arms. In her thinking Ethel grew hot and
+cold, with jealousy, swift self-reproach and a new, alarming tenderness.
+She thought of Joe, of his every look, his smile and the tones of his
+gruff voice; of Joe grief-stricken and half crazed, of Joe awakening,
+coming back. Again with a warm rush of feelings, not unmingled with
+dismay, she would go over in her mind their talks and the queer, almost
+guilty expression that had often come in his eyes. For Amy had always
+been in the room.
+
+For this thinking, fresh fuel was given by Joe's weekly visits here.
+There was not much talk of Amy now, her name had subtly dropped away,
+but Ethel could feel it behind the talk. "It would always be there!"
+she would cry to herself. "Well, and why not?" she would demand. "Why
+be such a jealous cat? Would you let that hold you back?" It was all so
+involved, this Amy part, with Ethel's own earlier visions of happiness
+and a love of her own. Was this really love--this queer, leaping
+feeling, up and down, hot and cold, uncertain, tense, unhappy, hungry,
+undecided?
+
+"Oh, if I could only make up my mind!"
+
+When with Joe, she had many moods. In some she grew resentful toward
+him for forcing this upon her. But soon she would grow repentant. Her
+manner, from cool friendliness, would change in a few moments; and her
+eyes would grow absorbed, attentive, now to Joe and now to herself,
+grave, wistful, sad, and then suddenly gay--though they only talked of
+little things, of Susette, the beach, the city, the coming winter,
+household plans, his work, half spoken aspirations. Any one watching
+them in these talks might have thought she was his wife.
+
+Again came that disturbing sense of intimate relationship to her sister
+who was dead. "I'm stepping into Amy's shoes." But this feeling began
+to be left behind. It was back in the past; she was looking on. One
+day, when Susette had bumped her head and her aunt was comforting her,
+suddenly in a revealing flash came the thought, "I love you, oh, so
+hard, my sweet! But I want another one all my own!"
+
+When in September she and Susette went back to Joe in the city, all this
+grew more intense and clear. For he would not give her much longer now;
+she saw that he had made up his mind. She felt his strength and
+tenderness, his hunger for her growing. Sometimes it was frightening,
+the power he was gaining. A touch of his hand and she would grow cold.
+One evening when she had a headache, Joe bent over and kissed her.
+
+"Good-night," he said, and left the room--left her burning, trembling.
+She pressed both hands tight to her cheeks, pressed the hot tears from
+her eyes.
+
+
+At other times, she told herself, "Yes, I'm going to marry him. But
+there's nothing to be so excited about--or scared like this. I know him
+now, I know just what he is and what he is not. He is not a good many
+things I had dreamed of, but he's so dear and kind and safe. And I want
+to have children." Gravely wondering, she would look ahead. "You're no
+longer a child, my dear. Be strong and sensible. This is
+real. . . . It's getting rather cold tonight. I must run in and
+see if Susette is warm."
+
+She still felt Amy's presence. Out of the various rooms certain
+pictures, chairs and vases forced themselves upon her attention. For
+some time past she had disliked them. It seemed to her at moments as
+though she could not have them here.
+
+She knew what they were waiting for now. It was nearly the end of
+October, and the day which both dreaded was nearly at hand, the
+anniversary of her death. They spoke not a word to each other about it,
+except once when Joe said gruffly:
+
+"There's a bad time coming for both of us. Let's try not to be morbid
+about it." As it drew nearer she felt, she must speak. She felt how
+this unspoken name of her sister would keep rising, rising, between them
+for the rest of their lives. It was uncanny, it was like a spell, the
+force of this unspoken name; and she thought, "I must break it!"
+
+And yet she did not speak. She had little opportunity, for she saw very
+little of Joe that week. When the dreaded night arrived, he did not
+come home until very late. From her room she heard him come in, and
+presently by the silence she knew he had settled himself to work. She
+barely slept, rose early and dressed herself with a resolute air. But
+already Joe had gone.
+
+It was a beautiful morning. With Susette she went to a florist's shop
+and had the child pick out some flowers. Then they went out to Amy's
+grave. And a moment came to Ethel there, an overwhelming moment, when
+something seemed bursting up in herself and crying passionately:
+
+"I can't!"
+
+But a little miracle happened. For Susette, who was only three years
+old and understood nothing of all this, took half the purple asters from
+Amy's grave, and turning back confidingly she put the rest in Ethel's
+hand--and then saw a sparrow and chased it, and laughed merrily as it
+flew away.
+
+At night when Joe came home, although he did not speak of the flowers,
+she knew that he too had been at the grave. He appeared relieved, the
+tension gone.
+
+"Now is the time to speak of her." And Ethel looked up with a resolute
+frown. . . . But once again she put it off. Soon they were talking
+naturally.
+
+Weeks passed, and the memory of that day dropped swiftly back behind
+them. And there came a night when Joe, close by her side, had been
+talking slowly for some time, his voice husky, strained and low, and she
+had been sitting very still. She turned at last with a quick little
+smile, said:
+
+"Yes, Joe, I'll--marry you--and--oh, I'm very happy! Please go now,
+dear! Please go--go!"
+
+And when he had gone she still sat very still.
+
+From that night the name of her sister was not spoken between them--was
+not spoken for nearly two years.
+
+
+She grew used to being held in Joe's arms, to his kisses and to his
+voice that had changed, to the things he said and the way his eyes
+looked into hers. That hunger, it was always there, and growing, always
+growing! The feeling she'd never had before, that--"We're to be parts
+of one another!"--deepened, thrilled her with its depth, dazzled and
+confused her mind.
+
+One day she went to Amy's room, and slowly began looking over the
+clothes. From the closet and the drawers, in a careful, tender way she
+took the shimmering little gowns and dainty hats and slippers, silk
+stockings, filmy night-gowns--and packed them into boxes. All were to
+be given away. "I couldn't!" Her throat contracting, she turned away
+with a sharp pang of pity and of jealousy and of a deep, deep
+tenderness.
+
+She lavished her love upon Amy's child. What adorable little garments
+she bought for Susette, those autumn days. And at night, bending over
+her cradle, Ethel would whisper to her, "Oh, I'm dreaming, dreaming,
+dear!" And to Susette this was a huge joke, and they would laugh at it
+like mad. "Oh, my precious loved one! What a fine, happy life we'll
+lead!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+They were married early in December. There were no preparations to be
+made, for a wedding is nothing without friends, and they had none but
+Amy's and though Joe said nothing to Ethel about it, she knew he had not
+sent them word. "It's better," she thought. She herself wrote to a few
+girl friends, but they were scattered all over the country. No one of
+them would be coming East. And at times she felt very lonely. With
+memories of weddings at home and of her dreams for one of her own, which
+she had planned so often, she begged Joe to let her be married in
+church, and Joe gave in good-naturedly. He did not go to the minister
+who had buried Amy a year before, but to one who had a small
+Presbyterian church on the next street. There he soon arranged to be
+married. But then, in his ignorance of such matters, Joe said, in his
+blunt, off-hand way:
+
+"I like to settle these things ahead. So if you'll just name the
+amount--" he stopped. For the clergyman straightened up as though at an
+insult. Joe reddened. "Look here," he blurted, "I didn't mean--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right." The other man was smiling queerly. "How long
+have you been in New York?" he asked.
+
+"Nine years."
+
+"Ever been inside of a church?"
+
+"No, I can't say that I have."
+
+"Then why do you want to get married here?"
+
+Joe smiled frankly. "The bride's idea."
+
+"I thought so," said the preacher. A glint of humour came into his
+eyes. "You asked me what it would cost to get married. If you'll go
+down to City Hall, it will cost you exactly two dollars. But if you
+care to be married here--well, there's an old scrub-woman I know who for
+nine years every Sunday has come to this church and put a quarter in the
+plate to keep this institution going for you. And if you care to use it
+now it will cost you just what it has cost her. Figure it out and send
+me a check, or else go down to City Hall."
+
+"I'll pay up," was the prompt reply.
+
+At home he told Ethel about it with keen relish at the joke on himself.
+And Ethel smiled rather tensely and said:
+
+"Don't let's make a joke of it, dear. Let's make it as much of a one as
+we can."
+
+But there was little or nothing to do. And the next afternoon in church
+it felt so queer and unreal to her as she stood with Joe in front of the
+pulpit. Behind her in the shadowy place were only Susette and Emily and
+the building superintendent's wife. No long rows of faces--caring.
+Only the hard murmur of the busy street outside. No excited whispers
+here, no music and no flowers, no bridesmaids and no wedding gown.
+
+"I pronounce you man and wife."
+
+Then what?
+
+She took Susette tight in her arms for a moment. Then Emily--thank God
+for her!--was whispering fiercely in her ear:
+
+"It's going to be all right, my dear! In a minute you're going to laugh
+or cry! Laugh! It's better! Laugh! . . . That's right!"
+
+Joe had his small car waiting outside; and waving good-bye to Emily, who
+was taking Susette to the park, they sped away to the river and off into
+the country. Soon they were talking excitedly.
+
+It was after dark when they returned, and as had been already planned
+they went to a cafe to dine, a gay place crowded full of people, music
+throbbing, voices humming. Ethel wanted it like that. She wanted to be
+lifted through. Joe alarmed her now. "Oh, don't--don't be so
+considerate!" she wanted to exclaim to him. "What good does it do?" As
+they smiled at each other, again and again she had to fight down an
+impulse to cry--or shiver. She would bite her lips and turn away and
+watch people, then turn quickly back and start talking rapidly.
+
+At home, alone in Amy's room, she sat at the dressing table there, her
+movements swift and feverish. She had often looked at herself of late
+in her mirror in the nursery, but now she did not look into the glass.
+Her hands were cold. In a very few minutes she called to Joe.
+
+
+And a little later, on her old bed by the cradle in the nursery, she lay
+violently trembling and staring intently up at the ceiling.
+
+"What has happened?" she asked. "Whose fault was it? Mine?" With a
+strange thrill of fear and repulsion, she clenched her teeth and held
+herself until the fit of trembling passed. "Is this real, Ethel Knight?
+Do you mean to say this is what love is--just this, just this?" She
+shook her head and bit her lips. She asked, "Am I tied to this man for
+life? I am not! I can't be! This isn't real--it isn't me!"
+
+The night was a blur, like a bad dream. Once she remembered jumping up
+and quickly locking the nursery door. But that was the beginning of a
+return to her senses. "I needn't have done that," she thought. "It
+wasn't fair. It was even rather insulting." This thought made her
+quieter. And later, as the night wore on, a feeling of having been
+unjust and foolish little by little emerged from the chaos and began to
+steady her. But again the old dismay and dread and loathing would come
+back with a rush. All at once her body from head to foot would grow
+cold and rigid. And the power which a year ago with her sister she had
+excitedly sensed as the driving force of this whole town, now loomed
+brutal, savage! The thought rose suddenly in her mind, "Amy. She was
+his wife! Five years!" And then in a revealing flash, "Her love was
+like that! She taught him!"
+
+With a bound that feeling of intimacy with her sister leaped to a
+climax--burned!
+
+It was long till she could quiet herself. She had to do it by walking
+the floor. . . . Thank heaven for the daylight and the small, round
+face of Susette peering over the edge of the crib. Soon she had the
+child in her bed and they were looking at pictures.
+
+Later she went back to her husband. It cost her no slight effort of
+will, and it was a relief to find him gone. On her dresser he had left
+a note:
+
+"I am sorry, dear--it was all my fault. I was a fool--a clumsy fool.
+But remember there is plenty of time--and be certain absolutely that
+everything will be all right."
+
+She read it more than once that day, and it helped her prepare for the
+evening. When Joe came home and took her in his arms, she knew at once
+that he meant her to feel there was nothing to be afraid of.
+
+"I've got to be down at the office tonight," was all he said. But in
+his voice, low, kind and reassuring, like that of a big brother, there
+was a promise which gave her a thrill of gratitude and deep relief.
+With it came some self-reproach, which caused her again to struggle,
+alone, and then go to Amy's room to sleep. She lay listening there for
+hours, carefully holding herself in check. When she heard his key in
+the hall door, she sharply stiffened, held her breath. . . . She
+heard him go into the small guest room which had been hers a year
+before. . . . And then she cried softly to herself. With the
+blessed relief of it, her love for Joe was coming back.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+One evening about two months later Ethel was dressing for dinner. As
+usual they were dining alone, but long ago she had taken the habit of
+dressing each night as though there were people coming. Amy had taught
+her to do that; and after the death of her sister she had always made a
+point of "keeping up" for Joe's sake, although often it had been an
+effort. But it was no effort now. She had been here for nearly an
+hour, absorbed in this pleasant, leisurely art that had such a new
+meaning and delight. To keep being different, revealing her beauty in
+new ways, to see if he'd notice, to laugh in his arms and feel her power
+over Joe, had brought back her old zest for pretty clothes, and she had
+been wearing all the things she had bought when she first came to town.
+Last year's clothes, for they still smilingly called themselves "poor,"
+although Joe was doing much better now. Last year's clothes, and the
+styles had changed, but in ways which Joe, poor dear, was too blind to
+notice.
+
+The room in which she was dressing had somehow assumed a different air.
+Although in the main it was the same as when Amy had been here, and her
+picture was still on Joe's chiffonier--still subtly by degrees it had
+changed. Some of Ethel's clothes were lying about, her work-bag and a
+book or two; the dressing table at which she was sitting had been
+covered in fresh chintz, and Ethel's things were on it. Joe's picture
+and Susette's were here, and a droll little painted bird was perched
+above the mirror.
+
+As she glanced into the glass, gaily she thanked herself for the charms
+which she was deftly enhancing--in the glossy black hair, smooth and
+sleek, in the flushed cheeks and the red of her lips and the gleaming
+lights in her brown eyes. She nodded approvingly at herself. "You're a
+great help to me, Mrs. Lanier."
+
+In the glass she could see her husband; she felt his glances from time
+to time. This evening after dinner they were going out somewhere. To
+what, he would not tell her. There had been many of these small
+surprises. . . . Now her pulse beat faster, for he had come behind
+her. A sudden bending, a quick laugh, a murmur and a silence. Then at
+last he let her go; but as she drew a deep, full breath and shot a side
+look up at him, he laughed again, low, tensely, and bent over as before.
+
+Left alone, she smiled again into the glass. It was hard to
+believe--too wonderful--this amazingly intimate feeling, this living
+with somebody, body and soul. And what a child she had been before, a
+child in that solemn young resolve to marry Joe, this good, safe man,
+and raise a large family carefully. It had been like a small girl
+thinking of dolls. And like a small girl she had been in her panic on
+the night of her wedding, she thought. How silly, ignorant, funny!
+No--she frowned--it had been real, pretty ugly while it lasted. But
+like a bug-a-boo it had gone. And this good, safe man had become
+transformed in this amazing intimacy and had become a wild delight: a
+man to laugh at, tease, provoke, and cling to, silent, in a flame; a man
+to mother, study out, probe into deep with questions; a man to plan and
+plan with.
+
+"This love is to be the love of his life! It's to make us work and
+grow, make us fine and awake and alive to everything worth living for!
+No laziness for you, my dear, no soft, cosy kitten life! You're to be a
+woman, a real one! Don't let there be any mistake about that!"
+
+In the other room Joe was at his piano, and the music he was playing had
+nothing to do with--any one else. She did not say, "with Amy." She
+frowned a little and cut herself short, as she so often did in her
+thinking, these days, when it touched upon her sister. She could feel
+Amy here at so many points, and she did not want to be jealous.
+
+"I wonder where we're going tonight."
+
+What was it Joe was playing? Music she had heard before. She did not
+like to ask him and so betray her ignorance. "I ought to know this!
+What is it?" she asked herself impatiently. "Why, of course! It's from
+'Boheme'!" She smiled as she felt he was playing to her. With the
+thrill now so familiar, she felt her power over him. She remembered
+little tussles in which she had been victorious. They had all been over
+his business. Joe, the poor darling, had formed the idea (she did not
+say from his first wife) that if a man is in love with a woman he must
+express it by loading her down with things which cost a lot of money,
+that he must work for her, slave for her! But Ethel was putting an end
+to that. They had taken back Susette's old nurse, for it was unfair to
+one's husband to be a child's slave if there was no need. But she had
+refused to get other servants. Emily Giles was still in charge, and
+though Emily of her own accord had gone to a shop on Fifth Avenue and
+purchased caps and aprons, "the nattiest things this side of France,"
+she wore them with a genial air and spoke of them as "my uniform." Ethel
+took care of her own room and helped Emily with the cleaning. She had
+kept expenses firmly down, and she had refused to be loaded with gifts.
+When Joe had urged that his affairs were going so much better now, she
+had said in her new decisive voice:
+
+"I'm so glad to hear it, my love, for it simply means you've no earthly
+excuse for staying late at your office. I don't mean I want you to
+loaf, you know," she had gone on more earnestly. "I want you to work
+and do, oh, so much, all the things you dreamed of doing--over there in
+Paris. But I'm not going to have you make your business a mere rush for
+a lot of money we don't need!" She had gone to him suddenly. "And just
+now I want you so."
+
+By these talks she had already worked a change. No more hasty
+breakfasts to let him be off by eight o'clock. They had breakfasted
+later and later each day; she had made an affair of breakfast. And as
+at last he kissed her and tore himself away from his home, she had
+smiled to herself delightedly at the guilty look in his eyes. This kind
+of thing would cause a decided coolness, no doubt, between Joe and his
+partner. So much the better, she had thought, for she detested that man
+Nourse, and in his case she could quite openly admit, "I'm jealous of
+you and your business devotion! Your time is coming soon, friend Bill!"
+The office was half way uptown, and several times in the last few weeks
+she had gone there for Joe at five o'clock, and once at four-thirty, as
+though by appointment. She chuckled now as she recalled the black look
+of his partner that day. Yes, four-thirty had been a blow!
+
+"Where are we going this evening?"
+
+It was delightful to be so free, she told herself repeatedly. Friends?
+They didn't need any friends. For the present they had each
+other--enough! "Yes, and for some time to come!" But there always came
+to her a little qualm of uneasiness when her thinking reached this
+point. How were friends to be found in this city?
+
+"Oh, later--later--later!"
+
+And rising impatiently with a shrug, she went into the nursery. The
+nurse had been so glad to get back that most of her old hostility toward
+Ethel had vanished. Still there were signs now and then of a sneer
+which said, "You'll soon be paying no more attention to this poor bairn
+than her mother did before you." And it was as well to show the woman
+how blind and ignorant she was--to make her see the difference.
+
+
+"Boheme" was the surprise that night. It was Ethel's first night at the
+opera. And looking up at the boxes, at the women she had read about,
+the gorgeous gowns and the jewels they wore, and watching them laugh and
+chatter; or looking far above them to the dim tiers of galleries
+reaching up into the dark; or again with eyes glued on the stage
+feasting upon Paris, art, "Bohemia," youth and romance; squeezing her
+companion's hand and in flashes recollecting dazzling little incidents
+of the fortnight just gone by--her mind went roving into the future,
+finding friends and wide rich lives shimmering and sparkling like the
+sunlight on the sea. As that Italian music rose, all at once she wanted
+to give herself, "To give and give and give him all!" The tears welled
+up in her happy eyes.
+
+"However! To be very gay!"
+
+Later that evening in a cafe she leaned across the table and asked
+excited questions about "Boheme" and Paris. What was Paris really like?
+The Latin Quarter, the Beaux Arts? What did he do there, how did he
+live? In what queer and funny old rooms? Did he live alone or with
+somebody else? Something was clutching now at her breast. (Farrar had
+sung "Mimi" that night). "Don't be silly!" she told herself. "Oh,
+Joe!" she said, and she looked down at the fork in her hand which she
+was fingering nervously. Then she looked quickly up and smiled. "What
+man did you room with? Any one?" He was smiling across the table still.
+"You inquisitive woman," said his eyes.
+
+"No, I lived alone," he replied. "And I sat at a drafting board--with a
+sweater on--it used to be cold."
+
+"Oh, you poor dear!"
+
+"And I worked," he continued, "like a bull pup. And along toward
+morning I tied a wet towel around my head--"
+
+"Oh, Joe!" Ethel's foot pressed his, and they laughed at each other.
+"But there must have been," she cried, "so much besides! Joe Lanier,
+you are lying! There were cafes--and student balls and fancy dress--and
+singing--and queer streets at night!"
+
+"That's so," he answered solemnly, "the city of Paris did have streets.
+You walked on them--from place to place."
+
+"Joe Lanier--"
+
+"First you put the right foot forward, then the left--you moved along."
+
+"Joe! For goodness sakes!"
+
+"Look here. Do you know what I want to do with you?"
+
+"No." And Ethel shook her head. She did know, precisely, and it was her
+motive for all this talk.
+
+"Take you there--and get rooms in the Quarter--not too far from the
+Luxembourg--"
+
+"Oh, Joe, you perfect darling!"
+
+He went on describing all they would do, in the cafes and on the
+streets, in old churches and at plays and at the Opera Comique, where
+she must surely see "Louise." They began excitedly planning ways and
+means, expenses, his business and when he could get away. He sobered at
+that, and she cried to herself, "Now he's thinking of his friend Bill!
+Oh, what a detestable, tiresome worm!"
+
+
+Then a man who was passing their table stopped in surprise as he
+recognized Joe, bowed, smiled and said something and went on, and joined
+a hilarious group down the room. And Ethel saw him speak to them and
+she felt their glances turned her way. Joe had grown suddenly awkward,
+his face wore a forced, unnatural smile, and he was talking rapidly--but
+she heard nothing that he said. The whole atmosphere had changed in an
+instant.
+
+
+For those people over there were some of Amy's friends, no doubt, amused
+at Joe and his young second wife, amused that Joe had not had the nerve
+to ask them to his wedding. Ethel could feel herself burning inside. A
+mistake not to have asked them? No! What had they to do with it? What
+right had they, what hold on Joe? They had been a mighty poor lot of
+friends, with empty minds and money hearts, just clothes and food,
+late hours and wine! They had been decidedly bad for him, had drawn him
+off from his real work and plunged him into the rush to be rich! A
+voice within her, from underneath, was asking, "Or was it Amy?" But she
+paid no heed to that. It asked, "Are you sure they are all so bad?
+Have you taken the trouble to find out?" But angrily she answered that
+she wanted friends of her own, that she couldn't be just a second wife.
+"I've got to be all different, new! I've got to be--and I will, I
+will!" She swallowed fiercely. Besides, it was what Joe needed,
+exactly! He showed already what it had meant to be rid of such friends!
+Had he ever talked of Paris before, or his dreams and ambitions or
+anything real? But the voice retorted sharp and clear:
+
+"Why hide it then? Why let this foolish dangerous habit of never
+mentioning Amy's name keep growing up between you and your husband? It
+may do a lot of harm, you know. What are you afraid of?"
+
+Nothing whatever, she replied. She decided to speak of it then and
+there. She would be perfectly natural, and ask him, "Who are your
+friends over there? Some people Amy used to know?" And she grew rigid
+all at once. Her throat contracted and felt dry. Angrily she bit her
+lip . . . But the habit of silence was too strong. . . . Soon,
+with a carefully pleasant smile, she was attending to his talk and by
+her questions drawing out more and more of his life abroad.
+
+"His work," she thought, "that's the strongest thing to hold his mind
+away from those people." And soon she had him talking of the Beaux Arts,
+architecture, plans and "periods" and "styles," things she was quite
+vague about, but she did not have to listen now. That was always so
+safe, she told herself. She was even a little jealous of this puzzling,
+engrossing work, which could so hold her husband's mind. She frowned.
+That was as it should be; a man's work was his own concern. But his
+living, his home, what he did at night?
+
+"This can't go on," she decided. "There will have to be friends for
+both of us. I need them, too. Oh, how I need one woman friend! And
+where shall I find her? Somewhere in this city there must be just the
+people I want--if only I could reach them!"
+
+And presently she was saying aloud in a lazy careless tone of voice:
+
+"Sometimes I get wondering, Joe, if there isn't a Paris in New York."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+It was a few weeks later. A doctor had been there and gone, and
+returning into the living-room Ethel sank down on a chair with a quiet
+intensity in her eyes. For some time she had not been feeling herself,
+but she did not want to worry Joe, and so at last she had telephoned to
+the clergyman who had married her.
+
+"You may not remember me," she had said, "but you married me in
+December. Perhaps you'll recall it if I say there were only three
+friends at the church."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember it--perfectly."
+
+"Thank you. I'm not quite well and I have no friends to turn to, so I'm
+wondering if you could recommend a good doctor I could see."
+
+The doctor recommended had just paid his visit. And now as the dusk
+deepened she had the strangest feelings. Her year and a half in the
+city seemed hurried and feverish as a dream. Her mind ran back into the
+past and on into the future. Only a few days before, the round robin
+letter had come again. In it the girl who had married the mining
+engineer out West had told of having a baby in a little town in Montana.
+Ethel had thought of the doctor then.
+
+She rose now and got the letter and re-read it slowly. Presently she
+put it down and began crying softly, though she felt neither sad nor
+frightened. Her life had so completely changed. All those girl
+friends, so scattered; all those years, so far behind. It was like
+getting on a ship, she thought, to start across the ocean. "You can't
+get off, you must go across. Oh, Ethel Lanier, how happy you'll be."
+But the happiness seemed a long way off.
+
+How quiet it was. The nurse came in with Susette from the park. Ethel
+went into the nursery and kneeling down she began to unbutton Susette's
+little jacket. The child's plump face was so rosy and cold. She kissed
+it suddenly.
+
+"Martha," she said, "I'll need you here for a long time now. I'm going
+to have a baby."
+
+She reddened then and held her breath. Queer, how she had blurted it
+out! She had not meant to tell any one yet. But the look of dawning
+joy and relief in Martha's eyes made her glad she had spoken. Plainly
+the nurse had been dreading the time so fast approaching when she would
+have to leave Susette, who was now nearly four years old. But all she
+said to Ethel was this:
+
+"I'm glad to hear it, Mrs. Lanier. I hope you'll be very careful now."
+She shot a look as keen as a knife, which asked, "Do you really want a
+child? Or are you like her? Was it a mistake?"
+
+And Ethel went quickly out of the room. In the living-room her eye was
+caught by Amy's photograph on the table. She had always kept it there.
+In her cleaning she had put it back. Emily, too, had put it back. They
+had never spoken Amy's name. But Ethel faced the picture now for some
+moments steadily. Somehow it had lost its beauty, it looked weak and
+soul-less, without power any longer over Ethel's future. "Poor Amy.
+Oh, how much you missed." And she added, "I'll never be like that." For
+an instant she let her mind dwell on the past, on how Susette's coming
+must have been--unwelcomed by her mother.
+
+"But this one will be welcomed! Our love is so--so different! This
+will bind us, oh, so close! It's done now, you're tied for life!" She
+had never felt it so before. The months of her marriage had been so
+exciting, and even in the long summer's thinking her love had seemed
+always a little unreal. "But this is real--inside of me!" Her fancy
+went careering ahead, with joy and wonder, a thrill of dismay. "I was
+so free, with my life to choose! I could have been almost anything!
+But now it is settled. This is my life. We talk and we talk about
+being free--and then all at once--a baby."
+
+
+In the days which followed and grew into weeks and months, the feeling
+of quiet remained with her. The pang of uneasiness as to how she was to
+find friends for Joe and herself, was allayed and put off to the future.
+He would not expect anything of her just now. And because it was
+pressing upon her no longer, it became a pleasure to dream and plan for
+herself and Joe and the children.
+
+She was only twenty-four, and although Joe was thirty-six he looked
+years younger. They could grow. Now she began asking him to read aloud
+in the evenings, nor was the reading all "mere fluff." Though she picked
+out amusing things to vary the monotony, she insisted on magazines and
+books which had been recommended by the little history "prof" at home,
+to whom Ethel wrote long letters. The books rather appalled her husband
+at times; but using her new hold on him, she said:
+
+"Go on, dear, now begin." And she picked up her sewing with a look which
+said, "We've got to grow, you know, if we're ever to get friends worth
+while or have a life worth living."
+
+But again she would shut out all that, and smile to herself and grow
+absorbed. And this habit grew to such a degree that by the beginning of
+summer their reading bees had come to an end. In June she took Martha
+and Susette and went to the seashore for three months. She came back in
+September, and now the time was drawing near. Her husband's love grew
+anxious and there came troubled gleams in his eyes.
+
+The trained nurse had arrived. The doctor kept coming. Martha was
+plainly "in a state." And Emily Giles, for all her grim ways, had
+moments almost tender. All centering, swiftly centering, as the long
+voyage neared its end.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+What deep relief and blessed peace. She lay on her bed, now smiling,
+now inert, eyes closed, weak and relaxed, but already aware from time to
+time of the beginnings within herself of new vitality, food for her
+child. Her body felt profoundly changed, and so it was with her spirit.
+Again the thought rose in her mind that this had settled and sealed her
+life. But she was glad of the certainty. Slowly, as her strength
+returned, all the vague desires and dreams of the last few months came
+back, grew clear; and she planned and planned for the small boy whom the
+nurse kept bringing to her bed. At such moments the new love within her
+rose like some fresh bursting spring.
+
+The city, though so vast, complex, came to be like a place full of
+miracles. The voices of its ceaseless life came into her window day and
+night, the hoots and distant bellows of ships, the rattle of wheels, the
+rush of cars, the long swift thunder of the "L," and bursts of laughter
+from the streets, and animated voices. She remembered her first night
+in New York; she recalled her earlier visions of the city as a place of
+thrilling aspirations, wide, sparkling, abundant lives. And Ethel
+smiled and told herself:
+
+"All the glory I dreamed of is here."
+
+The thought came to her clearly that Amy it was who had hidden it all,
+who had stood smilingly in the way and had said, "All this is nothing."
+But she felt a rush of pity now for the woman who was left behind, cut
+off so completely by the birth of this small son. The nurse was
+bringing him into the room, and Ethel smiled at her and said:
+
+"Ask Susette if she doesn't want to come, too."
+
+
+It was only a day or two later that her husband broke his news. He had
+been so dear to her, his visits had been such a joy, and although behind
+his tenderness vaguely she had sensed some change, some new excitement
+in his mind, in her own absorption in their boy she had attributed it to
+that. But early one evening he came in with a sheaf of roses in his
+arms, and when she had exclaimed at them and breathed deep of their dewy
+fragrance, Joe bent over and kissed her, and said a little huskily:
+
+"I've got some big news for you, little wife. It's big. It's going to
+mean so much."
+
+"What is it, Joe?"
+
+She stared up intently into his eyes. He was telling her he had made
+money. He was telling how the approaching birth of their small son had
+made him feel he must put an end to these ups and downs, and how he had
+worked and racked his brains. He told of heavy borrowing, of anxious
+weeks, of a wonderful stroke of luck at last which not only made him
+rich for the moment but opened the way to wealth ahead. He was speaking
+of what this would mean to them here. He knew how hard it had been for
+her and how pluckily she had come through without ever asking for
+anything. But all that was over now. He had made money! What was the
+matter? She heard it all in fragments, topsy turvy. What was wrong?
+"Here is a Joe I've never known!" Still staring up into his eyes, she
+saw their strange exultant light; the excitement in his husky voice
+struck into her sensitive ear and jarred; and she nearly shrank from the
+clutch of his hand. She lay wondering why she was not glad, till
+suddenly she saw in his face his sharp disappointment at the way she was
+taking his news. With a pang of alarm she roused herself and said:
+
+"Oh, Joe, it's too wonderful! It's so sudden it strikes me all of a
+heap!" And she laughed unsteadily, seized his hand and kissed it,
+talking rapidly, her eyes glistening all the while with foolish tears.
+Fiercely then she asked herself, "Why can't you enter in and be gay?"
+But though she was doing better now and had him talking as before, again
+and again she felt he was thinking how different Amy would have
+been--how in an instant, laughing and crying, she would have thrown
+herself into his arms!
+
+Yes, indeed, a Joe she had never known, shaped and moulded by the wife
+who had had him in those early years when a woman can do so much with a
+man, can do what sets him in a groove in work and living, tastes,
+ideals. "And I thought I had done so much!" But Amy's hand had still
+been there; he had been her husband, all the time!
+
+It was a relief to have him gone. Alone she could think more clearly.
+"What are you so frightened about? Of being rich, you little fool?" No,
+she had always wanted that, money enough to forget it existed, money to
+open all the doors. "But this money is coming too soon! I'm not ready.
+I'm too young! And he'll expect so much of me now. There'll be no
+excuse for holding back, for going slow till I find what I want. He'll
+expect me to find friends at once! But where shall I find them all of a
+sudden? It isn't as though we were millionaires, really big ones, all
+in a minute. The newspapers won't be very excited; the town will take
+it quite calmly, quite! And for the life of me I don't see any friends
+rushing at us! And yet he'll expect it! So much he'll expect! He'll
+give and give and give me things and then wonder why I don't get
+anywhere!" The angry tears leaped in her eyes. "Because he's different
+now, he's changed! All bursting with his big success, his 'strike,' his
+business--money mad! Oh, how I hate his business--and that detestable
+partner, too!"
+
+A wave of rebellion swept over her at the way she had been caught,
+tangled into the life of a man and the fortunes of his business. But
+then she thought of the son she had borne him, and this brought quick
+remorse and tears, from which she fell into a deep sleep. And when she
+awoke she found the nurse was waiting with the baby.
+
+And the days which followed with their peace, their slow return of
+health and strength, brought assurance, too, and she laughed at herself
+for having been such a foolish child. She recalled her panic on her
+wedding night. Then, too, she had found a Joe unknown. But had that
+turned out so dreadful? He came often to her bedside now; and although
+she could feel how changed he was, it no longer frightened her. She had
+her wee boy; and Emily Giles and Susette and her nurse kept coming in;
+and the room grew very gay, as they had little parties there.
+
+"Who needs friends so all of a sudden!"
+
+But one day Emily came in and grimly remarked, "There's a woman outside
+who owns this apartment."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She acts that way. She's walking 'round that sitting-room--picking
+things up and putting things down-" Emily's voice was rising in wrath.
+
+"Emily! Sh-h! She'll hear you! Who is she? Didn't she give her
+name?"
+
+"Here's her name!" And Emily poked out a card, at which Ethel looked in
+a startled way.
+
+"Fanny Carr! Now why has she come here?"
+
+"Will you see her or shall I tell her the flat is already rented?"
+
+"No, no! Emily--don't be rude! She's a friend of my--my husband's!"
+
+And a few moments later, propped up in bed with a pretty lace cap on her
+head, Ethel was smiling affably at her visitor, who was exclaiming:
+
+"My dear girl, I'm so glad to see you again! So good of you, letting me
+in like this! I didn't have the least idea! I didn't know of your
+baby--I hadn't even heard you were married! I've been abroad for over a
+year. I got back to New York only last week and heard from one of Joe's
+men friends of the luck he has had--how his business is simply booming
+along! It's perfectly gorgeous, Ethel dear, and I'm so glad for you, my
+child! When I heard the news--"
+
+She talked on vivaciously. And Ethel lay back, her gaze intent on
+Fanny's handsome features, on her rich lips, pearl earrings, her eyes
+with their curious color, grey green, that were so sparkling and alive.
+And Ethel thought to herself in dismay: "How much more attractive she
+is! Was my first feeling about her all wrong, or is it that I'm getting
+used to these New Yorkers? I thought she was just hard--all brass! She
+isn't! She's--she's dangerous! What is she poking 'round here for?
+What does she want? Is she married again? No, her name was the same on
+her card. Still single--yes, and looking around--for somebody with
+money!"
+
+By the questions Fanny was asking, plainly she was trying to find what
+friends Ethel had made in New York. And although the girl on the bed
+talked of the town in glowing terms, in a few moments Fanny was saying:
+
+"I'm afraid you've been rather lonely here."
+
+"Oh, no!" And Ethel laughed merrily. "If you knew how my time is
+filled--every hour! My small boy--" and she went eagerly on to show how
+full her life had become.
+
+"Oh, you darling!" Fanny laughed. And then with an envious sigh she
+said, "You make me feel so old and forlorn. With all your beauty, Ethel
+Lanier, and youth--your whole life starting--well, you've just got to
+let me in and take you about. Oh, I know, I know, it's so wonderful
+here, and fresh and new, and you're quite contented and all that. But
+after all, it's a city, you know--a perfectly good one, full of
+life--and people you'll like--old friends of Joe's." She went on in a
+crisp gay tone to paint the pleasures of the town. And meanwhile
+glancing at Ethel she thought, "What a perfect devil she thinks me, poor
+child, a bold bad creature on Joe's trail--when all I want is to take
+her around and help her spend her money. I need it badly enough, God
+knows!"
+
+At last she rose.
+
+"I mustn't tire you. Good-bye, dear. You'll let me come again, of
+course."
+
+"Oh, yes, do." At Ethel's tone, Fanny smiled to herself, as deftly she
+adjusted her furs. She turned to look in the mirror and her eye was
+caught by the photograph of Amy over on Joe's chiffonier. She moved a
+step toward it, paused, turned back, and with a good-bye to Ethel went
+out.
+
+Ethel's eyes went back to the photograph. How strong and alarming, all
+in an hour, Amy's picture had become. As she looked, it seemed to take
+on life, to be saying, "Money! Money at last!" And with dismay she told
+herself:
+
+"Now they'll come in a perfect horde!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"Shall I tell Joe! Most certainly."
+
+But she did not tell him all, that night. She did not say, "One of
+Amy's friends was here today, and she's coming again, and more are
+coming--and I hate them, every one!" She simply remarked:
+
+"Oh, Joe, dear--Fanny Carr was here today."
+
+"She was, eh?" he gave a slight start. "Where has she been all this
+time?"
+
+"Abroad." And Ethel answered his questions. "She'll be here a good
+deal, I fancy," she ended. Joe looked annoyed and uneasy. But he did
+not speak, that evening, of the memories rising in his mind. For on
+both the old spell of silence was strong. Subtly the spirit of the
+first wife came stealing back into the room, pervaded it and made it her
+own. But her name was still unspoken.
+
+The next day brought an exquisite baby's cap with Fanny's card tucked
+inside. And in the fortnight after that, Fanny herself came several
+times. She talked in such a natural way, and her smile and the look in
+her clever grey eyes was so good-humoured and friendly. "She's doing it
+beautifully," Ethel thought. But she pulled herself up. "Doing what
+beautifully? What do I mean? One would think we were millionaires, and
+Joe a perfect Adonis! Is she trying to eat us? And aren't you rather a
+snob, my love, to be so sure you hate the woman before you even know
+her?"
+
+At such moments Ethel would relax and grow pleasantly interested in
+Fanny's talk of Paris and Rome, or of New York. In each city Fanny
+seemed to have led very much the same existence. In each there had been
+Americans, and hotels, cafes and dances, motor trips and lunches, gossip
+and scandal without end. But she told of it all in a humorous way that
+made it quite amusing. And it was a good deal the same with the two
+women, Amy's friends, whom Fanny brought to tea a bit later. Their
+gossip and their laughter, their voices breaking into each other and
+making a perfect hubbub at times, their smart suits and hats and dainty
+boots, their plump faces, lively eyes, all were quite exciting to Ethel,
+when she threw off her hostility and the uneasiness they aroused. It
+felt good to be gossipy once more.
+
+But how they chattered! How they stayed! Joe would be coming home soon
+now, and she wanted them to go. But they did not go, and Ethel guessed
+that it was Joe they were waiting for. She was sure of it when he
+appeared. The way they all rushed at him with little shrieks of
+laughter, talking together, excited as girls! "Though they're all years
+older than I am!" Ethel angrily exclaimed, as she sat there matronly and
+severe. She eyed her husband narrowly, and at first with keen
+satisfaction she saw how annoyed and embarrassed he was. But the
+moments passed, and he grew relieved, more easy and more natural, his
+voice taking on its usual tone, blunt and genial. And she thought,
+"He's going to like it!" For a moment she detested him then. "They'll
+flatter him, make a tin god of him! No, I mean a money god! That's
+what they want, his money!" She positively snorted, but no one seemed to
+notice it. Now they were turning back to her and she was in the hubbub,
+too. And how amiably she smiled!
+
+When they were gone, there fell a silence which was like a sudden pall.
+"He can break it! I--won't!" she decided viciously. He had gone to
+their room, she had followed him there, and he was not having an easy
+time. He washed and dressed without a word. But at last he came to
+her.
+
+"Look here." His arm was about her, she jerked away, but he would not
+release her.
+
+"You're the most adorable little wife that ever made a man happy," he
+said. "But you're young, you know--"
+
+"Is that a crime?"
+
+"No, it's something those other women would all give their eye-teeth
+for."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"But you're human, you know, and you've got to grow older--and as you do
+you'll find, my dear, that it takes all kinds to make a world."
+
+"How original!" He went on unabashed:
+
+"And if you are to get any friends, you've got to get out and meet all
+kinds--many you don't like at all--and then little by little take your
+choice." He paused, and although he did not add, "After all, they're
+Amy's friends, and you might at least give 'em a chance"--Ethel knew he
+was thinking that, though he only ended gently, "But I guess I'll leave
+it all to you. Do as you like. I'll be satisfied."
+
+"He won't be, though," she told herself. She knew he would be
+distinctly annoyed if she did not enter in. "No, I've simply got to be
+nice to them. There's no keeping them away!"
+
+And in this she was right. Flowers and gifts for the baby came, and
+several more women friends; and one of them brought her husband. Nearly
+always they stayed until Joe came home; and in his manner, with dismay,
+she saw the hold they were getting. It was not only flattery they
+used, they appealed to his loyalty to his first wife. "Don't drop us
+now," they seemed to say. "We were your friends when you were
+poor--when she was poor. If she had lived, just think how welcome we
+should be."
+
+Early one evening when Ethel and Joe were dressing for dinner, Emily
+Giles came in with a long box of roses. Ethel thought they were for
+herself.
+
+"No," said Emily, "they're for your husband."
+
+"For me?" Joe laughed. "There's some mistake."
+
+"No--there's no mistake," said Ethel, in a low unnatural voice. In an
+instant she had grown cold. What a fool, to have forgotten that this
+was Amy's birthday! Inside the box was Fanny's card and on it she had
+written, "In memory of the many times I helped you buy a birthday gift."
+
+Ethel went quickly out of the room. It was an awkward evening.
+
+
+Fanny gave a dinner soon after that to celebrate Ethel's recovery. It
+was in a hotel grill room, and it was large and noisy--and noisier and
+noisier--till even above the boisterous hubbub at the tables all about,
+the noise of their party could be heard. At least so it seemed to
+Ethel's ears. And what were they saying? Anything really witty,
+sparkling? No--just chatter, peals of laughter! They were just plain
+cheap and tough! how red were their faces, warm and moist their lips
+and eyes!
+
+"You're not vivid enough, that's the trouble with you! You've got to be
+vivider!" she thought. "You ought to have taken that cocktail!" She
+drank wine now, a whole glass of it, and tried to be very boisterous
+with the man on her right, who was smiling back as though he could
+barely hear her voice. "He has had too much!" she told herself. "Oh,
+how I loathe you--loathe you all!"
+
+But later, when they began to dance, she found with a little glow of
+relief that she could do this rather well. Thank Heaven she had taken
+those dancing lessons a year ago; and she was younger than most of these
+creatures, and more lithe and supple. The men were noticing, crowding
+around her. She caught a glare from one of their wives. And that glare
+helped tremendously, it came like a gleam of light in the dark. She
+caught Joe's admiring glances. She danced with him, then turned him
+down for somebody else, kept turning him down. She threw into her
+dancing an angry vim; but joy was coming into it, too. This was not so
+bad, after all. "You may even grow to like all this!" But most of her
+thinking was a whirl.
+
+She went home in a taxi, in Joe's arms. She thought, "This is how he
+and Amy came home. Never mind, I'm not half so weak as I thought. I
+can play this game--"
+
+And play it she did.
+
+The next morning they slept very late. They had breakfast in bed, and
+when Joe had gone she lay thinking. Her mind was marvellously clear.
+It went swiftly over the night before. Yes, most of it had been simply
+disgusting, the eating and drinking, those warm moist eyes. "The way
+the men looked at you, held you! This is no life for you, Ethel
+Lanier!" The dancing was all she cared about. She wanted that, but with
+other men whom she would like to be friends with--"men who would treat
+you as something more than a, than a--I don't know what!" Yes, she must
+get away from these creatures, and get Joe away, too; but to do it she
+must show him first that she was really willing to do her best to like
+them all. The next thing was to ask them here. "It's the only way to
+break their hold. Show him you're no jealous cat. And how do I know
+that among them all, as I go about, I won't find a few that aren't so
+tough? And through them I'll find others."
+
+
+But she put off entertaining Joe's friends, for she had her hands full
+now in managing just Joe alone. Amy's husband was coming to life in
+him. Of that there could be no mistake. Under the spell of his
+success, and still more perhaps through his pride and delight in his
+handsome young wife, Joe was showing his love for her as Amy had taught
+him long ago. He showered gifts upon her. He delighted in surprises.
+One was a smart little town car, and this was a very pleasant surprise.
+But in it he insisted upon her shopping busily. No more wearing last
+year's clothes! And when she was a bit slow to move, to her dismay he
+went himself with Fanny Carr, and bought for Ethel's birthday a costly
+set of furs and a brooch. He nearly bought pearl earrings, too, but
+Ethel took them back at once. "Fanny knows as well as I do myself that
+I can't wear pearls!" she thought angrily. She exchanged them for opal
+pendants. And then, in order to put a stop to Fanny's detestable
+attempts "to make me look like a perfect fright," Ethel did start in and
+shop. And as soon as she got well into it, what a fever it became!
+Sternly eyeing herself in the mirrors of shops, she studied and made
+mistakes by the score, and corrected and went on and on. "I'll look
+right if kills me!"
+
+One night she learned what Fanny Carr had had in mind when she came
+"poking into our lives!" For Fanny was poor--she had long guessed that;
+and Fanny had a house on Long Island, and only by a hair's--breadth now
+did Ethel keep her from selling it to Joe as a surprise for his wife.
+
+"Well, Fanny, what next?" thought Ethel that night. She had been awake
+for hours, perfectly still and motionless, not to disturb her husband.
+"For you are not through yet, Mrs. Carr. So long as we're rich and you
+are poor and have no immediate husband, you're going to act like a
+ravening wolf--aren't you, my own precious. You mean to break my hold
+on him by keeping him thinking of her, of her! Now what am I to do
+about it?" She frowned. She knew that she ought to talk frankly to Joe,
+and get over this silly habit of never mentioning Amy's name! She grew
+determined, but then weak. For what could she say to him about Amy?
+What did she really want to say? "Do I know poor Amy was anything bad?
+Wasn't she good to me? Would I care to try to talk against her? No.
+And even if I did, you see, it would only hurt me with Joe--as it
+should."
+
+So she went on in different moods. And now she saw her sister's face
+smiling out of clear violet eyes, and again she felt a small gloved hand
+on her husband drawing him gently back--back and back into the past.
+Why was Amy so much stronger now? "Because Fanny Carr has been clever
+enough to take me out of the life I was making and pitch me into Amy's
+life, where her hold on Joe was strongest. I'm in her setting. That's
+the trouble!"
+
+But she had Amy's friends to dine one night, as in her calmer moods she
+knew was the only sensible course. And as they began arriving, by swift
+degrees amid the buzz of talk which rose, Ethel could feel the room each
+moment change and become Amy's home. And it was Amy's dinner, too. No
+cooking of Emily's that night, for Joe had suggested a caterer. "The
+one we've always used," he had said. And so the cocktails and the wines
+and the food in many courses, the two waiters in evening clothes, and
+the talk and the shrieks of mirth, were just as they must have been
+before so many, many times in this room. Ethel sat affably rigid there.
+
+And later at the piano Joe was not Ethel's husband. Nor was it her room
+when they stripped up the rugs and began to dance, nor her photograph
+their eyes kept seeking from time to time! She even thought she could
+hear them whisper about the hostess who was dead!
+
+And when very late they had departed, and last of all Joe had gone with
+Fanny downstairs to put her in her taxi, Ethel, left alone in the room,
+turned to her sister's photograph.
+
+"I won't be like you," she tensely declared. "I won't live in your
+home--with your husband--"
+
+The picture smiled good-naturedly back
+
+"All right," it seemed to answer, "then what do you expect to do?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+By the next day she had made up her mind to look for another apartment.
+The move had several points in its favour. It would not only take her
+away from this place where she felt the spell so strong; it would also
+give her something to do. "And I need it, heaven knows!" she thought.
+And besides it would provide an excuse for not seeing Amy's friends.
+"I'll be worn out every evening," she decided with grim satisfaction.
+
+She found Joe more than ready for the change. He himself had suggested
+it, some weeks before, and Ethel made the most of that. "I've been
+thinking over your idea of moving," she began one night. And in the
+talk which followed, the intent little glances she threw at him made her
+sure that in her husband's mind was a half conscious deep relief at the
+idea of getting away from these rooms and their memories.
+
+"Poor dear," she reflected tenderly, "what a place for a tired business
+man--a home with two assorted wives waiting for him every night."
+
+But when it came to looking about, to her surprise Ethel found it hard,
+on her own account, to make the move. For with all its faults and
+drawbacks, this was the place where she had struggled, groped and
+dreamed, had married Joe and discovered him in hours she would never
+forget, and here her baby had been born. The place had grown familiar.
+Even the huge building, for all its appearance of being exactly like
+every other on the street, had in some curious fashion taken on for
+Ethel a special atmosphere of its own; and coming back from a bleak
+succession of apartments she had inspected, this did at least seem more
+like a home.
+
+Joe came to her rescue. He was a part owner here, and with delight she
+learned from him that a large and sunny apartment at the top of the
+building was to be free the first of May. Ethel went up to see it at
+once. And the arrangement of the rooms, and the way the sun flooded
+into each one, made her exclaim with pleasure.
+
+The present tenants were a young widow and her companion, a most
+respectable elderly dame. The widow was about Ethel's age and
+excessively pretty and stylish, and in her low sweet voice and her
+manner was a peculiar attractiveness that Ethel could not analyse. She
+explained that she was going abroad, possibly to be gone a year, or
+she never would have given up this gem of an apartment. She seemed more
+than glad to show Ethel about, and displayed a friendly interest in her
+visitor's eager planning. When Ethel left at the end of an hour, the
+widow smiled at her and said, with a charming little hesitation:
+
+"I don't think you have my name. It's Mrs. Grewe. I do hope you'll
+come up whenever you like, and let me help you all I can. I shall so
+love to feel when I go that you and your kiddies will be here. I've
+noticed them so often, down-stairs and in the elevator. And they're
+both such darlings."
+
+And at that, with a thrill of pride, Ethel felt almost as though she had
+found a friend in the city at last.
+
+They saw each other frequently, for Ethel was always running in to look
+through the various rooms and puzzle and decide on curtains, rugs and
+portieres. In this she was aided more than she knew by the taste
+displayed in the furnishings, rich, subdued and yet so gay, that young
+Mrs. Grewe had collected here. The two had animated talks, and once
+when her new acquaintance suggested, "I'd be so glad if I could be of
+some help in your shopping," Ethel replied, "Oh, you could! I'd love to
+have you!" And they started in that day.
+
+And yet how curious, even here. For whenever Ethel endeavoured to get
+the conversation upon a little more intimate terms, Mrs. Grewe would
+almost instantly become evasive and remote. And once when Ethel asked
+her to "drop down and have dinner with us some night," she declined
+almost with a start, as though she were saying, "Ha! Look out! I'm in
+danger of letting you be a real friend!" And thinking this over, Ethel
+reflected, "The only New Yorker I've met so far, whom I'd like to know,
+is nice to me simply because she is going abroad in a month and so it's
+safe! Has she offered to introduce me to a single friend of hers?
+Well, then, don't! Keep your old friends! I don't want to eat them!"
+And for days together she would leave the young widow alone.
+
+But the latter would make pleasant advances, and soon they would be
+shopping again. This acquaintance was one of the few bright spots in a
+season which for Ethel was full of anxious worries. For it was by no
+means easy. Amy had been a shopper who simply could not resist pretty
+things, and so her apartment was crowded with furniture and bric-a-brac.
+"How much can I get rid of without offending Joe?" asked Ethel. He was
+the kind of man who says nothing. He would not object, but he would
+feel hurt. It took the most careful probing to find how far she could
+safely go. And she was tempted by the shops. In her smart town car,
+with plenty of money and with young Mrs. Grewe at her side, it was
+almost impossible to resist the adorable things she discovered. "No
+wonder Amy bought too much." But there they were, all Amy's
+belongings, and to be rid of each table, each chair, each rug, meant
+the most careful thinking.
+
+"Nevertheless," she told herself. "That apartment upstairs is to be my
+own home."
+
+In the meantime her new occupation was working out wonderfully as an
+excuse for not going about in the evenings. She was so dead tired every
+night. No need to feign fatigue, it was real. She even had to call in
+her physician, in the first "draggy" days of Spring; and he warned her
+that she was doing too much, it was too soon after the birth of her
+child. She was glad when Joe happened to come in and overhear the
+doctor. He became the same old dear to her that he had been a year
+ago. And with eagerness, tired though she was, she took pains every
+evening to dress in ways that she knew he liked. And at times it was
+almost like a second honeymoon they were having. She used the baby,
+too, and Susette; she often persuaded Joe to come home in time for
+Susette's supper, or better still for the baby's bath. And all this was
+so successful that even when her spring fever was gone she still stayed
+at home in the evenings.
+
+But in the meantime, what about friends? "I'm lazy," she thought, "I'm
+not facing it! I'm just putting it off--and it's dangerous!" For Joe
+was out so much at night. Over half the time he did not get home until
+the children were in bed, and often after a hurried dinner he would
+leave by eight o'clock--for business appointments, he told her, at some
+club or some cafe. He was putting through another big deal. At times,
+despite her efforts, angry suspicions would arise. He was dealing with
+some men from the West. No doubt they had to be entertained. She had
+heard a little of such entertaining from travelling men she had known at
+home. "Oh, Ethel Lanier, don't be so disgusting!" But after all, a man
+so tense all day in his office needed some gaiety at night.
+
+She began to suggest going out in the evenings. They went to
+"Butterfly" and "Louise," and each evening was a great success. But
+within a few days Fanny Carr called up and asked them to dinner and the
+play. Ethel made some excuse and declined. She did not mention it to
+Joe, but that night he said gruffly, "Sorry you turned Fanny down." And
+Ethel looked at him with a start. So Joe was seeing her these days!
+
+"I haven't been feeling very strong, Joe," she said in an unnatural
+tone.
+
+"You've been to the opera twice this week," was her husband's grim
+rejoinder.
+
+And this was only one little instance of many that made Ethel sure that
+Fanny Carr was still about. She was getting at Joe through his business
+side, going to his office. She had asked him to sell her house on Long
+Island, and through this transaction she had tangled him into her
+affairs. A lone woman, defenceless in business, needing the aid and
+advice of a man. "Oh, I can almost hear her lay it on--her
+helplessness!" And Ethel fairly ground her teeth. For Fanny, only the
+day before, having called and noticed that a sofa and a rug were
+missing, had asked to what dealer Ethel had sold them. "Now," thought
+Ethel, "she'll buy them herself, and then she'll ask Joe to drop in for
+tea at her hotel apartment--'on business,' of course-but the rug and
+sofa will be there! Poor Amy's things! Oh, yes, indeed, Fanny is
+clever enough! If only she would take his money--and get out and leave
+us alone!" Ethel had some lonely grapples with life. She was right, she
+angrily told herself, in wanting to go slowly until she could discover
+real friends; but on the other hand she admitted that Joe had reason for
+being impatient. At thirty-seven it is hard for a man to change his
+habits, and Amy had accustomed Joe to crave excitement every night.
+Even Ethel herself, in some of her moods, felt restless to go about and
+be gay. And again and again the youth in her rebelled against the trap
+into which she had fallen.
+
+"The minute I even propose a play, I show him I'm well enough to go out.
+And then he asks, 'Why not Amy's friends?' And he remembers the mean
+little things that Fanny Carr must have told him--the beast!--and so he
+says, 'I see it all. Ethel is only bluffing. Now that I'm rich she's
+trying to make me drop the friends and the memory of the wife who stood
+by me when I was poor.'"
+
+Ethel even went out twice to their detestable parties, in the faint hope
+of finding one woman at least she would care to know. But if there had
+been any such, Fanny was careful to leave them out.
+
+Friends, friends, friends of her own! Where to find them? On the
+streets, as she went about at her shopping, she saw so many attractive
+people, and she drew their glances, too. She had developed since her
+marriage; she had a distinctive beauty, and she had learned how to
+foster that. Almost always she felt the hungry eyes of men, good, bad
+and indifferent, rich men, beggars, Christians, Jews. But that of
+course was only annoying. Ethel wanted women friends. On the street,
+from her elegant little car, she could see women who were walking glance
+at her with envy, just as she herself had done in her first year in the
+city. The thought brought a humorous smile to her lips. And looking at
+the constant stream of motors passing, she inquired, "How many of us are
+there, in this imposing procession, who haven't a single friend in
+town?" How they all passed on. How coolly indifferent, self-absorbed!
+Was there no entering wedge to their lives?
+
+But her youth would rise with a sudden rush in her warm body, so smartly
+dressed, so tingling with ardent health, and glancing into the glass in
+her car and making a little face at herself, she would exclaim:
+
+"Oh, fiddlesticks! All this is going to have a nice fine happy ending!
+Nothing awful is to happen to me!"
+
+At one such time, as though interrupted, she leaned quickly and
+graciously forward, as she had seen women do in the Park, and bowed with
+a cordial little smile--to a vacant lot--and then turning back to the
+imagined friend at her side, she said sweetly, "Excuse me, dear. What
+were you saying? Why yes, we'd love to. Thursday night? What time do
+you dine?" A lump rose in her throat. "Now, Ethel, Ethel, you soft
+little fool--you're only twenty-five, you know. And of all the adorable
+babies waiting in a nursery--"
+
+One day she found Fifth Avenue crammed and jammed with a huge parade.
+She had her chauffeur get as close as he could, and with intent and
+curious eyes she watched the suffragists march by. What hosts and hosts
+of women, how jolly and how friendly. Oh, what a lark they were having
+together! Why not join them, then and there? For an instant she
+thought of leaving her car and falling right in with some marching
+group. "But how do I know they won't turn me down?" She waited and lost
+courage. Soon she saw marching ahead of one section a smartly dressed
+woman whose photograph she had often seen in the papers. At this
+Ethel's courage oozed again, and with a pang of envy she thought:
+
+"Oh, yes, this is all very fine for you! You're so safe and settled
+here; you've got position--everything!"
+
+In a moment she felt this was small and mean. The envy and the
+bitterness passed. She watched other women, such confident, easy,
+bright-looking creatures--not at all like Amy's set--who looked as
+though they could preside at big meetings or at their own tables at
+home, and be gracious and say witty things to the clever men at their
+sides. Behind them came whole regiments of women and girls of a simpler
+kind. Some of them earned their own living, no doubt--yes, and had to
+work hard to do it.
+
+"Wouldn't they do? Look at that one! Wouldn't I like her for a
+friend?"
+
+In a flash Ethel remembered the little history "prof" at home, who had
+begged her girls to live and grow.
+
+"Now, Ethel Lanier, you're going to get right out of this car and fall
+into line--friends or no friends!"
+
+In a moment, scowling to keep up her nerve, she was pushing through the
+standers-by right out into the Avenue; and feeling like a public sight,
+she tried quickly to get into line.
+
+"You can't march here! Our line is full!" a voice said sharply. Ethel
+gasped and reddened, turned blindly to the file behind.
+
+"Do you want to march with us?" somebody asked.
+
+"Yes! Oh, thank you!"
+
+"Fall right in. That's right, my dear--here, take one of my flags."
+
+"You're awfully kind!"
+
+"Hooray for the vote!"
+
+Through eyes a little misty Ethel saw striding along at her side a
+sturdy little old lady in black. And she blessed her fervently. It was
+a thrilling marvellous time. In less than ten minutes she felt herself
+boon companions with every one in her line. But then, before she
+realized what it was that had happened, her group had reached the end of
+their march and had melted suddenly into a throng of chattering laughing
+women. Ethel stared about her blindly.
+
+
+"Never mind," she decided, "I'm going to see more of this!"
+
+And the next day she presented herself at suffrage headquarters.
+
+"I want to work," she said to a girl at a desk. The girl looked up at
+her busily.
+
+"All right, go to that table," she answered. And at a long oak table,
+one of a dozen women and girls, Ethel folded envelopes and addressed
+them for about three hours. Down at the end, two girl companions
+chatted and laughed at their labour. But the rest were just busy.
+"Hand me those envelopes, if you please." And so it was all through the
+room. She came back the next morning and the next; and as she worked,
+her expression was grim. "It isn't their fault," she decided. "They
+want the vote, they don't want me."
+
+And she turned forlornly back to the work of moving up to her new
+apartment.
+
+The first of May was drawing near, and she saw signs of restlessness, as
+thousands of New Yorkers prepared to change their quarters. Moving,
+always moving. Did they never stop in one place and make it a home?
+The big building in which Ethel lived took on an impersonal air, as
+though saying, "What do I care? I'm all concrete, with good hard steel
+inside of that." What a queer place for people's homes! People moving
+in and out! Curiously she probed into its life. She had long ago made
+friends with the wife of the superintendent, and through her Ethel
+collected bits about these many families so close together and yet so
+apart; all troubles kept strictly out of sight, with the freight
+elevator for funerals, cool looks and never a word of greeting. "Keep
+off," writ clear on every face.
+
+"It isn't real, this living! It can't last!" she exclaimed to herself.
+"They'll have to work out something better than this--something, oh,
+much homier!" She thought of the old frame house in Ohio. "That's
+gone," she declared, with a swallow.
+
+Her acquaintance with young Mrs. Grewe was still the one bright spot at
+such times. When Ethel felt blue she would go upstairs to the sunny new
+home that was to be hers; and there the blithe welcome she received
+restored her own belief in herself. Mrs. Grewe would often lead her to
+talk of her home in Ohio, the eager dreams and plans of her girlhood;
+and on her side, the young widow gave pictures of life in London and
+Paris as she had seen it so many times. They still shopped together
+occasionally.
+
+But one afternoon about six o'clock, as Ethel's car drew up at the door
+and she and her one friend got out, Joe came along--and with one quick
+angry look he hurried into the building. Quite furious and ashamed for
+him, Ethel turned to her companion--but Mrs. Grewe smiled queerly and
+held out her small gloved hand.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear, it has been so nice--this afternoon and all the
+others." Her tone was a curious mixture of amused defiance and real
+regret. Ethel stammered something, but in a moment her friend was gone.
+
+Upstairs she met Joe with an angry frown, but to her indignant
+reproaches he replied by a quizzical smile.
+
+"Look here, Ethel." He took her arm, in a kind protecting sort of way
+which made her fairly boil. "Look here. I can't let you go about with
+a shady little person like that. I didn't know you'd picked her up.
+Now, now--I understand, of course--you met her up there in the new
+apartment. What a fool I was not to have thought of it."
+
+"Thought of what? For goodness sake!"
+
+"She won't do, that's all."
+
+"Why won't she?" Ethel's colour was suddenly high and her brown eyes had
+a dangerous gleam. Joe looked at her, hesitating.
+
+"Yes," he said, "you're the kind of a girl who has to be told the truth
+now and then. She's the mistress of one of our big millionaires."
+
+Ethel stared at him blankly.
+
+"I don't believe it!" she cried. "Her taste! The way she dresses!
+Her--her voice--the things she says!"
+
+"I know, I know," he answered. "That sort is rare and they come high.
+I've talked to her--"
+
+"Oh, you have, have you! Then why shouldn't I?"
+
+"Because, my dear, I'm one of the owners of this building. My talks
+were brief--just business."
+
+"What business had you letting her in?"
+
+"Because times were bad three years ago and tenants weren't so easy to
+find. What harm has she done? This isn't a social club, you know--"
+
+"I know it isn't! Nobody speaks--or even smiles!" A lump rose in
+Ethel's throat. "And she was so nice and friendly!"
+
+"I'll bet she was--"
+
+"I won't believe it!" Now her face was reddening with
+self-mortification. "Do you mean to tell me--living like that--with a
+companion, even--a prim old maid who looks as though she had left Boston
+only last night--"
+
+A twinkle came into her husband's eyes: "My dear, the friend of a big
+millionaire always keeps some one from Boston close by." His arm went
+around her. "Poor little girl. I guess I won't have to say any more--"
+
+"Perhaps you will and perhaps you won't!" Now again she was nearly
+choking with rage and with hurt vanity. Her one and only companion!
+The only woman she had been clever enough to find! That kind! Oh-h!
+Suddenly she turned to Joe to tell him that if he could give her no
+friends she'd pick and choose just where she liked! But quickly she
+remembered that he would answer, "Haven't I tried?" She turned away,
+broke into tears and left the room.
+
+Out of the little storm that followed, she emerged at last with the
+thought, "Well, I must see her, anyway, in the work of moving into her
+apartment. And am I sorry? Not at all! She was good to me--at least
+she was that! And besides," reflected Ethel, with the same caution and
+relief which she had so despised in New Yorkers, "she's going soon.
+It's safe enough."
+
+The talk occurred the next morning, up in the new apartment. There were
+no awkward preliminaries, for Mrs. Grewe's whole manner had changed.
+Quite a bit of its careful refinement was gone, and in its place was a
+rather bitter frankness.
+
+"I quite understand--you needn't explain," she said at once. "Your
+husband has made a fuss, hasn't he? And this is good-bye. Too bad,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Yes--it is." Ethel hesitated, then all at once she beamed on
+her friend. "I want you to know," she stoutly declared, "that neither
+is my husband my boss nor am I a prig! Back in school, we girls--we
+used to talk--and read and discuss things--Bernard Shaw--" Her hostess
+smiled:
+
+"Oh, Shaw, my dear, is a dear, witty man--and he's so funny and so fair.
+But to live with him--ugh!--rather icy!" She laughed. "See here. No
+matter what you have read, you've never met me until now. I mean the
+big Me that thrills all girls--who speak about me in whispers. Well,
+then, just for a minute, meet me--look at me and see what I am." On her
+piquante little face was a look of friendly challenge. "We've had such
+fine little shopping bees, and I'd like you not to be sorry. And what I
+want to say is this:
+
+"I was just like you. I came from a small town--I had my dreams--I
+reached New York--I married." She smiled. "Not once but twice. I was
+divorced. And my second was a love of a man, and we had such a blissful
+honeymoon. It lasted a year and a half, and then--he got taking
+things--dope--and that made it hard. It ended in another divorce. The
+next man didn't marry me. Meant to, you know, but hadn't time. Then he
+passed on--" with a wave of her hand--"and now I'm here." A humorous
+smile came over her face. "And for the life of me I can't see how
+changed it is from when I was married. The same sort of apartment, only
+it's nicer--the same ocean liners and hotels--the same cafes where one
+can dance exactly as one did before." Again she wrinkled up her brows.
+"The only real difference I can see is that when I was married like you,
+my husband only told me the truth once in a while--as yours did last
+night--while now they tell it all the time. Oh, I'm wise, I'm wise, my
+dear--for one so young. I'm twenty-eight. How old are you?"
+
+"I'm twenty-five."
+
+"Three years behind. Well, on the whole I guess I'd stay married if I
+were you. It's so nice, if he's still in love with you. But the minute
+he isn't, or makes any fuss, or gets ugly or mean, remember this." And
+her sweet, clear voice grew impressive. "Remember then you can never be
+sure what he's really doing in this town. I know--because they tell
+me--and most of them are married men. And second, and last and
+always--remember, my dear, that with your figure and your face and your
+lovely hair which you do so well, you don't have to put up with any man!
+You can get right out whenever you please! And the only trouble will be
+to choose your next from all the others who will come crowding about
+you! And whether you make him marry you--well--I honestly think there's
+not much choice." She rose and said, with a strange little smile.
+
+"Now that I've had my little revenge on your beast of a husband for
+spoiling it all, when I wasn't doing the least bit of harm and was
+leaving anyhow this week--let's say good-bye and each get to our
+packing."
+
+
+"She was once like me. I could be like her," thought Ethel late that
+night. She had been lying awake for hours. "I could be--but I won't!"
+she declared. "She had read Shaw. How funny! . . . I think it's a
+mighty big mistake to let young girls read Bernard Shaw. Susette
+certainly shan't!" Her lips compressed. In a moment she was frowning.
+
+"How easily Joe changed about from loving Amy to loving me. Here he
+lies asleep at my side. Where was he today? What do I know? . . .
+Oh, Ethel Lanier, don't be a fool and let every cheap little woman you
+meet get you thinking things! Such silly things! . . . I do wish
+that odious Fanny Carr would get out of my life and stay out! . . .
+You'd better be very careful, Joe." She had risen on her elbow now, and
+by the dim light from the window she could just see her husband's face.
+"Because if you're not very good to me--remember that a person whom you
+yourself consider one of the very best of her kind--told me that I--"
+
+She dropped back. All at once her face was burning.
+
+"Oh, how I loathe all this!" she thought. "And how silly and untrue!
+Do you want to know where you and I are different, little Mrs. Grewe?
+I'll tell you! I have a baby! And when he grows up he's going to have
+this same man still for a father! So there! I'm not sure about
+anything, even God, any more in this town--it's all a whirl! But I've
+got a baby, and Susette, and for them I'm going to have a real
+home--keep wide awake, make friends I'll love--and grow and learn and
+march in parades--and go to the opera in a box--and go to concerts, go
+abroad, shop in Paris--love my husband--be very gay--make friends,
+friends--I will, I will--I won't be downed--I'll beat this cat of a
+city--
+
+"However. Now I'll go to sleep-."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+She did not see Mrs. Grewe again, she did not want to see her. It was
+not until from the telephone girl she learned that the charming young
+widow was gone, that Ethel went up to her new home. In a little while
+her furniture would begin to pour in, but as yet the rooms were empty,
+flooded with warm sunshine. She looked about and thought of the life
+which had been here, and then of Mrs. Grewe's advice and her last
+smiling admonition. She could almost hear the voice.
+
+"Is every place I live in to be haunted?" Ethel asked herself. And then
+with a humorous little scowl: "Now see here, young woman, the sooner you
+learn that every apartment in this city has a complete equipment of
+ghosts, the better it will be for you. I don't care who lived here, nor
+how she lived nor what she said. I don't need her advice, and her life
+is not to affect mine in the slightest!" She stopped short. Of whom was
+she speaking, Mrs. Grewe or Amy? There were two of them now! Both had
+given her advice, and in each case the life portrayed had been very much
+alike, so much so as to be rather disturbing. Things were certainly
+queer in this town!
+
+"Very well, my dears," she said amiably, "if I must be haunted, it's
+much more gay and sociable to have two instead of one. Remember tea
+will be served at five, and from the present outlook there's little
+chance of our being disturbed by the intrusion of any live woman in New
+York."
+
+"At least the ghosts are friendly." She suddenly compressed her lips and
+looked about: "However!" She went to the telephone in the hall: "Please
+hurry up those porters! I'm up here waiting to begin!"
+
+And in the days that followed, she was far too engrossed in "settling"
+to spare any time for brooding on phantoms. "A home of my own and a
+life of my own, to be lived with my own husband!" But when at last they
+were settled, and Joe in a dear, genial mood had gone about admiring,
+and taking no notice apparently of the scarcity of Amy's things--he
+turned to Ethel with an air which was meant to be easy and natural:
+
+"Well, now that we're taking a fresh start, the time has come for a
+little talk."
+
+"What about?" she asked, endeavouring to make her smile as easy as his.
+
+"It will take about one minute." His gruff voice was low and kind. "I'm
+not going to force my friends on you. If you want to make friends of
+your own, go ahead. And when you get them let me know--and they'll be
+mine, too, if I have to break a leg in the effort. I'll dance in front
+of them, so to speak, until they're all enchanted. But in the meantime,
+on your side, I want you to let me down easy with these people I once
+knew. I don't want to hurt them or be a cad. A few I may keep in touch
+with for years."
+
+
+"Fanny!" flashed into Ethel's mind.
+
+"And all I ask of you is this. You'll soon be going away for the
+summer. Let's do the decent thing--just once--and have a little party
+here. I give you my word we won't do it again."
+
+"All right, Joe--that's fair, of course--and I'll do my best to make it
+exactly what you want."
+
+And in the dinner that she gave, Ethel lived up to her bargain. The
+dinner was large; there were twenty guests. The caterer was as before,
+and so were the food and the flowers. And all through the evening Ethel
+was gracious and affable. But behind her affability, hidden but subtly
+conveyed to each guest, was a serene good-bye to them. This was their
+dismissal. Did they all feel it, every one? To her at least it seemed
+so. Again and again she caught the men throwing looks of regret at Joe,
+and the women glancing about the rooms as though in search of what was
+gone. Amy's things! Oh, more than that. The whole atmosphere was
+gone. This was the home of the second wife.
+
+"Well, dear, did I live up to our bargain?" she asked her husband when
+they were alone.
+
+"You did," said Joe. He looked at her then in such a puzzled, masculine
+fashion. What she had done and how she had done it was plainly such a
+mystery to him. "You did," he repeated loyally. She slipped her arms
+about his neck.
+
+"Thank you, love," she answered. And in a moment or two she murmured,
+"Have them again in the Fall if you like."
+
+"No," said Joe. "Once was enough."
+
+
+"Now," she asked herself the next day, "let's try to see what all this
+means." She was almost speaking aloud. She was growing so accustomed to
+these sociable little chats with herself. "It means that I am getting
+on. But Fanny Carr will still be about. She won't come here except
+just enough to keep up appearances, but she'll still have her business
+dealings with Joe in the management of her property. He means to keep
+in touch, he said, 'with a few of them'--meaning her, of course--and his
+tone conveyed quite plainly that I am to leave him alone in that until I
+can produce friends of my own. Whereupon, my dear," she threw up her
+hands, "we come back to exactly the same point at which we have been all
+along. Where am I going to find friends?" And she gave an angry,
+baffled sigh. "Oh, damn New York!"
+
+As she glared viciously about the pretty, sunny living room, the image
+of its former tenant rose up in her memory. And Ethel's expression
+changed at once, became intent and thoughtful. How much more attractive
+was Mrs. Grewe than were any of Amy's set. Immoral? Yes, decidedly.
+But what did "immoral" mean in this town? Who was moral? Fanny Carr?
+Did these wives and divorcees do any good with their "moral" lives? She
+recalled what Mrs. Grewe had said: "And whether you marry or whether
+you don't, for the life of me I can't see any difference." And again:
+"With your face and figure, my dear, you don't have to put up with any
+one man." Ethel sat frowning straight before her.
+
+"What kind of a life am I going to find? I'm going to stay with my
+husband--that's sure. I'm in love with him and he with me. That much
+is decided."
+
+She rose abruptly, and walking the floor she firmly resolved to "be
+wholesome" and look on the bright side of things. In the next few weeks
+she busied herself with the small affairs of her household. There was
+plenty to occupy her mind. There were finishing touches to give to the
+rooms; there were Spring clothes to buy for Susette; and the baby was
+ready for short dresses and a baby carriage. There was the life in the
+nursery, a cheerful little world in itself. There was Martha, grown
+more friendly now, and Emily and the new waitress, Anne, and the
+telephone girl and the chauffeur and the clerks in various shops who had
+become acquaintances--altogether quite a circle of people who greeted
+Ethel on her rounds. One day as she passed a laundry shop she spied
+this sign in the window: "Fine linen respectfully treated." And Ethel
+chuckled at the thought that she herself was treated like that. On the
+whole it was rather pleasant, though, and she made the most of it. She
+was being carefully "wholesome."
+
+Now it was well along in June, time for the children to go to the
+seashore, so she began to hunt for a place. At the traveller's bureaus
+she visited she found the clerks more than ready to give advice by the
+hour to this gracious young creature so stylishly clad. And she had
+soon selected a quiet little resort in Rhode Island.
+
+But what was Joe doing all this time? She did not mean to keep prying,
+but for the life of her she could not help throwing out casual
+inquiries. His reply was always, "Business"; and he would go on to give
+her details--all of which were tiresome. How much was he seeing of
+Fanny Carr and her detestable money affairs? His manner, engrossed as
+it had grown, and even irritable at times, made Ethel feel he was
+putting her further and further out of that part of his existence which
+now interested him most, the part that lay outside his home. Was it all
+business, all of it? "And when I go to the seashore, he'll be here five
+nights a week!" Sometimes he came in so late at night! Business? At
+such an hour? "Now carefully, carefully, Ethel Lanier." But in spite of
+herself the smiling words of young Mrs. Grewe recurred to her mind:
+"Most of them are married men."
+
+Ethel's doubts, however, were all ended late one night, when at the
+sound of his key in the door she got out of bed and came into the
+doorway of her room. Joe was standing in the hall. He did not see her.
+In fact, his eyes, when he switched on the light, seemed to see nothing
+in the world but the package of business papers he took from his
+overcoat. His face was haggard but intent. He turned and went into his
+study to work. And any suspicion of Fanny Carr, or of any other friend
+of Joe's, was swept at once from Ethel's mind. Her rival was his
+business.
+
+And later at the seashore, where she had so many hours alone, she
+thought about this work of his with deepening hostility. Her mind went
+back into the past. How his office had always absorbed him. What a
+refuge it had been in the months that followed Amy's death. "I wasn't
+the one who first made him forget. Oh, no, it was his business!" And
+now, as it had weaned him once from his grief for the woman who had
+died, it was at him again to draw him away from the woman who was
+living.
+
+There had been a time when it was not so, when she could keep him late
+at breakfast and make him come home early at night, still fresh enough
+to read and talk, discuss things, go to the opera, take up his music,
+plan a trip to Paris. "Oh, yes! Then we were making a start!" But now
+this wretched work of his had got him worse than ever before--and she
+blamed his partner for that. She recalled how Nourse had disliked her,
+she remembered what Amy used to say about the man's worship of business.
+Yes, with his detestable greed for money, only money, Nourse was
+doubtless driving Joe. "You're making him just a business man, without
+a thought or a wish in his head for anything beautiful, really fine,
+ambition, things he dreamed of and told me about when he was
+mine--things that would have led us both to everything I wanted--"
+
+She set her lips and whispered:
+
+"All right, friend Bill, then it's you or it's me!" And all the rest of
+the summer she set herself determinedly to breaking up the partnership.
+
+"Joe, dear," she said pleasantly, when he had come out for the week end,
+"why don't you ever bring your partner with you over Sunday?" And at his
+quick look of surprise, "It seems too bad, I think," she added, "never
+to have him with us."
+
+"I thought you didn't like him," he said. Ethel gave a frank little
+smile.
+
+"I didn't--but that was a year ago. And besides, he didn't like me, you
+see. But people do change, I suppose--and as long as he means so much
+to you, I should so like to be friendly."
+
+It turned out just as she had expected. Nourse declined the invitation.
+"I'm sorry," she said when her husband told her. She felt her position
+strengthened a bit. At another time she suggested that Joe's partner be
+asked to spend the rest of the summer with him in the apartment back in
+town. It was doubtless so much cooler at night than Nourse's bachelor
+quarters. And Emily Giles could take care of them both. But this
+overture, too, Bill Nourse declined. She could just imagine him doing
+it, the surly, ungracious tone of his voice, the very worst side of the
+man shown up. Joe often now looked troubled when Ethel talked of his
+partner.
+
+But toward the end of the summer in one such talk he gave her a shock.
+It was after Nourse had again refused an invitation to come to the
+seashore.
+
+"He's queer," said Joe, "and he can be ugly. Being polite is not in
+Bill's line. I told him so myself today--and we had quite a session.
+
+"Oh, Joe, I'm sorry," Ethel said.
+
+"You needn't be. Bill Nourse and I will stick together as long as we
+live." Ethel looked at him sharply, but he did not notice. "Because,"
+he said, "with all his faults, his queerness and his grouches, Bill has
+done more than any man living to--well, to keep something alive in
+me--in my work, I mean--that I want later on--as soon as I've made money
+enough." She stared at him.
+
+"You mean that he--your partner--wants something more than money?" It
+was a slip, but she was stunned. He turned and looked at her and asked,
+in a voice rather strained and husky:
+
+"Do you think Bill cares about money alone?"
+
+"Why, yes!"
+
+"That's funny." But Joe's laugh was grim. "If Bill had had his way with
+me, I'd have had a name as an architect that would have been known all
+over the country--instead of being what I am, a gambler in cheap real
+estate."
+
+She questioned him further, her manner alert, her eyes with a startled,
+thoughtful look. But he did not seem to want to talk.
+
+"Then why," she asked herself in a daze, "if Bill is so against this
+business, does he keep at it day and night? Oh, yes, we'll have to look
+into this--as soon as I get back to town! You've got to come and see
+me, and explain yourself, friend Bill." She frowned in such a puzzled
+way. "You, a friend? How funny!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The week after Ethel's return to town, she was surprised one afternoon
+when in response to a note she had sent him her husband's partner came
+to see her. She had thought it would be more difficult.
+
+"Joe won't interrupt us," he said. "I put work in his way. He'll be
+home late."
+
+Tall, gaunt and angular, somewhat stooped, Nourse stood looking down at
+her; and as, perplexed and excited, Ethel scanned his visage, so heavy
+in spite of its narrow lines, she saw an expression in which contempt
+was tempered by a sort of regret and weariness. And of course he was
+awkward, too. She said to herself, "Be careful now."
+
+"Won't you sit down?" she asked him.
+
+"Thank you." And he took a seat.
+
+"I wanted to see you," she began, but Nourse interrupted her.
+
+"Would you object," he asked her, "if I do the talking for a while?
+I've got it fairly clear in mind, just what I want to say to you."
+
+"Why, yes, of course, if you prefer," she said, a little breathlessly.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Lanier, I think I know about what you want--and I'm here to
+say that I'll help you to get it--if in return you will leave us alone."
+He stopped for a moment, and went on: "In the last few months, it has
+seemed to me, you've been doing your best to bring on a clash between me
+and your husband. Every week in the office is worse than the last. I
+don't blame you for that, from your point of view. You felt I was
+trying to make him eat and sleep in his office. I was--and I am. But
+my point to you is that it won't be for long, and I'm doing this really
+on your account--to get money enough to satisfy you." She looked up in a
+startled way, but he went on unheeding. "You and I must understand each
+other. Tell me how much you really need--and we'll get it, Joe and I.
+And then I'll give him back to you nights--and in the daytime you leave
+him to me."
+
+He glanced at her with a weary dislike which gave her an impulse to say
+to him, "Isn't this rather insulting?" But she did not speak. For
+looking at him sharply, she caught in the man's heavy eyes a certain
+grim, deep wistfulness which drew her a little in spite of his speech.
+And she felt very curious, too.
+
+"What do you think I really want?" she asked him, then. Her voice was
+low.
+
+"Money," he said.
+
+"Where did you get that idea?"
+
+"From your sister," he replied. "She sent for me, too--long ago."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Money. She told me that we were not making enough--that I was holding
+her husband back--from 'his career' she called it. She said that if I
+kept him out of a certain job that meant money quick, she would break up
+our partnership. She said she could do it, and she was right. My hold
+on Joe wasn't in it with hers."
+
+"What was your hold on him? What do you mean?" asked Ethel. Again her
+voice was low. Nourse looked down at his big hands and answered very
+quietly:
+
+"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand." She bit her lip.
+
+"But until I do learn what you want of Joe," she retorted sharply, "I'm
+afraid that I can't tell you how much money I shall need." He glanced up
+at her, puzzled. "Suppose you try me," she went on. And as the man
+still frowned at her, "I learned the other day," she said, "that you
+knew Joe long before he was married. I want you to tell me about that."
+
+Little by little she drew him out. And as in a reluctant way, in
+sentences abrupt and bald, he answered all her questions, again and
+again did Ethel feel a little wave of excitement. For Nourse was
+speaking of Joe's youth--of college and later of Paris, and then of a
+group of young men in New York, would--be architects, painters and
+writers who had lived near Washington Square; of long talks,
+discussions, plans, and of all night work in the architect's office
+where he and Joe had worked side by side. Joe had been a "designer"
+there; he had been the brilliant one of the two, and the more
+impassioned and intense and bold in his conceptions. There was a
+feeling almost of reverence in the low, rough voice of Joe's friend. He
+told how Joe had risen, until in a few years he became the chief
+designer for his firm; and of how from other firms offers had come. To
+keep him his employers had been forced to raise his salary, and to do
+much more than that, for money didn't appeal to him then. They had
+given him more important work--"job after job, and Joe made good." The
+climax of this rising had come one night in the rooms they shared, when
+Joe told his friend he had made up his mind to set up an office of his
+own, though he was only twenty-nine.
+
+"And he offered me a partnership." The big man's voice was husky now,
+as, in a little outburst with a good deal of bitterness in it, he spoke
+of the glory of the work of which he and Joe had once been a part. He
+seemed appealing to Joe's wife to see, for God's sake, what it was in
+Joe that had been lost. Then he stopped and frowned and stared at her.
+"Oh, what's the use?" he muttered. But Ethel's voice was sharp and
+clear:
+
+"Oh, if you only knew," she cried, "how much good this is doing! I
+won't stop to explain but--please--go on!" Her brown eyes threw him a
+fierce appeal. And again she had him talking. He told of a plan for
+apartment buildings Joe had conceived in those early days. "I don't say
+it was practicable, I give it just to show you what the man had in him,"
+he said. "Big ideas that strike in deep, the kind that change whole
+cities." Instead of a street like a canyon with sheer walls on either
+side, the front of each building was to recede in narrow terraces, floor
+by floor, so letting floods of sunlight down into the street below and
+giving to each apartment a small terrace garden. As she listened, Ethel
+grew intent. It was not the mere plan that excited her, she was giving
+small heed to the details. But this had in it what she had craved ever
+since she had come to the city--beauty and creative work--and this had
+been in Joe's "business"!
+
+"There was only one point against it," she heard Nourse saying
+presently. "Those terraces took a lot of space. Each one meant so much
+rent was lost. For years, till the plan took hold of the town, it was a
+money loser. . . . And Joe met your sister then." The voice had
+changed, and its hostile tone brought Ethel back with a sharp turn. The
+man, as though uneasy at the revelations he had made, was looking at her
+as at first, with suspicion and dislike. "I won't go into details of
+how she got her hold on Joe. You know how that's done, I suppose. I'm
+speaking of the effect on his work. He soon put off that plan of
+his--and any others of the kind. For now he had to have money. And he
+has been putting it off ever since--not dropping it, he'll tell you,
+only putting it off till he's rich. But if he isn't rich enough soon,
+it'll be too late. For that part of him is nearly dead.
+
+"But to go back to your sister. It was not only his money, it was his
+time she needed. First it was a wedding trip, and after that late
+hours--a short day in his office. And he wasn't half the man he had
+been. He was thinking of the night before, and then of the night that
+was coming. She came for him at five o'clock." He saw Ethel start, and
+he added, "Just as you did later on.
+
+"And when he did wake up to work, it was different--it was for money
+alone. He began to throw over his ideals, and very soon there was only
+me to hold him back. You see, he had had so many friends before he met
+your sister, men and even women, too, who had been a spur to him. But
+when he brought his wife around, they wouldn't have her, turned her
+down--and that made her bitter against them all and she kept Joe from
+them. All but me. I stayed in the office, and now and then I got some
+of his friends and we would take him out to lunch. But then even that
+stopped. Joe hadn't time. He was too busy getting the cash.
+
+"He had dropped all pretence of any work that was really worth while,
+and had turned his art into a business. He became a real estate gambler
+and an architect, all in one. He got to speculating in land--and what
+he built on it he didn't care, so long as it produced the cash. Oh, it
+wasn't all at once, you know, you can't strangle the soul of a man in a
+hurry--but by the time your sister died, the buildings Joe was putting
+up were just about as common and cheap as the average play on
+Broadway--crowd pleasers. He had lost his nerve. Everything had to be
+popular. Play safe each time, on the same old flats that every woman
+seems to love. A woman is conservative. To have and to hold, to get
+and keep, to stand pat with both eyes shut--that's the average woman in
+this town. And Joe had to play her.
+
+"And because he still had a soul in him--and a stomach that turned--he
+began to vary the dulness of it by becoming sensational. He did daring
+things, cheap daring things--no real originality in it, but it took on
+and caught the eye. Pictures of his buildings got into the real estate
+pages of the Sunday papers. He hired a press agent then and went after
+the publicity. And all I need to tell you of that, is that just the
+other day the press agent came into the office with a scheme for a
+string of buildings up on the new part of the Drive. They were to be
+patriotic--see?--named after the presidents of our country--cheap and
+showy terra-cotta--main effect red, white and blue." Ethel leaned back
+with a little gasp. But Nourse added relentlessly, "And Joe didn't turn
+him down."
+
+She stiffened sharply in her chair and looked at Nourse with indignant
+eyes, as though he alone were to blame.
+
+"You mean to say my husband could even consider such a plan?"
+
+"Why not? There's money in it--big--the publicity value would be
+immense. It would make his name a joke of course, with every architect
+in town--but think of all the talk, free ads! And that means tenants
+pouring in--and money! Don't you like it? She would have--your sister
+would, I mean. It was just such a scheme on a smaller scale that made
+her send for me one day and tell me I could keep hands off or else get
+out of the office. I gave in because I couldn't go--I couldn't quite
+make up my mind to the fact that Joe was done for. So I stuck--and she
+tried to break me--again and again. But Joe, for all the change in him,
+had a loyal streak not only for me but for all he had once meant to do.
+Even still he kept saying he'd just put it off, and that when he'd got
+the money he'd turn back and we'd begin.
+
+"And when his wife died, I began to have hope. The only blot on her
+funeral was the fact that you were there--and you told me you intended
+to stay. Her sister--the same story. I soon shook that off,
+however--for I saw the way he turned to his work as a refuge from his
+grief for her. I had my chance and I took it. When his mind was dull
+and numb I began to slip in changes. And each change meant better work
+and less easy money. And soon I was making headway fast; for Joe had
+never cared for money for himself, but only for her--and she was dead.
+So he let our profits go down and down, while what we did got more worth
+doing. It even began to take hold of him--of the old Joe that was still
+there.
+
+"But after nearly a year of that, I had to laugh at myself for a fool.
+For Joe began wanting money again, and I knew he was thinking of
+marrying you. I fought, of course, and for a time I had some hope of
+beating you. I remembered you as you had been at the time of your
+sister's funeral. You had seemed so young and weak to me. But later,
+when you were his wife and began taking half his time, keeping late
+hours, draining him--for you women can drain a man, you know--then I
+knew that you were strong, your sister's sister. I gave in. Or I
+should say I took the only chance that was left. I threw over the
+things we had dreamed of and got him to work for money hard--harder than
+he'd ever done. I drove him! Why? Because I got him back that way.
+By making him work for money for you I began to get him away from you.
+In time I even got him to stay in the office late at night. I got him
+to keep away from you nights. And there was more than that in my
+scheme. For now we're making money enough to satisfy even you, I think.
+I'm not sure--I'm never sure--your sister taught me never to be.
+Perhaps you can't be satisfied. But if you can, I see a chance. Tell
+me how much you really need. We'll get it. And then for the love of
+God leave us alone before it's too late--before what's in the man is
+dead!"
+
+Nourse finished and rose, looking down at her. She sat rigid, keeping
+herself in hand. Again and again she had been on the point of bursting
+out, for the sheer brutality of so much he had told her had made it very
+hard to sit still. But then as he had spoken of Amy, Ethel had kept
+silent, watching his face intensely. How much Amy must have done to
+have aroused such bitterness! A sense of reality in his talk, a clear
+and sudden consciousness of having the real Amy held up here before her
+eyes, had gripped Ethel like a vise. Till now she had no clear idea of
+how much Joe had sacrificed. But all that finer side of him, that early
+life, those dreams, those friends, had all been known to Amy. And Amy
+had been willing to lose them all, to crush them out, for money, only
+money, and money for such an empty life! Ethel shivered a little. Her
+sister's picture was complete.
+
+"No," she said, looking up at Nourse, "I'm not going to leave you alone.
+What I've got to do now is to try my best to make you feel what I really
+want, and what a mistake you've been making. Please listen, while I try
+to be clear." Her expression was strained as she looked at him. She
+smiled a little. "I am not like my sister. I'd rather not say much
+about her now. She--had her good points, too--she's dead. And all you
+need to know is this. You were wrong about me in those first months--I
+was trying to get away from Joe. I had my own dreams and I wished to be
+free. I even tried to earn my living. I worked for a while. But the
+man I worked for--frightened me--and that threw me back on Joe. He was
+poor then, so I nursed his child and ran his home on very little. And I
+liked that. Believe me--please! I liked that! And I think the main
+reason for it was that I was falling in love, not with her husband but
+with the man whom you were bringing back to life. It was that in him,
+that kind of ambition and that kind of life and friends, that I
+wanted--oh, so hard! I was groping about to get them--but it's not easy
+in New York. And meanwhile we were married, and about that part of it
+you were right. I was selfish, I did want him all. I let everything
+go, kept everything out--especially his business. I was jealous of you
+as I was of his wife--of everything past--I wanted him new!
+
+"Then my baby came, and it was a time when I did a good deal of
+thinking. I--thought out my sister. I saw how different we were. What
+she wanted I didn't want at all. So I set to work to change him--and I
+thought I was doing it all by myself--just as you thought you were doing
+it. Each of us was working alone--and we thought we were working in
+spite of each other--against each other. I was against you in his
+office, you were against me in his home. And because you hadn't any
+idea of what I was trying, you made him work for money for me--to buy me
+off! But I don't want money--alone, I mean! And when he came and said
+he was rich, it frightened me--I wasn't ready--I had no friends! And so
+the money only brought back my sister's friends in a perfect horde--and
+with them her memory--her influence--her husband!
+
+"Oh, can't you understand what I mean--and how I'm placed and what it's
+like? Can't you believe that I want in him exactly what you want
+yourself? But it hasn't been easy! Don't you see? I am only a second
+wife! She's here--she has been--all the time--like a ghost--and we
+never speak her name! But if you will only work with me--"
+
+She stopped with a quick turn of her head. They listened, and heard
+Joe's key in the door. In a moment he had entered the hall.
+
+"Hello. Who's here?" he asked at once.
+
+"It's I," said his partner, quietly, going out to meet him. And sitting
+there rigid, she heard him continue in gruff low tones, "Something I'd
+forgotten--a point in those Taggert specifications. I want to clear it
+up tonight."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+What impression had she made? How far had she overcome the heavy weight
+of dislike and suspicion Amy had rolled up in his mind? As Ethel's
+thoughts went rapidly back over the things Nourse had told her, again
+and again with excitement she felt what a help he could be if he would.
+Here lay the gate to her husband's youth.
+
+"If only he'll believe in me! Shall I send for him? No," she decided.
+"If there's any hope, he'll come again."
+
+She waited three days. Then he telephoned, "Can I see you today at four
+o'clock?" She answered, "Yes, I'll be very glad." And she felt a little
+faint with relief as she hung up the receiver.
+
+When he came in, that afternoon, one glance at him made her exclaim to
+herself, "He half believes! He's puzzled!"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Lanier," he began at once, with more friendliness now in
+his heavy voice, "if I've made any mistake about you, I'm sorry. But
+you must show me first. If you're real about this, you look to me like
+a woman who would have thought it all out in the last few days and
+formed a plan. What is it?"
+
+His abruptness rather took her breath for a moment. Then she said,
+"Yes, I have a plan, but so have you. What is it?" At her quick retort
+she saw a smile of grim relish come over his large features.
+
+"My plan is simple," he replied. "Leave Joe to me. Keep him quiet at
+night so he can work, and I'll show you another husband." She shook her
+head.
+
+"He'd only make more money."
+
+"Tell him you don't want it, then!" She smiled at him.
+
+"Too simple," she said. He looked at her.
+
+"I thought it would be too simple for a woman," was his answer.
+
+"It's worse than that," she replied. "It's blind. You've never been
+married--apparently--not even to one woman--while Joe, you see, has been
+married twice. To you a man's life is all in his office--but half of
+Joe's is in his home--and you'll have to change that half of him, too.
+I told you her friends are about--and they have her memory on their
+side--and so I can't get rid of them until I get some friends of my
+own."
+
+"Then get them."
+
+"How? Go out on any street and call up, 'Heigh there' at the windows?"
+She leaned forward quickly and sternly: "The friends I want are the
+people he knew--the ones you told me of. That's my plan. Put me in
+touch with some of them, and let me bring them in touch with Joe. And
+I'll show you a different partner." He looked at her.
+
+"Well, that's too simple, too," he said.
+
+"Why is it?" she demanded.
+
+"Because in those first years of his marriage I went to them so often,
+in just the way you're thinking of. I got some of the men he used to
+know to come to his office and take him to lunch. And it did so little
+good they quit. They all got sick of it--and they're through."
+
+Ethel leaned forward intensely:
+
+"But it will be different now! Before, they had Amy here working
+against them! I'm here now, and I'll be on their side!" He frowned, and
+she cried impatiently, "You don't believe me, do you! You don't believe
+I can do anything--or even that I want to!"
+
+He looked at her for a moment.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I almost do."
+
+"Then please give me a chance," she said, very low. And by her eager
+questions she began to draw out of Nourse the information she wanted.
+It did not come easy, for the past seemed buried deep in his memory. As
+one by one he spoke of Joe's friends he would add, "But he's dead," or,
+"He's gone West." He had kept track of them, after a fashion, but he had
+seen them little of late. What a lonely life he had led, she thought.
+She wondered if he had grown too old and hopeless to be of any help.
+She fought down her discouragement.
+
+"There was Crothers," he was saying. "He's an architect, and he's doing
+good work. He never had Joe's boldness, but he always had a fine sense
+of things, and at least he has stuck to his ideals. He could do more to
+bring Joe back than any other man I know."
+
+"Then we must get him!"
+
+"That will be hard."
+
+"Why will it?"
+
+"Because some years ago I tried to get Crothers into our firm. The two
+of us together might have kept Joe from the mere money jobs and made it
+a firm to be proud of. Crothers was ready to come in, and I had nearly
+succeeded in bringing Joe to agree to it."
+
+"Then what was the matter?"
+
+"Your sister. Joe had told her he was thinking of some move in his
+business which would keep him poor awhile. And she flew into quite a
+rage. That was another time she sent for me." Nourse leaned grimly back
+in his chair. "She told me that if I ruined her husband's 'career,' as
+she called it, she'd break us apart once and for all. She wouldn't have
+Crothers in the firm--not only because it meant money lost, but because
+Crothers' wife had turned her down." Ethel looked at him sharply.
+
+"Oh--he has a wife," she said.
+
+"Yes, and she wasn't your sister's kind. She was a college woman who
+wanted to be a great painter--and when the painting petered out, she
+shut her jaw and said, 'Never mind. If I can't paint landscapes I can
+make them.' And she took up landscape gardening. She married Burt
+Crothers soon after that, but she stuck to her work and in course of
+time it fitted in with her husband's. He and Sally have struggled along
+up-hill, and though they've never made much money they've had a lot of
+fun out of life."
+
+"She sounds so nice," Ethel hungrily murmured.
+
+"Oh, yes, she's nice enough," he said, "until you go against her. Then
+Sally gets mad, and stays that way. And she got that way," he added,
+"when we turned her husband down. She hadn't liked your sister. In
+fact, when Joe married and brought his wife and the Crothers together,
+it wasn't a go. She called your sister 'hopeless.' And when Joe's wife
+came back at her by keeping Crothers out of our firm, then war was
+declared."
+
+Nourse broke off and looked at Ethel.
+
+"So you see what you're up against," he said. "Yes, I see," said Ethel.
+At every door to her husband's youth, Amy seemed to be barring the way.
+She gave an impatient little shrug. "If I could only show them!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That I'm different! And the hole I'm in! And what it is I want in
+Joe! . . . Can't you go and talk to them?" There was impatience again in
+her eyes. He saw it and smiled wearily.
+
+"You think I'm mighty weak," he said, "with not much fight left in me.
+You're right, I guess. But you don't know what I've been through in the
+last seven years. I stuck to Joe--and they didn't like that. Sally
+said I had knuckled down to Joe's wife. So she hasn't asked me there in
+years. And if I were to go to her now, I'm afraid my opinion of you
+wouldn't count."
+
+There was another silence. Again that dull weight of discouragement
+fell, and again she shook it from her.
+
+"Nevertheless," she said quietly, looking him full in the face, "I mean
+to have Crothers in our firm." She saw the mingled liking and
+compassion which came in his eyes, and she bit her lip to keep down the
+wave of self-pity which arose in her.
+
+"Perhaps you will," she heard him say. His voice sounded a long way
+off. She brought herself back to him with a jerk.
+
+"Of course I will! We will, I mean! You and I are to work together,
+you know. Now will you please tell me," she continued grimly, "one
+person who knew my husband and who will be so very kind as not to call
+for the police the minute I come into view?" A moment later she started
+forward. "Oh, please!" she cried. "Do that again! You chuckled!
+Don't deny it! Go on and really laugh with me!" Her voice, unsteady and
+quivering, broke into a merry laugh, and in this Joe's partner joined.
+Then she said sternly. "You give me a friend!"
+
+Nourse thought for a moment. "There's only one left on the list," he
+replied.
+
+"His name, please--"
+
+"Dwight."
+
+"Business?"
+
+"Music. He shows rich girls how to sing. She stared at him.
+
+"But look here," she said emphatically. "I'm a rich girl--I'm very well
+off--and I certainly propose to sing! I used to, in the choir at
+home--and I was told I had quite a voice! And I meant to take lessons
+in New York--of a tall dark man with curly hair--"
+
+"Dwight," said Nourse, "is fair and fat."
+
+"Never mind. Then he probably has blue eyes. And they twinkle at
+you--in the friendliest way--"
+
+"Young woman, I'm your husband's friend."
+
+"Never mind if you are. You're not enough. I want more of his friends.
+Now tell me--where did the fat man study? Abroad?"
+
+"In Paris."
+
+"Oh!" she cried. "Were he and Joe together there?"
+
+"They were, for a while--"
+
+"Oh, how nice!" She laughed at him. "What a dear you've been to me,"
+she said. "You like me, don't you!"
+
+"Yes--I do."
+
+"Quite a good deal!"
+
+"All right," he said. She was watching his face. "This is new to him,"
+she was thinking.
+
+"You believe I don't want money!"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"Nor friends like Amy's!"
+
+"You don't seem to."
+
+"And I don't. I want friends like you and this Mr. Dwight--and that
+odious Sally Crothers who won't even let me in at her door. And her
+husband--yes, he'll do. Why how the circle widens!"
+
+"So far," Nourse reminded her, "I'm the only circle you've got."
+
+"Yes, and a very nice one. And now you're going to be a dear, and go to
+this man Dwight and say what a remarkable voice I have--and tell him all
+my other points, and the hole I'm in and the money I have. Don't forget
+that--the money I have--for my acquaintance with Mr. Dwight leads me to
+believe that wealth is a great inducement with him. It makes his blue
+eyes twinkle so."
+
+"Very well," Nourse answered grimly. "But when you get them twinkling,
+what are you going to do with him?"
+
+"Sing with him," was her firm reply. "And between songs _talk_ with
+him--of Paris and my husband, and the great ideals I have--and the
+delicious dinners I have--for he's fat, you know, and he loves his
+meals--and then ask him to come to dinner, of course." She scowled.
+"That," she said severely, "is all I can tell you at present. My plans
+for resurrecting Joe will have to be made as I go along--step by step
+and friend by friend." All at once she turned on him fiercely. "There's
+that pity again in your eyes! 'Oh, how young,' you are thinking. Then
+let me tell you, Mr. Bill Nourse, that you are not to pity me! If you
+do," she cried, "the time will come when you will be pitying
+yourself--for being cast off like an old leather shoe--from one of the
+most brilliant and attractive circles in this town! Do you know what
+you almost do to me--you, the one friend I have in New York? You make
+me feel you've almost lost your faith and hope in everything--that
+you're nearly old! You make me wonder if I'm too late--whether my
+husband is nearly old, and the dreams he had in him cold and gone! You
+scare me--and you've got to stop! You've got to be just exactly as
+young as I am--this very minute! You've got to borrow some youth from
+me--for I have plenty to go around--and help me make this fight for
+friends! It may not come to anything--for the soul of this city is hard
+as nails! This music man may turn me down--or be perfectly fat and
+useless! Who knows? But how can I tell till I meet the man? And when
+will you go and see him? Today or tomorrow? I haven't very much time,
+you know, for any more shilly-shallying! I want some action out of
+you--"
+
+She faced him flushed and menacing, and he took her hand and said:
+
+"You'll get it. Where's your telephone!"
+
+"Right there in the hall!"
+
+"I'll call up Dwight."
+
+"Wait! Is he married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank God!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The next morning at eleven o'clock she met Dwight in his studio, and in
+a brisk pleasant businesslike way she began to tell him of her
+voice--what singing she had done at home and how she had always meant to
+take lessons when she should come to New York to live.
+
+"To find out how much of a voice I really have, you know," she said.
+Her manner was more affable now. "But my husband and my baby have kept
+me rather busy, you see, and so I've put it off and off--until just
+lately I began to look about and make inquiries. And then by good luck
+I learned of you--from my husband's partner."
+
+"You're Joe Lanier's wife, aren't you?" he asked.
+
+"His second," she said with emphasis. And a moment later she told
+herself, "Yes, his eyes do twinkle, and he seems to be quite nice. He
+isn't so excessively fat, and he has a big wide generous mouth, and I
+like his eyes. But he thinks my coming like this a bit queer, and he's
+wondering what's behind it." She downed her excitement and went on in
+the same resolute tone she had used with such success on Nourse. No
+personal conversation just yet, she would show him she meant business.
+And so she stuck to the lessons.
+
+"If you'll take me as a pupil," she said, "I'd like to begin
+immediately."
+
+"Let me try your voice," he proposed. He went to the piano, and there
+his manner had soon changed. From genial and curious it grew
+interested. He spoke rather sharply, asking her to do this and that,
+and she felt as though she were being probed. "You have a voice," he
+said, at the end. "Not a world shaker," he added, smiling, "but one
+that interests me a lot." She beamed on him.
+
+"You'll take me, then?"
+
+"Assuredly."
+
+"Oh, that's so nice." They decided on the time for her lessons. Then
+she glanced at her wrist watch. "Will you see if my car is waiting!"
+she asked. "I had him take the nurse and baby up to the Park--and he
+ought to be back by now, I think." But as Dwight went to the telephone,
+she added excitedly to herself, "Now if that idiot of a chauffeur is as
+late as I told him to be, you and I will have quite a talk, Mr.
+Dwight."
+
+"It isn't here yet," he informed her.
+
+"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll have to walk." She smiled and held out her hand
+to him. "Will you send the chauffeur home!"
+
+"If you like," he replied good-humouredly. "But I'd much rather you'd
+wait here--if you have nothing pressing." And as she hesitated, "It's
+not only your voice, you know--I used to be quite a friend of Joe's."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember his telling me. Over in Paris, wasn't it?"
+
+Soon they were talking easily. Dwight had lit a cigarette, and Ethel
+could see he was studying her. She tried to look unconscious.
+
+"I've wanted to go to Paris all my life," she told him. "How long is it
+since you left?"
+
+"Only a year." She looked at him.
+
+"Is there a Paris in New York?"
+
+"I'm not sure yet--I'm new, you see."
+
+"So am I," she confided frankly. And at that he gave her a swift glance
+which made Ethel add to herself, "Yes, he could be very personal."
+
+She asked him what he had found in New York as a contrast, coming from
+abroad. She spoke of the high buildings here, and from that she passed
+quite naturally to her husband's business.
+
+"It isn't the work I'd like for him," she said with a regretful sigh.
+"Joe is getting to be like all the rest--he's making too much money."
+She waited a moment and added, "I should so like him to be as he was
+when you knew him."
+
+"I'll be curious to see how he has changed. You must let me see him,"
+Dwight replied.
+
+"Why yes, of course."
+
+"Over in Paris he had so much. He was such a wonderful lad for
+dreams--with the most exuberant fancy in the way he used to talk of New
+York and what he wanted to do back here--to use the backyards and the
+roofs and turn them into gardens. This town, when Joe got through with
+it--well, from an aeroplane it was to look more or less like a bed of
+roses--or a hill town in Italy. But that was only his lighter vein.
+When his fancy was really, working hard, he took department stores,
+hotels and huge railroad terminals and jammed them all together into one
+big building. How deep in the earth it was to have gone I really can't
+remember, nor how far up into the skies. But there was a garden at the
+top--or a meadow or prairie or something."
+
+"Yes," thought Ethel, "I'm going to like him."
+
+"Joe could talk of his plans all night," Dwight went on good-naturedly.
+"And keep a poor lazy musician like me from my piano where I belonged."
+
+"Was it you who taught him to play?" she asked.
+
+"On the piano? It was," he replied. "Isn't his touch amazing? And so
+thoroughly Christian, too."
+
+"Christian?"
+
+"Yes. He doesn't let his right hand know what his left hand is doing."
+They laughed. And from that laugh she emerged with eagerness in her
+brown eyes.
+
+"Oh, please go on," she begged him. "I had no idea you knew him so
+well. Did he do nothing but talk over there?"
+
+"He did--he worked like a tiger. Joe could stand more hard labour in
+one consecutive day and night than any fellow I ever met. And he could
+do it night after night. I remember dropping in on him for coffee and
+rolls one morning. A chap named Crothers and myself--" Ethel started at
+the name--"had just come home from the 'Quatres Arts Ball.' We found Joe
+in his room with the curtains drawn--he didn't know it was morning yet.
+He had a towel bound round his head and was building an opera house for
+Chicago--or Kansas City--I'm not sure which. And he wasn't just
+dreaming of building it in his successful middle age--he was building it
+now, in a terrible rush, as though Kansas City were pushing him hard.
+Joe didn't live in the future, you see--he took the future and made it
+the present, and then lived in the present like mad."
+
+Dwight tossed away his cigarette.
+
+"But you say it's money now."
+
+"Yes," she replied. "It's money." He smiled at her dejected tone.
+
+"I wouldn't be so sad," he remarked. "Money isn't as bad as it seems."
+
+"Oh, yes, and I want it," Ethel declared. "But I want the others so
+much more!"
+
+When her car had come, she rose and said, "You and Joe must get together
+some time. Couldn't you call him up some day and get him to lunch with
+you?"
+
+"Gladly." They went to the door.
+
+"But don't be disappointed," she said, "if you find him changed even
+more than you think. Money has such a pull on a man."
+
+"I know, but I rather like it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, don't be so indignant, please. I am an artist--honestly. But some
+of these men I've met over here--well, they fascinate me. Such
+boundless energy and drive ought to go into a symphony. Plenty of drums
+and crashing brass. Good-bye, Mrs. Lanier," he added. "This has been
+a lucky day for me."
+
+"Thank you. Don't forget about Joe. And meanwhile--till next Tuesday."
+
+As she settled back in her car she thought,
+
+"All right, Ethel, very good."
+
+
+Twice a week, that autumn, she went to Dwight for lessons. But until
+some time had passed, she did not mention it to Joe.
+
+"When you meet him," she said to Dwight, "I'd rather you wouldn't speak
+of my lessons. I want my singing to be a surprise. And besides, I'd so
+much rather that any old friends of my husband's come to him through his
+partner. It seems so much more natural."
+
+"I see," said Dwight. "But he doesn't," she thought, "and I'll have to
+explain."
+
+"Later, of course, I'll tell him," she said, "But just now, in the state
+he's in, if you or any one else of his friends who knew him as he used
+to be should come and say, 'Sent by your wife, with her compliments and
+fervent hopes of your speedy resurrection '--oh, no, it wouldn't do at
+all." Dwight was watching her curiously.
+
+"How many of us are there!" he asked. She looked at him in a
+questioning way.
+
+"Of us," he explained, "Joe's old friends, who are to dig him up, you
+know."
+
+"Only you, at present--and of course his partner. He smiled:
+
+"Bill Nourse is not a very brisk digger."
+
+"Well," she remarked, in a casual tone, "if you know of brisker diggers
+about--people who knew him--"
+
+"Say no more. I'll search the town." Their eyes had met for an instant.
+"Yes," she thought, "I'm getting on."
+
+Dwight lunched with Joe soon after that, and later in the studio he and
+Ethel had a talk.
+
+"In a good many ways," he assured her, "he struck me as the same old
+Joe--friendly and hospitable--he insisted on ordering quite a meal. But
+we didn't eat much of it. We talked."
+
+"Of Paris!"
+
+"Very much so. There's a lot of Paris in him yet." And he told of their
+long conversation.
+
+"Now," she said, when she rose to leave, "if you'll just keep at him
+occasionally--while his partner does the same at the office, and I do
+what I can at home--"
+
+"You insist on his being home every night?"
+
+"That depends," said Ethel gravely.
+
+"Suppose I take him some night to my club. We have quite a number of
+architects there."
+
+"Oh, wonderful! How good of you!"
+
+"Mrs. Lanier," said her teacher, "I'm under your orders--digging for
+gold."
+
+He took Joe to his club on the following night, and later several times
+for lunch.
+
+"Joe likes it," he reported. "And he has already met some chaps who
+knew of him and his earlier work, not only in Paris but over here, he
+was one of the most brilliant designers in the city, I find--and a good
+many men were disappointed when he threw over his true profession and
+went after ready cash. How would you like me to put up his name?"
+
+"For club membership?"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+"I'd like it, sir.
+
+"And I obey."
+
+"This is getting rather intimate," Ethel told herself that night.
+"Never mind, my love, you've been perfectly honest. He knows very well
+what you're after. And if he likes you and wants to help, so much the
+better."
+
+Some days in the studio she stuck severely to her voice and showed him
+she meant business. She was practising quite hard, and her progress was
+by no means slow. But on other days half the hour at least was spent in
+learning from her new friend about "a Paris in New York." Dwight was
+already finding one, although he had been here less than a year. In
+this teeming city of endless change he had found a deep joy of creation,
+of newness, youth and boldness that made even Paris seem far behind.
+"It's all so amazingly big," he said, "with such revealing chances
+opening up on every side!" How simple it was for him, she thought, with
+a little pang of envy. A young musician with plenty of talent, easy
+manners, single, free. As he spoke of his club friends and some of
+their homes that were open to him, the glimpses exasperated her. Here
+were the people she wanted to know, a little world of artists,
+architects and writers, and goodness only knew what else. She was still
+rather vague about them. To her surprise she discovered that many were
+after money, too. "Decidedly," her teacher said. "Excessively," he
+added.
+
+"But at least," she rejoined, defending them, "when they get the money
+they know how to spend it on something better than food and clothes!
+They really live--I'm sure they do--and have ideas and really grow!" She
+caught her breath. What an idiot, to have said so much! "I'm so glad,"
+she added lamely, "that you got my husband into your club. It's bound
+to do so much for him." She threw a sharp little glance at Dwight, and
+scowled, for she thought she detected a smile.
+
+"He's doing something for the club," Dwight was saying cheerfully.
+"Some of those chaps are a bit too refined and remote for this raw crude
+city of ours. And Joe is getting back enough of his old vim and
+passion, his wild radical ideas of what may still be done with the town,
+so that he jars on such sensitive souls--makes 'em frown and bite their
+moustaches like the husbands in French plays. On the other hand some
+are decidedly for him. I hear them discuss him now and then."
+
+"Oh, how nice!" sighed Ethel.
+
+At times she grew so impatient to get Joe into this other world. But
+she had to be very careful. Repeatedly she warned herself that Dwight,
+for all his Paris past and his present friendliness, was very fast
+becoming a New Yorker like the rest: making his way and climbing his
+climb, and wanting no climbers who had to be carried. "Ethel Lanier,
+the first thing you know you'll be dropped like a hot potato," she
+thought. "There's nothing unselfish about this man. Don't make him
+feel he has you on his hands." And she would grow studiously abstract
+and detached in her talk about the town. But it kept cropping up in
+spite of her, this warm eagerness to "really live."
+
+"It's funny," she said to Dwight one day. "I had thought of music and
+all that I wanted as being so different from Joe's work. But now in
+this city that you seem to know, I find that what I've wanted most is
+just what he ought to want in his work! The two go together!"
+
+"Exactly!"
+
+"The city Joe once lived in." She frowned. "There are so many cities in
+New York. But I don't want to try to get into his, until I can do it
+through Joe himself. People will have to want me because I'm the wife
+of Joe Lanier."
+
+"I think they'll want you more than that." His tone was most reassuring.
+"But I like the way you are going about it. It's so delightfully novel,
+you see--conspiring to make your husband find his friends all by
+himself--so that when he has found them he'll come to you with a beaming
+smile and say, 'Woman, I bring you wealth and fame and friends in
+abundance. Take them, love, and bless me--for I have done all this for
+you.'"
+
+Ethel smiled. "I don't like you to joke about it," she said.
+
+"Very well," he agreed, "let's get back to the serious work of his
+resurrection. You asked me to recruit other brisk diggers, and I've
+hunted about quite a bit. There's that chap Crothers and his wife, but
+so far they're the best I can do--and the Crothers pair seem rather
+blind. They can't see the old Joe for the new."
+
+"You mean they think he's hopeless," Ethel scornfully put in.
+
+"Oh, we'll make them open their eyes in time. I drop in on them every
+now and then. I had Crothers to the club last week, and let him hear
+some of the gossip about the emerging Joe Lanier."
+
+Often he talked of the early group of students over in Paris, of their
+ideas, ambitions, and their youthful views of life, which for all their
+gaiety had been so fervid and intense. But to Ethel, because she
+herself was still young, their dreams seemed very wonderful. Some she
+had hungrily read about long ago with the history "prof" at home. But
+the world which the little suffragist had revealed to her pupils had
+been more heroic and severe. This was warmer, dazzling, this had
+beauty, this was art! And yet not weak nor tame nor old--this was
+gloriously new in the way it jabbed deep into life and talked of really
+changing it all. This was youth! And her own youth responded and she
+made it all her own. She was reading now voraciously, with a sparkle
+and gleam of hope in her eyes. She was coming so very close to her
+goal, or rather the gate of her promised land.
+
+At times she grew impatient at her teacher's calm, and the good-natured
+easy smile with which he looked upon all this. "Oh, why not get
+excited!" she thought. She felt the old dreams a bit cold in him, as
+they had been in her husband. And in dismay she would ask herself:
+
+"Are they all too old? Is just the fact that I'm ten years younger than
+Joe and his friends going to mean that I'm too late--to bring back what
+was in him!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+But all this was as nothing compared to the intensity, the ups and
+down, in her relations with Joe himself. He often looked tired and
+harassed. "What's the matter with me?" he seemed to ask. And she felt
+his two sides combatting each other. On the one hand were the
+influences of Nourse and Dwight and the men at the club, to which he
+went nearly every day. He took part in discussions there, long
+rambling talks and arguments. And his old ideals were rising hungrily
+within him. But meanwhile the business man in Joe kept savagely putting
+the dreamer down, and for days he would plunge into his work and the
+fever of the money game. Joe had been so successful of late; and she
+knew that in his office that odious press agent was for ever at him.
+From Nourse she learned that her husband was even still considering the
+scheme for a row of buildings named after the presidents. And Ethel had
+a sinking of heart.
+
+"If he does that, I'm lost," she decided. But she would shake off such
+fears, as she felt again the old Joe emerge, the Joe of dreams and
+startling plans. And she grew excited as she thought:
+
+"Oh, if he'll only let himself go! I don't want him just nice and tame
+and refined! I don't want only friends like that! I want--I want--"
+
+What she wanted was still exceedingly vague, and Ethel could not put it
+in words. It had something to do with the teachings of the little
+history "prof" at home. She wanted the artist in him to rise, the
+creative soul of him! Cautiously she probed his thoughts--now tender
+and maternal toward him in his tired moods, now alive and interested as
+she got him talking. Bits came out. Joe was so plainly tortured by the
+struggle going on inside. She felt at once pity and admiration, and was
+deeper in love with him than she had ever been before. She felt the
+excitement of a fight with hope of victory close ahead. She took care
+in her dress and manner to give him little surprises at night, and by
+her cheery comradeship and her warm beauty of body and soul, Ethel drew
+him on and on. At such times she would often lose all memory of her
+scheming and would give up to her love, which had become a passion now.
+
+But always she came back to her plan. Not openly, for she had to be
+careful; she worked at him in little ways. She stirred his youth and
+his cast-off dreams by her own youth and zest for it all. She got him
+to tell her of Nourse and Dwight, the old friends she herself had put on
+his trail, and of new friends he had met in his club--"the club I
+elected you to," she exulted. But the next instant she would add, "Oh,
+Ethel, you're so ignorant! If you only knew about his work!" And
+knitting her brows she would listen hard while he talked of steel
+construction. As with her encouragement he talked on rapidly, absorbed,
+Ethel would clutch at this and that. She learned of books and magazines
+on architecture here and abroad. Stealthily she noted them down, and
+those she could not purchase she hunted up in libraries. Nourse was a
+great help to her here. He came to see her now and then; and though he
+still had his discouraging moods, at other times he was friendly and
+kind. Enjoying this conspiracy with the charming young Mrs. Lanier, he
+expressed his gallantry by bringing her books of appalling size. But
+some had beautiful illustrations that set her to imagining. Eagerly she
+groped her way deep into the history of the building of cathedrals and
+palaces in times gone by. And the long majestic story of man's building
+on the earth thrilled her to the very soul. Joe must make his place in
+it all!
+
+When on coming home at night he dumped a pile of work on the table, she
+would unobtrusively slip some book beside it. She grew to know which
+ones tempted him most. He had been surprised and amused at first at her
+interest in architecture--and secretly a little disturbed, suspecting
+what lay behind it. But as autumn drew on he read more and more of the
+books she kept putting in his way. While he read she would sit with a
+novel or sew. She would glance up with some remark, and they would talk
+and then read on. Subtly she made the atmosphere. She often brought
+Paris into their talks. She spoke longingly of the shops and plays, and
+all she wanted to see over there. And she almost succeeded in making
+him promise to take her over the following spring.
+
+Joe was happy at such times, when she could make him leave business
+alone. And although he had many relapses, when night after night he
+would sit by the table planning more horrible "junk for the Bronx," with
+an inner smile she saw how often her husband scowled at such labour now.
+She heard of changes in the office.
+
+"We 're still building junk," Nourse confided one day, "but it isn't
+quite as bad as before. Joe wants the money just as hard, but he's
+plainly jarred by some of the jobs. He even fought his press agent last
+week!"
+
+One night Joe suggested awkwardly:
+
+"Suppose we try Bill Nourse again. Let me bring him home to dinner, I
+mean. He isn't especially cheery, God knows--but he seems so damnably
+lonely this fall."
+
+"Very well, dear--if you want to," she sighed. She had told Nourse to
+hint he was lonely.
+
+When Nourse came to dinner that Saturday night, Joe was surprised and
+delighted at the way his partner seemed to get on now with his wife.
+The visit indeed was such a success that it was not long before Joe
+proposed bringing home "an old pal of mine--fellow named Dwight." To
+this, too, Ethel assented, and when Dwight arrived one night she greeted
+him very graciously.
+
+"I feel as though I knew you," she said. "I've heard Joe talk of you so
+much."
+
+To Joe's delight they got on like old friends. And when Dwight spied
+the piano there and learned of her interest in music, he insisted on
+trying her voice, and was loud in his praise of its promise. Before he
+left, it was arranged that she should come to his studio and take
+lessons twice a week. Openly his pupil now, she could speak of him to
+Joe, and he came to dine with them often.
+
+
+How smoothly things were working out. If there were any cloud upon the
+horizon it was the occasional presence of Amy's old friend, Fanny Carr.
+Fanny had been abroad through the summer, but in October she had
+returned. She had come to see Ethel several times, in the same
+determinedly friendly way; and Nourse reported that she was going
+frequently to see Joe at his office about her eternal money affairs.
+And the fact that Joe never spoke of it only made the matter worse. For
+Joe still had his money side, and Fanny knew how to flatter him so. He
+still had his loyalty to his first wife, and Fanny so cleverly played to
+that. "And he likes her, too--clothes, voice, perfumery and all!" Ethel
+would declare to herself in anger and vexation. Oh, these women who
+used sex every minute! how could men be so easily fooled?
+
+"You can't change a man in a minute," she thought. "Remember Amy had
+him five years." Amy had planted so deep in him the feeling that money
+is everything; she had got the fever into his blood. And Fanny was
+there to keep it alive by her flattery of his money success. And for
+Ethel, even still, it was decidedly unsafe to criticize Joe in some of
+his moods. As autumn changed to winter, these moods grew much more
+frequent. What was worrying him? She couldn't find out. She sent for
+Nourse and asked him, "What's going on in the office?"
+
+"The press agent is pushing him hard," was Nourse's gloomy answer, "for
+that row of patriotic atrocities up on Riverside Drive." Ethel squirmed.
+
+"But he won't!" she cried. "He couldn't!"
+
+"Oh, yes he could," Joe's partner growled. "There's so much money in
+it!"
+
+"If he puts that through I'm done for!" Ethel told herself that night.
+"His name will be a perfect joke--among all the people I want to know!
+And they'll all keep away from us as though he were running a yellow
+journal! And then her friends will crowd about--because we'll be so
+rich, you see! Oh, damn money! Damn! Damn!"
+
+She was lying sleepless on her bed, and Joe was sleeping by her side.
+She sat up now and looked at his face in the dim light from the window.
+
+"If you get very rich," she thought, "and middle-aged and very fat in
+body and soul, get to care only for building 'junk' and for going about
+with Amy's friends--I wonder what would I do then." Again the words of
+young Mrs. Grewe came up in her mind: "You can get out whenever you
+choose." She frowned. "But there are the children. And besides, I love
+you, Joe--yes, more than ever, and in a queer way! I'm fighting for
+what I love in you, but at the same time I love you all--every bit of
+you!" Breathing quickly now, she sank back on her pillow, and there she
+soon grew quiet again. "So we'll fight it out once and for all. You've
+got to drop this plan of yours." One evening that same week when Nourse
+had come to dinner, she led the talk by slow degrees to that other plan
+of Joe's--the one with terrace gardens. Soon she had Nourse talking
+about it, and seeing her husband grow morose she grew cheerily
+interested.
+
+"Oh, I'm very dull, I suppose," she said at the end with a quizzical
+smile, "but I'm afraid I can't get it clear. Couldn't you draw it?"
+Nourse smiled at this, for he saw what she was driving at.
+
+"No, I'm poor at that," he said.
+
+"Then, Joe, you sketch it out for me."
+
+Joe put down his paper and began in surly fashion. But as he sketched
+more and more rapidly, she saw the thing take hold of him. With little
+exclamations and questions Ethel drove him on. She thought it a
+fascinating plan but the details puzzled her still, she said, and the
+rough sketch he had drawn was very unsatisfactory. She begged him to
+draw it on a large scale, and he set out to do so. But his hand was
+inexpert. Although once the most brilliant designer in town, for years
+Joe had stuck to the business side, and his hand had grown clumsy, his
+memory cold. Ethel had known of this from Nourse. And now probing by
+her questions as to details here and there, with Nourse helping at her
+side, she revealed Joe's weakness to himself. A scared angry look came
+into his eyes. Stubbornly he worked on and on, but the thing would not
+come as it used to!
+
+And this revealing process continued until Nourse with masculine pity
+dropped out of the torturing and went home. But Ethel gently encouraged
+Joe, and in his dogged persistency he kept at it half the night. The
+more tired he grew, the worse was his work. And again and again, as she
+glanced at his face, she saw that frightened look in his eyes. It
+almost brought the tears in her own, but steadily she kept thinking:
+
+"I'm scaring him badly, and that's what he needs. For years he has been
+telling himself that first he would make money and then he would work
+out his ideals. But he's frightened now. He's wondering if he has put
+it off too long?"
+
+Pitilessly she goaded him on. Then at last she relented and began to
+persuade him to go to bed. How white and haggard and queer he looked.
+Again a lump rose in her throat. Soon she was saying quietly:
+
+"I should think that some day, dear, you'd want to go back to Paris and
+work."
+
+He made no answer.
+
+But in the weeks that followed, she dropped this thought again and again
+into his mind. Paris, study, work, old dreams--she played these against
+his business, against Amy and her friends and the flattery of Fanny
+Carr, against that odious press agent and the plan for Riverside Drive.
+
+"Has he turned it down?" she inquired of his partner.
+
+"Not yet," was the answer. "It's still in the air.
+
+"I wish this were over," Ethel thought. Joe's face had grown so queer
+and drawn that sometimes as she looked at him a sickening dread stole
+into her mind. "Is he really too old?" she asked herself.
+
+One Saturday night when he came home, with a sudden leap of compassion
+she saw what a day he had been through. "But he is through! Something
+has happened!" she thought. And she treated him very tenderly--both
+because of the state he was in, and more perhaps because she knew how
+bad it would be for both of them if he had decided against her.
+
+"How has the work been going?" she asked. He looked at her almost with
+dislike.
+
+"For a month," he said, "you've been trying to make me give up that
+Riverside scheme." He paused, and her heart was in her mouth.
+
+"I haven't said so, have I?"
+
+"No--you haven't said so," he growled.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It's off. I've dropped it."
+
+She started to embrace him, but saw at once it would be a mistake.
+
+"Thank you, Joe," she said softly, and went into the nursery. It was so
+dark and quiet there. She had a cry.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+The next morning Emily Giles returned from a visit back in Ohio.
+
+"How have things been going?" she asked. "Very well indeed," said
+Ethel, with a scarcely perceptible smile. She and Emily understood each
+other, though very little had ever been said.
+
+"Mr. Lanier still working hard?"
+
+"Yes, poor dear," said Ethel, "but it has been so good for him." And at
+that a look of grim relish came on Emily's sallow face.
+
+"You know I'm getting to like this town," she remarked with a genial
+air. "I wonder what'll the winter be like?"
+
+"Oh, I think we'll do nicely, Emily. I've quite a few plans in my
+head."
+
+"I'll bet you have," said Emily. And she went to don her "uniform."
+
+In these days, again and again a sense of being just on the eve of
+something very exciting gave Ethel a new zest in life.
+
+One day in the hall downstairs she came upon young Mrs. Grewe. Ethel
+gave a little start and then swiftly reddened. And she saw the young
+widow smile at that, and it made her annoyed with herself for having
+been so clumsy. "I'll show her I'm not such a prude," she thought. And
+having learned that Mrs. Grewe had taken another apartment here, Ethel
+went to see her--with a safe little feeling that Mrs. Grewe would have
+too much sense to return the call. This would end it--pleasantly.
+
+The visit was a decided success. Mrs. Grewe was back from Europe
+sooner than she had expected--for reasons she did not explain. "And now
+I'm looking about," she said, "for another old lady from Boston. I rent
+a new one every year." Ethel stayed for tea. For nearly eight months
+she had had no woman to talk to, but Fanny Carr and Emily Giles. And
+she found it very pleasant to be chatting here so cosily. Not that she
+meant to keep it up. This sort of woman? H'm--well, no. But on the
+other hand, why not? After all, New York was a very big city.
+
+"I'm never going to shut myself up in one little circle of people," she
+thought. "I mean to keep rubbing up against life."
+
+There was an added pleasure, too, in the vague warm self-confidence
+which the young widow gave to her. "You can take care of yourself, my
+dear," said Mrs. Grewe's small lustrous black eyes.
+
+"Well? Is he treating you better?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," said Ethel.
+
+"He's very wise." They smiled at each other.
+
+"He's becoming quite sensible," Ethel said.
+
+"And have you found those friends you wanted?"
+
+"They're in sight," was Ethel's answer. Her hostess smiled good
+humouredly.
+
+"You won't be able to keep me," she said. "He won't stand that--"
+
+Ethel knit her brows.
+
+"He'll stand a good deal," she answered, "when once I know where I stand
+myself."
+
+"In the meantime you'd better leave me alone."
+
+The two parted in affable fashion.
+
+"There," thought Ethel in relief. "I got through that rather nicely. I
+needn't go again, of course."
+
+She had started out for a brisk walk, and she drew a deep breath of the
+frosty air. The air in New York was often so--gay! And Mrs. Grewe had
+given her such a feeling of independence. She saw a man turn and look
+at her--the beast! But she smiled as she hurried on toward the Park.
+
+Still, the brief visit had been rather daring. Joe would not have liked
+it at all. He would have been perfectly furious!
+
+"However!" She walked briskly on. "What's the difference between Mrs.
+Grewe and his own dear friend, Fanny Carr?" she asked. "Nothing
+whatever--except that Fanny, so far as we know, has taken the trouble
+with each man to have a wedding and a divorce. The only other
+difference is that Fanny has no taste at all, while Mrs. Grewe has
+heaps of it! And she reads things--even Shaw; and she likes good music,
+too. She is going tonight to 'Salome.'" . . . For a moment Ethel let
+her mind run over all the operas she herself was going to hear, and the
+concerts, and the plays she would see and the dinners she would go to,
+the talks in which she would take part. She could see herself--just
+scintillating! . . . With a jerk she came back to Mrs. Grewe. "Oh,
+I guess it isn't very defiling to turn to her from Fanny Carr! I'll do
+as I please!" she impatiently thought.
+
+Still, it had been rather daring. It fitted in exactly with several
+talks she had had of late with Dwight, her music teacher: talks in which
+each one of them had taken rather a challenging tone that had grown
+distinctly intimate. One night when Joe was out of town she had gone
+with Dwight to the opera. And she had not mentioned it to Joe--not that
+she felt guilty at all, she had simply dropped it out of her mind. In
+love with her husband? Yes, indeed. And let Dwight or any other man
+try to go the least bit too far--"As Fanny doubtless does with Joe," she
+suddenly added to herself. For a moment she walked viciously. Then she
+thought again of Dwight. He had told her she really had voice enough
+with which to go on the stage if she chose.
+
+"Though I hope you won't," he had added.
+
+"Why not?" she had asked. In reply he had hinted at perils that made it
+all sound rather thrilling.
+
+"Joe wouldn't like it," Dwight had said.
+
+"I might sing in concerts--"
+
+"Joe wouldn't like it."
+
+"Oh, bother Joe!"
+
+Dwight had smiled a bit. "I wonder what you will do," he had said, "if
+Joe flivvers!"
+
+"If he what?"
+
+"Flivvers--drops back and makes money--turns to those other friends of
+his."
+
+"He won't do that." But her voice had been tense, for the intimate
+feeling in Dwight's tone had made her a bit uneasy.
+
+"Well," he had told her in a low voice, "I'm a friend of Joe's, you
+know, and I don't propose to play the cad. But if you and Joe ever
+should have a break--don't drop me, too. Do you understand?"
+
+She had hesitated a moment upon just how to answer. Her heart had
+pounded rapidly.
+
+"That isn't going to happen," she had told him gravely.
+
+"Sure of that?"
+
+"Yes, and you would be--if you understood me better."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I'm in love with that husband of mine for life," she had informed him
+impressively.
+
+"You're very old-fashioned," he had smiled.
+
+"Not at all!"
+
+"Suppose I understand you better than you do yourself?"
+
+She had glanced at him, seen the gleam in his eyes as he had drawn
+closer. And then very suddenly she had found it hard to breathe. What
+to say to stop him?
+
+"At this moment," she had nearly gasped, "you appear to me so
+very--fat!"
+
+That had bowled him over--naturally! In the next few moments the
+atmosphere had become chilly and depressed, and with a sudden rush of
+shame the certainty had grown upon her that she had made a fool of
+herself, that he had meant to do nothing at all. And from blushing
+furiously she had turned a little white, and had said to him:
+
+"Please forgive me. I didn't mean that. I was--just a silly fool.
+Let's go on with my lesson."
+
+"Now that I've learned mine, you mean."
+
+And then regaining control of herself she had turned upon him quickly:
+
+"Oh, be sensible, for goodness' sake! How are you and I to be friends
+if you act like this, you silly boy? You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself!"
+
+So she had got out of that all right, and had felt tremendously
+relieved. It was not only that she liked the man, he was besides her
+only hope, the one who could bring friends to her. "Women friends!
+That's what I need!" All this was so unsafe at times. Her husband's
+business, his two sides, Fanny Carr and her scheming, Dwight and his
+blue, twinkling eyes, Mrs. Grewe and her smiling good-fellowship--were
+all very nice and exciting. But safe? Oh, by no means!
+
+But today as Ethel walked on through the Park, she smiled to herself
+expectantly. For Dwight had promised the next week to bring Sally
+Crothers to see her. "If only I can get on with her! She's my kind--I
+know she is--she's just exactly what I want. I don't want to be
+anything wild--not Mrs. Grewe nor Fanny Carr. I want to be myself,
+that's all, and happy with my husband!"
+
+She turned abruptly toward her home. "In the meantime I am going back
+to give the baby his bath," she thought. She glanced at the watch on
+her gloved wrist. And a man who looked like a detective, or a villain
+in the "movies," looked after her in an envious way.
+
+"Who's her date with!" he wondered.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+The days dragged by. She had anxious times. What would Sally Crothers
+be like? "And what in the world will she think of me? If she doesn't
+like me--very much--the very first time, I'll have lost my chance. For
+she's busy, her life is full of things--planning gardens and running
+about with her friends. And she won't so much as bother her head!"
+Ethel felt a dismal sinking. In vain she strove to assure herself.
+Joe, Nourse and then Dwight, one after the other, had all bowed down
+before her. "Oh, that was very simple!" she thought. "They're only
+men!" It would be a woman this time, and one of the most brilliant kind.
+"What a dull little fool she'll find me, in spite of all I do or say!"
+It would be all the more difficult because Mrs. Crothers was older.
+"That will count against me. No doubt she's beginning to show her age;
+and I'm young, and she doesn't want any young things to come snooping
+about her husband! Then there's Amy and the quarrel they had, and
+she'll put me and Amy in the same class! I'll have all that to fight
+against!" The idea of settling everything all in one brief encounter.
+Oh, it was too maddening!
+
+"Now, Ethel Lanier, for goodness' sake stop fidgeting like a nervous old
+maid! This isn't the minister coming to call!"
+
+On the day before the expected call, Ethel was just on the point of
+going out for the afternoon to do some shopping and shake off these
+silly fears, when the telephone rang and a few moments later the maid
+came in and told her there was a visitor downstairs. In an instant with
+a rush of excitement Ethel knew it was Sally at last. Dwight, in his
+easy, careless way, had mixed his dates and was bringing Sally a day
+ahead! How stupid of him! "What have I on?"
+
+"Did she come up?" she breathlessly asked.
+
+"No, Mrs. Lanier, she's waiting below."
+
+"Did she give her name?"
+
+"Yes--Mrs. Carr."
+
+"Oh." Ethel gasped and sank down in a heap. "All right, ask her to come
+up," she said, in a tone of indifference.
+
+When the maid had gone, she almost called her back. She did not want to
+see Fanny Carr. Still--why not? Oh, let her come. And in the two or
+three minutes that followed, Ethel passed from a mood of depression to
+one of easy good-natured contempt. She was no longer afraid of Fanny,
+for Ethel was getting Joe in hand. "And as soon as I do," she
+reflected, "and my husband makes a name as an architect doing great big
+things, what harm can Fanny do me?" As she thought of the brilliant
+people who were so soon to be her friends, she looked upon Fanny Carr
+and her like with no more hatred but only compassion. What stupid lives
+they were leading.
+
+And so when Fanny came into the room Ethel received her kindly.
+
+But Fanny rather smiled at that. She looked a bit seedy as to her
+dress, and yet she had a confident air. She took in the fine clothes of
+her handsome young hostess, and Ethel's very gracious air and the almost
+pitying tone of her voice--and then with a hard little smile, "My, what
+a change," said Fanny softly. Ethel frowned at her tone. This might be
+rather awkward.
+
+"You mean this way of doing my hair?" she rejoined good-humouredly. "I
+was hoping you would notice it."
+
+"Does he?" asked Fanny.
+
+"What do you mean? Oh, Joe never--"
+
+"No. Dwight, my dear." The hard voice of her visitor had become
+suddenly low and clear. Ethel looked at the woman then and slowly
+reddened to her ears. And the consciousness of blushing made her all
+the angrier.
+
+"What on earth do you mean!" she demanded. Her voice too was very low,
+and it trembled only a little; but there was a glint in her brown eyes.
+Fanny gave a tense little laugh.
+
+"Look here," she said. "Don't let's waste time. Joe may be coming
+home, you know, and we must get this over first."
+
+"We'll soon get it over." Ethel's voice was shaking ominously. Fanny
+noticed and spoke fast.
+
+"Well, then, it's just this," she said. "You've made up your mind to
+cut Joe off from all his old friends, including me. And I might have
+stood for that--"
+
+"How kind!"
+
+"If I hadn't learned of the raw deal you're giving him. Strip him of
+friends and then treat him like this? Oh, no, not if I can help it!"
+Plainly Fanny was working herself into a rage to match that of her
+hostess.
+
+"You'd better be very clear, Mrs. Carr," Ethel exclaimed, leaning
+forward. Her visitor looked straight back at her, and answered:
+
+"Very. I mean Dwight."
+
+Ethel rose abruptly.
+
+"That will be enough, I think."
+
+"Oh, will it?"
+
+Ethel wheeled upon her:
+
+
+"What a--loathsome mind you have! Will you leave me, please!"
+
+"No, I'll show you this. And then we'll get to business." And Fanny
+produced a large envelope, from which she took out a few typewritten
+pages. "Just look these over," she advised, "and then tell me whether I
+shall go." And as Ethel hesitated, "You'd better. They're very
+important."
+
+Ethel took them and read them, and as she did so her rage and scorn
+changed first into bewilderment and then into a sickening fright She
+felt all at once so off her ground. She had always heard of detectives
+and their reports of shadowed wives, but that sort of thing had just
+been in the papers and had never seemed very real. "This is about me!"
+she thought. It told of every meeting she had had with Dwight, in his
+studio and in other places, once at the Ritz where they had dined and
+gone to the opera, twice in the Park where they had walked. Such clean
+times, all three of them, but how cheap and disgusting they now
+appeared! For here were bits about Dwight's past, his record with
+women--two were named. He had been a co-respondent once! And his
+studio was described in detail, with emphasis on a big lounge in one
+corner! . . . Suddenly it was laughable! And so she laughed at
+Fanny! And Fanny replied:
+
+"You mean he won't believe it!"
+
+Ethel went on laughing. Joe wouldn't believe it. She wished he would
+come and turn this woman out on the street. She felt relief
+unspeakable.
+
+"You've forgotten," Fanny added, "that you lied to him about your
+friend."
+
+"How dare you say that?"
+
+"Because I have the facts. On the second of December Joe brought Dwight
+to dine with you, and you acted as though you'd never met. I gathered
+that from Joe himself when I saw him the next day. While the truth of
+it was you'd been seeing Dwight ever since the first of October."
+
+"Yes? That will be easy enough to explain." But Ethel felt herself
+turning white. She sank down and thought, "Now you'll need all your
+nerve. Don't get faint, you've got to think clearly." But she was not
+given time.
+
+"And all that had been going on while you were supposed to be home with
+the baby." Mrs. Carr leaned forward briskly. "Now the thing for you to
+do is exactly what I tell you. But before I do that, there's just one
+thing I wish you to understand about me. If you want to keep Joe, keep
+him. I don't want him--I never did. I've laughed at you again and
+again for what you thought I was trying to do. All I want is to be let
+alone to go on with Joe as I always have. What I mean by that you won't
+understand, because you don't understand my life. A woman like me in
+this city needs one man who'll be her friend--the big brother idea--to
+help and advise her, carry her through when she's down a bit. And Joe
+has always been like that.
+
+"Why? Because of Amy. When she first came to New York, you remember,
+it was on a visit to me. I had known her back in boarding school.
+Well, the visit lengthened out. I saw how crazy she was for the town,
+and I was fairly well off then, so I let her stay and gave her a
+home--let her meet my friends, Joe included. I had a husband at the
+time who was in the real estate business. He knew Joe. So I took Joe
+and handed him over to Amy. And though she would have been glad enough
+to forget the debt, Joe wasn't that kind. So that's my hold on
+him--perfectly clean and above-board. And I need him in my business.
+There are times when I'm down and need his money, other times when I
+need his name. But that is all. And if he has been fool enough to
+marry a giddy young girl like you, that's his own look-out--I won't
+interfere. I mean I won't interfere with you so long as you don't
+interfere with me. You let me go on with Joe as before, and he'll never
+see these papers."
+
+With a sudden fierce impulse, in spite of herself, Ethel crumpled them
+up in her hands.
+
+"Don't be a fool," said Fanny. "They're only copies. Give them back."
+Ethel did so, mechanically. "Now what will you do? Which way will you
+have it? He may be here any minute now."
+
+She waited, but got no reply. She saw the girl shiver a little.
+
+"What's the use of being so solemn and scared?" she impatiently asked.
+"You're running no more risk than before. So far as I'm concerned, my
+dear, you can go right on with Dwight if you wish. All I'm asking is a
+square deal."
+
+"But she'll ask and ask," thought Ethel. "She'll ask of me anything she
+wants. And she'll get me so tangled in other lies that then I wouldn't
+have even a chance of making Joe see how things really are."
+
+This thought cleared her mind a little.
+
+"No," she said. "You can tell him."
+
+"What!"
+
+Ethel looked down at her hands in her lap, and noticed how tightly
+they were clenched. She smiled at them.
+
+"Tell him."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+Ethel nodded.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+"She's uneasy," thought Ethel, "and disappointed--not sure of herself.
+I've done the right thing."
+
+But as in almost perfect silence they sat waiting for Joe to come home,
+her decision wavered again and again, and it took all her courage to
+hold herself in. She made occasional trite remarks, and received
+replies of the same kind. On them both the tension was growing.
+
+"This means everything to you, too, Fanny, dear!" Ethel reflected
+viciously. "If Joe believes me--you're done for!"
+
+At each slight stir that Fanny made, Ethel hoped she had lost her
+courage and was getting ready to go. But Fanny stayed And as she sat
+there motionless, what a strong figure she grew to be, moment by moment,
+in Ethel's eyes--strong in spite of the life she led, of clothes, rich
+feeding, drinking, dancing, old age swiftly coming on. Strong
+nevertheless, in an odious way, in the loathsome point of view of her
+world toward love and marriage. It had set her to prying and handed her
+here--with these papers in her hands! That was her way of looking at
+life, and a mighty strong way it appeared!
+
+Suddenly Ethel's eye was caught by Amy's photograph on the table. By
+degrees in the last few months Joe had ceased to notice it there. But
+how he would notice it now, very soon, as soon as he'd read what Fanny
+had brought. For Amy had taught Joe long ago to be jealous, never too
+sure of a wife.
+
+"So Amy is here again, after all. . . . I wonder what I shall say to
+Joe? . . . Oh, rubbish! Use more common sense! All I've got to do
+is to make him see why I never told him about Dwight. It was only part
+of that plan I had. But what a fool! Oh, what a fool!"
+
+When at last Joe's key was heard in the door, both women leaned slowly
+forward, as though the strain were unbearable. And then as Joe came
+into the hall, Fanny said suddenly, sharp and clear:
+
+"No, I won't keep quiet! Joe has got to be told of this!" Ethel wheeled
+on her:
+
+"How odious!"
+
+"I can't help it--he's my friend!"
+
+And the next moment, with Joe in the room, both women were talking to
+him at once--angrily, incoherently, almost shoving each other away. But
+only for a moment. It was too disgusting! Ethel left off and stood
+rigid there, while Fanny talked on rapidly. She was speaking of how
+Ethel had cut off Joe from Amy's friends. Ethel heard only bits of
+this, for it all seemed so confused and unreal. But she noticed how
+nervously tired he looked, all keyed up from his day at the office. She
+remembered that his partner was out of town on business, that Joe had
+been running the office alone. "He will be hard to manage," she
+thought. He interrupted Fanny in a sharp, excitable tone.
+
+"What's it all about?" he asked.
+
+"It's time you saw where you stand, Joe Lanier. Look at this girl. I
+don't blame her, God knows. Look how young she is, and then look at
+yourself. Here, take a look at yourself in that mirror. Are you still
+young? Can't you see the lines, the gray hairs, Joe? They're
+coming--oh, they're coming! Can you supply all the love she wants?"
+
+"Fanny?" he snapped out her name in so ugly a voice that she lost no
+time. She shoved those papers into his hands and began to tell him what
+they were. But Joe refused to read them and grew each moment angrier.
+
+"Joe!" cried Fanny sharply. "When you brought Dwight to dinner here, he
+met your wife as though for the first time. Did you know they had been
+friends for months?" And at his startled look, she added, "If you
+didn't, you'd better read all this!" There fell a sudden silence.
+
+"I'll explain everything--when we're alone," Ethel managed to put in.
+How queer and thick her own voice sounded.
+
+Now Joe had gone into the hall with Fanny. Curtly he said good-night to
+her. The door closed, and there was silence again. Why didn't he come?
+He must be standing there in the hall trying to get hold of himself.
+Oh, how terribly hurt he must feel! But she checked the sudden lump in
+her throat. "Remember now--just common sense!" This was a time for
+keeping clear! But Joe had come back into the room, and passing the
+gilt mirror into which Fanny had told him to look, he stopped a moment.
+
+"Don't do that, Joe!" In an instant, in spite of herself, her love for
+him rose up in a wave, with fear and pity and anger, too. She came to
+him, and her voice was shaking. "Oh, Joe--Joe! Can't you see it's all
+lies? It's so loathsome--every word! And so cheap--so cheap and mean!"
+
+As she spoke, his eyes were rapidly scanning the report he still had in
+his hands. Again she noticed how tired he was. He looked up at her:
+
+"I know it is! But why didn't you treat it like that? Why did you try
+to make her keep quiet? Weren't you trying, when I came in?"
+
+"No! No! It was just her odious trick--her pretending!"
+
+"Pretending? How about you? Why did you pretend, when I brought Dwight
+here, that you'd never laid eyes on him before? Had you or hadn't you?
+Careful, now! Fanny says it is all here!"
+
+"I'll explain in one word!"
+
+"What's the word? Say it, please--and for God's sake clear this up!"
+
+She was breathing hard, frightened, her mind in a whirl. Oh, to be able
+to think clearly! Use a little common sense!
+
+"Just a minute!" she gasped. "You'll see in a minute--"
+
+"I see a good deal! It's right in your eyes! What are you looking so
+scared about! And what did she say about my being old! I am old--and
+you're young, young! And a beauty--just the kind for Dwight! Don't I
+know of his love affairs? Wasn't he at it way back in Paris? Hasn't he
+been--ever since?"
+
+"Be careful, Joe," she cried angrily. But in his condition, nerves on
+edge, he paid no heed and went rapidly on:
+
+"I'm just a business man! And you've made me feel your contempt for all
+that! And he's a musician, he's different--he has exactly what you
+want! So you went to his studio twice a week--for months and
+months--without letting me know--although he was a friend of mine! And
+you went to the Ritz and the opera! And then I brought him here to
+dine! God, how you two must have smiled at each other--when I wasn't
+looking!"
+
+"Joe! Joe!"
+
+"You lied to me, didn't you, when he came! You say you'll explain it in
+a word! Well, what's the word? I'm waiting!"
+
+"There isn't any!" Her face was white. "I don't care to explain to you
+now!" she cried. He looked at her. She could see he was trembling, and
+she nearly changed her mind. But her anger came again. "I won't!" she
+thought. "Not tonight!"
+
+"Then you and I are through, you know," he said very huskily. He turned
+and went into the hall, and a moment later the outer door closed. Ethel
+sat down and stared blankly.
+
+"I acted like an idiot!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+As she sat there she grew furious with herself for having bungled so.
+Why hadn't she explained to him? Why hadn't she simply told him her
+plan for giving him back his friends? All at once she could hear
+herself saying what she should have said to Joe:
+
+"I may have been wrong about it, Joe, but I thought the best way to
+bring you back to all the things you used to love was to let you think
+_you_ were doing it. So I let you and Dwight come together alone. I
+kept in the background, as I did about getting you into that club of
+yours. I was afraid to show my hand." On and on she talked to him. Oh,
+how simple and convincing, strong, and sensible and true. "Why didn't
+you say it, you little fool? You acted just like a scared young girl
+found out in doing something wrong!" She was ready to cry, but checked
+herself. "At least don't be a baby now. What are you to do about it?"
+She bit her lip. Now it was too late. She had made it worse--a hundred
+times! All at once she rose and began to walk. "Oh, rubbish!" she
+thought, impatiently. "You're not to give up, when everything else in
+your whole life was going so perfectly splendidly! . . . Why, of
+course. That's it. I'll call up Nourse, and have him come and explain
+to Joe how I went to him at the very start."
+
+With a swift feeling of relief Ethel went to the telephone.
+
+"Mr. Nourse is out of town."
+
+"Oh, yes. Thank you. I'd forgotten. When do you expect him back?"
+
+"Not until the end of the week."
+
+As Ethel hung up the receiver she felt a little faint and queer. When
+Joe came back this evening she would have to face him alone! In vain
+she angrily told herself that it only needed common sense. The picture
+of his tired face, nerves all on edge, rose in her mind. The way his
+jealousy had flared up! No, it would not be easy! She might even--fail
+with him! At the thought, a foolish panic came. More walking was
+required. . . . She heard Susette beginning her supper, and she went
+in and sat with the child. And at first that worked out very well.
+Soon she was smiling and listening to the ceaseless chatter of the small
+girl. But suddenly Ethel exclaimed to herself, "Suppose I do fail,
+after all! If there's a divorce he'll take them both!" She jumped up in
+a frightened way, and went into her bedroom. She threw herself sobbing
+on the bed--but in a few minutes regained control with an effort and lay
+there motionless. The tangle was growing clearer now.
+
+The very best she could hope was to make Joe half believe her, she
+thought. And that would mean she would have to drop Dwight and all
+chance of meeting those people he knew. She would live with a Joe so
+suspicious that she would be under his friend, Fanny Carr. "She'll be
+my friend, and bring me in touch with whatever other people she likes.
+I'll have to be nice to them--every one. And I'll live her life. Amy's
+life." She looked at the large photograph over on Joe's chiffonier.
+"Perhaps after all I shall be like her. How do I know what she was at
+my age? As I grow older, all hemmed in, why not stop caring for
+anything else?
+
+"Oh, now do let's be sensible!" With an impatient movement of her lithe
+beautiful figure Ethel was up off the bed and walking the room with grim
+resolution in her brown eyes. Soon she was much quieter. She felt the
+warm youth within her rise. There must be a way! So far, so good. But
+the moment she tried to think what way, again at once she was off her
+ground. What could she do or say to Joe? Her failure to manage him
+that afternoon had shaken her confidence in herself. Ethel was only
+twenty-five, and now she felt even younger than that. All at once in a
+sickening way her courage oozed; she felt herself ignorant and alone.
+Why did not Joe come back, she asked. Was he going to stay away all
+night? And if he did, what would it mean? She remembered what he had
+said when he left: "Then you and I are through, you know." All right,
+then what was he going to do! "I don't even know how a man goes about
+it, if he wants to get a divorce!" And panic seized her as before. "I
+can't do this all by myself! I can't talk to him as I've got to
+talk--not till I know just what to say! I bungled it so! I need sound
+advice! Oh, for somebody to help me!" She thought of Dwight, but she
+would not go near him! She loathed the very sight of him now! Why had
+not he told her of those other affairs of his that could rise in this
+way against herself? Why had he allowed her to do those few little
+daring things, which looked so cheap and disgusting in the detective's
+typed report? And besides, if she did want to see him, could she,
+without being watched by some wretched detective? For the whole town
+seemed bristling with detectives and police. And the city of New York
+felt cold. As she lay on her bed, a sudden gay laugh from a
+neighbouring window recalled to her mind that night long ago, her first
+in New York, when she had listened excitedly and thought of all the
+stories here, both sad and comic.
+
+"Well, I'm a story now," she thought. "And I suppose I'm comic!" The
+angry tears rose in her eyes. Oh, for a real friend! There was Emily
+Giles, of course, but this was Emily's night out; and besides, in
+matters of this kind she would be worse than useless. "What I need is a
+woman who knows this town--and all its ways--and what to do!" As the
+evening drew on and still Joe did not come, again and again she felt
+ready to scream. And though she savagely held herself in, each time was
+harder than the last.
+
+"Something has simply got to be done!" she told herself after one
+outbreak like that. Then all at once came the recollection of young
+Mrs. Grewe downstairs. "I must have some one or I'll go mad!" And she
+hurried to the telephone. But in the hall she stopped and frowned.
+"No, I won't call her up," she thought. "That inquisitive telephone
+girl downstairs would begin to gossip about it at once." For the same
+reason Ethel did not take the elevator. She ran quickly down two
+flights and rang at Mrs. Grewe's door. There was silence. She waited
+some moments, then rang again. "Oh, she's out--I know she is!" The
+thought brought a sickening empty feeling. She would have to face this
+night alone!
+
+But abruptly the door opened, and a sleepy startled maid looked at her
+in dull surprise.
+
+"Is she out tonight? Is Mrs. Grewe out?" Ethel asked impatiently.
+
+"Yes--she's out," the girl replied.
+
+But glancing behind her Ethel saw a high hat and an overcoat on a chair,
+and with a quick little "Oh!" of dismay, she turned and hurried away
+down the hall. She heard the maid's chuckle behind her. "Oh-h!" She
+could feel her cheeks burning. And when she got back to her bedroom
+upstairs, out of the shame and humility rose a fierce anger which downed
+all her fears at the thought of this night or of anything else. "I'll
+never be like her!" she exclaimed. "There'll never be a high hat in my
+hall at this time of night--nor a Boston old maid--nor a snickering
+telephone girl downstairs! Never! I'll make myself ugly first! For
+I'm not like you, I'm not like you! I've had a child, to begin
+with--and I'm going to keep him, he's mine!"
+
+There came again a period of swift determined thinking. And at last
+with a quick thrill of relief she remembered Mrs. Crothers was coming
+with Dwight to call the next day. Sally Crothers--Joe's old friend!
+"If she believed in me--really believed in all that I was trying to
+do--she could give me just the advice I need! It may be I'm just
+silly--and she could give me her common sense! She might even talk to
+Joe herself--and make him realize my whole plan! If only I can get her
+to help me!"
+
+Ethel went at once to her desk and rapidly wrote a note to Dwight,
+saying she thought it would be better to let Mrs. Crothers come alone.
+
+"For I could do nothing, with him around. And I've got to do
+everything!" she thought as she folded the envelope.
+
+
+In the morning she heard from Joe. When a messenger came with a note,
+she tore it open and read this:
+
+"Please give this man my suit-case and put in what things I need. I
+shall stay here at the club awhile--it will be better all around. I am
+sorry for the scene I made and I don't want another. If you have any
+real explanation, send me word and I will come. But understand it has
+got to be real. If it is not we can't go on. I guess you see that."
+
+She read it again. Then glancing up at the messenger, who was plainly
+curious at the expression on her face, she frowned at him impatiently.
+
+"Will you wait downstairs!" she said. "It will take some little time to
+find the things my husband wants."
+
+Rid of him, she began again and read the letter with desperate care.
+Yes, Joe was trying to be fair. To have said he was sorry for that
+scene was rather decent in him. "Oh, yes, but he'll make another!" she
+thought. "Don't I know how he is--all tired and nervous and unstrung?
+If my explanation doesn't seem real he'll fly up and leave me, and then
+we'll be through!" She clenched the letter and told herself that her
+explanation must be real. It was her one chance--she must take time,
+and get good sensible advice. Joe had Fanny Carr about. That was
+certain. She'd never leave him alone. She was busily bolstering up her
+side. And Ethel needed somebody, too, on her side--right behind her.
+Sally Crothers--Joe's old friend!
+
+She packed Joe's things and sent them to him with a little letter: "I am
+glad you said you were sorry, Joe, for the way you acted was very
+unfair. You are quite right in waiting now--it is better for both of us
+to cool down. But my explanation is simple and real--as you will see.
+I shall send for you in a few days. I love you, dear. I love you."
+
+After that, she spent hours in anxious reflection. Now about Sally
+Crothers, she thought. Should she tell her the trouble she was in? No,
+not at once. New Yorkers hate trouble and always fly from it--so she
+must lead to it gradually. "When she comes I've got to make her like
+me--very much--so much she's surprised!" To begin with, looks--for looks
+did count. That much of what Amy had said was true. "But what I must
+do is not to look like her. Sally Crothers detested her, and I've got
+to overcome all that. I must show her I'm quite different." For a time
+Ethel's mind dwelt on details. It must all be so simple, yet not too
+severe. "For Sally is gay, I understand. What I want is to look
+halfway between Mrs. Grewe and Emily Giles. Black? No. Dark blue,
+with that old Rhinestone pin. Wave my hair? No, that's Amy again!"
+
+But from such thoughts about her dress, or her tea table, flowers, the
+lights in the room, her mind kept darting anxiously off. All this was
+nothing! What should she say? "It's a woman of brains who is coming to
+call. Think of all she knows--and she earns her living--she has a
+profession of her own! How in the world shall I talk to her? She
+thinks me like Amy--there's Amy again! Oh, Amy, Amy, I don't want to
+hate you! You helped me once, you were dear to me, and you had heaps
+and heaps of good points! But please, please stop coming up in my life!
+
+"Don't get into another panic, my dear. When she comes you must be
+natural. Your natural self--that always counts. Don't try to show off
+what you haven't got. Show her only what you have. Make her feel
+you're young and ready to learn--half mad to learn! No, that won't
+do--not mad, but keen for everything--interested in her life--in all she
+does and thinks and feels." She frowned. "No, that's too personal. And
+you can't be personal in New York--not very--they don't like it here.
+Every one's too busy. You must be interested in things--the town in
+general--music--books--people in a general way.
+
+"'Here's the kind of a girl who will grow,' she must say, 'and who is
+worth my taking up!' But will she! Now here's that panic again! And
+can't you see, you little goose, this is just what may spoil everything?
+If you're scared, you'll lose! You've got to keep cool every minute
+she's here! Who is this Sally anyhow? What has she done that you won't
+do when you're as old as she is? . . . Yes, but don't you strike
+that note! No woman likes to be reminded that she is ten years older
+than any other woman on earth. She'll put me down as a cute young thing
+who has a dangerous way with men. Dwight has praised me to her, of
+course--but she'll put his liking down to that--the--the--the sex side!
+I must show her it isn't, that I've got more, that I don't want men but
+women now! But not too hard or eager, you know. Oh, I must watch her
+all the time, to see if I'm getting any hold. And then, the minute I
+see my chance, I must tell her my trouble--no, my big chance--all I was
+just on the point of doing with Joe, and could do now--if only I had her
+for a friend!"
+
+Such thinking was spasmodic and often disconnected. Thoughts of Joe
+kept breaking in, and of what she should do if she failed with him.
+And again, putting down with an effort all such thoughts and fancies,
+she took Susette and the baby and went out for a walk in the Park. It
+was one of those balmy days that come in winter now and then, and Ethel
+sat down on a bench for a while.
+
+But then she looked around with a start. Who was that on a bench
+nearby? A fat man with a black moustache, his derby hat tipped over his
+forehead, and his two small piggish eyes morosely and narrowly watching
+her. A detective--working for Fanny Carr! Ethel angrily rose and
+called to Susette and wheeled the baby carriage away. But just as she
+passed the fat man, a small fat boy ran up to him.
+
+"Say, Pa," whined the urchin. "Buy me a bag of peanuts."
+
+"Like hell I will," the fat man growled.
+
+And Ethel blushed. How absurd she had been!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+In reply to her note, Dwight had telephoned that Sally would be there at
+five. Mrs. Crothers arrived at a quarter past. She was a small alert
+looking woman of thirty-five, slender, almost wiry, dark, with black
+hair worn over her temples. Her small mouth was strong and willful, but
+she had nice pleasant eyes. She was wearing a pretty tan hat and grey
+furs that she put back on her shoulders as she smiled and held out her
+hand.
+
+"I'm so glad to meet you at last, my dear."
+
+"Oh, thank you," said Ethel quickly. And then, because that sounded too
+grateful, she added, "Won't you sit down?" in rather a stilted little
+voice. This woman made her feel so young. "Now don't act like a
+school-girl!" With an appearance of lazy ease she turned and poked the
+small logs in the fire. "I do so love wood fires. Don't you?" she
+said, in carefully easy tones, but she did not hear the answer.
+
+Mrs. Crothers was wearing a trim street suit of brown and dark green.
+"She dresses as I do, so _that's_ all right," thought Ethel. "She's
+taking me in. So much the better. I'll do the same." And as they
+talked, she kept throwing glances at the dark face, rather narrow, the
+small and rather mischievous mouth, amid the grey eyes which looked as
+though they could be so very good-humoured and friendly. But with a
+little pang of dismay Ethel saw that these eyes were preoccupied and
+only half attending. "She has a hundred things on her mind, and she's
+asking, 'Now let's try to see if there's really anything here worth
+while.'" The preliminaries were already over. That part at least had
+gone smoothly enough. "We're off!" thought Ethel excitedly.
+
+"How will you have your tea?" she asked.
+
+"Clear with lemon."
+
+"One lump or two?"
+
+"Three or four."
+
+"Oh, how funny," Ethel laughed. And then she reddened. "You little
+goose," she exclaimed to herself, "why did you say, 'how funny'?" She
+poured the tea with a trembling hand and proffered it with a plate of
+cakes and small toasted crumpets, dainties she had purchased with care
+at a smart little shop in the neighbourhood. And meanwhile she was
+answering the questions, pleasant but searching, though thrown out in a
+casual voice.
+
+"Yes, my home was in Ohio. Such a dear old town," she said. But the
+next moment she bit her lips, for she had come so near to adding, "I
+wish I were back this very minute!" What was her visitor saying? She
+frowned and leaned forward attentively. Something about a small town in
+Vermont and the funny local politics there. "Where is she leading by
+that remark?" Oh, yes, suffrage! That was all right!
+
+"Yes, indeed," declared Ethel eagerly, "I'm for suffrage heart and soul!
+I marched in the parade last Fall! Wasn't it glorious? Were you
+there?"
+
+"Yes, I marched--"
+
+"With the gardeners?" Ethel blushed again. "Landscape, I mean!" And her
+visitor smiled.
+
+"Yes, with the gardeners," she said. "There were only four of us, but
+we felt like the Four Hundred." Ethel giggled excitedly.
+
+"Wasn't it glorious?" she exclaimed. "You ninny!" she thought. "You
+said that once!" And she hastened to add, "And isn't it perfectly silly
+for men to try to keep us from marching?"
+
+"You mean your husband doesn't approve?"
+
+"Approve!" Ethel echoed with a sniff. "I'd like to see him disapprove.
+I have him in fair control, I think." And she knitted her brows in an
+eager way, for this was a chance to tell how she had done it.
+
+"How long have you been married!" her visitor was asking.
+
+"Let me see. Four years? No, two," she replied, with a quick smile.
+"Time does so fly along in this town!"
+
+"It does indeed. It seems hardly any time at all since the days when
+your husband and I were friends."
+
+"Oh, yes, he has often told me about you!" And Ethel shot a swift
+anxious look. "I know you don't like him," she wanted to add. "But if
+you'll only give me a chance I'll show you what I have made of this
+man--or was making, at least, till all of a sudden right out of the
+clouds there dropped a fat detective!" She laughed at the thought and
+then grew rigid. How silly and pointless to laugh like that! Mrs.
+Crothers was telling now of the old group down about Washington Square,
+and Ethel was listening hungrily.
+
+"What gorgeous times you must have had," she exclaimed, "in those old
+days!" The next moment she turned crimson. "I've said it now. 'Old'!
+I knew I should!" She caught Sally's good-natured smile and felt again
+like a mere child.
+
+From this moment on she would take care! She avoided personal topics,
+and growing grave and dignified she turned the conversation from Joe to
+music, concerts, the opera, "Salome," "Louise." She carefully showed she
+was up to date, not only in music but in other things, books she had
+discussed years ago in the club of the little history "prof," and others
+she had been reading since--Montessori, "Jean Christophe." Hiding her
+tense anxiety under a manner smooth as oil, she talked politely on and
+on, and she felt she was doing better now. So much better! No more
+stupid breaks or girlish gush, but a modern intelligent woman of parts.
+And a glow of hope rose in her breast. A little more of this, she
+thought, and she would be ready to break off, and with a sudden
+appealing smile take her new friend into her confidence, tell of her
+trouble and ask for advice.
+
+But the smile came from her visitor. Mrs. Crothers had risen and was
+holding out her hand. And as Ethel stared in dismay at that smile,
+which displayed such an easy indifference to her and all her view of
+life, her only woman friend in New York said:
+
+"I'm so sorry I've got to run. I hope you'll come and see me."
+
+From the door in the hallway Ethel came back in a sort of a daze--till
+her eye lit on the blue china clock on the mantel.
+
+"Seventeen minutes!" she exclaimed. And then after one quick look
+around, she flung herself on the sofa in tears. "I bored her! How I
+bored her! How stupid I was, and comic--a child! And then solemn--too
+solemn--all music and art--and education and--how in the world do I know
+what I said? Or care! I hate the woman! I hate them all! Seventeen
+minutes! Isn't that just like New York?"
+
+But from this little storm she soon emerged. Grimly sitting up on the
+sofa, she reached out a hand icy cold, took the tea-pot and poured out a
+cup. It was strong now, thank Heaven! And frowning gravely into space,
+Ethel sat and drank her tea.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"Now the one thing," she told herself, "is to keep your nerve and be
+sensible. For this may decide your whole life, you know. . . All
+right, what next? What's to be done?
+
+"I hate Sally Crothers," she began, "but I may go to see her,
+nevertheless. She asked me to. Didn't mean it, of course, she was
+plainly bored! No, I won't do it! I loathe the woman! . . . All
+right, my dear, but who else can you go to? Mrs. Grewe? She's
+doubtless at home--but there may be that detestable hat, tall, rich and
+shiny, in her hall. It looked as though it owned her soul! No,
+thanks--not yet--not for me! . . . Though she told me you soon get
+used to it. . . .
+
+"Well, how about going back to Ohio, to the little history prof, and
+hating all men--one and all! That sounds exceedingly tempting! . . .
+I won't do it, though--because if I do, it means I'm beaten here--and
+I'd lose Susette and the baby!--. . . Quiet, now. . . . And then
+there's Dwight. He will probably call up soon and ask how Sally and I
+got on. I could go to him this very night! How perfectly disgusting!
+And yet it's just what Joe deserves! What right had he to believe that
+of me? . . . Now please keep cool. If I go to Dwight I become
+exactly like Mrs. Grewe--and I'd have to give up the children.
+
+"No, it's back to Joe on my knees, to beg him to let me stay right here.
+And I'll succeed--I know I will! But won't I be under Fanny's thumb?
+And won't I take back Amy's friends? Like a good repentant scared
+little girl! And eat their rich meals and chatter as they do, and dance
+and grow old--and push Joe on to make more money--more and more--so that
+I can get fat and soft--like the rest of these cats!"
+
+Again her face was quivering. But with an effort controlling herself,
+she went into the nursery. And on the floor with her wee son, slowly
+rolling a big red ball back and forth to each other, soon again she had
+grown quiet, almost like her natural self. She took supper alone, and
+then read a novel, page after page, without comprehending. An hour
+later she went to bed, and there lay listening to the town--to its
+numberless voices, distinct and confused, from windows close by and from
+the street, and from other streets by hundreds and from a million other
+homes, and from the two rivers and the sea--voices blurred and
+fused in one. And its tone, to Ethel's ears, was one of utter
+indifference--good-humoured enough but rather bored with "young things"
+weeping on its breast.
+
+"Be Mrs. Grewe, if you like," it said, "or Sally Crothers or Fanny
+Carr. Or go back home to your history prof. Each one of these things
+has been done before by so many thousands just like you. Nobody cares.
+You have no neighbours. Do exactly as you like."
+
+"Thank you very much," she said. "I choose to be Sally Crothers first.
+And if that fails--well, between Fanny Carr and Mrs. Grewe there isn't
+much choice. Do you think so?"
+
+"Oh, no," said the city. And it yawned. But Ethel lay there thinking.
+
+"Excuse me," she spoke presently. "Sorry to annoy you again--but is
+there any God about?"
+
+"None," came the sleepy answer. "Do as you like, I tell you."
+
+She opened her eyes and sat up in bed.
+
+"Now I've been getting morbid again! For goodness' sake let's try to be
+healthy and clear about this!"
+
+And she tried to be. But for some time she made little headway. It was
+easy to grimly shut her teeth and resolve, "I've got to do this by
+myself, talk to Joe and simply make him believe me!" But as soon as she
+came to the details of what she should say to her husband, his face as
+she had seen it last--worn and nervous, overwrought--kept rising up
+before her. Could she convince him! "It's my last chance!" If only she
+knew how to go about it! She wanted to be heroic and face this crisis
+all alone--but she had been alone so much. Tonight it seemed to Ethel
+as though she had struggled alone for years. Was it all worth while,
+she asked herself. She could feel her courage ooze again. Her thinking
+grew vague and uneven. . . . And more and more the picture rose of
+the woman friend she had counted on having--Sally Crothers, who was so
+clever, an older woman who knew New York, knew what to do in such
+tangles as this, knew Joe, had known him back in that past which Ethel
+was trying to raise again. And it was exasperating! "If I could only
+get at her!" she thought.
+
+Carefully, almost word by word, she went over in her mind her talk with
+Mrs. Crothers that day, in order to find out her mistakes.
+
+"Do you know what I think?" she said at the end. "I think in the first
+part you did pretty well. You made breaks and were clumsy, and she was
+amused--but she rather liked you, nevertheless. At least you were a
+novelty. But then you went and spoiled it all by making solemn fool
+remarks about the world in general. And thereupon Sally arose and went.
+. . . All right, next time I'll be different. I won't be solemn, nor
+afraid of saying anything incorrect. In fact I'll revel in it! She
+asked me to come and see her, in a tone which added, 'Don't.' But I'll
+be incorrect right there. I will go to see her; and what's more, I'll
+go tomorrow afternoon! And I won't call up first, for she'd say she was
+out. I'll get into her house and get her downstairs--and I'll break
+right through all smoothnesses and tell her exactly how and why I've got
+to have a woman friend! I'll give you the chance of your life, Sally
+Crothers, to throw out the life-line!
+
+"If you don't I'll--just swim about for awhile. No use in thinking of
+that, though."
+
+And suddenly she fell asleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+Mrs. Crothers lived in a small brick house on a side street close to
+Washington Square. As Ethel looked out from her automobile, how dear
+and homey it appeared, with such a quiet friendly face. "Now for the
+plunge." She went up the low steps and rang the bell. Thank Heaven it
+was a rainy day, for when the maid came Ethel went right in, and the
+rain made that seem natural. At least no door had been shut in her
+face. She wanted to get inside this house!
+
+"Is Mrs. Crothers at home?" she asked. The maid was not sure. Ethel
+gave her a card and was shown into a long cosy room with an
+old-fashioned air, where a small coal fire looked half asleep. She
+began to look around her. The walls were lined with book-shelves, with
+only a picture here and there. No wall-paper. "How funny." She frowned
+and added, "But it's nice." There was but little furniture, and plenty
+of room to move about. "What a love of a mirror." It was of gilt, and
+it reached from floor to ceiling between the two front windows. Gravely
+she looked at herself in the glass. "Oh, I'm not very excited."
+
+The maid reappeared, and said, "Mrs. Crothers asks you to excuse her.
+She's sick with a headache this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, what a lie!" thought Ethel. She stood for a moment irresolute, her
+heart in her mouth. "I will, though!" she decided, and took out another
+card. "Then take her this little note," she said. And she wrote: "I
+know I am being quite rude--but if the headache is not too severe
+will you see me just for a little while! I would not bother
+you--honestly--but it is something so important--and it must be settled
+today." It took two of her cards, and even then it was horribly crowded
+and hard to read. "Never mind," she thought. "That's as far as I'll
+go. If she can't read that I'm done for!"
+
+The maid had taken the message upstairs.
+
+"Now I've done it, I've gone too far. I'm done for--oh, I'm done for!
+Well, look about you, Ethel, my love--it's the last look you'll ever get
+at this room! How dear it is, what taste, what a home. Books,
+pictures, a piano of course--and the very air is full of the things that
+have been said here after dinner, over coffee and cigarettes, by all the
+people you want to know. Not rich nor 'smart' like Newport--just people
+with minds and hearts alive to the big things that really count, the
+beautiful things! . . . Good-bye, my dears--you're not very kind."
+
+"She'll be down in a moment," said the maid.
+
+"Thank you!" Ethel had wheeled with a start; and again left alone, she
+stood without moving. "Well, here you are--you've got your chance! And
+how do you feel? Plain panicky! Never mind, that's just what will
+catch her attention! Be panicky! Oh, I am--I am!" And her courage
+oozed so rapidly that when her hostess came into the room, and with a
+smile that was rather strained, said "I am so glad to see you--" the
+girl who confronted her only stared, and suddenly shivered a little.
+Then she forced a smile and said, "How silly of me to shiver like that."
+
+"Come here by the fire and sit down." Mrs. Crothers' voice was suddenly
+kind. "Now tell me how I can help you," she said.
+
+"Thank you. Why, it's simply this. I've had trouble with Joe, my
+husband--just lately--in the last few days. And the trouble is so
+serious that--it's my whole life--one way or the other. At least
+it--certainly feels so! And I have no women friends I can go to.
+They're all his--hers, I mean."
+
+"Hers!"
+
+"Yes. My sister's. She is dead--but very much alive at times--through
+the friends she left behind her. I've been fighting them all my life,
+it seems--ever since I married Joe!"
+
+"Why were you fighting them?" Ethel frowned:
+
+"Because they--well, they were all just fat--in body and soul--the
+women, I mean--and the men were just making money for food and things to
+keep them so. Do you know what I mean--that kind of New Yorker?"
+
+"I do," said Mrs. Crothers. "Was that the cause of your trouble with
+Joe!"
+
+"Partly--yes. You see when I tried to shake them off, they wouldn't be
+shaken--they hung on--because Joe was growing rich all of a sudden. Oh,
+I got pretty desperate! But then I learned of other friends that Joe
+had had here long ago--before he married _her_, you know. And I hunted
+for them--one by one. I could feel they were just what he needed, you
+see. I mean that back among such friends I hoped he'd stop just making
+money and get to work--on things he had dreamed of! You understand?"
+
+"I think so--but not fully. Go on in your own way, my dear. Don't try
+to think. Keep talking."
+
+"Thank you. I was in love with him. There was nobody else, man, woman
+or child--except Susette. She was Amy's little girl. You see, Mrs.
+Crothers, when Amy died I was there--I had just come to town. So I
+stayed with Joe to look after Susette. Then later on I began to feel
+that he was beginning to care for me. And I didn't like that--on Amy's
+account, for I worshipped her then. So I broke away and took a
+job. . . . Oh, what in the world am I getting at!"
+
+"Don't try to think. Just tell me. You took a job. What was it?"
+
+Ethel told of Greesheimer, and then of coming back to Joe, of his
+poverty and of her nursing Susette, of dreaming of children, of falling
+in love, of marriage and the birth of her boy.
+
+"But all the time Amy had been there. Do you understand! Like a
+spirit, I mean! She had Joe first! She had shaped him!"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"And so when he loved me even more, I do believe, than he ever loved
+her--still he did the thing she would have wanted. Amy had taught him
+to show his love by loading money on his wife. And that was what
+started everything wrong. For he got rich--for my sake--and the money
+brought Amy's friends back in a horde! Oh, now I'm repeating! I've
+said all that--"
+
+"Please say it again! You're doing so well!" Ethel told about Fanny and
+the rest. "I tried to like them--honestly! But I simply couldn't!" she
+cried.
+
+"Why couldn't you? Tell me plainly just what it was you wanted."
+
+"What I wanted? Plainly? Oh, dear--I can't exactly--"
+
+"What kind of people?"
+
+Ethel frowned.
+
+"Not just eaters!" she exclaimed. "I wanted men and women who--well,
+who were seeing something big--and beautiful and real in life! Life is
+so hard and queer in this town--so awfully crowded and mixed up--and
+empty, somehow. You know how I mean? But they see something in it all.
+Not clearly--it's way off, you know. And they're busy of course, and by
+no means saints. They have their worries and their faults and
+pettiness--they're human, too, But they're looking for something really
+worth while! Oh, I can't express it--I really can't!"
+
+"Oh, yes you can, you've done quite well," said Mrs. Crothers steadily.
+"And now to narrow this down to Joe, you wanted him to be like that--in
+his work and so in his life with you. Was that it?"
+
+"Yes! And he used to be! You must know that!"
+
+"Yes--I knew that. Your husband and I were once very good friends."
+
+"That's it, and I guessed it!" Ethel cried. "I was making wild guesses
+in the dark. And at last I put my finger on his partner, and we had a
+talk. It was a talk, a hard one--but I made him believe me in the end.
+And he told me a little about you--and I wanted to meet you, oh, so
+much! But he seemed to be out of touch with you, so he took me to Mr.
+Dwight instead. I had always wanted to sing, you know--and the rest of
+it--well, Mr. Dwight must have told you."
+
+"Only a little," was the reply. "I don't yet fully understand. How did
+all this bring trouble with Joe? It's something serious, you said--"
+
+"It's something very nasty." And Ethel began telling of Fanny's
+revelations. In the midst of it the door-bell rang.
+
+"One moment." And Sally went into the hall. "Whoever it is, say I've a
+headache," Ethel heard her tell the maid. "The same old headache,"
+Sally remarked as she grimly pulled the portieres. They waited in a
+tense little silence till the visitor had gone. "And Alice," Sally
+called to the maid. "If any one else comes, say I'm out." She turned
+back to Ethel, smiling:
+
+"Suppose you stay to supper. I'll telephone my husband to dine at his
+club--and we'll go right on with this talk of ours. We'll go on," she
+added determinedly, "until we have Joe so in our toils that he'll be
+yours so long as he lives."
+
+Ethel suddenly sniffed and swallowed hard, and said, "Oh, what a dear
+you are to me!"
+
+Sally looked at her queerly.
+
+"This is to be a talk without tears, but much good sensible planning,"
+she said. "I don't blame you a bit for having been frightened--you've
+been through an ugly time. But I think with a little common sense--"
+
+"I know," said Ethel, "that's just what I need. And that is why I came
+to you."
+
+"Thank you," Sally smiled again. "Now go on about Mrs. Carr."
+
+The talk went on, with interruptions for supper and Sally's two small
+children, far into the evening. And Mrs. Crothers did her
+share--filling in for Ethel the picture of Joe's old life, his work and
+dreams, and his first marriage. She told of several meetings with Amy.
+And all the time she kept watching, probing into this young second wife,
+skilfully raising Ethel's hopes, her vivid freshness and her youth, her
+hunger for a life she saw only in dazzling glimpses.
+
+"Do you want my advice about meeting Joe! Then here it is," she said at
+the end. "I needn't say don't go on your knees--"
+
+"You needn't!"
+
+"I thought so--you're not that kind. And I wouldn't explain too much
+about Dwight, and those little things you did with him. Make Joe take
+you on faith or not at all. Have a long talk and make him listen--don't
+give him a chance to say a word. Talk right on and give him the picture
+of his two wives, and then let him choose--between letting you go, while
+he takes her friends, or dropping them and keeping you and finding what
+he had before. I can help you in that--but before I do, I think you've
+got to lay a ghost. She's in the way of everything. She has been in
+your home long enough. And her strength is the fact that you and Joe
+never mention her name to each other. I wonder if you realize how great
+a danger that has been. At any rate I'm very sure that you must break
+the silence now. It has been like a spell between you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+The next afternoon she sat waiting for Joe. She had come home the night
+before feeling so strong and sure of her course. But beginning at the
+moment when she came into the empty apartment, subtly and by slow
+degrees again her home had cast its spell, as though the rooms were
+haunted. "I've got to lay the ghost," she thought. She had telephoned
+to Joe to come, and he had replied abruptly, "All right, I'll be there
+about four o'clock." It was just that now. Ethel poked the logs in the
+fireplace until there was a cheerful blaze. As she straightened up she
+caught sight of her face in the mirror over the mantel. Even in the
+firelight how gaunt and strained it looked to her.
+
+"Not very attractive," she grimly thought. "This has got to be done by
+brains, my dear."
+
+In a moment she heard Joe's key in the door. She heard him taking off
+his coat and then coming slowly into the room. With an effort she
+turned and looked at him. His face appeared even more tense and grey
+than it had two days before; the nerves seemed quivering under the skin.
+And she felt a pang of pity. "He wasn't to blame for the way he acted,
+it was his wretched nerves," she thought. "He'll have a break-down
+after this."
+
+"Well, Ethel!"
+
+"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad you're here." All at once she felt herself change.
+She had meant to be so firm with him; but now, after one quick anxious
+look, in a low eager voice she said, "I'm not going to talk much of
+myself. It won't do any good--I'm sure it won't. I love you, Joe, and
+I can see you still love me. We need each other. And if we can just be
+sensible now--and you can only believe in me--"
+
+"God knows I want to, Ethel!" His tone was low, but so sharp and tense
+that she drew suddenly closer. He turned from her and sank into a
+chair, with his hands for a moment pressed to his eyes. "I'm sick of
+this--I'm not myself. Maybe I acted like a fool. . . . Some of that
+stuff from Fanny Carr doesn't hold together--it's too thin." He looked
+up at her. "But some of it does. And what you'll have to clear up now
+is why you never let me know."
+
+"The reason I didn't," she answered quickly, "goes way back into the
+past. And it's not only about you and me--it's about--about somebody
+else." She stopped and her throat contracted. She set her teeth. "We
+must talk about Amy for a while."
+
+There! At last she had brought it out! And she had seen her husband
+flinch. For a moment both were silent.
+
+"Why!" he asked. She swallowed hard.
+
+"Because we never have before. We've--gone two years without speaking
+her name. I had no idea how bad that might be." She broke off, for her
+voice was trembling so. "I don't know how much you've learned in that
+time--about Amy, I mean--but I've learned a lot, and--I think I'd better
+tell you. I must, you see, or you won't understand what I've been doing
+lately. I couldn't have explained before, without speaking of her--and
+I didn't do that. But I should have, Joe, and I will now--if only
+you'll be patient and let me do the talking."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Some of it goes so very far back." She leaned forward with a queer
+little smile: "Amy was good to me when I came--and I had always
+worshipped her--I thought she was nearly everything. She made me feel
+how she--loved you, Joe--she had ambition, urged you on. But--oh, I've
+got to try to be clear. What kind of ambition was it, Joe! What did
+you have before you met her? How did you used to look at your work!
+You were coming up to do big things--but you married her and your work
+all changed. You threw over ideals to make money for her. And when
+your partner tried to hold you, Amy tried to break up the firm. Didn't
+she? Don't you remember?" She waited, but he did not speak. "How hard
+it is for him," she thought, "to admit a thing against her. This won't
+be easy." But she felt a little thrill of pride in him.
+
+"So Bill has been talking, has he," he said.
+
+"Yes, I made him." She went on. "Amy set herself against him--and
+against all your other old friends. Not at first--I want to be fair to
+her, Joe--don't think I'm blaming just her for all this. I'm sure that
+at first she was different--she wanted your friends to take her in.
+Remember those dinners you took her to, and that week-end party up in
+Vermont!"
+
+Joe looked at her sharply:
+
+"Who told you that?"
+
+"Sally Crothers," said Ethel. "She was there."
+
+"Sally Crothers? You know her!" he demanded. She smiled at the
+startled look on his face.
+
+"Why, yes," she replied "You see I've been hunting so hard for you, Joe,
+among those friends you used to have. And I did it without ever letting
+you know. Dwight, too--he was only one of them." She frowned, and added
+briskly, "Just incidental, so to speak. But I don't care to talk of him
+now--I'm speaking only of Amy. And from what Sally Crothers has told
+me, poor Amy must have had some hard times. They weren't fair to her.
+If they'd given her time and a real chance, everything might have been
+different. But they didn't, they turned her down. And feeling hurt and
+angry--and feeling besides how she'd have to grow--in her mind, I mean,
+and her interests, to take any place among people like that--I think she
+hesitated. You might have helped her then, perhaps--but you didn't--and
+Amy was lazy, Joe--that had always been a part of her. So she wouldn't
+make the effort. Instead of coming up to you, she made up her mind to
+pull you down!"
+
+"That isn't true!" he said harshly. "And if you've been taking for
+God's own truth what Sally Crothers told you--"
+
+"Stop! Please!" cried Ethel eagerly. "I didn't mean what I said just
+then--I put it badly--oh, so wrong! She didn't say, 'I'll pull him
+down.' She told herself your friends were snobs! And she said, 'I have
+friends who are human, and they're quite good enough for me!' So she
+went on with Fanny Carr. And others came, the circle grew. And it was
+all done day by day, and week by week. It happened--and you never knew.
+Nor did she. It was all so natural. But within a year she was going
+with people, and so were you, who cared for nothing you had
+wanted--women with no growth at all. They were all--oh, so common,
+Joe!"
+
+"That's a bit snobbish, isn't it?"
+
+"You can call it what you like! But I say you can find them all over
+town--richer and poorer, better and worse--women who want only common
+things--just clothes and food and what they call love--with not a wish
+that I can see except for money to live like that! I'm no prig, Joe! I
+want pretty clothes, and I want to be gay and have nice things. But you
+can get all I want of that and still get what is so much more!" Her
+voice dropped; she hurried eagerly on: "Real work you love and which
+makes you grow, and friends that keep you growing! Ideas and things to
+know about--and beauty, music, pictures--the opera--books and people,
+plays--and buildings! The new library--the station--the--the tower down
+on Madison Square! Your work, Joe! And your old friends! Men and
+women who really think and feel--not just alive in their bodies! I
+don't know much about all that. Do you, these days! Mighty little!
+Because she kept you away from it!"
+
+"No!" But she caught the uncertain look in his eyes.
+
+"Are you so sure? Why didn't she ever go to Paris? She must have been
+dying to go there and shop, but she never let you take her there. She
+was afraid to let you go near it again--the Beaux Arts work, the student
+life--afraid that you'd get thinking! So she kept you here and away
+from your friends. She even kept Crothers out of your firm. You
+partner fought her hard on that--and you held out--until one day
+Crothers came to your office and told you he had changed his mind. You
+remember?"
+
+"Yes--"
+
+"Did he give you his reason!"
+
+"Yes--he did--"
+
+"Did he bring Amy into it!"
+
+"He did not--"
+
+"He should have, Joe. For just the afternoon before, Amy had made a
+call on his wife--and had said things insulting enough so that her
+husband had to break off!"
+
+"Sally told you that!"
+
+"Why should she lie?" Ethel threw a quick glance into Joe's eyes. "He
+believes it!" she thought, and hurried on: "I've talked to her, Joe, in
+a way that was bound to get the truth. Oh, I've been hunting hard for
+you, dear! If Fanny Carr had told her detectives to follow me
+everywhere I've been, and not just hunt for the nastiness that was in
+her own mind about me--they could have shown what a hunt it has been! I
+had so little time, you see! You were all in the balance--you'd waited
+so long! Even now you've found you can't draw the plans--the ones you
+used to dream about! I know because I made you try! And I went to
+Nourse, to your old friend Dwight, and then to Sally Crothers--and asked
+them all to help me. And as I went on and learned about you as you used
+to be, I fell in love all over again with the man I found--not Amy's
+husband--mine, all mine!
+
+"And I had almost got you back--when Fanny Carr, with her nasty view of
+me and what I was doing, brought you those perfectly rotten reports?
+And if you believe them, Joe, I'm through! Go to Nourse or to Sally
+Crothers, and they'll tell you I have spoken the truth. If you won't
+believe either them or me, go on alone without me--or else marry Fanny
+Carr. But if you do believe me and we're to go on together now, you'll
+have to drop Fanny for good and all, and leave Amy way behind. You'll
+have to take up your old friends and try to get Crothers into your firm.
+You may think your business is yours and not mine--but if it's my life,
+it's my business, too! It's like four walls around me now, and I want
+to break out and so do you--away from mere money! I've watched you,
+dear--seen what a struggle has gone on inside of you--it has worn you
+out! haven't you made money enough? Let's leave it, go to Paris, and
+get to work before it's too late for you to get back what you had! And
+if there's no money, never mind. It will come later on--but don't let's
+be afraid if it doesn't. Don't let's be afraid of pain--of fighting
+hard and suffering, Joe! I want more children! I want you! I want you
+mine, all mine, my dear--not her husband. Don't you see?"
+
+She had been eagerly leaning toward him. Joe was staring into the fire;
+the look in his eyes had frightened her and made her hurry to be
+through.
+
+"What is it?" she asked. And she waited a moment. "Don't you believe
+what I've told you, Joe?"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I believe all that. I believe a good deal more than
+that." There was a little silence, and then suddenly he reached for her
+hand, held it tight and smiled into the fire in a twitching sort of way.
+"I haven't been quite as blind as you think. I've seen a good deal of
+what you were doing. But--" he frowned--"I'm older than you are. I
+know this job of mine clear through--way back to those dreams you spoke
+of. I've had some hard mean tussles about it--lately--and that's my
+only excuse for acting like a damn fool as I did--the other day. No use
+in talking of that any more--or of--Amy either. She's--dead."
+
+"Joe!" Ethel whispered. Tears came in her eyes. He went steadily on:
+
+"She had some fine points--you'll never know. There were things we
+needn't talk about now. But you've made me see things, too. I don't
+think she'll be in the way any more--I think we'll be able to speak of
+her."
+
+"Of course! We must! I want to, dear!" Ethel's voice was shaking.
+
+"Not now." With an effort he rose. "There's something else to worry
+about. You don't quite know me yet, you see."
+
+"What do you mean?" She had risen, too, and caught his arm. "You're not
+well, Joe! You're white as a sheet!" He laughed a little.
+
+"I'm not quite right. Something wrong in here, I guess." He pressed one
+hand to the base of his brain and scowled as though it hurt him.
+"Nothing serious, probably. But before it goes too far, I want you to
+know that when I get well I'm going to have a try at all that--the work
+you spoke of. I'm going to try--_but I may be too late! I may be older
+than you think!_" The tone of his voice was sharp and strained. "I
+don't know," he said. "The doctor may. About him--that's another
+point! It's a nerve specialist we need! Telephone your doctor and have
+him send one here tonight! I'm sorry, Ethel--damnably!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+She got him to bed. The specialist came, and when he had examined Joe he
+had a talk with Ethel that left her very frightened. After that came
+days and nights, when Joe, as, though in delirium, said things in a
+jumble which revealed to her the inner chaos he had gone through in the
+last few weeks. He talked of Amy loyally, even pleading for her at
+times, excusing her. And he talked of Ethel in many moods. Now he was
+angry at her interference; again he saw her side of it, and then his
+love for her would rise. More often still, he talked about work, and
+here again the struggle went on. Money, money, money--figures,
+calculations, schemes and rivals, heavy chances. But suddenly all this
+was gone, and in a pitiful anger at his own futility he would storm at
+himself for not being able to put on paper his early dreams.
+
+But the weeks dragged by, and at last she felt he was coming back to
+sanity. With his partner, then, she conspired to take Joe over to Paris
+in April, to stay for a year if he would agree. And as part of the
+conspiracy, Ethel had several meetings with Nourse and Sally Crothers,
+in the hope of bringing Sally's husband into the firm to be there in
+Joe's absence. This was far from easy, for Crothers naturally held
+back; he did not care to commit himself until he knew that Joe would
+agree. And whether Joe would agree or not was by no means certain.
+Watching him as his health came back, Ethel wondered how he would be
+when he returned to the office. How much of what he had said to her,
+the first night of his illness, had come only from a mind keyed up? How
+much of his promise would he remember? Men sick and men well are in
+separate worlds. She could not speak of it to Joe, for the doctor had
+forbidden it.
+
+At the end of another month, however, Joe was up and about again; and
+soon, in spite of the doctor's instructions, he was back at his office
+hard at work. This of course looked ominous. What was he doing? She
+could not discover. For his partner, over the telephone, was far from
+satisfactory. Now that he had Joe back again in that beloved office of
+theirs, his manner toward Ethel seemed to her to be gruff and
+unfriendly, to say the least. "Stand-offish to the last degree--as
+though he believed he could handle Joe all by himself!" she thought in
+annoyance. At last she sent for him one day and gave him quite a piece
+of her mind; and although not fully successful, she at least made him
+acquiesce in the plan she and Sally had concocted for a little gathering
+to take place one night the following week. It was nearly seven o'clock
+upon the evening in question; and in her room, at her dressing-table,
+Ethel was completing her toilet. They were going to dine with the
+Crothers', and Joe was nervous about it.
+
+"Come on, Ethel, hurry up!"
+
+"Yes, love, I'm almost ready now. Are you sure the car is at the door?"
+
+"It's been there nearly half an hour!"
+
+"That's good. Just a minute more."
+
+As he angrily lit a cigarette, she looked in the glass at him and
+smiled. "How he dreads it, poor dear," she was thinking, as he strode
+into the living-room, "meeting Sally and all his old friends." She
+frowned. "Heaven knows I dread it myself. What am I going to say to
+them all? And suppose they don't care for me in the least? . . .
+Well, it will soon be over." Presently Joe popped in at the door:
+
+"Look here! If you're not dressed enough--"
+
+"I'm all ready now," was her placid reply. "Don't you think I look
+rather nice?"
+
+"Oh, yes. You'll do."
+
+"Thank you, dear. Aren't you going to kiss me!"
+
+"No! Yes! . . . Now come on!"
+
+She threw back her head and laughed at him.
+
+
+"It's beginning so well," murmured Sally to Ethel, as they went in to
+dinner. "Steady, my child."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right!" was the reply, and Ethel smiled excitedly. The
+chorus of exclamations that had greeted Joe and herself had been so warm
+and gay and real. There had been no time for awkwardness. In a moment
+after their entrance, the hubbub of talk and laughter had gone right on
+as though nothing had happened. At table it continued still, and she
+felt herself borne along on the tide. She looked at Joe, who was on
+Sally's right, and she thought he was doing exceedingly well. And as
+for these old friends of his, as she rapidly scanned their faces, they
+looked far from formidable. On her left side Sally's husband, a tall
+dark creature with nice eyes, was telling her about the men--two or
+three writers, an architect and a portrait painter rather well known,
+whose pictures she had read about. She had already learned from Sally
+what the women did with themselves. They worked, they went to women's
+clubs, they dined and did the social side. One of them spoke for
+suffrage, another was a sculptress, one sang, one had a baby. They did
+not look solemn in the least. Everything went so naturally.
+
+"Well, here I am at last," she thought. She kept throwing quick little
+glances about. Was it all so much worth while, she wondered. Yes, they
+were very pleasant and nice. But she had expected--well, something
+more, a kind of a brilliancy in their eyes and the things they were
+saying. For here were Art and Music, Movements, Causes and Ideas, and
+goodness only knew what else! Here were the people who really saw
+something richer and deeper in life than the sort of existence Amy had
+led--great bright vistas leading off from the city as it was today to
+some dazzling promised land. She thought of the little history "prof."
+They were so cosy about it here! She did not want them to be
+"highbrows"--Heaven forbid! But they took it all so easily!
+
+She thought of the struggles she had been through in order to get where
+she was tonight, the ardent hopes and the despairs, and all the eager
+planning. And just for a moment there came to her some little
+realization of those other women still outside, in this city of so many
+worlds, each with her particular world, her bright and shining goal, her
+shrine, and pushing and scheming to get in. She recalled the fierce
+light in Amy's eyes and the tone of her voice: "I may be too late!" Amy
+had wanted only money, and people like that. But how hard she had
+wanted it! . . . These people took it so pleasantly; they seemed so
+snug in their little group. She wondered if she would become like that.
+No, she decided, most certainly not! And suddenly she realized that
+this was only one more step in the life she was to lead in this town.
+These people? For a time perhaps.
+
+Then others--always others! That was how it was in New York.
+
+Ethel gave a queer little laugh--which at once she pretended had been
+caused by something Sally's husband had said. And she listened to him
+attentively now. "There's so much time for everything! I'm only
+twenty-five!" she thought. She turned to the painter on her right, and
+was soon talking rapidly.
+
+The moments seemed to fly away. Now they had left the men to smoke.
+But soon the men had followed them, and every one was smoking, and Ethel
+was trying a cigarette. The talk ran on, about this and that. But over
+on her side of the room, Sally had led the conversation back to Joe's
+old student days, to the Beaux Arts and life in the Quarter. Ethel
+heard snatches from time to time, and she kept throwing vigilant glances
+over at her husband's face. He seemed to be responding, with a
+hungriness that thrilled his wife. Again he would fall silent, with an
+anxious gleam in his eyes. "He's wondering if he's too old!" she
+thought, and she crossed the room and joined them.
+
+Sally was cleverly drawing him out about some of those early plans of
+his. And though awkward at first, he was warming up. In the room the
+hubbub died away. "They're listening to Joe!" thought Ethel. Joe kept
+talking on and on. Every few moments some one would break in to ask him
+something, or to raise a little laugh. Ethel tingled with pride in him,
+and with hope for the success of her scheming.
+
+Now the crucial time arrived. For one by one the guests had gone, till
+only she and Joe and Nourse remained with Sally and her husband. The
+moment for springing the great idea had come at last. Nourse was to do
+the talking. That had been arranged ahead, at a meeting of Nourse and
+the two wives. But all at once in a panic now, Ethel knew that Nourse
+would bungle it. Why had she entrusted so much to this man? Had he
+ever shown tact in his whole life? And why so soon? Oh, it had been
+rash! The evening had passed so gorgeously. Why not have waited and
+had other evenings to pave the way and make it sure! She tried to
+signal to Nourse to stop him, but he could or would not hear! Now he
+was getting ready to speak.
+
+"Well," he said, rising and turning on Ethel a curious smile, "I guess
+it's time I was going home."
+
+She stared at him in blank relief. So he had some sense about things,
+after all.
+
+
+"But look here, Bill," said her husband, "before you go, let's give
+these scheming women of ours to understand we don't want 'em to meddle
+in our affairs."
+
+"Right," growled Nourse. And a moment later the three men confronted
+two astonished wives, and Bill was gravely announcing, "We've done this
+thing all by ourselves. The firm is 'Nourse, Lanier and Crothers.' And
+from this night on we propose to do business without any interference
+from wives. Understand!" He frowned menacingly. "We settled that this
+afternoon. And the next thing we decided was that Joe packs up this
+wife of his, whether she happens to like it or not, and takes her over
+to Paris. See? And if she tries to keep him from work by yanking him
+all around to the shops--"
+
+While Nourse growled on in his surly way, Ethel slipped quietly into the
+hall--where presently Sally with one arm about her was proffering a
+handkerchief and murmuring.
+
+"Use mine, dear."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+On the night before they sailed for France, long after she had gone to
+bed Ethel came out in her wrapper into the warm dark living-room. There
+was something she had forgotten to do, and she wanted to get it off her
+mind. She switched on the light by the doorway, and looked about her
+smiling, but with a little shiver, too.
+
+The ghost was gone--or nearly so. Already the room had been stripped
+bare. Only Ethel's desk was left, and a chair or two and the long,
+heavy table with a lamp at either end. Amy's picture was still on the
+table, but it lay now on its back and looked up at the ceiling as though
+it knew it must soon depart. Tomorrow the movers would finish their
+work. Soon somebody else's things would be here, and somebody else's
+life would pour in and fill the room and make it new. Somebody else.
+What kind of a woman? Another Amy, or Fanny Carr, or Sally Crothers or
+Mrs. Grewe? What a funny, complicated town. On her return a year from
+now, Ethel had already decided to take a small house near Washington
+Square. How long would that experiment last! Doubtless in the years
+ahead she would try other homes, one after the other. "Why do we move
+so in New York!" She thought of that plan of her husband's for the
+future city street, with long rows on either hand of huge apartment
+buildings with receding terraces, numberless hanging gardens looking
+into the street below. And she wondered whether the city would ever be
+anything like that? "In New York all things are possible." . . .
+
+"However." Ethel went to her desk and rummaged for paper, pen and ink.
+Then she took out of a cubby-hole a bulky letter and read it through.
+It was the "round-robin" come again on its annual journey over the land.
+It had been in a lonely mining camp, on a cattle ranch, in a mill town
+and in cities large and small. There were many kinds of handwriting
+here, and widely different stories of the growth, the swift unfolding,
+of the lives of a new generation of women. "Girls like me." She read it
+through.
+
+Then she took up her pen and began to write swiftly:
+
+"I have been here for over three years--but it was hard to write before,
+because everything was far from clear." She stopped and frowned. "How
+much shall I tell them?" An eagerness to be frank and tell all was
+mingled with that feeling of Anglo-Saxon reticence which had been bred
+in Ethel's soul back in the town in Ohio. "Besides, I haven't time,"
+she thought.
+
+"I feel," she wrote, "as though I were just out of danger--barely out.
+In danger, I mean, of nervously dashing about after nothing until I got
+wrinkled and old at forty--nerves in shreds. I might have done that. I
+have met a nerve specialist lately--and the stories he has told me about
+women in this town!
+
+"However! I want to make myself clear. Am I a high-brow? Not at all.
+I want good clothes--I love to shop--and I propose to go on shopping.
+If you do not, let me tell you, my dears, that the men in New York are
+like all the rest--and you would soon be leading a very lonely
+existence! And I don't want that, I want bushels of friends--and some
+of them men--decidedly! I want to dance and dine about--but I don't
+want to be religious about it! Nor frantic and get myself into a state!
+
+"Well, but I did start out like that. When I came here to live--" She
+hesitated. "No, I'd better scratch that out."
+
+"Thank Heaven I got married," she wrote, "and fell in love with my
+husband." Again she stopped with a quick frown. "And I had a baby. And
+I began to find something real." Another pause, a long one.
+
+"I had quite a struggle after that. I was all hemmed in--" she stopped
+again--"by the city I found when I first arrived. But I huffed and I
+puffed and I hunted about--and at last I discovered our New York--the
+town we girls used to dream about at home in all those talks we had!
+Oh, I don't mean I have found it yet--but I've felt it, though, and had
+one good look. I dined with some people. How silly that sounds. But
+never mind--the point is not me, but the fact that this city is really
+and truly crammed full of the things we girls used to get so excited
+about--Art, you know, and Music of course, and people who make these
+things their God. The town opens up if you look at it right--and you
+find Movements--Politics--you hear people talk--you see suffrage
+parades--I marched in one not long ago feeling like Joan of Arc! And
+you find men, too, who are doing things. Big schemes for skyscrapers
+and homes! I mean that our New York is here!"
+
+Again there came a pause in the writing. Her eyes looked excited. She
+smiled and frowned. Now to finish it off!
+
+"What I want of it all I am not yet sure--for me personally, I mean.
+But there is my husband, to begin with, and his work that I can help
+grow--and his old friends. And they are not all. I keep hearing of new
+ones I must meet--and they are mixed in with all those things I have
+discovered in the town. A few of these people were born here--but most
+have come from all over the country. Sometimes I shut my eyes and
+ask--'Where are you now, all over the land, you others who are to come
+to New York and be friends of mine and of my children?'
+
+"I want children--more than one. How many I am not quite sure. That's
+another point--you decide these things." She frowned and scratched this
+sentence out. "And children grow--and the idea of bringing them up
+makes me feel very young and humble, too. But in that we are all in the
+same boat--for the whole country, I suppose, is a good deal the same.
+What a queer and puzzling, gorgeous age we are just beginning--all of
+us! I wonder what I shall make of it? What shall I be like ten years
+from now? How much shall I mean to my husband--and to other men and
+women? But most of all to women--for we are coming together so! I
+wonder what we shall make of it all? I wonder how much we women who
+march--march on and on to everything--are really going to mean in the
+world!
+
+"Oh, how solemn! Good-night, my dears! A kiss to every one of you!"
+
+
+She folded her letter with the rest, and then she quickly squeezed them
+all into a large envelope, which she addressed to Miss Barbara Wells,
+Bismarck, North Dakota. Ethel's eyes were very bright. She sniffed a
+little and smiled at herself. "Oh, don't be a baby! It's all over now,
+you know--I mean it's just beginning!"
+
+She stopped for a moment by the table, with the letter in her hand, and
+looked down at Amy's picture. "That is all any one needs to know."
+
+Her look was pitying, tender, but a little curious, too.
+
+"I wonder what you were like at my age! I wonder what you went through,
+poor dear? . . . But it's over now--all over. All we don't like
+will fade away, and you'll grow so beautiful again. Susette will love
+her mother. . . . But she won't be just like you, my dear."
+
+Ethel went slowly out of the room. At the doorway she switched off the
+light, and the bare, empty room was left in the dark. The photograph
+was invisible now. On the street below, a motor stopped; and there was
+a murmur of voices, a laugh. Tomorrow somebody else would be here.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Second Wife, by Ernest Poole
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