diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:38:54 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:38:54 -0700 |
| commit | 507698d6683c76dd0e8d5b5db89211ad66b90f30 (patch) | |
| tree | 3c86f2526a213f858372a55c20c4c1df96619164 /28590-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '28590-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/28590-h.htm | 11798 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-001.png | bin | 0 -> 601 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-068.jpg | bin | 0 -> 115644 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-230.jpg | bin | 0 -> 122541 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-328.jpg | bin | 0 -> 137586 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-emb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 4278 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 28590-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg | bin | 0 -> 138471 bytes |
7 files changed, 11798 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/28590-h/28590-h.htm b/28590-h/28590-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8c87f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/28590-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11798 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dust Flower, by Basil King. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size:0.8em;} + hr.tb {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + ins.trnote {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dashed #66CC66;} + hr.p100 {width:100%; margin-top:0.3em; margin-bottom:0.3em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 1.6em;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dust Flower, by Basil King + +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: The Dust Flower + +Author: Basil King + +Illustrator: Hibbard V. B. Kline + +Release Date: April 22, 2009 [EBook #28590] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUST FLOWER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Darleen Dove and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table summary="transcriber notes" style='margin:3em auto 0 auto; width:35em; border:1px solid; color:#778899; padding:5px;'> + +<tr><td> +<p style='font-size:small; color:#303030; text-align:left;'>Transcriber’s Notes: <br /><br /> + +Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved as printed in the original book except as indicated in the text by a dashed line under the change. Hover the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins class="trnote" title="like this">appear</ins>. A list of these changes can be found <a href="#ATN">here.</a> +<br /><br /> + +Missing/extra quote marks were silently corrected, however, punctuation has not been changed to comply with modern standards. Inconsistency in hyphenation and accented words has also been retained.<br /><br /> + +Two deviations in paragraph-ending punctuation in the original book should be noted: on Page 14, the paragraph beginning, “Within, a toy entry led....” and on Page 42, “There was that about him....” Both paragraphs end with a comma and have been retained, although throughout the book a colon was used to end these types of paragraphs in which dialogue immediately followed.<br /><br /> + +Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph. +<br /></p> +</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto' summary="001.png"> +<tr><td style='font-size:2em'>THE DUST FLOWER</td></tr> +<tr><td style='text-align:center; margin-top:0.1em;'><img src="images/illus-001.png" alt='emblem' /></td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;' summary="advert"> +<tr><td align="center"> +<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Books By</span><br /> +BASIL KING +</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='p100' /></td></tr> +<tr><td style='font-style:italic'> +The Dust Flower<br /> +The Empty Sack<br /> +Going West<br /> +The City of Comrades<br /> +Abraham’s Bosom<br /> +The Lifted Veil<br /> +The Side of the Angels<br /> +The Letter of the Contract<br /> +The Way Home<br /> +The Wild Olive<br /> +The Inner Shrine<br /> +The Street Called Straight<br /> +Let No Man Put Asunder<br /> +In the Garden of Charity<br /> +The Steps of Honor<br /> +The High Heart</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='p100' /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"> +HARPER & BROTHERS<br /> +Established 1817 +</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 361px; height: 499px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 361px;'> +THEN SLOWLY, SLOWLY LETTY SANK ON HER KNEES, BOWING HER HEAD ON THE HANDS WHICH DREW HER CLOSER. [<a href='#page_350'>See p. 350</a>]<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style='border: black 1px solid; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;' summary="title page"> +<tr><td> +<table style='width: 22em; margin: 3px 3px;' summary="title page4"> +<tr><td align="center"> +<span style='font-size:2.2em;'>The<br />DUST FLOWER</span><br /><br /><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.4em; font-style:italic;'>By</span> +<span style='font-size:1.4em'>BASIL KING</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic;'>Author of</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:0.8em'>“THE EMPTY SACK” “THE INNER SHRINE” ETC.</span><br /><br /><br /> +<span style='font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic;'>With Illustrations by</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.0em'>HIBBARD V. B. KLINE</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td style='text-align:center; height: 12em;'><img src="images/illus-emb.jpg" alt="emblem" /> +</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"> +<span style='font-size:1em; font-style:italic;'>Publishers</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.2em'>Harper & Brothers</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.2em'>New York and London</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic;'>MCMXXII</span> +</td></tr> +</table> +</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;' summary="copyright2"> +<tr><td align="center"> +<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>THE DUST FLOWER</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='p100' /></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"> +<span style='font-size:0.8em'>Copyright, 1922<br /> +Harper & Brothers<br /> +Printed in the U. S. A.</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='p100' /></td></tr> +<tr> +<td style='text-align:center; font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic; letter-spacing:0.2em;'>First Edition</td></tr> +<tr><td style='text-align:center; font-size:0.6em'>H-W +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table border='0' width='600' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small'>PAGE</span></td> + +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Then Slowly, Slowly Letty Sank on Her Knees, Bowing Her head on the Hands Which Drew Her Closer</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>By the Time He Had Finished, His Heart Was a Little Eased and Some of Her Tenderness Began to Flow Toward Him</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'><i>Facing page </i>68</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Prince’s First Words Were Also a Distraction from Terrors, and Enchantments Which Made Her Feel Faint</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'><i>Facing page </i>230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“But By and By I Creeps Out and Down the Steps, and There ’E was, All ’Uddled Every Wye”</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'><i>Facing page </i>328</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>THE DUST FLOWER</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<h1>THE DUST FLOWER</h1> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>Chapter I</h2> +</div> +<p>It is not often that you see a man tear his hair, but +this is exactly what Rashleigh Allerton did. He +tore it, first, because of being under the stress of great +agitation, and second, because he had it to tear—a +thick, black shock with a tendency to part in the +middle, but brushed carefully to one side. Seated on +the extreme edge of one of Miss Walbrook’s strong, +slender armchairs, his elbows on his knees, he dug his +fingers into the dark mass with every fresh taunt +from his fiancée.</p> +<p>She was standing over him, high-tempered, imperious. +“So it’s come to this,” she said, with decision; +“you’ve got to choose between a stupid, vulgar +lot of men, and me.”</p> +<p>He gritted his teeth. “Do you expect me to give +up all my friends?”</p> +<p>“All your friends! That’s another matter. I’m +speaking of half a dozen profligates, of whom you +seem determined—I <i>must</i> say it, Rash; you force +me to it—of whom you seem determined to be one.”</p> +<p>He jumped to his feet, a slim, good-looking, well-dressed +figure in spite of the tumbled effect imparted +by excitement. “But, good heavens, Barbara, what +have I been doing?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></div> +<p>“I don’t pretend to follow you there. I only know +the condition in which you came here from the club +last night.”</p> +<p>He was honestly bewildered. “Came here from +the club last night? Why—why, I wasn’t so bad.”</p> +<p>Standing away from him, she twirled the engagement +solitaire as if resisting the impulse to snatch +it off. “That would be a question of point of view, +wouldn’t it? If Aunt Marion hadn’t been here––”</p> +<p>“I’d only had––”</p> +<p>“Please, Rash! I don’t want to know the details.”</p> +<p>“But I want you to know them. I’ve told you a +dozen times that if I take so much as a cocktail or a +glass of sherry I’m all in, when another fellow can +take ten times as much and not––”</p> +<p>“Rash, dear, I haven’t known you all my life without +being quite aware that you’re excitable. ‘Crazy +Rash’ we used to call you when we were children, and +Crazy Rash you are still. But that’s not my point.”</p> +<p>“Your point is that that infernal old Aunt Marion +of yours doesn’t like me.”</p> +<p>“She’s not infernal, and she’s not old, but it’s true +that she doesn’t like you. All the more reason, then, +that when she gave her consent to our engagement on +condition that you’d give up your disgusting +habits––”</p> +<p>He raced away from her to the other side of the +room, turning to face her like an exasperated animal +at bay.</p> +<p>The room was noteworthy, and of curiously feminine +refinement. Expressing Miss Marion Walbrook as it +did, it made no provision for the coarse and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +lounging habits of men, Miss Walbrook’s world being +a woman’s world. All was straight, slender, erect, +and hard in the way that women like for occasions +of formality. It was evident, too, that Miss Walbrook’s +women friends were serious, if civilized. +There was no place here for the slapdash, smoking +girl of the present day.</p> +<p>The tone which caught your eye was that of dusky +gold, thrown out first from the Chinese rug in imperial +yellow, but reflected from a score of surfaces +in rich old satinwood, discreetly mounted in ormolu. +On the French-paneled walls there was but one picture, +Sargent’s portrait of Miss Walbrook herself, +an exquisite creature, with the straight, thin lines +of her own table legs and the grace which makes no +appeal to men. Not that she was of the type colloquially +known as a “back number,” or a person to +be ignored. On the contrary, she was a pioneer of +the day after to-morrow, the herald of an epoch when +the blundering of men would be replaced by superior +intelligence.</p> +<p>You must know these facts with regard to Miss +Walbrook, the aunt, in order to understand Miss +Walbrook, the niece. The latter was not the pupil of the +former, since she was too intense and high-handed +to be the pupil of anyone. Nevertheless she had +caught from her wealthy and public-spirited relative +certain prepossessions which guided her points of view.</p> +<p>Without having beauty, Miss Barbara Walbrook +impressed you as Someone, and as Someone dressed +by the most expensive houses in New York. For +beauty her lips were too full, her eyes too slanting, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +and her delicate profile too much like that of an ancient +Egyptian princess. The princess was perhaps what +was most underscored in her character, the being who +by some indefinable divine right is entitled to her own +way. She didn’t specially claim her way; she only +couldn’t bear not getting it.</p> +<p>Rashleigh Allerton, being of the easy-going type, +had no objection to her getting her own way, but he +sometimes rebelled against her manner of taking it. +So rebelling now, he tried to give her to understand +that he was master.</p> +<p>“If you marry me, Barbe, you’ll have to take me as +I am—disgusting habits and all.”</p> +<p>It was the wrong tone, the whip to the filly that +should have been steered gently.</p> +<p>“But I suppose there’s no law to compel me to +marry you.”</p> +<p>“Only the law of honor.”</p> +<p>Her whole personality was aflame. “You talk of +honor!”</p> +<p>“Yes I talk of it. Why shouldn’t I?”</p> +<p>“Do you know anything about it?”</p> +<p>“Would you marry a man who didn’t?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t married any one—as yet.”</p> +<p>“But you’re going to marry me, I presume.”</p> +<p>“Considering the facts, that’s a good deal in the +way of presumption, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>They reached the place to which they came once +in every few weeks, where each had the impulse to +hurt the other cruelly.</p> +<p>“If it’s so much presumption as all that,” he demanded, +“what’s the meaning of that ring?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>“Oh, I don’t have to go on wearing it.” Crossing +the room she pulled it off and held it out toward him +“Do you want it back?”</p> +<p>He shrank away from her. “Don’t be a fool +Barbe. You may go too far.”</p> +<p>“That’s what I’m afraid of—that I’ve gone too +far already.”</p> +<p>“In what way?”</p> +<p>“In the way that’s brought us face to face like this. +If I’d never promised to marry you I shouldn’t now +have to—to reconsider.”</p> +<p>“Oh, so that’s it. You’re reconsidering.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you see that I have to? If you make me +as unhappy as you can before marriage, what’ll it be +afterward?”</p> +<p>“And how happy are you making me?”</p> +<p>Holding the ring between the thumb and forefinger +of the right hand, she played at putting it back, without +doing it. “So there you are! Isn’t that another +reason for reconsidering—for both of us?”</p> +<p>“Don’t you care anything about me?”</p> +<p>“You make it difficult—after such an exhibition as +that of last night, right before Aunt Marion. Can’t +you imagine that there are situations in which I feel +ashamed?”</p> +<p>It was then that he spoke the words which changed +the current of his life. “And can’t you imagine that +there are situations in which I resent being badgered +by a bitter-tongued old maid, to say nothing of a +girl––” He knew how “crazy” he was, but the +habit of getting beyond his own control was one +of long standing—“to say nothing of a girl who’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +more like an old maid than a woman going to be +married.”</p> +<p>With a renewed attempt at being master he pointed +at the ring which she was still holding within an inch +of its finger. “Put that back.”</p> +<p>“I think not.”</p> +<p>“Then if you don’t––”</p> +<p>“Well—what?”</p> +<p>Plunging his hands into the pockets of his coat, +he began tearing up and down the room. “Look +here, Barbe. This kind of thing can’t possibly go on.”</p> +<p>“Which is what I’m trying to tell you, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Very well, then; we can stop it.”</p> +<p>“Certainly—in one way.”</p> +<p>“The way of getting married, with no more shilly-shallying +about it.”</p> +<p>“On the principle that if you’re hanging over a +precipice the best thing you can do is to fall.”</p> +<p>He continued to race up and down the room, all +nerves and frenzy. “Don’t we care about each other?”</p> +<p>She answered carefully. “I think you care about +me to the extent that you believe I’d make a good +mistress of the house your mother left you, and +which, you say, is like an empty sepulcher. If you +didn’t have it on your hands, I don’t imagine it would +have occurred to you to ask me.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s all right. Now what about you?”</p> +<p>“You’ve already answered that question for yourself.” +She stiffened haughtily. “I’m an old maid. +I haven’t been brought up by Aunt Marion for nothing. +I’ve an old maid’s ways and outlooks and habits. +I resented your saying it a minute ago, and yet it’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +true. I’ve known for years that it was true. It +wouldn’t be fair for me to marry any man. So here +it is, Rash.” Crossing the floor-space she held out +the ring again. “You might as well take it first as +last.”</p> +<p>He drew back from her, his features screwed up +like those of a tragic mask. “Do you mean it?”</p> +<p>“Do I seem to be making a joke?”</p> +<p>Averting his face, he swept the mere sight of the +ring away from him. “I won’t touch the thing.”</p> +<p>“And I can’t keep it. So there!”</p> +<p>It fell with a little shivery sound to a bare spot on +the floor, rolling to the edge of a rug, where it stopped. +Each looked down at it.</p> +<p>“So you mean to send me to the devil! All right! +Just watch and you’ll see me go.”</p> +<p>She was walking away from him, but turned again. +“If you mean by that that you put the responsibility +for your abominable life on me––”</p> +<p>“Abominable life! Me! Just because I’m not one +of the white-blooded Nancies which your aunt thinks +the only ones fit to be called men––”</p> +<p>But he couldn’t go on. He was choking. The sole +relief to his indignation was in once more tearing +round the room, while Miss Walbrook moved to the +fluted white mantelpiece, where, with her foot resting +on the attenuated Hunt Diedrich andirons she bowed +her head against an attenuated Hunt Diedrich antelope +in bronze.</p> +<p>She was not softened or repentant. She knew she +would become so later; but she knew too that her +tempers had to work themselves off by degrees. Their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +quarrels having hitherto been rendered worth while +by their reconciliations, she took it for granted that +the same thing would happen once more though, as +she expressed it to herself, she would have died before +taking the first step. The obvious thing was for him +to pick up the ring from off the floor, bring it to her +humbly while her back was turned on him, and beseech +her to allow him to slip it on where it belonged; +whereupon she would consider as to whether she would +do so or not. In her present frame of mind, so she +told herself, she would not. Nothing would induce +her to do anything of the kind. He had betrayed the +fact that he knew something as to which she was +desperately sensitive, which other people knew, but +which she had always supposed to have escaped his +observation—that she was like an old maid.</p> +<p>She was. She was only twenty-five, but she had +been like an old maid at fifteen. It had been a joke +till she was twenty, after which it had continued as a +joke to her friends, but a grief to herself. She was +distinguished, aristocratic, intellectual, accomplished, +and Aunt Marion would probably see to it that she +was left tolerably well off; nevertheless she had picked +up from her aunt, or perhaps had inherited from the +same source, the peculiar quality of the woman who +would probably not marry. Because she knew it and +bewailed it, it had come like a staggering blow to +learn that Rash knew it, and perhaps bewailed it too. +The least he could do to atone for that offense would +be to beg her, to implore her on his bended knees, to +wear his ring again; and she might not do it even then.</p> +<p>The dramatic experience was worth waiting for, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +however, and so with spirit churning she leaned her +hot brow against the thin, cool flank of Hunt Diedrich’s +antelope. She knew by the fierce grinding of +his steps on the far side of the room that he hadn’t +yet picked up the ring; but there was no hurry as to +that. Since she would never, never forgive him for +knowing what she thought he didn’t know—forgive +him in her heart, that was to say—not if she married +him ten times over, or to the longest day he lived, +there was plenty of time for reaching friendly terms +again. Her anger had not yet blown off, nor had she +stabbed him hard enough. As with most people subject +to storms of hot temper, stabs, given and received, +were all in her day’s work. They relieved for the +moment the pressure of emotion, leaving no permanent +ill-will behind them.</p> +<p>She heard him come to a halt, but did not turn to +look at him.</p> +<p>“So it’s all over!”</p> +<p>As a peg on which to hang a retort the words would +serve as well as any others. “It seems so, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“And you don’t care whether I go to the devil or +not?”</p> +<p>“What’s the good of my caring when you seem +determined to do it anyhow?”</p> +<p>He allowed a good minute to pass before saying, +“Well, if you don’t marry me some other woman will.”</p> +<p>“Very likely; and if you make her a promise to +reform I hope you’ll keep your word.”</p> +<p>“She won’t be likely to exact any such condition.”</p> +<p>“Then you’ll probably be happier with her than +you could have been with me.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div> +<p>Having opened up the way for him to make some +protest to which she could have remained obdurate, +she waited for it to come. But nothing did come. +Had she turned, she would have seen that he had +grown white, that his hands were clenched and his +lips compressed after a way he had and that his wild, +harum-scarum soul was worked up to an extraordinary +intensity; but she didn’t turn. She was waiting for +him to pick up the ring, creep along behind her, and +seize the hand resting on the mantelpiece, according +to the ritual she had mentally foreordained. But without +stooping or taking a step he spoke again.</p> +<p>“I picked up a book at the club the other day.”</p> +<p>Not being interested, she made no response.</p> +<p>“It was the life of an English writing-guy.”</p> +<p>Though wondering what he was working up to, she +still held her peace.</p> +<p>“Gissing, the fellow’s name was. Ever hear of +him?”</p> +<p>The question being direct, she murmured: “Yes; +of course. What of it?”</p> +<p>“Ever hear how he got married?”</p> +<p>“Not that I remember.”</p> +<p>“When something went wrong—I’ve forgotten +what—he went out into the street with a vow. It +was a vow to marry the first woman he met who’d +marry him.”</p> +<p>A shiver went through her. It was just such a +foolhardy thing as Rashleigh himself was likely to +attempt. She was afraid. She was afraid, and yet +reangered just when her wrath was beginning to die +down.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>“And he did it!” he cried, with a force in which +it was impossible for her not to catch a note of personal +implication.</p> +<p>It was unlikely that he could be trying to trap her by +any such cheap melodramatic threat as this; and +yet––</p> +<p>When several minutes had gone by in a silence which +struck her soon as awesome, she turned slowly round, +only to find herself alone.</p> +<p>She ran into the hall, but there was no one there. +He must have gone downstairs. Leaning over the +baluster, she called to him.</p> +<p>“Rash! Rash!”</p> +<p>But only Wildgoose, the manservant, answered +from below. “Mr. Allerton had just left the ’ouse, +miss.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>Chapter II</h2> +</div> +<p>While Allerton and Miss Walbrook had been +conducting this debate a dissimilar yet parallel +scene was enacted in a mean house in a mean street +on the other side of the Park. Viewed from the outside, +the house was one of those survivals of more +primitive times which you will still run across in the +richest as well as in the poorest districts of New York. +A tiny wooden structure of two low stories, it connected +with the sidewalk by a flight of steps of a third +of the height of the whole façade. Flat-roofed and +clap-boarded, it had once been painted gray with white +facings, but time, weather, and soot had defaced these +neat colors to a hideous pepper-and-salt.</p> +<p>Within, a toy entry led directly to a toy stairway, +and by a door on the left into a toy living-room. In +the toy living-room a man of forty-odd was saying to +a girl of perhaps twenty-three,</p> +<p>“So you’ll not give it up, won’t you?”</p> +<p>The girl cringed as the man stood over her, but +pressing her hand over something she had slipped +within the opening at the neck of her cheap shirtwaist, +she maintained her ground. The face she raised to +him was at once terrified and determined, tremulous +with tears and yet defiant with some new exercise of +will power.</p> +<p>“No, I’ll not give it up.”</p> +<p>“We’ll see.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div> +<p>He said it quietly enough, the menace being less in +his tone than in himself. He was so plainly the cheap +sport bully that there could have been nothing but a +menace in his personality. Flashy male good looks +got a kind of brilliancy from a set of big, strong teeth +the whiter for their contrast with a black, brigand-like +mustache. He was so well dressed in his cheap sport +way as to be out of keeping with the dilapidation of +the room, in which there was hardly a table or a chair +which stood firmly on its legs, or a curtain or a covering +which didn’t reek with dust and germs. A worn, +thin carpet gaped in holes; what had once been a +sofa stood against a wall, shockingly disemboweled. +Through a door ajar one glimpsed a toy kitchen where +the stove had lost a leg and was now supported by a +brick. It was plain that the master of the house was +one of those for whom any lair is sufficient as a home +as long as he can cut a dash outside.</p> +<p>Quiveringly, as if in terror of a blow, the girl explained +herself breathlessly: “The castin’ director sent +for me just as I was makin’ tracks for home. He ast +me if this was the on’y suit I had. When I ’lowed +it was, he just said he couldn’t use me any more till +I got a new one.”</p> +<p>The man took the tone of superior masculine knowledge. +“That wasn’t nothin’ but bull. What if he does +chuck you? I know every movin’ picture studio round +N’York. I’ll get you in somewheres else. Come now, +Letty. Fork out. I need the berries. I owe some one. +I was only waitin’ for you to come home.”</p> +<p>She clutched her breast more tightly. “I gotta have +a new suit anyhow.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></div> +<p>“Well, I’ll buy you a new suit when I get the bones. +Didn’t I give you this one?”</p> +<p>She continued, still breathlessly: “Two years ago—a +marked-down misses’ it was even then—all right +if I was on’y sixteen—but now when I’m near twenty-three—and +it’s in rags anyhow—and all out of style—and +in pitchers you’ve gotta be––”</p> +<p>“They’se plenty pitchers where they want that character—to +pass in a crowd, and all that.”</p> +<p>“To pass in a crowd once or twice, yes; but when +all you can do is to pass in a crowd, and wear the same +old rig every time you pass in it––”</p> +<p>He cut her protests short by saying, with an air of +finality: “Well, anyhow I’ve got to have the bucks. +Can’t go out till I get ’em. So hand!”</p> +<p>With lips compressed and eyes swimming, she shook +her head.</p> +<p>“Better do it. You’ll be sorry if you don’t. I can +pass you that tip straight now.”</p> +<p>“If you was laughed at every time you stepped onto +the lot––”</p> +<p>“There’s worse things than bein’ laughed at. I can +tell you that straight now.”</p> +<p>“Nothin’s worse than bein’ laughed at, not for a +girl of my age there ain’t.”</p> +<p>Watching his opportunity he caught her off her +guard. Her eyes having wandered to the coat she +had just taken off, a worn gray thing with edgings of +worn gray squirrel fur, he wrenched back with an +unexpected movement the hand that clutched something +to her breast, thrust two fingers of his other hand +within her corsage, and extracted her pay-envelope.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></div> +<p>It took her by such surprise that she was like a mad +thing, throwing herself upon him and battling for her +treasure, though any possibility of her getting it back +from him was hopeless. It was so easy for him to +catch her by the wrists and twist them that he laughed +while he was doing it.</p> +<p>“You little cat! You see what you bring on yourself. +And you’re goin’ to get worse. I can tell you +that straight now.”</p> +<p>Still twisting her arms till she writhed, though +without a moan or a cry, he backed her toward the +disemboweled sofa, on whose harsh, exposed springs +she fell. Then he sprang on her a new surprise.</p> +<p>“How dare you wear them rings? They was your +mother’s rings. I bought and paid for ’em. They’re +mine.”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t take them off,” she begged. “You can +keep the money––”</p> +<p>“Sure I can keep the money,” he grinned, wrenching +from her fingers the plain gold band he had given +her mother as a wedding ring, as well as another, +bigger, broader, showier, and set with two infinitesimal +white points claiming to be diamonds.</p> +<p>Though he had released her hands, she now +stretched them out toward him pleadingly. “Aw, give +’em back to me. They’se all I’ve got in the world to +care about—just because she wore ’em. You can take +anything else I’ve got––”</p> +<p>“All right, then. I’ll take this.”</p> +<p>With a deftness which would have done credit to +a professor of legerdemain he unbuckled the strap of +her little wrist-watch, putting the thing into his pocket.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></div> +<p>“I give that to your mother too. You don’t need it, +and it may be useful to me. What else have you got?”</p> +<p>She struggled to her feet. He was growing more +dangerous than she had ever known him to be even +when he had beaten her.</p> +<p>“I ain’t got nothin’ else.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, you have. You gotta purse. I seen you +with it. Where is it?”</p> +<p>The fear in her eyes sent his toward her jacket, +thrown on the chair when she had come in. With an +“Ah!” of satisfaction he pounced on it. As he held +it upside down and shook it, a little leather wallet +clattered to the floor. She sprang for it, but again +he was too quick for her.</p> +<p>“So!” he snarled, with his glittering grin. “You +thought you’d get it, did you?” He rattled the few +coins, copper and silver, into the palm of his hand, and +unfolded a one-dollar bill. “You must owe me this +money. Who’s give you bed and board for the last +ten year, I’d like to know? How much have you ever +paid me?”</p> +<p>“Only all I ever earned—which you stole from me.”</p> +<p>“Stole from you, did I? Well, you won’t fling +that in my face any more.” He handed her her coat. +“Put that on,” he commanded.</p> +<p>“What for?” She held it without obeying the +order. “What’s the good o’ goin’ out and me without +a cent?”</p> +<p>“Put it on.”</p> +<p>Her lip quivered; she began to suspect his intention. +“I do’ wanta.”</p> +<p>“Oh, very well! Please yourself. You got your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +hat on already.” Seizing her by the shoulders he +steered her toward the door. “Now march.”</p> +<p>Though she refused to march, it was not difficult +for him to force her.</p> +<p>“This’ll teach you to valyer a good home when you +got one. You’ll deserve to find the next one different.”</p> +<p>She almost shrieked: “You’re not going to turn +me out?”</p> +<p>“Well, what does it look as if I was doin’?”</p> +<p>“I won’t go! I won’t go! Where <i>can</i> I go?”</p> +<p>“What I’m doin’ ’ll help you to find out.”</p> +<p>He had her now in the entry, where in spite of her +struggles he had no difficulty in unlocking the door, +pushing her out, and relocking the door behind her.</p> +<p>“Lemme in! Lemme in! Oh, <i>please</i>, lemme in!”</p> +<p>He stood in the middle of the living-room, listening +with pleasure and smiling his brigand’s smile. He +was not as bad as you might think. He did mean to +let her in eventually. His smile and his pleasure +sprang purely from the fact that his lesson was so +successful. With this in her mind, she wouldn’t withstand +him a second time.</p> +<p>She rattled the door by the handle. She beat upon +the panels. She implored.</p> +<p>Still smiling, he filled his pipe. Let her keep it up. +It would do her good. He remembered that once when +he had turned her mother out at night, she had sat +on the steps till he let her in at dawn before the police +looked round that way. History would repeat itself. +The daughter would do the same. He was only giving +her the lesson she deserved.</p> +<p>Meanwhile she was experiencing a new sensation, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +that of outrage. For the first time in her life she was +swept by pride in revolt. She hadn’t known that any +such emotion could get hold of her. As a matter of +fact she hadn’t known that so strong a support to the +inner man lay within the depths of human nature. +Accustomed to being cowed, she had hardly understood +that there was any other way to feel. Only +within a day or two had something which you or I +would have called spirit, but for which she had no +name, disturbed her with unexpected flashes, like those +of summer lightning.</p> +<p>While waiting for the camera, for instance, in the +street scene in “The Man with the Emerald Eye,” a +“fresh thing” had said, with a wink at her companions, +“Say, did you copy that suit from a pattern in <i>Chic?</i>”</p> +<p>Letty had so carefully minded her own business +and tried to be nice to every one that the titter which +went round at her expense hurt her with a wound +impelling her to reply, “No; I ordered it at Margot’s. +You look as if you got your things there too, don’t +you?” Nevertheless, she was so stung by the sarcasm +that the commendation she overheard later, that the +Gravely kid had a tongue, didn’t bring any consolation.</p> +<p>Without knowing that what she felt now was an +intensified form of the same rebellion against scorn, +she knew it was not consistent with some inborn sense +of human dignity to stand there pleading to be let into +a house from which she was locked out, even though +it was the only spot on earth she could call home. Still +less was it possible when, round the foot of the steps, +a crowd began to gather, jeering at her passionate +beseechings. For the most part they were children, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +Slavic, Semitic, Italian. Amid their cries of, “Go it, +Sis!” now in English and now in strange equivalents +of Latin, or Polish, or even Hebraic origin, she was +suddenly arrested by the consciousness of personal +humiliation.</p> +<p>She turned from the door to face the street. It was +one of those streets not rare in New York which the +civic authorities abandon in despair. A gash of children +and refuse cut straight from river to Park, it +got its chief movement from push-carts of fruit and +other foods, while the “wash” of five hundred families +blew its banners overhead. Vendors of all kinds +uttered their nasal or raucous cries, in counterpoint to +the treble screams of little boys and girls.</p> +<p>Letty had always hated it, but it was something +more than hatred which she felt for it now. Beyond +the children adults were taking a rest from the hawking +profession to comment with grins on the sight of +a girl locked out of her own home. She was probably +a very bad girl to call for that kind of treatment, +and therefore one on whom they should spend some +derision.</p> +<p>They were spending it as she turned. It was an +experience on a large scale of what the girl in the +studio had inflicted. She was a thing to be scorned, +and of all the hardships in the world scorn, now that +she was aware of it, was the one she could least submit +to.</p> +<p>So pride came to her rescue. Throwing her coat +across her arm she went down the steps, passed +through the hooting children, one or two of whom +pulled her by the skirt, passed through the bearded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +Jews, and the bronzed Italians, and the flat-nosed +Slavs, passed through the women who had come out +on the sidewalk at this accentuation of the daily din, +passed through the barrows and handcarts and piles of +cabbages and fruit, and went her way.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>Chapter III</h2> +</div> +<p>Exactly at this minute Rashleigh Allerton was +standing outside Miss Walbrook’s door, glancing +up and down Fifth Avenue and over at the Park. +It was the hour after luncheon when pedestrians become +numerous. For his purpose they could not be +very numerous; they must be reasonably spaced apart.</p> +<p>And already a veritable stream of women had begun +to flow down the long, gentle slope, while a few, like +fish, were stemming the current by making progress +against it. None of them was his “affair.” Young, +old, short, tall, blond, brunette, they were without +exception of the class indiscriminately lumped as +ladies. Since you couldn’t go to the devil because you +had married a lady, even on the wild hypothesis that +one of these sophisticated beings would without introduction +or formality marry him, it would be better not +to let himself in for the absurdity of the proposal. +When there was a break in the procession, he darted +across the street and made his way into the Park.</p> +<p>Here there was no one in sight as far as the path +continued without a bend. He was going altogether +at a venture. Round the curve of the woodland way +there might swing at any second the sibyl who would +point his life downward.</p> +<p>He was aware, however, that in sibyls he had a +preference. If she was to send him to the devil, she +must be of the type which he qualified as a “drab.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +Without knowing the dictionary meaning of the word, +he felt that it implied whatever would contrast most +revoltingly with Barbara Walbrook. Seeing with her +own eyes to what she had driven him, her heart would +be wrung. That was all he asked for, the wringing of +her heart. It might be a mad thing for him to punish +himself so terribly just to punish her, but he was mad +anyhow. Madness gave him the satisfaction which +some men got from thrift, and others from cleverness. +He would keep the vow with which he had slipped out +of Miss Walbrook’s drawing room. It was all that +life had left for him.</p> +<p>That was, he wouldn’t pick and choose. He would +take them as they came. He had not stipulated with +himself that she must be a “drab.” It was only what +he hoped. She must be the first woman he met who +would marry him. Age, appearance, refinement, vulgarity +were not to be considered. Picking and choosing +on his part would only take his destiny out of the +hands of Fate, where he preferred that it should lie.</p> +<p>Had any one passed him, he would have seemed the +more perturbed because of his being so well-dressed. +He was one of the few New Yorkers as careful of +appearances as many Londoners. With the finish that +comes of studied selection in hat, stick, and gloves, as +well as all small accessories of the costliest, he might +have been going to or coming from a wedding.</p> +<p>He was imposing, therefore, to a short, stout, elderly +woman with whom he suddenly found himself face +to face as the path took a sharp sweep to the south. +The shrubs which had kept them hidden from each +other gave place here to open stretches of lawn. When +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +Allerton paused and lifted his hat, the woman naturally +paused, too.</p> +<p>She was a red-faced woman crowned with a bonnet +of the style introduced by Mrs. Langtry in 1878, but +worn on this occasion some degrees off center. On +her arm she carried a flat basket of which the contents, +decently covered with a towel, might have been freshly +laundered shirts. Being stopped by a gentleman of +Allerton’s impressiveness and plainly suffering expression, +her face grew motherly and sympathetic.</p> +<p>“Madam, I wish to ask if you’ll marry me?”</p> +<p>Even a dull brain couldn’t fail to catch words +hammered out with this force of precision. The +woman didn’t wait to have them repeated. Dropping +her basket as it was, she took to flight. Flight was +the word. A modern Atalanta of Wellesley or Bryn +Mawr might have envied the chamois leaps which +took the good creature across the grass to the protection +of a man with a lawn-mower.</p> +<p>Allerton couldn’t pause to watch her, for a new +sibyl was advancing. To his disgust rather than not, +she was young and pretty, a nursemaid pushing a +baby-cart into which a young man of two was strapped. +While far more likely to take him than the stout old +party still skipping the greensward like a mountain +roe, she would be much less plausible as a reason for +going to the evil one. But a vow was a vow, and he +was in for it.</p> +<p>His approach was the same as on the previous occasion. +Lifting his hat ceremoniously, he said with the +same distinctness of utterance, “Madam, I wish to ask +if you’ll marry me?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></div> +<p>The girl, who had paused when he did, leaned on +the pusher of her go-cart, studying him calmly. Chewing +something with a slow, rotary movement of the +lips and chin, she broke the action with a snap before +quite completing the circle, to begin all over again. +“Oh, you do, do you?” was her quiet response.</p> +<p>“If you please.”</p> +<p>She studied him again, with the same semi-circular +motion of the jaw. She might have been weighing +his proposal.</p> +<p>“Say, is this one of them club initiation stunts, or +have you just got a noive?”</p> +<p>“Am I to take that as a yes or a no?”</p> +<p>“And am I to take you as one of them smart-Alecks, +or a coily-headed nut?”</p> +<p>He saw a way out. “I’m generally considered a +curly-headed nut.”</p> +<p>“Then it’s me for the exit-in-case-of-fire, so ta-ta.” +She laughed back at him over her shoulder. “Wish +you luck with your next.”</p> +<p>But fate was already on him in another form. A +lady of fifty or thereabouts was coming up the path, +refined, sedate, mistress of herself, the one type of all +others most difficult to accost. All the same he must +do it. He must keep on doing it till some one yielded +to his suit. The rebuffs to which he had been subjected +did no more than inflame his will.</p> +<p>Approaching the new sibyl with the same ceremoniousness, +he repeated the same words in the same precise +tone. The lady stood off, eyed him majestically +through a lorgnette, and spoke with a force which +came from quietude.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></div> +<p>“I know who you are. You’re Rashleigh Allerton. +You ought to be ashamed with a shame that would +strike you to the ground. I’m a friend of Miss +Marion Walbrook’s. I’m on my way to see her and +shall <i>not</i> mention this encounter. We work on the +same committee of the League for the Suppression of +Men’s Clubs. The lamentable state in which I see +you convinces me once more of the need of our work, +if our men are to become as we hope to see them. I +bid you a good afternoon.”</p> +<p>With the dignity of a queen she passed on and out +of sight, leaving him with the sting of a whiplash on +his face.</p> +<p>But the name of Miss Walbrook, connected with +that of the League which was her pet enthusiasm for +the public weal, only served as an incitement. He +would go through with it now at any cost. By nightfall +he would be at police-headquarters for insulting +women, or he would have found a bride.</p> +<p>Walking on again, the path was clear before him as +far as he could see. Having thus a few minutes to +reflect, he came to the conclusion that his attacks had +been too precipitate. He should feel the ground before +him, leading the sibyl a little at a time, so as to +have her mentally prepared. There were methods of +“getting acquainted” to which he should apply himself +first of all.</p> +<p>But getting acquainted with the old Italian peasant +woman, bowed beneath a bundle, who was the next +he would have to confront, being out of the question, +he resolved to side-step destiny by slipping out of the +main path and following a branch one. Doing so, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +came into less frequented regions, while his steps took +him up a low hill burnished with the tints of mid-October. +Trees and shrubs were flame-colored, copper-colored, +wine-colored, differing only in their diffuseness +of hue from the concentrated gorgeousness of +amaranth, canna, and gladiolus. The sounds of the +city were deadened here to a dull rumble, while the +vibrancy of the autumn afternoon excited his taut +nerves.</p> +<p>At the top of the hill he paused. There was no one +in sight who could possibly respond to his quest. He +wondered for a second if this were not a hint to him +to abandon it. But doing that he would abandon his +revenge, and by abandoning his revenge he would concede +everything to this girl who had so bitterly +wronged him. Ever since he could remember they +had been pals, and for at least ten years he had vaguely +thought of asking her to marry him when it came +to his seeking a wife. It was true, the hint she had +thrown out, that he had felt himself in no great need +of a wife till his mother had died some eighteen +months previously, and he had found himself with a +cumbrous old establishment on his hands. That had +given the decisive turn to his suit. He had asked her. +She had taken him. And since then, in the course of +less than ten weeks, if they had had three quarrels +they had had thirty. He had taken them all more or +less good-naturedly—till to-day. To-day was too +much. He could hardly say why it was too much, +unless it was as the last straw, but he felt it essential +to his honor to show her by actual demonstration the +ruin she had made of him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></div> +<p>Looking about him for another possibility, he +noticed that at the spot where the path, having serpentined +down the little hillside, rejoined the main +footway there was a bench so placed that its occupant +would have a view along several avenues at once. +Since it was obviously a vantage point for such +strategy as his, he had taken the first steps down toward +it when a little gray figure emerged from behind +a group of blue Norway spruces. She went dejectedly +to the bench, sitting down at an extreme end of it.</p> +<p>Wrought up to a fit of tension far from rare with +him, Allerton stood with his nails digging into his +clenched palms and his thin lips pressed together. He +was sure he was looking at a “drab.” All the shoddy, +outcast meanings he had read into the word were +under the bedraggled feathers of this battered black +hat or compressed within the forlorn squirrel-trimmed +gray suit. The dragging movement, the hint of dropping +on the seat not from fatigue but from desperation, +completed the picture his imagination had already +painted of some world-worn, knocked-about creature +who had come to the point at which, in his own phrase, +she was “all in.”</p> +<p>As far as this described Letty Gravely, he was +wrong. She was not “all in.” She was never more +mentally alert than at that very minute. If she moved +slowly, if she sank on the seat as if too beaten down +by events to do more, it was because her mind was so +intensely centered on her immediate problems.</p> +<p>She had, in fact, just formed a great resolution. +Whatever became of her, she would never go back to +Judson Flack, her stepfather. This had not been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +clearly in her mind when she had gone down his steps +and walked away, but the occasion presented itself now +as one to be seized. In seizing it, however, the alternatives +were difficult. She was without a cent, a +shelter, a job, a friend, or the prospect of a meal. It +was probable that there was not at that minute in +New York a human being so destitute. Before nightfall +she would have to find some nominal motive for +living or be arrested as a vagrant.</p> +<p>She was not appalled. For the first time in her life +she was relatively free from fear. Even with nothing +but her person as she stood, she was her own mistress. +No big dread hung over her—that is, no big dread +of the kind represented by Judson Flack. She might +jump into the river or go to the bad, but in either case +she would do it of her own free will. Merely to have +the exercise of her own free will gave her the kind of +physical relief which a human being gets from stretching +limbs cramped and crippled by chains.</p> +<p>Besides, there was in her situation an underlying +possibility of adventure. This she didn’t phrase, since +she didn’t understand it. She only had the intuition in +her heart that where “the world is all before you, +where to choose your place of rest, and Providence +your guide,” Providence <i>becomes</i> your guide. Verbally +she put it merely in the words, “Things happen,” +though as to what could happen between half-past +three in the afternoon and midnight, when she would +possibly be in jail, she could not begin to imagine.</p> +<p>So absorbed was she in this momentous uncertainty +that she scarcely noticed that some one had seated +himself at the other end of the bench. It was a public +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +place; it was likely that some one would. She felt +neither curiosity nor resentment. A lack of certain +of the feminine instincts, or their retarded development, +left her without interest in the fact that the +newcomer was a man. From the slight glance she had +given him when she heard his step, she judged him to +be what she estimated as an elderly man, quite far into +the thirties.</p> +<p>She went back to her own thoughts which were +practical. There were certain measures which she +could take at once, after which there would be no +return. Once more she was not appalled. She had +lived too near the taking of these steps to be shocked +by them. Everything in life is a question of relativity, +and in the world which her mother had entered on +marrying Judson Flack the men were all so near the +edge of the line which separates the criminal from the +non-criminal that it seemed a natural thing when they +crossed it, while the women....</p> +<p>But as her thoughts were dealing with this social +problem in its bearing on herself, her neighbor spoke.</p> +<p>“Funny to watch those kids playing with the pup, +isn’t it?”</p> +<p>She admitted that it was, that watching children +and young animals was a favorite sport with her. She +answered simply, because being addressed by strange +men with whom she found herself in proximity was +sanctioned by the etiquette of her society. To resent +it would be putting on airs, besides which it would +cut off social intercourse between the sexes. It +had happened to her many a time to have engaging +conversations with chance young men beside +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +her in the subway, never seeing them before or +afterward.</p> +<p>So Allerton found getting acquainted easier than he +had expected. The etiquette of <i>his</i> society not sanctioning +this directness of response on her part, he drew +the conclusion that she was accustomed to “meeting +fellows halfway.” As this was the sort of person he +was looking for, he found in the freedom nothing to +complain of.</p> +<p>With the openness of her social type she gave +details of her biography without needing to be +pressed.</p> +<p>“You’re a New York girl?”</p> +<p>“I am now. I didn’t use to be.”</p> +<p>“What were you to begin with?”</p> +<p>“Momma brought me from Canada after my father +died. That’s why I ain’t got no friends here.”</p> +<p>At this appeal for sympathy his glance stole suspiciously +toward her, finding his first conjectures somewhat +but not altogether verified. She was young apparently, +and possibly pretty, though as to neither +point did he care. He would have preferred more +“past,” more “mystery,” more “drama,” but since you +couldn’t have everything, a young person utterly unfit +to be his wife would have to be enough. He continued +to draw out her story, not because he cared anything +about hearing it, but in order to spring his question +finally without making her think him more unbalanced +than he was.</p> +<p>“Your father was a Canadian?”</p> +<p>“Yes; a farmer. Momma used to say she was about +as good to work a farm as a cat to run a fire-engine. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +When he died, she sold out for four thousand dollars +and come to New York.”</p> +<p>“To work?”</p> +<p>“No, to have a good time. She’d never had a good +time, momma hadn’t, and she was awful pretty. So +she said she’d just blow herself to it while she had +the berries in her basket. That was how she met +Judson Flack. I suppose you know who he is. Everybody +does.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t the pleasure.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know as you’d find it any big pleasure. +Momma didn’t, not after she’d give him a try.”</p> +<p>“Who and what is he?”</p> +<p>“He calls hisself a man about town. I call him a +bum. Poor momma married him.”</p> +<p>“And wasn’t happy, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Not after he’d spent her wad, she wasn’t. She +was crazy about him, and when she found out that all +he’d cared about was her four thousand plunks—well, +it was her finish.”</p> +<p>“How long ago was that?”</p> +<p>“About four years now.”</p> +<p>“And what have you been doing in the meanwhile?”</p> +<p>“Keepin’ house for Judson Flack most of the time—till +I quit.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you’ve quit?”</p> +<p>“Sure I’ve quit.” She was putting her better foot +forward. “Now I’m in pitchers.”</p> +<p>He glanced at her again, having noticed already that +she scarcely glanced at him. Her profile was toward +him as at first, an irregular little profile of lifts and +tilts, which might be appealing, but was not beautiful. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +The boast of being in pictures, so incongruous +with her woefully dilapidated air, did not amuse him. +He knew how large a place a nominal connection +with the stage took in the lives of certain ladies. +Even this poor little tramp didn’t hesitate to make +the claim.</p> +<p>“And you’re doing well?”</p> +<p>She wouldn’t show the white feather. “Oh, so so! +I—I get along.”</p> +<p>“You live by yourself?”</p> +<p>“I—I do now.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you find it lonely?”</p> +<p>“Not so lonely as livin’ with Judson Flack.”</p> +<p>“You’re—you’re happy?”</p> +<p>A faint implication that she might look to him for +help stirred her fierce independence. “Gee, yes! I’m—I’m +doin’ swell.”</p> +<p>“But you wouldn’t mind a change, I suppose?”</p> +<p>For the first time her eyes stole toward him, not +in suspicion, and still less in alarm, but in one of the +intenser shades of curiosity. It was almost as if he was +going to suggest to her something “off the level” but +which would nevertheless be worth her while. She was +used to these procedures, not in actual experience but +from hearing them talked about. They made up a +large part of what Judson Flack understood as “business.” +She felt it prudent to be as non-committal +as possible.</p> +<p>“I ain’t so sure.”</p> +<p>She meant him to understand that being tolerably +satisfied with her own way of life, she was not enthusiastic +over new experiments.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></div> +<p>His next observation was no surprise to her. “I’m +a lawyer.”</p> +<p>She was sure of that. There were always lawyers +in these subterranean affairs—“shyster” was a word +she had heard applied to them—and this man looked +the part. His thin face, clear-cut profile, and skin +which showed dark where he shaved, were all, +in her judgment, signs of the sinister. Even his +clothes, from his patent leather shoes with spats +to his dark blue necktie with a pearl in it, were those +which an actor would wear in pictures to represent +a “shark.”</p> +<p>She was turning these thoughts over in her mind +when he spoke again.</p> +<p>“I’ve an office, but I don’t practise much. It takes +all my time to manage my own estate.”</p> +<p>She didn’t know what this meant. It sounded like +farming, but you didn’t farm in New York, or do it +from an office anyhow. “I guess he’s one of them +gold-brick nuts,” she commented to herself, “but he +won’t put nothin’ over on me.”</p> +<p>In return for her biography he continued to give +his, bringing out his facts in short, hard statements +which seemed to hurt him. It was this hurting him +which she found most difficult to reconcile with her +gold brick theory and the suspicion that he was a +“shark.”</p> +<p>“My father was a lawyer, too. Rather well known +in his day. One time ambassador to Vienna.”</p> +<p>Ambassador to Vienna! She didn’t know where +Vienna was or the nature of an ambassador, but +she did know that it sounded grand, so she looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +at him attentively. It was either more gold brick or +else....</p> +<p>Then something struck her—“smote her” would +be perhaps the more accurately descriptive word, since +the effect was on her heart. This man was sick. He +was suffering. She had often seen women suffer, but +men rarely, and this was one of the rare instances. +Something in her was touched. She couldn’t imagine +why he talked to her or what he wanted of her, but +a pity which had never yet been called upon was astir +among her emotions.</p> +<p>As for the minute he said no more, her next words +came out only because she supposed them to betray +the kindly interest of which he was in need.</p> +<p>“Then I suppose he left you <i>a</i> big fat wad.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but it doesn’t do me any good. I mean, it +doesn’t make me happy—when I’m not.”</p> +<p>“I guess it’d make you a good deal less happy if you +didn’t have it.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps so; I don’t think about it either way.” +He added, after tense compression of the lips; “I’m +all alone in the world—like you.”</p> +<p>She was sure now that something was coming, +though of what nature lay beyond her speculative +power. She wondered if he could have fallen in love +with her at first sight, realizing a favorite dream she +often had in the subway. Hundreds of times she had +beguiled the minutes by selecting one or another of +the wealthy lawyers and bankers, whom she supposed +to be her fellow-travelers there, seeing him smitten by +a glance at her, following her when she got out, and +laying his heart and coronet at her feet before she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +run up the steps. If this man were not a shyster lawyer +or a gold brick nut, he might possibly be doing that.</p> +<p>“It’s about a girl,” he burst out suddenly. “Half +an hour ago she kicked me out.”</p> +<p>“Did she know you had all that dough?”</p> +<p>“Yes, she knew I had all that dough. But she said +that since I was going to the devil, I had better go.” +He drew a long breath. “Well, I’m going—perhaps +quicker than she thinks.”</p> +<p>“Will you do yourself any good by that?”</p> +<p>“No, but I’ll do her harm.”</p> +<p>“How?”</p> +<p>“I’ll show her what she’s made of me.”</p> +<p>“She can’t make anything of you in half an hour +or in half a year—not so long as you’ve got your wad +back of you. If you was to be kicked out with your +pay-envelope stole, and your mother’s rings pulled off +your fingers, and her wrist-watch from your wrist, +and even your carfare––”</p> +<p>“Is that what’s happened to you?”</p> +<p>“Sure! Half an hour ago, too. Judson Flack! +But why should I worry? Something’ll happen before +night.”</p> +<p>He became emphatic. “Yes, and I’ll tell you what it +will be. You put your finger on it just now when +you said she couldn’t make anything out of men in half +an hour. Well, it’s got to be something that would +take just that time—an hour at the most—<i>and fatal</i>. +Now do you see?”</p> +<p>She shook her head.</p> +<p>He swung fully round on her from his end of the +bench. “Think,” he commanded.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></div> +<p>As if with a premonitory notion of what he meant, +she answered coldly: “What’s the good o’ me +thinkin’? I’ve got nothin’ to do with it.”</p> +<p>“You might have.”</p> +<p>“I can’t imagine what, unless it’d be––” Realizing +what she had been about to say, she broke off in +confusion, coloring to the eyes.</p> +<p>He nodded. “I see you understand. I want you to +come off somewhere and marry me.”</p> +<p>She took it more calmly than if she hadn’t thought +him mad. “But—but you said you’d be—be goin’ to +the devil.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>His look, his tone, conveyed the idea, which penetrated +to her mind but slowly. When it did, the surging +color became a flush, hot and painful.</p> +<p>So here it was again, the thing she had been running +away from. It had outwitted and outrun her, +meeting her again just at the instant when she thought +she was shaking it off. She was so indignant with the +<i>thing</i> that she almost overlooked the man. She too +swung round from her end of the bench, so that they +confronted each other, with the length of the seat +between them. It was her habit to put things plainly, +though now she did it with a burning heart.</p> +<p>“This is the way you mean it, isn’t it?—you’d go to +the devil because you’d married <i>me</i>.”</p> +<p>The half-minute before he answered was occupied +not merely in thinking what to say but in noticing, +now that he had her in full-face, that her large, brown +irises seemed to be sprinkled with gold dust. Otherwise +her appearance struck him simply as <ins class="trnote" title="burred in original text">blurred</ins>, as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +it had been brightly enough drawn as to color and line, +only rubbed over and defaced by the hand of misery.</p> +<p>“I don’t want you to get me wrong,” he explained. +“It’s not a question of my marrying you in particular. +I’ve said I’d marry the first girl I met who’d marry +me.”</p> +<p>The gold-brown eyes scintillated with a thousand +tiny stars. “Say, and am I the first?”</p> +<p>“No; you’re the fourth.” He added, so that she +should be under no misconception as to what he was +about: “You can take me or leave me. That’s up to +you. But if you take me, I want you to understand +that it’ll be on a purely business basis.”</p> +<p>She repeated, as if to memorize the words, “A +purely business basis.”</p> +<p>“Exactly. I’m not looking for a wife. I only +want a woman to marry—a woman to whom I can +point and say, See there! I’ve married—that.”</p> +<p>“And <i>that’d</i> be me.”</p> +<p>“If you undertook the job.”</p> +<p>“The job of—of bein’ laughed at—jeered at––”</p> +<p>“I’d be the one who’d be laughed at and jeered at. +Nobody would think anything about you. They wouldn’t +remember how you looked or know your +name. If you got sick of it after a bit, and decided to +cut and run, you could do it. I’d see that you were +well treated—for the rest of your life.”</p> +<p>She studied him long and earnestly. “Say, are <i>you</i> +crazy?”</p> +<p>“I’m all on edge, if that’s what you mean. But +there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. I shan’t do +you any harm at any time.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></div> +<p>“You only want to do harm to yourself. I’d be +like the awful kind o’ pill which a fellow’ll swaller +to commit suicide.” She rose, not without a dignity +of her own. “Well, mister, if I’m your fourth, I +guess you’ll have to look about you for a fifth.”</p> +<p>“Where are you going?”</p> +<p>He asked the question without rising. She answered +as if her choice of objectives was large.</p> +<p>“Oh, anywheres.”</p> +<p>“Which means nowhere, doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Oh, not exactly. It means—it means—the first +place I fetch up.”</p> +<p>“The first place you fetch up may be the police-station, +if the things you said just now are true.”</p> +<p>“The police-station is safe, anyways.”</p> +<p>“And you think the place I’d take you to wouldn’t +be. Well, you’re wrong. It’ll be as safe as a church +for as long as you like to stay; and when you want to +go—lots of money to go with.”</p> +<p>Facing away from him toward the city, she said +over her shoulder: “There’s things money couldn’t +pay you for. Bein’ looked down on is one.”</p> +<p>She was about to walk on, but he sprang after her, +catching her by the sleeve.</p> +<p>“Look here! Be a sport. You’ve got the chance of +your lifetime. It’ll mean no more to you than a part +they’d give you in pictures—just a rôle—and pay you +a lot better.”</p> +<p>She was not blind to the advantages he laid before +her. True, it might be what she qualified as “bull” +to get her into a trap; only she didn’t believe it. This +man with the sick mind and anguished face was none +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +of the soft-spoken fiends whose business it is to ensnare +young girls. She knew all about them from +living with Judson Flack, and couldn’t be mistaken. +This fellow might be crazy, but he was what he said. +If he said he wouldn’t do her any harm, he wouldn’t. +If he said he would pay her well, he would. The main +question was as to whether or not, just for the sake +of getting something to eat and a place to sleep, she +could deliberately put herself in a position in which the +man who had married her would have gone to the +devil <i>because</i> he had married her.</p> +<p>As he held her by the sleeve looking down at her, +and she, half turned, was looking up at him, this +was the battle she was fighting. Hitherto her +impulse had been to run away from the scorn of +her inferiority; now she was asking herself what +would happen if she took up its challenge and +fought it on its own ground. What if I do? was +the way the question framed itself, but aloud she +made it.</p> +<p>“If I said I would, what would happen first?”</p> +<p>“We’d go and get a license. Then we’d find a +minister. After that I should give you something to +eat, and then I’d take you home.”</p> +<p>“Where would that be?”</p> +<p>He gave her his address in East Sixty-seventh +Street, only a few doors from Fifth Avenue, but her +social sophistication was not up to the point of seeing +the significance of this. Neither did her imagination +try to picture the home or to see it otherwise than as +an alternative to the police-station, or worse, as a lodging +for the night.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>“And what would happen to me when I got to your +home?”</p> +<p>“You’d have your own room. I shouldn’t interfere +with you. You’d hardly ever see me. You could stay +as long as you liked or as short as you liked, after +the first week or two.”</p> +<p>There was that about him which carried conviction. +She believed him. As an alternative to having nowhere +to go, what he offered her was something, and +something with that spice of adventure of which she +had been dreaming only a few minutes earlier. She +couldn’t be worse off than she was now, and if it gave +her the chance of a hand-to-hand tussle with the +world-pride which had never done anything but look +down on her, she would be fighting what she held +as her worst enemy. She braced herself to say,</p> +<p>“All right; I’ll do it.”</p> +<p>He, too, braced himself. “Very well! Let’s start.”</p> +<p>The impetuosity of his motion almost took her +breath away as she tried to keep pace with him.</p> +<p>“By the way, what’s your name?” he asked, before +they reached Fifth Avenue.</p> +<p>She told him, but was too overwhelmed with what +she had undertaken to dare to ask him his.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>Chapter IV</h2> +</div> +<p>“Nao!”</p> +<p>The strong cockney negative was also an exclamation. +It came from Mrs. Courage, the cook-housekeeper, +who stood near the kitchen range making the +coffee for breakfast. She was a woman who looked +her name, born not merely to do battle, but to enjoy +being in the midst of it.</p> +<p>Jane, the waitress, was the next to speak. “Nettie +Duckett, you ought to be ashymed to sye them words, +you that’s been taught to ’ope the best of everyone.”</p> +<p>Jane had fluttered in from the pantry with the covered +dish for the toast. Jane still fluttered at her +work, as she had done for the past thirty years. The +late Mrs. Allerton had liked her about the table because +she was swift, deft, and moved lightly. A thin little +woman, with a profile resembling that of Punch’s +Judy, and a smile of cheerful piety, she yielded to time +only by a process of drying up.</p> +<p>Nettie Duckett was quick in her own defense, but +breathless, too, from girlish laughter. “I can’t ’elp +syin’ what I see, now can I? There she was ’arf +dressed in the little back spare-room. Oh, the commonest +thing! You wouldn’t ’a wanted to sweep ’er +out with a broom.”</p> +<p>“Pretty goin’s on I must sye,” Jane commented. +“’Ope the best of everyone I will, but when you think +that we was all on the top floor––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></div> +<p>“Pretty goin’s off there’ll be, I can tell you that,” +Mrs. Courage declared in her rich, decided bass. +“Just let me ’ave a word with Master Rashleigh. I’ll +tell ’im what ’is ma would ’ave said. She left ’im to +me, she did. ‘Courage,’ she’s told me many a time, +‘that boy’ll be your boy after I’m gone.’ As good as +mykin’ a will, I call it. And now to think that with +us right ’ere in the ’ouse.... Where’s Steptoe? Do +’e know anything about it?”</p> +<p>“Do ’e know anything about what?” The question +came from Steptoe himself, who appeared on the +threshold.</p> +<p>The three women maintained a dramatic silence, +while the old butler-valet looked from one to another.</p> +<p>“Seems as if there was news,” he observed dryly.</p> +<p>“Tell ’im, Nettie,” Mrs. Courage commanded.</p> +<p>Nettie was the young thing of the establishment, +Mrs. Courage’s own niece, brought from England +when the housemaid’s place fell vacant on Bessie’s +unexpected marriage to Walter Wildgoose, Miss Walbrook’s +indoor man. Indeed she had been brought +from England before Bessie’s marriage, of which +Mrs. Courage had had advance information, so that +as soon as Bessie left, Nettie was on the spot to be +smuggled into the Allerton household. Steptoe had +not forgiven this underhand movement on Mrs. Courage’s +part, seeing that in the long-ago both she and +Jane had been his own nominees, and that he considered +the household posts as gifts at his disposal. +“I’ll ’ave to make a clean sweep o’ the lot o’ them,” he +had more than once declared at those gatherings at +which the English butlers and valets of upper Fifth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +Avenue discuss their complex of interests. Forty +years in the Allerton family had made him not merely +its major-domo but in certain respects its head. His +tone toward Nettie was that of authority with a note +of disapprobation.</p> +<p>“Speak, girl, and do it without giggling. What +’ave you to tell?”</p> +<p>Though she couldn’t do it without giggling Nettie +repeated the story she had given to her aunt and Jane. +She had gone into the small single back bedroom on +the floor below Mr. Allerton’s, and there was a half-dressed +girl ‘a-puttin’ up of ’er ’air.’ According to +her own statement Nettie had passed away on the spot, +being able, however, to articulate the question, “What +are you a’doin’ of ’ere?” To this the young woman +had replied that Mr. Allerton had brought her in on +the previous evening, telling her to sleep there, and +there she had slept. Nettie’s information could go no +further, but it was considered to go far enough.</p> +<p>“So what do you sye to <i>that</i>?” Mrs. Courage demanded +of Steptoe; “you that’s always so ready to +defend my young lord?”</p> +<p>Steptoe was prepared to stand back to back with +his employer. “I don’t defend ’im. I’m not called on +to defend ’im. It’s Mr. Rashleigh’s ’ouse. Any guest +of ’is must be your guest and mine.”</p> +<p>“And what about Miss Walbrook, ’er that’s to be +missus ’ere in the course of a few weeks?”</p> +<p>Steptoe colored, frostily. “She’s not missus ’ere +yet; and if she ever comes, there’ll be stormy weather +for all of us. New missuses don’t generally get on +with old servants like us—that’s been in the family +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +for so many years—but when they don’t, it ain’t them +as gets notice.”</p> +<p>A bell rang sharply. Steptoe sprang to attention.</p> +<p>“There’s Mr. Rashleigh now. Don’t you women go +to mykin’ a to-do. There’s lots o’ troubles that ’ud +never ’ave ’appened if women ’ad been able to ’old +their tongues.”</p> +<p>“But I suppose, Steptoe, you don’t deny that there’s +such a thing as right.”</p> +<p>“I don’t deny that there’s such a thing as right, +Mrs. Courage, but I only wonder if you knows more +about it than the rest of us.”</p> +<p>In Allerton’s room Steptoe found the young master +of the house half dressed. Standing before a mirror, +he was brushing his hair. His face and eyes, the +reflection of which Steptoe caught in the glass, were +like those of a man on the edge of going insane.</p> +<p>The old valet entered according to his daily habit +and without betraying the knowledge of anything unusual. +All the same his heart was sinking, as old +hearts sink when beloved young ones are in trouble. +The boy was his darling. He had been with his father +for ten years before the lad was born, and had watched +his growth with a more than paternal devotion. “’E’s +all I ’ave,” he often said to himself, and had been known +to let out the fact in the afore-mentioned group of +English upper servants, a small but exclusive circle +in the multiplex life of New York.</p> +<p>In Steptoe’s opinion Master Rash had never had a +chance. Born many years after his parents had lived +together childlessly, he had come into the world constitutionally +neurasthenic. Steptoe had never known +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +a boy who needed more to be nursed along and coaxed +along by affection, and now and then by indulgence. +Instead, the system of severity had been applied with +results little short of calamitous. He had been sent +to schools famous for religion and discipline, from +which he reacted in the first weeks of freedom in college, +getting into dire academic scrapes. Further severity +had led to further scrapes, and further scrapes +to something like disgrace, when the war broke out +and a Red Cross job had kept him from going to the +bad. The mother had been a self-willed and selfish +woman, claiming more from her son than she ever gave +him, and never perceiving that his was a nature requiring +a peculiar kind of care. After her death Steptoe +had prayed for a kind, sweet wife to come to the +boy’s rescue, and the answer had been Miss Barbara +Walbrook.</p> +<p>When the engagement was announced, Steptoe had +given up hope. Of Miss Walbrook as a woman he +had nothing to complain. Walter Wildgoose reported +her a noble creature, splendid, generous, magnificent, +only needing a strong hand. She was of the type not +to be served but to be mastered. Rashleigh Allerton +would goad her to frenzy, and she would do the same +by him. She was already doing it. For weeks past +Steptoe could see it plainly enough, and what would +happen after they were married God alone knew. +For himself he saw no future but to hang on after the +wedding as long as the new mistress of the house +would allow him, take his dismissal as an inevitable +thing, and sneak away and die.</p> +<p>It was part of Steptoe’s training not to notice anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +till his attention was called to it. So having said +his “Good-morning, sir,” he went to the closet, took +down the hanger with the coat and waistcoat belonging +to the suit of which he saw that Allerton had put on +the trousers, and waited till the young man was ready +for his ministrations.</p> +<p>Allerton was still brushing his hair, as he said over +his shoulder: “There’s a young woman in the house, +Steptoe. Been here all night.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir; I know—in the little back spare-room.”</p> +<p>“Who told you?”</p> +<p>“Nettie went in for a pincushion, Mr. Rash, and +the young woman was a-doin’ of ’er ’air.”</p> +<p>“What did Nettie say?”</p> +<p>“It ain’t what Nettie says, sir, if I may myke so bold. +It’s what Mrs. Courage and Jane says.”</p> +<p>“Tell Mrs. Courage and Jane they needn’t be +alarmed. The young woman is—” Steptoe caught +the spasm which contracted the boy’s face—“the young +woman is—my wife.”</p> +<p>“Quite so, sir.”</p> +<p>If Allerton went no further, Steptoe could go no +further; but inwardly he was like a man reprieved at +the last minute, and against all hope, from sentence of +death. “Then it won’t be ’<i>er</i>,” was all he could say to +himself, “’er” being Barbara Walbrook. Whatever +calamity had happened, that calamity at least would be +escaped, which was so much to the good.</p> +<p>His arms trembled so that he could hardly hold up +the waistcoat for Allerton to slip it on. But he didn’t +slip it on. Instead he wheeled round from the mirror, +threw the brushes with a crash to the toilet table, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +cried with a rage all the more raging for being impotent:</p> +<p>“Steptoe, I’ve been every kind of fool.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I expect so.”</p> +<p>“You’ve got to get me out of it, Steptoe. You +must find a way to save me.”</p> +<p>“I’ll do my best, sir.” The joy of cooperation with +the lad almost made up for the anguish at his anguish. +“What ’ud it be—you must excuse me, Mr. Rash—but +what ’ud it be that you’d like me to save you +from?”</p> +<p>Allerton threw out his arms. “From this crazy +marriage. This frightful mix-up. I went right off the +handle yesterday. I was an infernal idiot. And now +I’m in for it. Something’s got to be done, Steptoe, +and I can’t think of any one but you to do it.”</p> +<p>“Quite so, sir. Will you ’ave your wystcoat on now, +sir? You’re ready for it, I see. I’ll think it over, +Mr. Rash, and let you know.”</p> +<p>While first the waistcoat and then the coat were +extended and slipped over the shoulders, Allerton did +his best to put Steptoe in possession of the mad facts +of the previous day. Though the account he gave was +incoherent, the old man understood enough.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t her fault, you must understand,” Allerton +explained further, as Steptoe brushed his hat. +“She didn’t want to. I persuaded her. I wanted to do +something that would wring Miss Walbrook’s heart—and +I’ve done it! Wrung my own, too! What’s to +become of me, Steptoe? Is the best thing I can do to +shoot myself? Think it over. I’m ready to. I’m +not sure that it wouldn’t be a relief to get out of this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +rotten life. I’m all on edge. I could jump out of that +window as easily as not. But it wasn’t the girl’s fault. +She’s a poor little waif of a thing. You must look +after her and keep me from seeing her again, but she’s +not bad—only—only—Oh, my God! my God!”</p> +<p>He covered his face with his hands and rocked himself +about, so that Steptoe was obliged to go on brushing +till his master calmed himself.</p> +<p>“Do you think, sir,” he said then, “that this is the +’at to go with this ’ere suit? I think as the brown one +would be a lot chicker—tone in with the sort of fawn +stripe in the blue like, and ketch the note in your tie.” +He added, while diving into the closet in search of the +brown hat and bringing it out, “There’s one thing I +could say right now, Mr. Rash, and I think it might +’elp.”</p> +<p>“What is it?”</p> +<p>“Do you remember the time when you ’urt your leg +’unting down in Long Island?”</p> +<p>“Yes; what about it?”</p> +<p>“You was all for not payin’ it no attention and for +’oppin’ about as if you ’adn’t ’urt it at all. A terr’ble +fuss you myde when the doctor said as you was to +keep still. Anybody ’ud ’ave thought ’e’d bordered a +hamputation. And yet it was keepin’ still what got +you out o’ the trouble, now wasn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“Well, now you’re in a worse trouble still it might +do the syme again. I’m a great believer in keepin’ still, +I am.”</p> +<p>Allerton was off again. “How in thunder am I to +keep still when––?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></div> +<p>“I’ll tell you one wye, sir. Don’t talk. Don’t <i>do</i> +nothink. Don’t beat your ’ead against the wall. Be +quiet. Tyke it natural. You’ve done this thing. Well, +you ’aven’t committed a murder. You ’aven’t even +done a wrong to the young lydy to whom you was +engyged. By what I understand she’d jilted you, and +you was free to marry any one you took a mind to.”</p> +<p>“Nominally, perhaps, but––”</p> +<p>“If you’re nominally free, sir, you’re free, by what +I can understand; and if you’ve gone and done a +foolish thing it ain’t no one’s business but your own.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I can’t stand it!”</p> +<p>“O’ course you can’t stand it, sir, but it’s because +you can’t stand it that I’m arskin’ of you to keep just +as quiet as you can. Mistykes in our life is often like +the twists we’ll give to our bodies. They’ll ache most +awful, but let nyture alone and she’ll tyke care of ’em. +It’s jest so with our mistykes. Let life alone and she’ll +put ’em stryght for us, nine times out o’ ten, better +than we can do it by workin’ up into a wax.”</p> +<p>Calmed to some extent Allerton went off to the club +for breakfast, being unable to face this meal at home. +Steptoe tidied up the room. He was troubled and yet +relieved. It was a desperate case, but he had always +found that in desperate cases desperate remedies were +close at hand.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>Chapter V</h2> +</div> +<p>“See that the poor thing gets some breakfast,” had +been Allerton’s parting command, and having finished +the room, Steptoe went down the flight of stairs +to carry out this injunction.</p> +<p>He was on the third step from the landing when +the door of the back room opened, and a little, gray +figure, hatted and jacketed, crept out stealthily. She +was plainly ready for the street, an intention understood +by Beppo, the late Mrs. Allerton’s red cocker +spaniel, who was capering about her in the hope of +sharing the promenade.</p> +<p>As Steptoe came to a halt, the girl ran toward him.</p> +<p>“Oh, mister, I gotta get out of this swell dump. +Show me the way, for God’s sake!”</p> +<p>To say that Steptoe was thinking rapidly would be +to describe his mental processes incorrectly. He never +thought; he received illuminations. Some such enlightenment +came to him now, inducing him to say, +ceremoniously, “Madam can’t go without ’er breakfast.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any breakfast,” she protested, breathlessly. +“All I want is to get away. I’m frightened.”</p> +<p>“I assure madam that there’s nothink to be afryde +of in this ’ouse. Mr. Allerton is the most honorable—” +he pronounced the initial <i>h</i>—“young man that +hever was born. I valeted ’is father before ’im and +know that ’e wouldn’t ’urt a fly. If madam’ll trust +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +me—Besides, Mr. Allerton left word with me as you +was to be sure to ’ave your breakfast, and I shouldn’t +know how to fyce ’im if ’e was to know that you’d +gone awye without so much as a hegg.”</p> +<p>She wrung her hands. “I don’t want to see him. +I couldn’t.”</p> +<p>“Madam won’t see ’im. ’E’s gone for the dye. ’E +don’t so often heat at ’ome—’ardly never.”</p> +<p>Of the courses before her Letty saw that yielding +was the easiest. Besides, it would give her her breakfast, +which was a consideration. Though she had +nominally dined on the previous evening, she had not +been able to eat; she had been too terrified. Never +would she forget the things that had happened after +she had given her consent in the Park.</p> +<p>Not that outwardly they had been otherwise than +commonplace. It was going through them at all! The +man was as nearly “off his chump”—the expression +was hers—as a human being could be without laying +himself open to arrest. After calling the taxi in Fifth +Avenue he had walked up and down, compelling her +to walk by his side, for a good fifteen minutes before +making her get in and springing in beside her. At the +house opposite he had stared and stared, as if hoping +that some one would look out. During the drive to +the place where they got the license, and later to the +minister’s house, he spoke not a word. In the restaurant +to which he took her afterward, the most glorious +place she had ever been in, he ordered a feast suited +to a queen, but she could hardly do more than taste it. +She felt that the waiter was looking at them strangely, +and she didn’t know the uses of the knives and forks. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +The man she had married offered her no help, neither +speaking to her nor giving her a glance. He himself +ate but little, lost in some mental maze to which she +had no clue.</p> +<p>After dinner he had proposed the theatre, but she +had refused. She couldn’t go anywhere else with him. +Wherever they moved, a thousand eyes were turned +in amazement at the extraordinary pair. He saw +nothing, but she was alive to it all—more conscious +of her hat and suit than even in the street scene in +“The Man with the Emerald Eye.” Once and for all +she became aware that the first standard for human +valuation is in clothes.</p> +<p>In the end they had got into another taxi, to be +driven round and round the Park and out along the +river bank, till he decided that they might go home. +During all this time he hardly noticed her. Once he +asked her if she was warm enough, and once if she +would like to get out and take a walk along the parapet +above the river, but otherwise he was withdrawn into +a world which he kept shut and locked against her. +That left her alone. She had never felt so much +alone in her life, not even in the days which followed +her mother’s death. It was as if she had been snatched +away from everything with which she was familiar, +to find herself stranded in a country of fantastic +dreams.</p> +<p>Then there was the house and the little back room. +By the use of his latchkey they had entered a palace +huge and dark. Letty didn’t know that people lived +with so much space around them. Only a hall light +burned in a many-colored oriental lamp, and in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +half-gloom the rooms on each side of the entry were +cavernous. There was not a servant, not a sound. +The only living thing was a little dog which pattered +out of the obscurity and, raising his paws against her +skirt, adopted her instantaneously.</p> +<p>“He was my mother’s dog,” Allerton explained +briefly. “He likes women, but not men, though he’s +never taken to the women in the house. He’ll probably +like you. His name is Beppo. I’ll show you up at +once.”</p> +<p>The grandeur of the staircase was overpowering, +and the little back spare-room of a magnificence beyond +all her experience outside of movie-sets. The flowers +on the chintz coverings were prettier than real ones, +and there was a private bath. Letty had heard of +private baths, but no picture she had ever painted +equaled this dainty apartment in which everything +was of spotless white except where a flight of blue-gray +gulls skimmed over a blue summer sea.</p> +<p>The objects in the bedroom were too lovely to live +with. On the toilet table were boxes and trays which +Letty supposed must be priceless, and a set of brushes +with silver backs. She couldn’t brush her hair with +a brush with a silver back, because it would be journeying +too far beyond real life into that of fairy +princesses. On opening the closet to hang up her +jacket the very hangers were puffed and covered with +the “sweetest flowered silks,” so she hung her jacket +on a peg.</p> +<p>But she wasn’t comfortable, she wasn’t happy. +Alice had traveled too far into Wonderland, and too +suddenly. Unwillingly she lay down in a bed too clean +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +and soft for the human form, but she couldn’t sleep +in it. She could only tremble and toss and lie awake +and wish for the morning. With the dawn she would +be up and off, before any one caught sight of her.</p> +<p>For Allerton had used words which had terrified +her more than anything that had yet happened or +been said—“the other women in the house!” Not +till then had she sufficiently visualized the life into +which he was taking her to understand that there +would be other women there. Now that she knew it, +she couldn’t face them. She could have faced men. +Men, after all, were simple creatures with only a rudimentary +power of judgment. But women! God! She +pulled the eiderdown about her head so as not to cry +out so loudly that she would be heard. What mad +thing had she done? What had she let herself in for? +She didn’t ask what kind of women they would be—members +of his family or servants. She didn’t care. +All women were alike. The woman was not born who +wouldn’t view a girl in her unconventional situation, +“and especially in that rig”—once more the expression +was her own—without a condemnation which Letty +could not and would not submit herself to. So she +would get up and steal away with the first gleam of +light.</p> +<p>She got up with the first gleam of light, but she +couldn’t steal away. Once more she was afraid. Unlocking +the door, she dared not venture out. Who +knew where, in that palace of cavernous apartments, +she might meet a woman, or what the woman would +say to her? When Nettie walked in later, humming +a street air, Letty almost died from shame. For one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +thing, she hadn’t yet put on her shirtwaist, which in +itself was poor enough, and as she stood exposed without +it, any other of her sex could see.... She had +once been on the studio lot when a girl of about her +own age, a “supe” like herself, was arrested for thieving +in the women’s dressing-rooms. Letty had never +forgotten the look in that girl’s face as she passed out +through the crowd of her colleagues. In Nettie’s presence +she felt like that girl’s look.</p> +<p>She had no means of telling the time, but when she +could no longer endure the imprisonment she decided +to make a bolt for it. She hadn’t been thieving, and +so they couldn’t do anything to her—and there was a +chance at least that she might get away. Opening the +door cautiously, she stole out on the landing, and there +was, not a woman, but a man!</p> +<p>Joy! A man would listen to her appeal. He would +see that she was poor, common, unequal to a dump so +swell, and would be human and tender. He was a nice +looking old man too—she was able to notice that—with +a long, kindly face on which there were two +spots of bloom as if he had been rouged. So she +capitulated to his plea, making only the condition that +if she took the hegg—she pronounced the word as he +did, not being sure as to what it meant—she should +be free to go.</p> +<p>“Certainly, if madam wishes it. I’m sure the last +thing Mr. Allerton would desire would be to detain +madam against ’er will.”</p> +<p>She allowed herself to be ushered down the monumental +stairs and into the dining-room, which awed +her with the solemnity of a church. She knew at once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +that she wouldn’t be able to eat amid this stateliness +any more than in the glitter of last evening’s restaurant. +She had yielded, however, and there was nothing +for it but to sit down at the head of the table in the +chair which Steptoe drew out for her. Guessing at +her most immediate embarrassment, he showed her +what to do by unfolding the napkin and laying it in +her lap.</p> +<p>“Now, if madam will excuse me, I’ll slip awye and +tell Jyne.”</p> +<p>But telling Jyne was not so simple a matter as it +looked. The council in the kitchen, which at first +had been a council and no more, was now a council of +war. As Steptoe entered, Mrs. Courage was saying:</p> +<p>“I shall go to Mr. Rashleigh ’imself and tell ’im +that hunder the syme roof with a baggage none of +us will stye.”</p> +<p>“You can syve yourself the trouble, Mrs. Courage,” +Steptoe informed her. “Mr. Rash ’as just gone out. +Besides, I’ve good news for all of you.” He waited +for each to take an appropriate expression, Mrs. Courage +determined, Jane with face eager and alight, +Nettie tittering behind her hand. “Miss Walbrook, +which all of us ’as dreaded, is not a-comin’ to our +midst. The young lydy Nettie see in the back spare-room +is Mr. Rashleigh’s wife.”</p> +<p>“Wife!” Mrs. Courage threw up her hands and +staggered backward. “’Im that ’is mother left to +me! ‘Courage,’ says she, ‘when I’m gone––’”</p> +<p>Jane crept forward, horrified, stunned. “Them +things can’t be, Steptoe.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Rash told me so ’imself. I don’t know what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +more we want than that.” Steptoe was not without +his diplomacy. “It’s a fine thing for us, girls. This +sweet young lydy is not goin’ to myke us no trouble +like what the other one would, and belongs right in +our own class.”</p> +<p>“’Enery Steptoe, speak for yourself,” Mrs. Courage +said, severely. “There’s no baggages in my class, +nor never was, nor never will be.”</p> +<p>Jane began to cry. “I’m sure I try to think the +best of everyone, but when such awful things ’appens +and ’omes is broken up––”</p> +<p>“Jynie,” Steptoe said with authority, “the young +missus is wytin’ for ’er breakfast. ’Ave the goodness +to tyke ’er in ’er grypefruit.”</p> +<p>“Jyne Cakebread,” Mrs. Courage declared, with an +authority even greater than Steptoe’s, “the first as +tykes a grypefruit into that dinin’-room, to set before +them as I shouldn’t demean myself to nyme, comes +hunder my displeasure.”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t, Steptoe,” Jane pleaded helplessly. “All +my life I’ve wyted on lydies. ’Ow can you expect +me to turn over a new leaf at my time o’ life?”</p> +<p>“Nettie?” Steptoe made the appeal magisterially.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll do it,” Nettie giggled. “’Appy to get +another look at ’er. I sye, she’s a sight!”</p> +<p>But Mrs. Courage barred the way. “My niece will +wyte on people of doubtful conduck over my dead +corpse.”</p> +<p>“Very well, then, Mrs. Courage,” Steptoe reasoned. +“If you won’t serve the new missus, Mr. Rashleigh, +will ’ave to get some one else who will.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Rashleigh will ’ave to do that very selfsame +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +thing. Not another night will none of us sleep hunder +this paternal roof with them that their very presence +is a houtrage. ’Enery Steptoe was always a time-server, +and a time-server ’e will be, but as for us +women, we shall see the new missus in goin’ in to +give ’er notice. Not a month’s notice, it won’t be. +This range as I’ve cooked at for nearly thirty years +I shall cook at no more, not so much as for lunch. +Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What’s the world comin’ to?”</p> +<p>In spite of her strength of character Mrs. Courage +threw her apron over her head and burst into tears. +Jane was weeping already.</p> +<p>“There, there, aunt,” Nettie begged, patting her +relative between the shoulders. “What’s the good o’ +goin’ on like that just because a silly ass ’as married +beneath ’im?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage pulled her apron from her face to +cry out with passion:</p> +<p>“If ’e was goin’ to disgryce ’imself like that, why +couldn’t ’e ’a taken you?”</p> +<p>So Steptoe waited on Letty himself, bringing in the +grapefruit, the coffee, the egg, and the toast, and seeing +that she knew how to deal with each in the proper +forms. He was so brooding, so yearning, so tactful, +as he bent over her, that she was never at a loss as to +the fork or spoon she ought to use, or the minute at +which to use it. Under his protection Letty ate. +She ate, first because she was young and hungry, and +then because she felt him standing between her and +all vague terrors. By the time she had finished, he +moved in front of her, where he could speak as one +human being to another.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></div> +<p>Taking an empty plate from the table to put it on +the sideboard, he said: “I ’ope madam is chyngin’ ’er +mind about leavin’ us.”</p> +<p>Letty glanced up shyly in spite of being somewhat +reassured. “What’ud be the good of my changin’ my +mind when—when I’m not fit to stay?”</p> +<p>“Madam means not fit in the sense that––”</p> +<p>“I’m not a lady.”</p> +<p>Resting one hand on the table, he looked down +into her eyes with an expression such as Letty had +never before seen in a human face.</p> +<p>“I could myke a lydy of madam.”</p> +<p>At the sound of these quiet words, so confidently +spoken, something passed through Letty’s frame to +be described only by the hard-worked word, a thrill. +It was a double current of vibration, partly of upleaping +hope, partly of the desperate sense of her own +limitations. A hundred points of gold dust were +aflame in her irises as she said:</p> +<p>“You mean that you’d put me wise? Oh, but I’d +never learn!”</p> +<p>“On the contrary, I think madam would pick up +very quick.”</p> +<p>“And I’d never be able to talk the right––”</p> +<p>“I could learn madam to talk just as good +as me.”</p> +<p>It seemed too much. She clasped her hands. It +was the nearest point she had ever reached to ecstasy. +“Oh, do you think you could? You talk somethin’ +beautiful, you do!”</p> +<p>He smiled modestly. “I’ve always lived with the +best people, and I suppose I ketch their wyes. I know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +what a gentleman is—and a lydy. I know all a +lydy’s little ’abits, and before two or three months +was over madam ’ud ’ave them as natural as natural, +if she wouldn’t think me overbold.”</p> +<p>“When ’ud you begin?”</p> +<p>The bright spot deepened in each cheek. “I’ve +begun already, if madam won’t think me steppin’ out +o’ my plyce to sye so, in showin’ madam the spoons +and forks for the different––”</p> +<p>Letty colored, too. “Yes, I saw that. I take it +as very kind. But—” she looked at him with a puzzled +knitting of the brows—“but what makes you +take all this trouble for me?”</p> +<p>“I’ve two reasons, madam, but I’ll only tell you one +of ’em just now. The other’ll keep. I’ll myke it +known to you if—if all goes as I ’ope.” He straightened +himself up. “I don’t often speak o’ this,” he +continued, “because among us butlers and valets it +wouldn’t be understood. Most of us is what’s known +as conservative, all for the big families and the old +wyes. Well, so am I—to a point. But––”</p> +<p>He moved a number of objects on the table before +he could go on. “I wasn’t born to the plyce I ’old +now,” he explained after getting his material at command. +“I wasn’t born to nothink. I was what they +calls in England a foundlin’—a byby what’s found—what +’is parents ’ave thrown awye. I don’t know who +my father and mother was, or what was my real +nyme. ’Enery Steptoe is just a nyme they give me at +the Horphanage. But I won’t go into that. I’m just +tryin’ to tell madam that my life was a ’ard one, quite +a ’ard one, till I come to New York as footman for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +Mr. Allerton’s father, and afterward worked up to be +’is valet and butler.”</p> +<p>He cleared his throat. Expressing ideals was not +easy. “I ’ope madam will forgive me if I sye that +what it learned me was a fellow-feelin’ with my own +sort—with the poor. I’ve often wished as I could go +out among the poor and ryse them up. I ain’t a +socialist—a little bit of a anarchist perhaps, but nothink +extreme—and yet—Well, if Mr. Rashleigh had married +a rich girl, I would ’a tyken it as natural and +done my best for ’im, but since ’e ’asn’t—Oh, can’t +madam see? It’s—it’s a kind o’ pride with me to find +some one like—like what I was when I was ’er age—out +in the cold like—and bring ’er in—and ’elp ’er to +tryne ’erself—so—so as—some day—to beat the best—them +as ’as ’ad all the chances––”</p> +<p>He was interrupted by the tinkle of the telephone. +It was a relief. He had said all he needed to say, all +he knew how to say. Whether madam understood it +or not he couldn’t tell, since she didn’t seize ideas +quickly.</p> +<p>“If madam will excuse me now, I’ll go and answer +that call.”</p> +<p>But Letty sprang up in alarm. “Oh, don’t leave +me. Some of them women will blow in––”</p> +<p>“None of them women will <i>come</i>—” he threw a +delicate emphasis on the word—“if madam’ll just sit +down. They don’t mean to come. I’ll explyne that to +madam when I come back, if she’ll only not leave +this room.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>Chapter VI</h2> +</div> +<p>“Good morning, Steptoe. Will you ask Mr. +Allerton if he’ll speak to Miss Walbrook?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Allerton ’as gone to the New Netherlands +club for ’is breakfast, miss.”</p> +<p>“Oh, thanks. I’ll call him up there.”</p> +<p>She didn’t want to call him up there, at a club, +where a man must like to feel safe from feminine +intrusion, but the matter was too pressing to permit +of hesitation. Since the previous afternoon she +had gone through much searching of heart. She +was accustomed to strong reactions from tempestuousness +to penitence, but not of the violence of +this one.</p> +<p>Summoned to the telephone, Allerton felt as if +summoned to the bar of judgment. He divined who +it was, and he divined the reason for the call.</p> +<p>“Good morning, Rash!”</p> +<p>His voice was absolutely dead. “Good morning, +Barbara!”</p> +<p>“I know you’re cross with me for calling you at +the club.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! Not at all!”</p> +<p>“But I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted you to +know—I’ve got it on again, Rash—never to come off +any more.”</p> +<p>He was dumb. Thirty seconds at least went by, +and he had made no response.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></div> +<p>“Aren’t you glad?”</p> +<p>“I—I could have been glad—if—if I’d known you +were going to do it.”</p> +<p>“And now you know that it’s done.”</p> +<p>He repeated in his lifeless voice, “Yes, now I know +that it’s done.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>Again he was silent. Two or three times he tried to +find words, producing nothing but a stammering of +incoherent syllables. “I—I can’t talk about it here, +Barbe,” he managed to articulate at last. “You must +let me come round and see you.”</p> +<p>It was her voice now that was dead. “When will +you come, Rash?”</p> +<p>“Now—at once—if you can see me.”</p> +<p>“Then come.”</p> +<p>She put up the receiver without saying more. He +knew that she knew. She knew at least that something +had happened which was fatal to them both.</p> +<p>She received him not in the drawing-room, but +in a little den on the right of the front door which +was also alive with Miss Walbrook’s modern personality. +A gold-colored portière from Albert Herter’s +looms screened them from the hall, and the +chairs were covered with bits of Herter tapestry +representing fruits. A cabinet of old white Bennington +faience stood against a wall, which was further +adorned with three or four etchings of Sears Gallagher’s. +Barbara wore a lacy thing in hydrangea-colored +crêpe de chine, loosely girt with a jade-green +ribbon tasselled in gold, the whole bringing out the +faintly Egyptian note in her personality.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p>They dispensed with a greeting, because she spoke +the minute he crossed the threshold of the room.</p> +<p>“Rash, what is it? Why couldn’t you tell me on +the telephone?”</p> +<p>He wished now that he had. It would have saved +this explanation face to face. “Because I couldn’t. +Because—because I’ve been too much of an idiot +to—to tell you about it—either on the telephone or in +any other way.”</p> +<p>“How?” He thought she must understand, but +she seemed purposely dense. “Sit down. Tell me +about it. It can’t be so terrible—all of a sudden like +this.”</p> +<p>He couldn’t sit down. He could only turn away +from her and gulp in his dry throat. “You remember +what I said—what I said—yesterday—about—about +the—the Gissing fellow?”</p> +<p>She nodded fiercely. “Yes. Go on. Get it out.”</p> +<p>“Well—well—I’ve—I’ve done that.”</p> +<p>She threw out her arms. She threw back her head +till the little nut-brown throat was taut. The cry +rent her. It rent him.</p> +<p>“You—<i>fool</i>!”</p> +<p>He stood with head hanging. He longed to run +away, and yet he longed also to throw himself at her +feet. If he could have done exactly as he felt impelled, +he would have laid his head on her breast and +wept like a child.</p> +<p>She swung away from him, pacing the small room +like a frenzied animal. Her breath came in short, +hard pantings that were nearly sobs. Suddenly she +stopped in front of him with a sort of calm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></div> +<p>“What made you?”</p> +<p>He barely lifted his agonized black eyes. “You,”</p> +<p>She was in revolt again. “I? What did I do?”</p> +<p>“You—you threw away my ring. You said it was +all—all over.”</p> +<p>“Well? Couldn’t I say that without driving you +to act the madman? No one but a madman would +have gone out of this house and—” She clasped +her forehead in her hands with a dramatic lifting of +the arms. “Oh! It’s too much! I don’t care about +myself. But to have it on your conscience that a man +has thrown his life away––”</p> +<p>He asked meekly, “What good was it to me when +you wouldn’t have it?”</p> +<p>She stamped her foot. “Rash, you’ll drive me +insane. Your life might be no good to you at all, +and yet you might give it a chance for twenty-four +hours—that isn’t much, is it?—before you—” She +caught herself up. “Tell me. You don’t mean to +say that you’re <i>married</i>?”</p> +<p>He nodded.</p> +<p>“To whom?”</p> +<p>“Her first name is Letty. I’ve forgotten the second +name.”</p> +<p>“Where did you find her?”</p> +<p>“Over there in the Park.”</p> +<p>“And she went and married you—like that?”</p> +<p>“She was all alone—chucked out by a stepfather––”</p> +<p>She burst into a hard laugh. “Oh, you baby! You +believed that? The kind of story that’s told by nine +of the––”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/illus-068.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 333px; height: 452px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 333px;'> +BY THE TIME HE HAD FINISHED, HIS HEART WAS A LITTLE EASED AND SOME OF HER TENDERNESS BEGAN TO FLOW TOWARD HIM<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></div> +<p>He interrupted quickly. “Don’t call her anything, +Barbe—I mean any kind of a bad name. She’s all +right as far as that goes. There’s a kind that couldn’t +take you in.”</p> +<p>“There’s <i>no</i> kind that couldn’t take <i>you</i> in!”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not, but it’s the one thing in—in this +whole idiotic business that’s on the level—I mean she +is. I’d give my right hand to put her back where I +found her yesterday—just as she was—but she’s +straight.”</p> +<p>She dropped into a chair. The first wild tumult +of rage having more or less spent its force, she began, +with a kind of heart-broken curiosity, to ask for the +facts. She spoke nervously, beating a palm with a +gold tassel of her girdle. “Begin at the beginning. +Tell me all about it.”</p> +<p>He leaned on the mantelpiece, of which the only +ornaments were a child’s head in white and blue terra +cotta by Paul Manship, balanced by a pair of old +American glass candlesticks, and told the tale as consecutively +as he could. He recounted everything, even +to the bringing her home, the putting her in the little, +back spare-room, and her adoption by Beppo, the red +cocker spaniel. By the time he had finished, his heart +was a little eased, and some of her tenderness toward +him was beginning to flow forth. She was like that, +all wrath at one minute, all gentleness the next. +Springing to her feet, she caught him by the arm, +pressing herself against him.</p> +<p>“All right, Rash. You’ve done it. That’s settled. +But it can be undone again.”</p> +<p>He pressed her head back from him, resting the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +knot of her hair in the hollow of his palm and looking +down into her eyes.</p> +<p>“How can it be undone?”</p> +<p>“Oh, there must be ways. A man can’t be allowed +to ruin his life—to ruin two lives—for a prank. We’ll +just have to think. If you made it worth while for +her to take you, you can make it worth while for her +to let you go. She’ll do it.”</p> +<p>“She’d do it, of course. She doesn’t care. I’m +nothing to her, not any more than she to me. I +shan’t see her any more than I can help. I suppose +she must stay at the house till—I told Steptoe to look +after her.”</p> +<p>She took a position at one end of the mantelpiece, +while he faced her from the other. She gave him +wise counsel. He was to see his lawyers at once and +tell them the whole story. Lawyers always saw the +way out of things. There was the Bellington boy +who married a show-girl. She had been bought off, +and the lawyers had managed it. Now the Bellington +boy was happily married to one of the Plantagenet +Jones girls and lived at Marillo Park. Then there was +the Silliman boy who had married the notorious Kate +Cookesley. The lawyers had found the way out of +that, too, and now the Silliman boy was a secretary +of the American Embassy in Rome. Accidents such +as had happened to Rash were regrettable of course, +but it would be folly to think that a perfectly good +life must be done for just because it had got a crack +in it.</p> +<p>“We’ll play the game, of course,” she wound up. +“But it’s a game, and the stronger side must win. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +What should you say of my going to see her—she +needn’t know who I am further than that I’m a friend +of yours—and finding out for myself?”</p> +<p>“Finding out what?”</p> +<p>“Finding out her price, silly. What do you suppose? +A woman can often see things like that where +a man would be blind.”</p> +<p>He didn’t know. He thought it might be worth +while. He would leave it to her. “I’m not worth +the trouble, Barbe,” he said humbly.</p> +<p>With this she agreed. “I know you’re not. I can’t +think for a minute why I take it or why I should +like you. But I do. That’s straight.”</p> +<p>“And I adore you, Barbe.”</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders with a little, comic +grimace. “Oh, well! I suppose every one has his +own way of showing adoration, but I must say that +yours is original.”</p> +<p>“If it’s original to be desperate when the woman +you worship drives you to despair––”</p> +<p>There was another little comic grimace, though less +comic than the first time. “Oh, yes, I know. It’s +always the woman whom a man worships that’s in +the wrong. I’ve noticed that. Men are never impossible—all +of their own accord.”</p> +<p>“I could be as tame as a cat if––”</p> +<p>“If it wasn’t for me. Thank you, Rash. I said +just now I was fond of you, and I should have to +be to—to stand for all the––”</p> +<p>“I’m not blaming you, Barbe. I’m only––”</p> +<p>“Thanks again. The day you’re not blaming me is +certainly one to be marked with a white stone, as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +Romans used to say. But if it comes to blaming any +one, Rash, after what happened yesterday––”</p> +<p>“What happened yesterday wasn’t begun by me. +It would never have entered my mind to do the crazy +thing I did, if you hadn’t positively and finally—as I +thought—flung me down. I think you must do me +that justice, Barbe—that justice, at the least.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I do you justice enough. I don’t see that you +can complain of that. It seems to me too that I +temper justice with mercy to a degree that—that most +people find ridiculous.”</p> +<p>“By most people I suppose you mean your aunt.”</p> +<p>“Oh, do leave Aunt Marion out of it. You can’t +forgive the poor thing for not liking you. Well, she +doesn’t, and I can’t help it. She thinks you’re a––”</p> +<p>“A fool—as you were polite enough to say just +now.”</p> +<p>She spread her hands apart in an attitude of protestation. +“Well, if I did, Rash, surely you must +admit that I had provocation.”</p> +<p>“Oh, of course. The wonder is that with the provocation +you can––”</p> +<p>“Forgive you, and try to patch it up again after +this frightful gash in the agreement. Well, it <i>is</i> a +wonder. I don’t believe that many girls––”</p> +<p>“I only want you to understand, Barbe, that the +gash in the agreement was made, not by what I did, +but what you did. If you hadn’t sent me to the devil, +I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to go there.”</p> +<p>She was off. “Yes, there you are again. Always +me! I’m the one! You may be the gunpowder, the +perfectly harmless gunpowder, but it would never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +blow up if I didn’t come as the match. <i>I</i> make all +the explosions. <i>I</i> set you crazy. <i>I</i> send you to the +devil. <i>I</i> make you go and marry a girl you never +laid eyes on in your life before.”</p> +<p>So it was the same old scene all over again, till +both were exhausted, and she had flung herself into +a chair to cover her face with her hands and burst +into tears. Instantly he was on his knees beside her.</p> +<p>“Barbe! Barbe! My beloved Barbe! Don’t cry. +I’m a brute. I’m a fool. I’m not satisfied with +breaking my own heart, but I must go to work and +break yours. Oh, Barbe, forgive me. I’m all to +pieces. Forgive me and let me go away and shoot +myself. What’s the good of a poor, wrecked creature +like me hanging on and making such a mess of things? +Let me kill myself before I kill you––”</p> +<p>“Oh, hush!”</p> +<p>Seizing his head, she pressed it against her bosom +convulsively. By the shaking of his shoulders, she +felt him sob. He <i>was</i> a poor creature. She was saying +so to herself. But just because he was, something +in her yearned over him. He <i>could</i> be different; he +could be stronger and of value in the world if there +was only some one to handle him rightly. She could +do it—if she could only learn to handle herself. She +<i>would</i> learn to handle herself—for his sake. He was +worth saving. He had fine qualities, and a good heart +most of all. It was his very fineness which put him +out of place in a world like that of New York. He +was a delicate, brittle, highly-wrought thing which +should be touched only with the greatest care, and all +his life he had been pushed and hurtled about as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +he were a football player or a business man. With +the soul of a poet or a painter or a seer, he had been +treated like the typical rough-and-ready American lad, +till the sensitive nature had been brutalized, maimed, +and frenzied.</p> +<p>She knew that. It was why she cared for him. +Even when they were children she had seen that he +wasn’t getting fair treatment, either at home or in +school or among the boys and girls with whom they +both grew up. He was the exception, and American +life allowed only for the rule. If you couldn’t conform +to the rule, you were guyed and tormented and +ejected. Among all his associates she alone knew +what he suffered, and because she knew it a vast pity +made her cling to him. He had forced himself into +the life of clubs, into the life of society, into the life +of other men as other men lived their lives, and the +effect on him had been so nearly ruinous that it was +no wonder if he was always on the edge of nervous +explosion. His very wealth which might have been a +protection was, under the uniform pressure of American +social habit, an incitement to him to follow the +wrong way. She knew it, and she alone. She could +save him, and she alone. She could save him, if she +could first of all save herself.</p> +<p>With his head pressed against her she made the +vow as she had made it fifty times already. She would +be gentle with him; she would be patient; she would +let him work off on her the agony of his suffering +nerves, and smile at him through it all. She would +help him out of the idiotic situation in which he found +himself. The other girl was only an incident, as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +show-girl had been to the Bellington boy, and could +be disposed of. She attached to that only a secondary +importance in comparison with the whole thing—her +saving him. She would save him, even if it meant +rooting out every instinct in her soul.</p> +<p>But as he made his way blindly back to the club, +his own conclusions were different. He must go to +the devil. He must go to the devil now, whatever else +he did. Going to the devil would set her free from him. +It was the only thing that would. It would set him +free from the other woman, set him free from life +itself. Life tortured him. He was a misfit in it. +He should never have been born. He had always +understood that his parents hadn’t wanted children +and that his coming had been resented. You couldn’t +be born like that and find it natural to be in the world. +He had never found it natural. He couldn’t remember +the time when he hadn’t been out of his element in +life, and now he must recognize the fact courageously.</p> +<p>It would be easy enough. He had worked up an +artificial appetite for all that went under the head +of debauchery. It had meant difficult schooling at +first, because his natural tastes were averse to that +kind of thing, but he had been schooled. Schooled +was the word, since his training had begun under the +very roof where his father had sent him to get religion +and discipline. There had been no let-up in this educational +course, except when he himself had stolen +away, generally in solitude, for a little holiday.</p> +<p>But as he put it to himself, he knew all the roads +and by-paths and cross-country leaps that would take +him to the gutter, and to the gutter he would go.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>Chapter VII</h2> +</div> +<p>And all this while Letty was in the dining-room, +learning certain lessons from her new-found +friend.</p> +<p>For some little time she had been alone. Steptoe +finished his conversation with Miss Walbrook on the +telephone, but did not come back. She sat at the +table feeding Beppo with bread and milk, but wondering +if, after all, she hadn’t better make a bolt for it. +She had had her breakfast, which was an asset to the +good, and nothing worse could happen to her out in +the open world than she feared in this great dim, +gloomy house. She had once crept in to look at the +cathedral and, overwhelmed by its height, immensity, +and mystery, had crept out again. Its emotional suggestions +had been more than she could bear. She +felt now as if her bed had been made and her food +laid out in that cathedral—as if, as long as she remained, +she must eat and sleep in this vast, pillared +solemnity.</p> +<p>And that was only one thing. There were small +practical considerations even more terrible to confront. +If Nettie were to appear again ...</p> +<p>But it was as to this that Steptoe was making his +appeal. “I sye, girls, don’t you go to mykin’ a fuss +and spoilin’ your lives, when you’ve got a chanst as’ll +never come again.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage answered for them all. To sacrifice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +decency to self-interest wasn’t in them, nor never +would be. Some there might be, like ’Enery Steptoe, +who would sell their birthright for a mess of pottage, +but Mary Ann Courage was not of that company, nor +any other woman upon whom she could use her influence. +If a hussy had been put to reign over them, +reigned over by a hussy none of them would be. All +they asked was to see her once, to deliver the ultimatum +of giving notice.</p> +<p>“It’s a strynge thing to me,” Steptoe reasoned, +“that when one poor person gets a lift, every other +poor person comes down on ’em.”</p> +<p>“And might we arsk who you means by poor persons?”</p> +<p>“Who should I mean, Mrs. Courage, but people +like us? If we don’t ’ang by each other, who <i>will</i> +’ang by us, I should like to know? ’Ere’s one of us +plyced in a ’igh position, and instead o’ bein’ proud of +it, and givin’ ’er a lift to carry ’er along, you’re all +for mykin’ it as ’ard for ’er as you can. Do you call +that sensible?”</p> +<p>“I call it sensible for everyone to stye in their +proper spere.”</p> +<p>“So that if a man’s poor, you must keep ’im poor, +no matter ’ow ’e tries to better ’imself. That’s what +your proper speres would come to.”</p> +<p>But argument being of no use, Steptoe could only +make up his mind to revolution in the house. “The +poor’s very good to the poor when one of ’em’s in +trouble,” was his summing up, “but let one of ’em +’ave an extry stroke of luck, and all the rest’ll jaw +against ’im like so many magpies.” As a parting shot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +he declared on leaving the kitchen, “The trouble with +you girls is that you ain’t got no class spunk, and that’s +why, in sperrit, you’ll never be nothink but menials.”</p> +<p>This lack of <i>esprit de corps</i> was something he +couldn’t understand, but what he understood less was +the need of the heart to touch occasionally the high +points of experience. Mrs. Courage and Jane, to say +nothing of Nettie, after thirty years of domestic +routine had reached the place where something in the +way of drama had become imperative. The range +and the pantry produce inhibitions as surely as the +desk or the drawing-room. On both natures inhibitions +had been packed like feathers on a seabird, till +the soul cried out to be released from some of them. +It might mean going out from the home that had +sheltered them for years, and breaking with all their +traditions, but now that the chance was there, neither +could refuse it. To a virtuous woman, starched and +stiffened in her virtue, steeped in it, dyed in it, permeated +by it through and through, nothing so stirs +the dramatic, so quickens the imagination, so calls +the spirit to the purple emotional heights, as contact +with the sister she knows to be a hussy. For Jane +Cakebread and Mary Ann Courage the opportunity +was unique.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll go. I’ll go straight now.”</p> +<p>As Steptoe brought the information that the three +women of the household were coming to announce +the resignation of their posts, Letty sprang to her +feet.</p> +<p>“May I arsk madam to sit down again and let me +explyne?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></div> +<p>Taking this as an order, she sank back into her +chair again. He stood confronting her as before, one +hand resting lightly on the table.</p> +<p>“Nothink so good won’t ’ave ’appened in this ’ouse +since old Mrs. Allerton went to work and died.”</p> +<p>Letty’s eyes shone with their tiny fires, not in pleasure +but in wonder.</p> +<p>“When old servants is good, they’re good, but even +when they’re good, there’s times when you can’t ’elp +wishin’ as ’ow the Lord ’ud be pleased to tyke them +to ’Imself.”</p> +<p>He allowed this to sink in before going further.</p> +<p>“The men’s all right, for the most part. Indoor +work comes natural to ’em, and they’ll swing it +without no complynts. But with the women it’s +kick, kick, kick, and when they’re worn theirselves +out with kickin’, they’ll begin to kick again. +What’s plye for a man, for them ain’t nothink but +slyvery.”</p> +<p>Letty listened as one receiving revelations from +another world.</p> +<p>“I ain’t what they call a woman-’ater. <i>I</i> believe +as God made woman for a purpose. Only I can’t +bring myself to think as the human race ’as rightly +found out yet what that purpose is. God’s wyes is +always dark, and when it comes to women, they’re +darker nor they are elsewheres. One thing I do know, +and we’ll be a lot more comfortable when more of us +finds it out—that God never made women for the +’ome.”</p> +<p>In spite of her awe of him, Letty found this doctrine +difficult to accept.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></div> +<p>“If God didn’t make ’em for the home, mister, +where on earth would you put ’em?”</p> +<p>The wintry color came out again on the old man’s +cheeks. “If madam would call me Steptoe,” he said +ceremoniously, “I think she’d find it easier. I mean,” +he went on, reverting to the original theme, “that ’E +didn’t make ’em to be cooks and ’ousemaids and parlormaids, +and all that. That’s men’s work. Men’ll +do it as easy as a bird’ll sing. I never see the woman +yet as didn’t fret ’erself over it, like a wild animal’ll +fret itself in a circus cage. It spiles women to put +’em to ’ousework, like it always spiles people to put +’em to jobs for which the Lord didn’t give ’em no +haptitude.”</p> +<p>Letty was puzzled, but followed partially.</p> +<p>“I’ve watched ’em and watched ’em, and it’s always +the syme tyle. They’ll go into service young and +joyous like, but it won’t be two or three years before +they’ll have growed cat-nasty like this ’ere Jyne Cykebread +and Mary Ann Courage. Madam ’ud never +believe what sweet young things they was when I +first picked ’em out—Mrs. Courage a young widow, +and Jynie as nice a girl as madam ’ud wish to see, +only with the features what Mrs. Allerton used to call +a little hover-haccentuated. And now—!” He +allowed the conditions to speak for themselves without +criticizing further.</p> +<p>“It’s keepin’ ’em in a ’ome what’s done it. They +knows it theirselves—and yet they don’t. Inside +they’ve got the sperrits of young colts that wants to +kick up their ’eels in the pasture. They don’t mean no +worse nor that, only when people comes to Jynie’s age +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +and Mrs. Courage’s they ’ave to kick up their ’eels +in their own wye. If madam’ll remember that, and +be pytient with them like–––”</p> +<p>Letty cried in alarm, “But it’s got nothin’ to do with +me!”</p> +<p>“If madam’ll excuse me, it’s got everything to do +with ’er. She’s the missus of this ’ouse.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, I ain’t. Mr. Allerton just brung me +here––”</p> +<p>Once more there was the delicate emphasis with +which he had corrected other slips. “Mr. Allerton +<i>brought</i> madam, and told me to see that she was put +in ’er proper plyce. If madam’ll let me steer the +thing, I’ll myke it as easy for ’er as easy.”</p> +<p>He reflected as to how to make the situation clear +to her. “I’ve been readin’ about the time when our +lyte Queen Victoria come to the throne as quite a +young girl. She didn’t know nothin’ about politics +or presidin’ at councils or nothin’. But she had +a prime minister—a kind of hupper servant, you +might sye—’er servant was what ’e always called +’imself—and whatever ’e told ’er to do, she done. +Walked through it all, you might sye, till she got +the ’ang of it, but once she did get the ’ang of +it—well, there wasn’t no big-bug in the world that +our most grycious sovereign lydy couldn’t put it all +hover on.”</p> +<p>Once more he allowed her time to assimilate this +parable.</p> +<p>“Now if madam would only think of ’erself as +called in youth to reign hover this ’ouse––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but I couldn’t!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></div> +<p>“And yet it’s madam’s duty, now that she’s married +to its ’ead––”</p> +<p>“Yes, but he didn’t marry me like that. He married +me—all queer like. This was the way.”</p> +<p>She poured out the story, while Steptoe listened +quietly. There being no elements in it of the kind +he called “shydy,” he found it romantic. No one had +ever suspected the longings for romance which had filled +his heart and imagination when he was a poor little +scullion boy; but the memory of them, with some of the +reality, was still fresh in his hidden inner self. Now it +seemed as if remotely and vicariously romance might +be coming to him after all, through the boy he adored.</p> +<p>On her tale his only comment was to say: “I’ve +been readin’—I’m a great reader,” he threw in parenthetically, +“wonderful exercise for the mind, and +learns you things which you wouldn’t be likely to ’ear +tell of—but I’ve been readin’ about a king—I’ll show +you ’is nyme in the book—what fell in love with a +beggar myde––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but Mr. Allerton didn’t fall in love with me.”</p> +<p>“That remynes to be seen.”</p> +<p>She lifted her hands in awed amazement. “Mister—I +mean, Steptoe—you—you don’t think––?”</p> +<p>The subway dream of love at first sight was as +tenacious in her soul as the craving for romance in his.</p> +<p>He nodded. “I’ve known strynger things to +’appen.”</p> +<p>“But—but—he couldn’t—” it was beyond her power +of expression, though Steptoe knew what she meant—“not +<i>him</i>!”</p> +<p>He answered judicially. “’E may come to it. It’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +be a tough job to bring ’im—but if madam’ll be +guided by me–––”</p> +<p>Letty collapsed. Her spirit grew faint as the spirit +of Christian when he descried far off the walls of the +Celestial City, with the Dark River rolling between +him and it. Letty knew the Dark River must be there, +but if beyond it there lay the slightest chance of the +Celestial City....</p> +<p>She came back to herself, as it were, on hearing +Steptoe say that the procession from the kitchen +would presently begin to form itself.</p> +<p>“Now if madam’ll be guided by me she’ll meet this +situytion fyce to fyce.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but I’d never know what to say.”</p> +<p>“Madam won’t need to say nothink. She won’t ’ave +to speak. ’Ere they’ll troop in—” a gesture described +Mrs. Courage leading the advance through the doorway—“and +’ere they’ll stand. Madam’ll sit just +where she’s sittin’—a little further back from the tyble—lookin’ +over the mornin’ pyper like—” he placed the +paper in her hand—“and as heach gives notice, +madam’ll just bow ’er ’ead. See?”</p> +<p>Madam saw, but not exactly.</p> +<p>“Now if she’ll just move ’er chair––”</p> +<p>The chair was moved in such a way as to make it +seem that the occupant, having finished her breakfast, +was giving herself a little more space.</p> +<p>“And if madam would remove ’er ’at and jacket, +she’d—she’d seem more like the lydy of the ’ouse at +’ome.”</p> +<p>Letty took off these articles of apparel, which Steptoe +whisked out of sight.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>“Now I’ll be Mrs. Courage comin’ to sye, ‘Madam, +I wish to give notice.’ Madam’ll lower the pyper +just enough to show ’er inclinin’ of ’er ’ead, assentin’ +to Mrs. Courage leavin’ ’er. Mrs. Courage will be all +for ’avin’ words—she’s a great ’and for words, Mrs. +Courage is—but if madam won’t sye nothin’ at all, +the wind’ll be out o’ Mrs. Courage’s syles like. Now, +will madam be so good––?”</p> +<p>Having passed out into the hall, he entered with +Mrs. Courage’s majestic gait, pausing some three feet +from the table to say:</p> +<p>“Madam, things bein’ as they are, and me not +wishin’ to stye no longer in the ’ouse where I’ve served +so many years, I beg to give notice that I’m a givin’ +of notice and mean to quit right off.”</p> +<p>Letty lowered the paper from before her eyes, jerking +her head briskly.</p> +<p>“Ye-es,” Steptoe commended doubtfully, “a lettle +too—well, too habrupt, as you might sye. Most lydies—real +’igh lydies, like the lyte Mrs. Allerton—inclines +their ’ead slow and gryceful like. First, they throws +it back a bit, so as to get a purchase on it, and then +they brings it forward calm like, lowerin’ it stytely—Perhaps +if madam’ud be me for a bit—that ’ud be +Mrs. Courage—and let me sit there and be ’er, I +could show ’er––”</p> +<p>The places were reversed. It was Letty who came +in as Mrs. Courage, while Steptoe, seated in the +chair, lowered the paper to the degree which he +thought dignified. Letty mumbled something like the +words the hypothetical Mrs. Courage was presumed +to use, while Steptoe slowly threw back his head for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +the purchase, bringing it forward in condescending +grace. Language could not have given Mrs. Courage +so effective a retort courteous.</p> +<p>Letty was enchanted. “Oh, Steptoe, let me have +another try. I believe I could swing the cat.”</p> +<p>Again the places were reversed. Steptoe having repeated +the rôle of Mrs. Courage, Letty imitated him +as best she could in getting the purchase for her bow +and catching his air of high-bred condescension.</p> +<p>“Better,” he approved, “if madam wouldn’t lower +’er ’ead <i>quite</i> so far back’ard. You see, madam, a +lydy don’t <i>know</i> she’s throwin’ back ’er ’ead so as to +get a grip on it. She does it unconscious like, because +bein’ of a ’aughty sperrit she ’olds it ’igh natural. +If madam’ll only stiffen ’er neck like, as if sperrit ’ad +made ’er about two inches taller than she is––”</p> +<p>Having seized this idea, Letty tried again, with +such success that Mrs. Courage was disposed of. +Jane Cakebread followed next, with Nettie last of all. +Unaware of his possession of histrionic ability, Steptoe +gave to each character its outstanding traits, fluttering +like Jane, and giggling like Nettie, not in zeal for a +newly discovered interpretative art, but in order that +Letty might be nowhere caught at a disadvantage. +He was delighted with her quickness in imitation.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t ’ave done that better myself,” he declared +after Nettie had been dismissed for the third or fourth +time. “When it comes to the inclinin’ of the ’ead I +should sye as madam was about letter-perfect, as +they sye on the styge. If Mr. Rash was to see it, +’e’d swear as ’is ma ’ad come back again.”</p> +<p>A muffled sound proceeded from the back part of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +the hallway, with some whispering and once or twice +Nettie’s stifled cackle of a laugh.</p> +<p>“’Ere they are,” he warned her. “Madam must be +firm and control ’erself. There’s nothink for ’er to +be afryde of. Just let ’er think of the lyte Queen +Victoria, called to the throne when younger even than +madam is––”</p> +<p>A shuffling developed into one lone step, heavy, +stately, and funereal. Doing her best to emulate the +historic example held up to her, Letty lengthened her +neck and stiffened it. A haughty spirit seemed to +rise in her by the mere process of the elongation. She +was so nervous that the paper shook in her hand, but +she knew that if the Celestial City was to be won, she +could shrink from no tests which might lead her on to +victory.</p> +<p>Steptoe had relapsed into the major-domo’s office, +announcing from the doorway, “Mrs. Courage to see +madam, if madam will be pleased to receive ’er.”</p> +<p>Madam indicated that she was so pleased, scrambling +after the standard of the maiden sovereign of +Windsor Castle giving audience to princes and +ambassadors.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>Chapter VIII</h2> +</div> +<p>“I’m ’ere.”</p> +<p>Letty couldn’t know, of course, that this announcement, +made in a menacing female bass, was +due to the fact that three swaying bodies had been +endeavoring so to get round the deployed paper wings +as to see what was hidden there, and had found their +efforts vain. All she could recognize was the summons +to the bar of social judgment. To the bar of +social judgment she would have gone obediently, had +it not been for that rebelliousness against being +“looked down upon” which had lately mastered her. +As it was, she lengthened her neck by another half +inch, receiving from the exercise a new degree of +self-strengthening.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Courage is ’ere, madam,” Steptoe seconded, +“and begs to sye as she’s givin’ notice to quit madam’s +service––”</p> +<p>The explosion came as if Mrs. Courage was +strangling.</p> +<p>“When I wants words took out of my mouth by +’Enery Steptoe or anybody else I’ll sye so. If them +as I’ve come into this room to speak to don’t feel +theirselves aible to fyce me––”</p> +<p>“Madam’ll excuse an old servant who’s outlived ’er +time,” Steptoe intervened, “and not tyke no notice. +They always abuses the kindness that’s been showed +’em, and tykes liberties which––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>But not for nothing had Mrs. Courage been born +to the grand manner.</p> +<p>“When ’Enery Steptoe talks of old servants out-livin’ +their time and tykin’ liberties ’e speaks of what ’e +knows all about from personal experience. ’E was +an old man when I was a little thing not <i>so</i> high.”</p> +<p>The appeal was to the curiosity of the girl behind +the screen. To judge of how high Mrs. Courage +had not been at a time when Steptoe was already +an old man she might be enticed from her fortifications. +But the pause only offered Steptoe a new +opportunity.</p> +<p>“And so, if madam can dispense with ’er services, +which I understand madam can, Mrs. Courage will be +a-leavin’ of us this morning, with all our good wishes, +I’m sure. Good-dye to you, Mary Ann, and God bless +you after all the years you’ve been with us. Madam’s +givin’ you your dismissal.”</p> +<p>Obedient to her cue Letty lowered her guard just +enough to incline her head with the grace Steptoe had +already pronounced “letter perfect.” The shock to +Mrs. Courage can best be narrated in her own terms +to Mrs. Walter Wildgoose later in the day.</p> +<p>“Airs! No one couldn’t imagine it, Bessie, what +’adn’t seen it for theirselves—what them baggages’ll +do—smokin’—and wearin’ pearl necklaces—and ’avin’ +their own limousines—all that I’ve seen and ’ad got +used to—but not the President’s wife—not Mary +Queen of England—could ’a myde you feel as if you +was dirt hunder their feet like what this one—and ’er +with one of them marked down sixty-nine cent +blouses that ’adn’t seen the wash since—and as for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +looks—why, she didn’t ’ave a look to bless ’erself—and +a-’oldin’ of ’erself like what a empress might—and +bowin’ ’er ’ead, and goin’ back to ’er pyper, as if +I’d disturbed ’er at ’er readin’—and the dead and +spitten image of ’Enery Steptoe ’imself she is—and +you know ’ow many times we’ve all wondered as to +why ’e didn’t marry—and ’im with syvings put by—Jynie +thinks as ’e’s worth as much as—and you know +what a ’and Jynie is for ferritin’ out what’s none of +’er business—why, if Jynie Cykebread could ’a myde +’erself Jynie Steptoe—but that’s somethink wild +’orses wouldn’t myke poor Jynie see—that no man +wouldn’t look at ’er the second time if it wasn’t for +to laugh—pitiful, I call it, at ’er aige—and me +always givin’ the old rip to know as it was no use ’is +’angin’ round where I was—as if I’d marry agyne, +and me a widda, as you might sye, from my crydle—and +if I did, it wouldn’t ’a been a wicked old varlet +what I always suspected ’e was leadin’ a double life—and +now to see them two fyces together—why, I +says, ’ere’s the explanytion as plyne as plyne can make +it....”</p> +<p>All of which might have been true in rhetoric, but +not in fact. For what had really given Mrs. Courage +the <i>coup de grace</i> we must go back to the scene of +the morning.</p> +<p>Ignoring both Letty’s inclination of the head and +Steptoe’s benediction she had shown herself hurt +where she was tenderest.</p> +<p>“Now that there’s no one to ryse their voice agynst +the disgryce brought on this family but me––”</p> +<p>“Speak right up, Jynie. Don’t be afryde. Madam +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +won’t eat you. She knows that you’ve come to give +notice––”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage struggled on. “No one ain’t goin’ +to bow me out of the ’ouse I’ve been cook-’ousekeeper +in these twenty-seven year––”</p> +<p>“Sorry as madam’ll be to lose you, Jynie, she won’t +stand in the wye of your gettin’ a better plyce––”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage’s roar being that of the wounded +lioness she was, the paper shook till it rattled in +Letty’s hand.</p> +<p>“I <i>will</i> be listened to. I’ve a right to be ’eard. My +’eart’s been as much in this ’ouse and family as +’Enery Steptoe’s ’eart; and to see shyme and ruin come +upon it––”</p> +<p>Steptoe’s interruption was in a tone of pleased +surprise.</p> +<p>“Why, you still ’ere, Mary Ann? We thought +you’d tyken leave of us. Madam didn’t know you +was speakin’. She won’t detyne you, madam won’t. +You and Jynie and Nettie’ll all find cheques for your +wyges pyde up to a month a ’ead, as I know Mr. +Rashleigh’d want me to do....”</p> +<p>Shame and ruin! Letty couldn’t follow the further +unfoldings of Steptoe’s diplomacy because of +these two words. They summed up what she brought—what +she had been married to bring—to a house +of which even she could see the traditions were of +honor. Vaguely aware of voices which she attributed +to Jane and Nettie, her spirit was in revolt against +the rôle for which her rashness of yesterday had let +her in, and which Steptoe was forcing upon her.</p> +<p>Jane was still whimpering and sniffling:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div> +<p>“I’m sure I never dreamed that things would ’appen +like what ’as ’appened—and us all one family, as you +might sye—’opin’ the best of everyone––”</p> +<p>“Jynie, stop,” Mrs. Courage’s voice had become +low and firm, with emotion in its tone, making +Letty catch her breath. “My ’eart’s breakin’, +and I ain’t a-goin’ to let it break without mykin’ +them that’s broken it know what they’ve done +to me.”</p> +<p>“Now, Mary Ann,” Steptoe tried to say, peaceably, +“madam’s grytely pressed for time––”</p> +<p>“’Enery Steptoe, do you suppose that you’re the +only one in the world as ’as loved that boy? Ain’t +’e my boy just as much as ever ’e was yours?”</p> +<p>“’E’s boy to them as stands by ’im, Mrs. Courage—and +stands by them that belongs to ’im. The first +thing you do is to quit––”</p> +<p>“I’m not quittin’; I’m druv out. I’m druv out at +a hour’s notice from the ’ome I’ve slyved for all my +best years, leavin’ dishonor and wickedness in my +plyce––”</p> +<p>Letty could endure no more. Dashing to the floor +the paper behind which she crouched she sprang to +her feet.</p> +<p>“Is that me?” she demanded.</p> +<p>The surprise of the attack caught Mrs. Courage off +her guard. She could only open her mouth, and close +it again, soundlessly and helplessly. Jane stared, her +curiosity gratified at last. Nettie turned to whisper +to Jane, “There; what did I tell you? The commonest +thing!” Steptoe nodded his head quietly. In +this little creature with her sudden flame, eyes all fire +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +and cheeks of the wine-colored damask rose, he seemed +to find a corroboration of his power of divining +character.</p> +<p>It seemed long before Mrs. Courage had found the +strength to live up to her convictions, by faintly murmuring: +“Who else?”</p> +<p>“Then tell me what you accuse me of?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage saw her advantage. “We ain’t ’ere +to accuse nobody of nothink. If it’s ’intin’ that I’d tyke +awye anyone’s character it’s a thing I’ve ’ardly ever +done, and no one can sye it <i>of</i> me. All we want is to +give our notice––”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you do it—and go?”</p> +<p>Once more Steptoe intervened, diplomatically. +“That’s what Mrs. Courage is a-doin’ of, madam. +She’s finished, ain’t you Mary Ann? Jynie and +Nettie is finished too––”</p> +<p>But it was Letty now who refused this mediation.</p> +<p>“No, they ain’t finished. Let ’em go on.”</p> +<p>But no one did go on. Mrs. Courage was now +dumb. She was dumb and frightened, falling back +on her two supporters. All three together they huddled +between the portières. If Steptoe could have +calmed his protégée he would have done it; but she +was beyond his control.</p> +<p>“Am I the ruin and shame to this house that you +was talkin’ about just now? If I am, why don’t you +speak out and put it to me plain?”</p> +<p>There was no response. The spectators looked on +as if they were at the theater.</p> +<p>“What have you all got against me anyhow?” Letty +insisted, passionately. “What did I ever do to you? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +What’s women’s hearts made of, that they can’t let a +poor girl be?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Courage had so far recovered as to be able +to turn from one to another, to say in pantomime that +she had been misunderstood. Jane began to cry; +Nettie to laugh.</p> +<p>“Even if I was the bad girl you’re tryin’ to make +me out I should think other women might show me a +little pity. But I’m not a bad girl—not yet. I may +be. I dunno but what I will. When I see the hateful +thing bein’ good makes of women it drives me to do +the other thing.”</p> +<p>This was the speech they needed to justify +themselves. To be good made women hateful! +Their dumb-crambo to each other showed that +anyone who said so wild a thing stood already self-condemned.</p> +<p>But Letty flung up her head with a mettle which +Steptoe hadn’t seen since the days of the late Mrs. +Allerton.</p> +<p>“I’m not in this house to drive no one else out of +it. Them that have lived here for years has a right +to it which I ain’t got. You can go, and let me +stay; or you can stay, and let me go. I’m the wife of +the owner of this house, who married me straight +and legal; but I don’t care anything about that. You +don’t have to tell me I ain’t fit to be his wife, because +I know it as well as you do. All I’m sayin’ is that +you’ve got the choice to stay or go; and whichever +you do, I’ll do different.”</p> +<p>Never in her life had she spoken so many words +at one time. The effort drained her. With a torrent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +of dry sobs that racked her body she dropped back +into her chair.</p> +<p>The hush was that of people who find the tables +turned on themselves in a way they consider unwarranted. +Of the general surprise Steptoe was quick +to take advantage.</p> +<p>“There you are, girls. Madam couldn’t speak no +fairer, now could she?”</p> +<p>To this there was neither assent or dissent; but it +was plain that no one was ready to pick up the glove +so daringly thrown down.</p> +<p>“Now what I would suggest,” Steptoe went on, +craftily, “is that we all go back to the kitchen and talk +it over quiet like. What we decide to do we can tell +madam lyter.”</p> +<p>For consent or refusal Jane and Nettie looked to +Mary Ann, whose attitude was that of rejecting parley. +She might, indeed, have rejected it, had not +Letty, bowing her head on the arms she rested on the +table, begun to cry bitterly.</p> +<p>It was then that you saw Mrs. Courage at her best. +The gesture with which she swept her subordinates +back into the hall was that of the supremacy of will.</p> +<p>“It shan’t be said as I crush,” she declared, nobly, +directing Steptoe’s attention to the weeping girl. +“Where there’s penitence I pity. God grant as them +tears may gush out of an aichin’ ’eart.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>Chapter IX</h2> +</div> +<p>By the time Letty was drying her eyes, her heart +somewhat eased, Steptoe had come back. He +came back with a smile. Something had evidently +pleased him.</p> +<p>“So that’s all over. Madam won’t be bothered +with other people’s cat-nasty old servants after +to-dye.”</p> +<p>She felt a new access of alarm. “But they’re not +goin’ away on account o’ me? Don’t let ’em do it. +Lemme go instead. Oh, mister, I can’t stay here, +where everything’s so different from what I’m used to.”</p> +<p>He still smiled, his gentle old man’s smile which +somehow gave her confidence.</p> +<p>“Madam won’t sye that after a dye or two. It’s +new to ’er yet, of course; but if she’ll always remember +that I’m ’ere, to myke everythink as easy as +easy––”</p> +<p>“But what are you goin’ to do, with no cook, and +no chambermaid––?”</p> +<p>Standing with the corner of the table between him +and her, he was saying to himself, “If Mr. Rash +could only see ’er lookin’ up like this—with ’er eyes +all starry—and her cheeks with them dark-red roses—red +roses like you’d rubbed with a little black....” +But he suspended the romantic longing to say, aloud:</p> +<p>“If madam will permit me I’ll tyke my measures as +I’ve wanted to tyke ’em this long spell back.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div> +<p>Madam was not to worry as to the three women +who were leaving the house, inasmuch as they had +long been intending to leave it. Both Mrs. Courage +and Jane, having graduated to the stage of “accommodating,” +were planning to earn more money by easier +work. Nettie, since coming to America, had learned +that housework was menial, and was going to be a +milliner.</p> +<p>Madam’s remorse being thus allayed he told what +he hoped to do for madam’s comfort. There would +be no more women in the house, not till madam herself +brought them back. An English chef who had +lost an eye in the war, and an English waiter, ready +to do chamberwork, who had left a foot on some +battlefield, were prepared under Steptoe’s direction to +man the house. No woman whose household cares +had not been eased by men, in the European fashion, +knew what it was to live. A woman waited on by +women only was kept in a state of nerves. Nerves +were infectious. When one woman in a household +got them the rest were sooner or later their prey. +Unless strongly preventative measures were adopted +they spread at times to the men. America was a dreadful +country for nerves and it mostly came of women +working with women; whereas, according to Steptoe’s +psychology, men should work with women and women +with men. There were thousands of women who +were bitter in heart at cooking and making beds +who would be happy as linnets in offices and shops; +and thousands of men who were dying of boredom +in offices and shops who would be in their element +cooking and making beds.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></div> +<p>“One of the things the American people ’as got +back’ards, if madam’ll allow me to sye so, is that +’ouse’old work is not fit for a white man. When you +come to that the American people ain’t got a sense of +the dignity of their ’omes. They can’t see their ’omes +as run by anything but slyves. All that’s outside the +dinin’ room and the drorin’ room and the masters’ +bedrooms the American sees as if it was a low-down +thing, even when it’s hunder ’is own roof. Colored +men, yellow men, may cook ’is meals and myke ’is +bed; but a white man’d demean ’imself. A poor old +white man like me when ’e’s no longer fit for ’ard +outdoor work ain’t allowed to do nothink; when all +the time there’s women workin’ their fingers to the +bone that ’e could be a great ’elp to, and who ’e’d +like to go to their ’elp.”</p> +<p>This was one reason, he argued, why the question +of domestic aid in America was all at sixes and sevens. +It was not considered humanly. It was more than a +question of supply and demand; it was one of +national prejudice. A rich man could have a French +chef and an English butler, and as many strapping +indoor men—some of them much better fitted for +manual labor—as he liked, and find it a social glory; +while a family of moderate means were obliged to pay +high wages to crude incompetent women from the +darkest backwaters of European life, just because they +were women.</p> +<p>“And the women’s mostly to blyme,” he reasoned. +“They suffers—nobody knows what they suffers +better nor me—just because they ain’t got the spunk +to do anything <i>but</i> suffer. They’ve got it all in their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +own ’ands, and they never learn. Men is slow to +learn; but women don’t ’ardly ever learn at all.”</p> +<p>Letty was thinking of herself, as she glanced up at +this fount of wisdom with the question:</p> +<p>“Don’t none of ’em?”</p> +<p>Having apparently weighed this already he had his +answer. “None that’s been drilled a little bit before +’and. Once let woman feel as so and so is the custom, +and for ’er that custom, whether good or bad, is there +to stye. They sye that chyngin’ ’er mind is a woman’s +privilege; but the woman that chynged ’er mind about +a custom is one I never met yet.”</p> +<p>She took him as seriously as he took himself.</p> +<p>“Don’t you like women, mister—I mean, Steptoe?”</p> +<p>He pondered before replying. “I don’t know as I +could sye. I’ve never ’ad a chance to see much of +women except in ’ousework, where they’re out of +their element and tyken at a disadvantage. I don’t +like none I’ve ever run into there, because none of +’em never was no sport.”</p> +<p>The inquiry in her golden eyes led him a little +further.</p> +<p>“No one ain’t a sport what sighs and groans over +their job, and don’t do it cheerful like. No one ain’t +a sport what undertykes a job and ain’t proud of it. +If a woman <i>will</i> go into ’ousework let ’er do it honorable. +If she chooses to be a servant let ’er <i>be</i> a servant, +and not be ashymed to sye she <i>is</i> one. So if +madam arsks me if I like ’em I ’ave to confess I +don’t, because as far as I see women I mostly ’ear ’em +complyne.”</p> +<p>Her admiration was quite sincere as she said: “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +shouldn’t think they’d complain if they had you to +put ’em wise.”</p> +<p>He corrected gently. “If they ’ad me to <i>tell</i> ’em.”</p> +<p>“If they ’ad you to <i>tell</i> ’em,” she imitated, meekly.</p> +<p>“Madam mustn’t pick up the bad ’abit of droppin’ +’er haitches,” he warned, parentally. “I’ll learn ’er a +lot, but that’s one thing I mustn’t learn ’er. I don’t do +it often—Oh, once in a wye, mybe—but that’s something +madam speaks right already—just like all Americans.”</p> +<p>Delighted that there was one thing about her that +was right already she reminded him of what he had +said, that women never learned.</p> +<p>“I said women as ’ad been drilled a bit. But madam’s +different. Madam comes into this ’ouse newborn, +as you might sye; and that’ll myke it easier for +’er and me.”</p> +<p>“You mean that I’ll not be a kicker.”</p> +<p>Once more he smiled his gentle reproof. “Oh, +madam wouldn’t be a kicker any’ow. Jynie or Nettie +or Mary Ann Courage or even me—we might be +kickers; but if madam was to hobject to anything +she’d be—<i>displeased</i>.”</p> +<p>She knitted her brows. The distinction was difficult. +He saw he had better explain more fully.</p> +<p>“It’s only the common crowd what kicks. It’s only +the common crowd what uses the expression. A man +might use it—I mean a real ’igh gentleman like Mr. +Rashleigh—and get awye with it—now and then—if +’e didn’t myke a ’abit of it; but when a woman does +it she rubberstamps ’erself. Now, does madam see? +A lydy couldn’t be a lydy—and kick. The lyte Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +Allerton would never demean ’erself to kick; she’d +only show displeasure.”</p> +<p>With a thumb and two fingers Letty marked off on +the table the three points as to which she had received +information that morning. She must say brought, +and not brung; she must say tell, and not put wise; +she must not kick, but show displeasure. Neither +must she drop her aitches, though to do so would have +been an effort. The warning only raised a suspicion +that in the matter of speech there might be a higher +standard than Steptoe’s. If ever she heard Rashleigh +Allerton speak again she resolved to listen to him +attentively.</p> +<p>She came back from her reverie on hearing Steptoe +say:</p> +<p>“With madam it’s a cyse of beginning from the +ground up, more or less as you would with a byby; so +I ’ope madam’ll forgive me if I drop a ’int as to what +we must do before goin’ any farther.”</p> +<p>Once more he read her question in the starry little +flames in her eyes.</p> +<p>“It’s—clothes.”</p> +<p>The damask red which had ebbed surged slowly +back again. It surged back under the transparent +white skin, as red wine fills a glass. Her lips parted +to stammer the confession that she had no clothes +except those she wore; but she couldn’t utter a syllable.</p> +<p>“I understand madam’s position, which is why I +mention it. You might sye as clothes is the ABC +of social life, and if we’re to work from the ground +up we must begin there.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></div> +<p>She forced it out at last, but the statement seemed +to tear her.</p> +<p>“I can’t get clothes. I ain’t got no money.”</p> +<p>“Oh, money’s no hobject,” he smiled. “Mr. Rash +’as plenty of that, and I know what ’e’d like me to do. +There never was ’is hequal for the ’open ’and. If +madam’ll leave it to me....”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Allerton’s office was much what you would have +expected it to be, bearing to other offices the same +relation as he to other business men. He had it because +not to have it wouldn’t have been respectable. A young +American who didn’t go to an office every day would +hardly have been a young American. An office, then, +was a concession to public sentiment, as well as some +faint justification of himself.</p> +<p>It was in the latter sense that he chiefly took it, +making it a subject of frequent reference. In his +conversation such expressions as “my office,” or “due +at my office,” were introduced more often than +there was occasion for. The implication that he +had work to do gave him status, enabling him to +sit down among his cronies and good-naturedly take +their fun.</p> +<p>He took a good deal of fun, never having succeeded +in making himself the standardized type who escapes +the shafts of ridicule. It was kindly fun, which, while +viewing him as a white swan in a flock of black ones, +recognized him as a swan, and this was as much as he +could expect. To pass in the crowd was all he asked +for, even when he only passed on bluff. If he couldn’t +wholly hide the bluff he could keep it from being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +flagrantly obtrusive; and toward that end an office +was a help.</p> +<p>It was an office situated just where you would +have expected to find it—far enough downtown to +be downtown, and yet not so far downtown as to +make it a trouble to get there. Being on the eastern +side of Washington Square, it had a picturesque +outlook, and the merit of access from East Sixty-seventh +Street through the long straight artery of +Fifth Avenue.</p> +<p>It was furnished, too, just as you might have known +he would furnish it, in the rich and sober Style Empire, +and yet not so exclusively in the Style Empire +as to make the plain American business man fear he +had dropped into Napoleon’s library at Malmaison. +That is what Rashleigh would have liked, but other +men could do what in him would be thought finicky. +To take the “cuss” off his refinement, as he put it to +Barbara, he scattered modern American office bits +among his luscious brown surfaces, adorned with +wreaths and lictors’ sheaves in gold, though to himself +the wrong note was offensive.</p> +<p>But wrong notes and right notes were the same to +him as, on this particular morning, he dragged himself +there because it was the hour. His office staff in +the person of old Mr. Radbury was already on the +spot, and had sorted the letters for the day. These +were easily dealt with. Reinvestment, or new opportunities +for investment, were their principal themes, +and the only positive duty to attend to was in the +endorsement of dividend checks for deposit. A few +directions being given to Mr. Radbury as to such letters +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +as were to be answered, Allerton had nothing +to do but stroll to the window and look out.</p> +<p>It was what he did perhaps fifty times in the course +of the two or three hours daily, or approximately +daily, which he spent there. He did so now. He did +so because it put off for a few minutes longer the +fierce, exasperating, acrid pleasure of doing worse. +To do worse had been his avowed object in coming +to the office that morning, and not the answering of +letters or the raking in of checks.</p> +<p>Looking down from his window on the tenth floor +he asked himself the fruitless question which millions +of other men have asked when folly has got them into +trouble. Among these thousands who, viewed from +that height, had a curious resemblance to ants, was +there such a fool as he was? From the Square they +streamed into Fifth Avenue; from Fifth Avenue they +streamed into the Square. In the Square and round +the Square they squirmed and wriggled and dawdled +their seemingly aimless ways. Great green lumbering +omnibuses disgorged one pack of them merely to +suck up another. Motors whirled them toward uptown, +toward downtown, or east, or west, by twos +and threes, or as individuals. Like ants their general +effect was black, with here and there a moving spot +of color, or of intermingling colors, as of flowers in +the wind, or tropic birds.</p> +<p>He watched a figure detach itself from the mass +swirling round a debouching omnibus. It was a little +black figure, just clearly enough defined to show that +it was a man. Because it was a man it had been a fool. +Because it had been a fool it had dark chambers in its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +life which it would never willingly open. But it had +doubtless got something for its folly. It might have +lost more than it had gained, but it could probably +reckon up and say, “At least I had my fun.”</p> +<p>And he had had none. He had squandered his +whole life on a single act of insanity which even in +the action had produced nothing but disgust. He +hadn’t merely swindled himself; he had committed a +kind of suicide which made death silly and grotesque. +The one thing that could save him a scrap of dignity—and +such a sorry scrap!—would be going to the devil +by the shortest way.</p> +<p>He had come to the office to begin. He would +begin by the means that seemed obvious. Now that +going to the devil was a task he saw, as he had not +seen hitherto, how curiously few were the approaches +that would take him there. Song being only an accompaniment, +he was limited to the remaining two of +the famous and familiar trio.</p> +<p>Very well! Limited as he was he would make the +most of them. Knowing something of their merits he +knew there was a bestial entertainment to be had from +both. It was a kind of entertainment which his cursed +fastidiousness had always loathed; but now his reckoning +would be different. If he got <i>anything</i> he +should not feel so wastefully thrown away. He would +be selling himself first and making his bargain afterwards; +but some meager balance would stand to his +credit, if credit it could be called. When the devil had +been reached the world he knew would pardon him +because it was the devil, and not—what it was in truth—an +idiotic state of nerves.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></div> +<p>At the minute when Letty was leaping to her feet +to take her stand he swung away from the window. +First going to Mr. Radbury’s door he closed it softly. +Luckily the old man, an inheritance from his, Allerton’s, +father, was deaf and incurious. Like most clerks +who had clerked their way up to seventy he was buried +in clerking’s little round. He wouldn’t come in till +the letters were finished, certainly not for an hour, +and by that time Allerton would be.... He almost +smiled at the old man’s probable consternation on finding +him so before the middle of the day. Any time +would be bad enough; but in the high forenoon....</p> +<p>He went to a cabinet which was said to have found +its way via Bordentown from the furnishings of +Queen Caroline Murat. Having opened it he took +out a bottle and a glass. On the label of the bottle +was a kilted Highlander playing on the pipes. A +siphon of soda was also in the cabinet, but he left it +there. What he had to do would be done more quickly +without its mitigation.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>While Allerton was making these preparations Judson +Flack, in pajamas and slippers, was standing in +his toy kitchen, looking helplessly at a small gas stove. +It was the hour in the middle of the morning at which +he was accustomed to be waked with the information +that his coffee and eggs were ready. The forenoon +being what he called his slack time he found the earlier +part of it most profitably used for sleep.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>The adjuration was called forth by the fact that he +didn’t know where anything was, or how anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +should be done. From the simple expedient of going +for his breakfast to one of the cheap restaurants with +which he was familiar he was cut off by the fact of an +unlucky previous night. He simply didn’t have the +bones. This was not to say that he was penniless, but +that in view of more public expenses later in the day +it would be well for him to economize where economy +was so obvious. He never had an appetite in the morning +anyway. With irregular eating and drinking all +through the evening and far toward daylight, he found +a cup of coffee and an egg....</p> +<p>It was easy, he knew, to make the one and boil the +other, but he was out of practice. He couldn’t remember +doing anything of the sort since the days +before he married Letty’s mother. Even then he had +never tried this new-fangled thing, the gas stove, so +that besides being out of practice he was at a loss.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>The resources of the kitchen being few exploration +didn’t take him long. He found bread, butter, milk +that had turned sour, the usual condiments, some +coffee in a canister, and a single egg. If he could +only light the confounded gas stove....</p> +<p>A small white handle offering itself for experiment, +he turned it timidly, applying a match to a geometrical +pattern of holes. He jumped back as from an exploding +cannon.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>Having found the way, however, the next attempt +was more successful. Soon he had two geometrical +patterns of holes burning in steady blue buttons of +flame. On the one he placed the coffee-pot into which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +he had turned a pint of water and a cupful of coffee; +on the other a saucepan half full of water containing +his egg. This being done he retired to the bathroom +for the elements of a toilet.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>Washing, shaving, turning up his mustache with +the little curling tongs, he observed with self-pity his +increasing haggardness. He observed it also with dismay. +Looks were as important to him as to an actress. +His rôle being youth, high spirits, and the devil-may-care, +the least trace of the wearing out would do for +him. He had noticed some time ago that he was beginning +to show fatal signs, which had the more emphatically +turned his thoughts to the provision Letty +might prove for his old age.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>It was cursing the girl which reminded him that he +had allowed more than the necessary time for his +breakfast to be ready for consumption. Hurrying +back to the kitchen he found the egg gracefully dancing +as the water boiled. He fished it out with a spoon +and took it in his hand, but he didn’t keep it there. +Dashing it to the table, whence it crashed upon the +floor, he positively screamed.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>He cursed her now licking and sucking the tips of +his fingers and examining them to see if they were +scalded. No such calamity having occurred he took +up the coffee pot, leaving the mashed egg where it lay. +Ladling a spoonful of sugar into a cup, and adding +the usual milk, he poured in the coffee, which became +a muddy dark brown mixture, with what appeared to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +be a porridge of seeds floating on the top. One sip, +which induced a diabolical grimace, and he threw the +beverage at the opposite wall as if it was a man he +meant to insult.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl!”</p> +<p>The appeal to the darker powers being accompanied +now by a series of up-to-date terms of objurgation, the +mere act of utterance, mental or articulate, churned +him to a frenzy. Seizing the coffee pot which he had +replaced on the gas stove he hurled it too against the +wall. It struck, splathered the hideous liquor over a +hideous calsomining which had once been blue, and +fell to the floor like a living thing knocked insensible.</p> +<p>The resemblance maddened him still more. It +might have been Letty, struck down after having provoked +him beyond patience. He rushed at it. He +hurled it again. He hurled it again. He hurled it +again. The exercise gave relief not only to his lawful +resentment against Letty, but to those angers over his +luck of last night which as “a good loser” he hadn’t +been at liberty to show. No one knew the repressions +he was obliged to put upon himself; but now his inhibitions +could come off in this solitary passion of +destruction.</p> +<p>When the coffee pot was a mere shapeless mass he +picked up the empty cup. It was a thick stone-china +cup, with a bar meant to protect his mustache across +the top, a birthday present from Letty’s mother. The +association of memories acted as a further stimulus. +Smash! After the cup went the stone-china sugar +bowl. Smash! After the sugar bowl the plate with +the yellow chunk of butter. Smash! After the butter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +plate the milk jar, a clumsy, lumpy thing, which +merely gurgled out a splash of milk and fell without +breaking.</p> +<p>“Curse the girl! Curse the girl! Curse the girl! +I’ll learn her to go away and leave me! I’ll find her +and drag her back if she’s in....”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>Chapter X</h2> +</div> +<p>While Letty was beginning a new experience +Judson Flack was doing his best to carry out his +threat. That is to say, he was making the round of the +studios in which his step-daughter had occasionally +found work, discreetly asking if she had been there +that day. It was all he could think of doing. To the +best of his knowledge she had no friends with whom +she could have taken refuge, though the suspicion +crossed his mind that she might have drowned herself +to spite him.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact Letty was asking the question +if she wasn’t making a mistake in not doing so, either +literally or morally. Never before in her life had +she been up against this problem of insufficiency. +Among the hard things she had known she had not +known this; and now that she was involved in it, +it seemed to her harder than everything else put +together.</p> +<p>In her humble round, bitter as it was, she had always +been considered competent. It was the sense of her +competence that gave her the self-respect enabling +her to bear up. According to her standards she could +keep house cleverly, and could make a dollar go as +far as other girls made two. When she got her first +chance in a studio, through an acquaintance of Judson +Flack’s, she didn’t shrink from it, and had more +than once been chosen by a director to be that member +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +of a crowd who moves in the front and expresses +the crowd psychologically. Had she only had the +clothes....</p> +<p>And now she was to have them. As far as that +went she was not merely glad; she was one sheer +quiver of excitement. It was not the end she shrank +from; it was the means. If she could only have had +fifty dollars to go “poking round” where she knew +that bargains could be found, she might have enjoyed +the prospect; but Steptoe could only “take measures” +on the grand scale to which he was accustomed.</p> +<p>The grand scale frightened her, chiefly because she +was dressed as she was dressed. It was her first +thought and her last one. When Steptoe told her the +hour at which he had asked Eugene to bring round the +car the mere vision of herself stepping into it made +her want to sink into the ground. Eugene didn’t live +in the house—she had discovered that—and so would +bring the stare of another pair of eyes under whose +scrutiny she would have to pass. Those of the three +women having already scorched her to the bone, she +would have to be scorched again.</p> +<p>She tried to say this to Steptoe, as they stood in +the drawing-room window waiting for the car; but +she didn’t know how to make him understand it. +When she tried to put it into words, the right words +wouldn’t come. Steptoe had taken as general what +she was trying to explain to him in particular.</p> +<p>“It’ll be very important to madam to fyce what’s +’ard, and to do it bryve like. It’ll be the mykin’ of ’er +if she can. ’Umble ’ill is pretty stiff to climb; but +them as gets to the top of it is tough.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></div> +<p>She thought this over silently. He meant that if she +set herself to take humiliations as they came, dragging +herself up over them, she would be the stronger for +it in the end.</p> +<p>“It’d ’ave been better for Mr. Rashleigh,” he mused, +“if ’e’d ’ad ’ad somethink of the kind to tackle in ’is +life; it’d ’ave myde ’im more of a man. But because +’e adn’t—Did madam ever notice,” he broke off to +ask, “’ow them as ’as everythink myde easy for ’em +begins right off to myke things ’ard for theirselves. +It’s a kind of law like. It’s just as if nyture didn’t +mean to let no one escype. When a man’s got no +troubles you can think of, ’e’ll go to work to create +’em.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t <i>he</i>”—she had never yet pronounced the +name of the man who had married her—”didn’t <i>he</i> +ever have any troubles?”</p> +<p>“’E was fretted terrible—crossed like—rubbed up +the wrong wye, as you might sye,—but a real trouble +like what you and me ’ave ’ad plenty of—never! It’s +my opinion that trouble is to char-<i>ac</i>-ter what a peg’ll +be to a creepin’ vine—something to which the vine’ll +’ook on and pull itself up by. Where there’s nothink +to ketch on to the vine’ll grow; but it’ll grow in a +’eap of flop.” There was a tremor in his tone as he +summed up. “That’s somethink like my poor boy.”</p> +<p>Letty found this interesting. That in these exalted +circles there could be a need of refining chastisement +came to her as a surprise.</p> +<p>“The wife as I’ve always ’oped for ’im,” Steptoe +went on, “is one that’d know what trouble was, and +’ow to fyce it. ’E’d myke a grand ’usband to a woman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +who was—strong. But she’d ’ave to be the wall what +the creepin’ vine could cover all over and—and +beautify.”</p> +<p>“That wouldn’t be me.”</p> +<p>“If I was madam I wouldn’t be so sure of that. +It don’t do to undervalyer your own powers. If I’d +’a done that I wouldn’t ’a been where I am to-dye. +Many’s the time, when I was no more than a poor little +foundlin’ boy in a ’ome I’ve said to myself, I’m fit for +somethink big. Somethink big I always meant to be. +When it didn’t seem possible for me to aim so ’igh +I’d myde up my mind to be a valet and a butler. It +comes—your hambition does. What you’ve first got +to do is to form it; and then you’ve got to stick to it +through thick and thin.”</p> +<p>To say what she said next Letty had to break down +barrier beyond barrier of inhibition and timidity. +“And if I was to—to form the—the ambition—to be—to +be the kind of wall you was talkin’ about just +now––”</p> +<p>“That wouldn’t be hambition; it’d be—consecrytion.”</p> +<p>He allowed her time to get the meaning of this +before going on.</p> +<p>“But madam mustn’t expect not to find it ’ard. +Consecrytion is always ’ard, by what I can myke out. +When Mr. Rash was a little ’un ’e used to get Miss +Pye, ’is governess, to read to ’im a fairy tyle about a +little mermaid what fell in love with a prince on land. +Bein’ in love with ’im she wanted to be with ’im, +natural like; but there she was in one element, as you +might sye, and ’im in another.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></div> +<p>“That’d be like me.”</p> +<p>“Which is why I’m tellin’ madam of the story. +Well, off the little mermaid goes to the sea-witch to +find out ’ow she could get rid of ’er fish’s tyle and ’ave +two feet for to walk about in the prince’s palace. +Well, the sea-witch she up and tells ’er what she’d +’ave to do. Only, says she, if you do that you’ll ’ave +to pye for it with every step you tykes; for every +step you tykes’ll be like walkin’ on sharp blydes. Now, +says she, to the little mermaid, do you think it’d be +worth while?”</p> +<p>In Letty’s eyes all the stars glittered with her +eagerness for the dénouement. “And did she think +it was worth while—the little mermaid?”</p> +<p>“She did; but I’ll give madam the tyle to read for +’erself. It’s in the syme little book what Miss Pye +used to read out of—up in Mr. Rash’s old nursery.”</p> +<p>With the pride of a royal thing conscious of its +royalty the car rolled to the door and stopped. It +was the prince’s car, while she, Letty, was a mermaid +born in an element different from his, and encumbered +with a fish’s tail. She must have shown this in +her face, for Steptoe said, with his fatherly smile:</p> +<p>“Madam may ’ave to walk on blydes—but it’ll be +in the Prince’s palace.”</p> +<p>It’ll be in the Prince’s palace! Letty repeated this +to herself as she followed him out to the car. Holding +the door open for her, Eugene, who had been told +of her romance, touched his cap respectfully. When +she had taken her seat he tucked the robe round her, +respectfully again. Steptoe marked the social difference +between them by sitting beside Eugene.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></div> +<p>Rolling down Fifth Avenue Letty was as much at +a loss to account for herself as Elijah must have been +in the chariot of fire. She didn’t know where she was +going. She was not even able to ask. The succession +of wonders within twenty-four hours blocked the +working of her faculties. She thought of the girls +who sneered at her in the studios—she thought of +Judson Flack—and of what they would say if they +were to catch a glimpse of her.</p> +<p>She was not so unsophisticated as to be without +some appreciation of the quarter of New York in +which she found herself. She knew it was the “swell” +quarter. She knew that the world’s symbols of money +and display were concentrated here, and that in some +queer way she, poor waif, had been given a command +of them. One day homeless, friendless, and penniless, +and the next driving down Fifth Avenue in a limousine +which might be called her own!</p> +<p>The motor was slowing down. It was drawing to +the curb. They had reached the place to which Steptoe +had directed Eugene. Letty didn’t have to look +at the name-plate to know she was where the great +stars got their gowns, and that she was being invited +into Margot’s!</p> +<p>You know Margot’s, of course. A great international +house, Margot—the secret is an open one—is +but the incognita of a business-like English countess +who finds it financially profitable to sign articles on +costume written by someone else, and be sponsor for +the newest fashions which someone else designs. As +a way of turning an impoverished historic title to +account it is as good as any other.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div> +<p>Without knowing who Margot was Letty knew +what she was. She couldn’t have frequented studios +without hearing that much, and once or twice in her +wanderings about the city she had paused to admire +the door. It was all there was to admire, since Margot, +to Letty’s regret, didn’t display confections behind +plate-glass.</p> +<p>It was a Flemish château which had been a residence +before business had traveled above Forty-second +Street. A man in livery would have barred them +from passing the wrought-iron grille had it not been +for the car from which they had emerged. Only +people worthy of being customers of the house could +afford such cars, and he saw that Steptoe was a +servant. What Letty was he couldn’t see, for servants +of great houses never looked so nondescript.</p> +<p>In the great hall a beautiful staircase swept to an +upper floor, but apart from a Louis Seize mirror and +console flanked by two Louis Seize chairs there was +nothing and no one to be seen. Steptoe turned to +the right into a vast saloon with a cinnamon-colored +carpet and walls of cool French gray. A group of +gilded chairs were the only furnishings, except for a +gilded canapé between two French windows draped +with cinnamon-colored hangings. A French fender +with French andirons filled the fireplace, and on the +white marble mantelpiece stood a <i>garniture de +cheminée</i>, a clock and two vases, in biscuit de Sèvres.</p> +<p>At the end of the room opposite the windows a +woman in black, with coiffure à la Marcel, sat at a +white-enamelled desk working with a ledger. A second +woman in black, also with coiffure à la Marcel, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +stood holding open the doors of a white-enamelled +wardrobe, gazing at its multi-colored contents. Two +other women in black, still with coiffure à la Marcel, +were bending over a white-enamelled drawer in a series +of white-enamelled drawers, discussing in low tones. +There were no customers. For such a house the season +had not yet begun. Though in this saloon voices +were pitched as low as for conversation in a church, +the sharp catgut calls of Frenchwomen—and of +French dressmakers especially—came from a room +beyond.</p> +<p>Overawed by this vastness, simplicity, and solemnity, +Steptoe and Letty stood barely within the door, +waiting till someone noticed them. No one did so till +the woman holding open the wardrobe doors closed +them and turned round. She did not come forward +at once; she only stared at them. Still keeping her +eye on the newcomers she called the attention of the +ladies occupied with the drawer, who lifted themselves +up. They too stared. The lady at the desk +stared also.</p> +<p>It was the lady of the wardrobe who advanced at +last, slowly, with dignity, her hands genteelly clasped +in front of her. She seemed to be saying, “No, we +don’t want any,” or, “I’m sorry we’ve nothing to give +you,” by her very walk. Letty, with her gift for +dramatic interpretation, could see this, though Steptoe, +familiar as he was with ladies whom he would have +classed as “’igher,” was not daunted. He too went +forward, meeting madam half way.</p> +<p>Of what was said between them Letty could hear +nothing, but the expression on the lady’s face was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +dissuasive. She was telling Steptoe that he had come +to the wrong place, while Steptoe was saying no. +From time to time the lady would send a glance toward +Letty, not in disdain, but in perplexity. It was perplexity +which reached its climax when Steptoe drew +from an inside pocket an impressive roll of bills.</p> +<p>The lady looked at the bills, but she also looked at +Letty. The honor of a house like Margot’s is not +merely in making money; it is in its clientèle. To +have a poor little waif step in from the street....</p> +<p>And yet it was because she was a poor little waif +that she interested the ladies looking on. She was so +striking an exception to their rule that her very coming +in amazed them. One of the two who had remained +near the open drawer came forward into conference +with her colleague, adding her dissuasions to those +which Steptoe had already refused to listen to.</p> +<p>“There are plenty of other places to which you +could go,” Letty heard this second lady say, “and +probably do better.”</p> +<p>Steptoe smiled, that old man’s smile which was +rarely ineffective. “Madam don’t ’ave to tell me as +there’s plenty of other plyces to which I could go; +but there’s none where I could do as well.”</p> +<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> +<p>“I’m butler to a ’igh gentleman what ’e used to +entertyne quite a bit when ’is mother was alive. I’ve +listened to lydies talkin’ at tyble. No one can’t tell +me. I <i>know</i>.”</p> +<p>Both madams smiled. Each shot another glance at +Letty. It was plain that they were curious as to her +identity. One of them made a venture.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div> +<p>“And is this your—your daughter?”</p> +<p>Steptoe explained, not without dignity, that the +young lady was not his daughter, but that she had +come into quite a good bit of money, and had done it +sudden like. She needed a ’igh, grand outfit, though +for the present she would be content with three or +four of the dresses most commonly worn by a lydy +of stytion. He preferred to nyme no nymes, but he +was sure that even Margot would not regret her confidence—and +he had the cash, as they saw, in his +pocket.</p> +<p>Of this the result was an exchange between the +madams of comprehending looks, while, in French, +one said to the other that it might be well to consult +Madame Simone.</p> +<p>Madame Simone, who bustled in from the back +room, was not in black, but in frowzy gray; her +coiffure was not à la Marcel, but as Letty described +it, “all anyway.” A short, stout, practical Frenchwoman, +she had progressed beyond the need to consider +looks, and no longer considered them. The two +shapely subordinates with whom Steptoe had been +negotiating followed her at a distance like attendants.</p> +<p>She disposed of the whole matter quickly, addressing +the attendants rather than the postulants for Margot’s +favor.</p> +<p>“Mademoiselle she want an outfit—good!—bon! +We don’t know her, but what difference does that +make to me?—qu’est ce que c’est que cela me fait? +Money is money, isn’t it?—de l’argent c’est de l’argent, +n’est-ce pas?—at this time of year especially—à cette +saison de l’année surtout.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>To Steptoe and Letty she said: “’Ave the goodness +to sit yourselves ’ere. Me, I will show you what +we ’ave. A street costume first for mademoiselle. If +mademoiselle will allow me to look at her—Ah, oui! +Ze taille—what you call in Eenglish the figure—is +excellent. Très chic. With ze proper closes mademoiselle +would have style—de l’élégance naturelle—that +sees itself—cela se voit—oui—oui––”</p> +<p>Meditating to herself she studied Letty, indifferent +apparently to the actual costume and atrocious hat, +like a seeress not viewing what is at her feet but +events of far away.</p> +<p>With a sudden start she sprang to her convictions. +“I ’ave it. J’y suis.” A shrill piercing cry like that +of a wounded cockatoo went down the long room. +“Alphonsine! Alphon<i>sine</i>!”</p> +<p>Someone appeared at the door of the communicating +rooms. Madame Simone gave her orders in a few +sharp staccato French sentences. After that Letty +and Steptoe found themselves sitting on two of the +gilded chairs, unexpectedly alone. The other ladies +had returned to their tasks. Madame Simone had +gone back to the place whence they had summoned +her. Nothing had happened. It seemed to be all +over. They waited.</p> +<p>“Ain’t she goin’ to show us nothin’?” Letty whispered +anxiously. “They always do.”</p> +<p>Steptoe was puzzled but recommended patience. +He couldn’t think that Madame could have begun so +kindly, only to go off and leave them in the lurch. +It was not what he had looked for, any more than she; +but he had always found patient waiting advantageous.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></div> +<p>Perhaps ten minutes had gone by when a new figure +wandered toward them. Strutted would perhaps be +the better word, since she stepped like a person for +whom stepping means a calculation. She was about +Letty’s height, and about Letty’s figure. Moreover, +she was pretty, with that haughtiness of mien which +turns prettiness to beauty. What was most disconcerting +was her coming straight toward Letty, and +standing in front of her to stare.</p> +<p>Letty colored to the eyes—her deep, damask flush. +The insult was worse than anything offered by Mrs. +Courage; for Mrs. Courage after all was only a servant, +and this a young lady of distinction. Letty had +never seen anyone dressed with so much taste, not +even the stars as they came on the studio lot in their +everyday costumes. Indignant as she was she could +appreciate this delicate seal-brown cloth, with its bits +of gold braid, and darling glimpses of sage-green +wherever the lining showed indiscreetly. The hat was +a darling too, brown with a feather between brown +and green, the one color or the other according as the +wearer moved.</p> +<p>If it hadn’t been for this cool insolence.... And +then the young lady deliberately swung on her heel, +which was high, to move some five or six yards away, +where she stood with her back to them. It was a +darling back—with just enough gold braid to relieve +the simplicity, and the tiniest revelation of sage-green. +Letty admired it the more poignantly for its cold contempt +of herself.</p> +<p>Steptoe was not often put out of countenance, but it +seemed to have happened now. “I <i>can’t</i> think,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +murmured, as one who contemplates the impossible, +“that the French madam can ’ave been so civil to +begin with, just to go and make a guy of us.”</p> +<p>“If all her customers is like this––” Letty began.</p> +<p>But the young lady of distinction turned again, +stepping a few paces toward the back of the room, +swinging on herself, stepping a few paces toward the +front of the room, swinging on herself again, and all +the while flinging at Letty glances which said: “If +you want to see scorn, this is it.”</p> +<p>Fascination kept Letty paralyzed. Steptoe grew +uneasy.</p> +<p>“I wish the French madam’d come back agyne,” +he murmured, from half closed lips. “We ’aven’t +come ’ere to be myde a spectacle of—not for no one.”</p> +<p>And just then the seal-brown figure strolled away, +as serenely and impudently as she had come.</p> +<p>“Well, of all––!”</p> +<p>Letty’s exclamation was stifled by the fact that as +the first young lady of distinction passed out a second +crossed her coming in. They took no notice of each +other, though the newcomer walked straight up to +Letty, not to stare but to toss up her chin with a hint +of laughter suppressed. Laughter, suppressed or unsuppressed, +was her note. She was all fair-haired, +blue-eyed vivacity. It was a relief to Letty that she +didn’t stare. She twitched, she twisted, she pirouetted, +striking dull gleams from an embroidery studded +with turquoise and jade—but she hadn’t the hard +unconscious arrogance of the other one.</p> +<p>All the same it pained Letty that great ladies should +be so beautiful. Not that this one was beautiful of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +face—she wasn’t—only piquant—but the general +effect was beautiful. It showed what money and the +dressmaker could do. If she, Letty could have had +a dress and a hat like this!—a blue or a green, it was +difficult to say which—with these strips of jade and +turquoise on a ground of the purplish-greenish-blue +she remembered as that of the monkshood in the old +farm garden in Canada—and the darlingest hat, with +one long feather beginning as green and graduating +through every impossible shade of green and blue till +it ended in a monkshood tip....</p> +<p>No wonder the girl’s blue eyes danced and quizzed +and laughed. As a matter of fact, Letty commented, +the eyes brought a little too much blue into the composition. +It was her only criticism. As a whole it +lacked contrast. If she herself had worn this costume—with +her gold-stone eyes—and brown hair—and +rich coloring, when she had any color—blue was +always a favorite shade with her—when she could +choose, which wasn’t often—she remembered as a +child on the farm how she used to plaster herself with +the flowers of the blue succory—the dust-flower they +called it down there because it seemed to thrive like +the disinherited on the dust of the wayside—not but +what the seal-brown was adorable....</p> +<p>The spectacle grew dazzling, difficult for Steptoe +to keep up with. He and Letty were plainly objects +of interest to these grand folk, because there were +now four or five of them. They advanced, receded, +came up and studied them, wheeled away, smiled sometimes +at each other with the high self-assurance of +beauty and position, pranced, pawed, curveted, were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +noble or coquettish as the inner self impelled, but +always the embodiment of overweening pride. Among +the “real gentry,” as he called them, there had unfailingly +been for him and his colleagues a courtesy which +might have been called only a distinction in equality, +whereas these high-steppers....</p> +<p>It was a relief to see the French madam bustling in +again from the room at the back. Steptoe rose. He +meant to express himself. Letty hoped he would. +For people who brought money in their hands this +treatment was too much. When Steptoe advanced to +meet madam, she went with him. As her champion +she must bear him out.</p> +<p>But madam forestalled them. “I ’ope that mademoiselle +has seen something what she like. Me, I +thought the brown costume—<i>cœur de le marguerite +jaune</i> we call it ziz season––”</p> +<p>Letty was quick. She had heard of mannequins, +the living models, though so remotely as to give her +no visualized impression. Suddenly knowing what +they had been looking at she adapted herself before +Steptoe could get his protest into words.</p> +<p>“I liked the seal-brown; but for me I thought the +second one––”</p> +<p>Madame Simone nodded, sagely. “Why shouldn’t +mademoiselle ’ave both?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>Chapter XI</h2> +</div> +<p>While this question was being put, and Steptoe +was rising to what he saw as the real occasion, +Rashleigh Allerton too was having a new experience. +He couldn’t understand it; he couldn’t understand +himself. Not that that was strange, since he had +hardly ever understood himself at any time; but now +he was, as he expressed it, “absolutely stumped.”</p> +<p>He had put on the table the bottle on which the +kilted Highlander was playing on the pipes; he had +poured himself a glass. It was what he called a good +stiff glass, meant, metaphorically, to kill or cure, and +he hoped it would be to kill.</p> +<p>And that was all.</p> +<p>He had sat looking at it, or he had looked at it while +walking about; but he had only looked at it. It was +as far as he could go. Now that to go farther had +become what he called a duty the perversity of his +nerves was such that they refused. It was like him. +He could always do the forbidden, the dare-devil, the +crazily mad; but when it came to the reasonable and +straightforward something in him balked. Here he +was at what should have been the beginning of the +end, and the demon which at another time would +have driven him on was holding him back. Temptation +had worked itself round the other way. It +was temptation not to do, when saving grace lay +in doing.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div> +<p>An hour or more had gone by when Mr. Radbury +knocked at the door, timidly.</p> +<p>“Come in, Radbury,” Allerton cried, in a gayety he +didn’t feel. “Have a drink.”</p> +<p>Mr. Radbury looked at the bottle and the glass. +He looked at his young employer, who with his hands +in his pockets, was again standing by the window. +It was the first time in all the years of his service, +first with the father and then with the son, that this +invitation had been given him.</p> +<p>“Thanks, Mr. Rash,” he said, with a thick, shaky +utterance. “Liquor and I are strangers. I wish I +could feel––”</p> +<p>But the old man’s trembling anxiety forced on +Allerton the fact that the foolish game was up. “All +right, Radbury. Was only joking. No harm done. +Had only taken the thing out to—to look at it.”</p> +<p>Before sitting down to read and sign the letters he +put both glass and bottle back into the keeping of +Queen Caroline Murat, saying to himself as he did +so: “I must find some other way.”</p> +<p>He was thrown back thus on Barbara’s suggestion +of a few hours earlier. He must get rid of the girl! +He had scarcely as yet considered this proposal, though +not because he deemed it unworthy of himself. Nothing +could be unworthy of himself. A man who was +so little of a man as he was entitled to do anything, +however base, and feel no shame. It was simply +that his mind hadn’t worked round to looking at +the thing as feasible. And yet it was; plainly it +was. The law allowed for it, if one only took advantage +of the law’s allowances. It would be beastly, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +course; and more beastly for him than the average +of men; but because it was beastly it were better +done at once, before the girl got used to luxurious +surroundings.</p> +<p>But even this resolution, speedy as it was, came a +little late. By evening Letty was already growing +used to luxurious surroundings, and finding herself +at home in them.</p> +<p>First, there were no longer any women in the +house, and with the three men—Steptoe’s friends being +already installed—she found herself safe from the +prying and criticizing feminine.</p> +<p>Secondly, some of the new clothes had already come +home, and she was now wearing the tea-gown she +had long dreamt of but had never aspired to possess. +It was of a blue so dark as to be almost black, with a +flame colored bar across the breast, harmonizing with +her hair and eyes. Of her eyes she wasn’t thinking; +but her hair....</p> +<p>That, however, was another part of the day’s fairy +tale.</p> +<p>When the dresses had been bought and paid for +madame presumed to Steptoe that mademoiselle was +under some rich gentleman’s protection. Taking +words at their face value, as she, Letty, did herself, +Steptoe admitted that she was. Madam made it plain +that she understood this honor, which often came to +girls of the humblest classes, and the need there could +be for supplementing wardrobes suddenly. After +that it was confidence for confidence. Madame had +seen that in the matter of lingerie mademoiselle “left +to desire,” and though Margot made no specialty in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +this line, they happened to have on an upper floor a +consignment just arrived from Paris, and if monsieur +would allow mademoiselle to come up and inspect +it.... Then it was Madame Simone’s coiffeur. At +least it was the coiffeur whom Madame Simone +recommended, who came to the house, after Letty +had donned a peignoir from the consignment just +arrived from Paris.... And now, at half past nine +in the evening, it was the memory of a day of mingled +agony and enchantment.</p> +<p>Having looked her over as he summoned her to +dinner, Steptoe had approved of her. He had approved +of her with an inner emphasis stronger than +he expressed. Letty didn’t know how she knew this; +but she knew. She knew that her transformation was +a surprise to him. She knew that though he had +hoped much from her she was giving him more than +he had hoped. Nothing that he said told her this, +but something in his manner—in his yearning as he +passed her the various dishes and tactfully showed her +how to help herself, in the tenderness with which he +repeated correctly her little slips in words—something +in this betrayed it.</p> +<p>She knew it, too, when after dinner he begged her +not to escape to the little back room, but to take her +place in the drawing-room.</p> +<p>“Madam’ll find that it’ll pass the time for ’er. +Maybe too Mr. Rashleigh’ll come in. ’E does sometimes—early +like. I’ve known ’im to come ’ome by +’alf past nine, and if ’is ma wasn’t sittin’ in the drorin’ +room ’e’d be quite put out. Lydies mostly wytes till +their ’usbands comes in; and in cyse madam’d feel +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +lonely I’ll leave the door open to the back part of the +’ouse, and she’ll ’ear me talkin’ to the boys.”</p> +<p>The October evening being chilly he lit a fire. +Drawing up in front of it a small armchair, suited for +a lady’s use, he placed behind it a table with an electric +lamp. Letty smiled up at him. He had never +seen her smile before, and now that he did he made +to himself another comment of approval.</p> +<p>“You’re awful good to me.”</p> +<p>He reflected as to how he could bring home to her +the grammatical mistake.</p> +<p>“Madam finds me <i>horfly</i> good, does she? P’rhaps +that’s because madam don’t know that ’er comin’ to +this ’ouse gratifies a tyste o’ mine for which I ain’t +never ’ad no gratificytion.”</p> +<p>As he put a footstool to her feet he caught the +question she so easily transmitted by her eyes.</p> +<p>“P’raps madam can hunderstand that after doin’ +things all my life for people as is used to ’em I’ve +’ad a kind o’ cryvin’ to do ’em for them as ’aven’t ’ad +nothink, and who could enjoy them more. I told +madam yesterday I was somethink of a anarchist, and +that’s ’ow I am—wantin’ to give the poor a wee little +bit of what the rich ’as to throw awye.”</p> +<p>Later he brought her an old red book, open at a +page on which she read, <i>The Little Mermaid</i>.</p> +<p>Her heart leaped. It was from this volume that +Miss Pye had read to the Prince when he was a child. +She let her eyes run along the opening words.</p> +<p>“Far out in the sea the water is as blue as the +petals of the cornflower, and clear as the purest glass.”</p> +<p>She liked this sentence. It took her into a blue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +world. It was curious, she thought, how much meaning +there was in colors. If you looked through red +glass the world was angry; if through yellow, it was +lit with an extraordinary sun; if through blue, you +had the sensation of universal happiness. She supposed +that that was why blue flowers always made you +feel that there was a want in life which ought to be +supplied—and wasn’t.</p> +<p>She remembered a woman who had a farm near +them in Canada, who grew only blue flowers in her +garden. The neighbors said she was crazy; but she, +Letty, had liked that garden better than all the +gardens she knew. She would go there and talk to +that woman, and listen to what she had to say of +Nature’s peculiar love of blue. The sea and sky were +loveliest when they were blue, and so were the birds. +There were blue stones, the woman said, precious +stones, and other stones that were little more than +rocks, which said something to the heart when pearls +and diamonds spoke only to the eyes. In the fields, +orchards, and gardens, white flowers, yellow flowers, +red flowers were common; but blue flowers were rare +and retiring, as if they guarded a secret which men +should come and search out.</p> +<p>To this there was only one exception. Letty would +notice as she trudged back to her father’s farm that +along the August roadsides there was a blue flower—of +a blue you would never see anywhere else, not even +in the sky—which grew in the dust, and lived on dust, +and out of the dust drew elements of beauty such as +roses and lilies couldn’t boast of. “That means,” the +crazy woman said, “that there’s nothing so dry, or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +parched, or sterile, that God can’t take it and fashion +from it the most priceless treasures of loveliness, if +we only had the eyes to see them.”</p> +<p>Letty never forgot this, and during all the intervening +years the dust flower, with its heavenly color, +had been the wild growing thing she loved best. It +spoke to her. It not only responded to the ache she +felt within herself, but gave a promise of assuagement. +She had never expected the fulfilment of that promise, +but was it possible that now it was going to be kept?</p> +<p>With her eyes on the fire she saw the color of the +dust flower close to the flaming wood. It was the +closest of all the colors, the one the burning heart kept +nearest to itself. It seemed to be, as the crazy woman +said, dear to Nature itself, its own beloved secret, +the secret which, even when written in the dust of the +wayside, or in the fire on the hearth, hardly anyone +read or found out.</p> +<p>And as she was dreaming of this and of her Prince, +Rashleigh was walking up the avenue, saying to himself +that he must make an end of it. He was walking +home because, having dined at the Club, he found +himself too restless to stay there. Walking relieved +his nerves, and enabled him to think. He must have +the thing over and done with. She would go decently, +of course, since, as he had promised her, she would +have plenty of money to go with—plenty of money for +the rest of her life—and that was the sole consideration. +She would doubtless be as glad to escape as he +to have her disappear. After that, so his lawyer had +assured him in the afternoon, the legal steps would be +relatively easy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></div> +<p>Letting himself in with his latchkey he was surprised +to see a light in the drawing-room. It had +not been lighted up at night, as far as he could remember, +since the days when his mother was accustomed +to sit there. If he came home early he had +always used the library, which was on the other side +of the house and at the back.</p> +<p>He went into the front drawing-room, which was +empty; but a fire burnt in the back one, and before it +someone was seated. It was not the girl he had found +in the park. It was a lady whom he didn’t recognize, +but clearly a lady. She was reading a book, and had +evidently not heard his entrance or his step.</p> +<p>With the shadows of the front drawing-room behind +him he stood between the portieres, and looked. +He had looked for some seconds before the lady raised +her eyes. She raised them with a start. Slowly there +stole into her cheek the dark red of confusion. She +dropped the book. She rose.</p> +<p>It wasn’t till she rose that he knew her. It wasn’t +till he knew her that he was seized by an astonishment +which almost made him laugh. It wasn’t till he almost +laughed that he went forward with the words, which +insensibly bridged some of the gulf between them:</p> +<p>“Oh! So this is—<i>you</i>!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XII</h2> +</div> +<p>Letty had not heard Allerton’s entrance or approach +because for the first time in her life she +was lost in the magic of Hans Andersen.</p> +<p>“The sun had just gone down as the little mermaid +lifted her head above the water. The clouds were +brilliant in purple and gold, and through the pale, +rose-tinged air the evening star shone clear and bright. +The air was warm and mild; the sea at rest. A great +ship with three masts lay close by, only one sail unfurled, +for there was no breath of air, and the sailors +sat aloft in the rigging or leaned lazily over the bulwarks. +Music and singing filled the air, and as the +sky darkened hundreds of Chinese lanterns were +lighted. It seemed as if the flags of every nation were +hung out. The little mermaid swam up to the cabin +window, and every time she rose upon the waves she +could see through the clear glass that the room was +full of brilliantly dressed people. Handsomest of all +was the young prince with the great dark eyes.”</p> +<p>Allerton’s eyes were dark, and though she did not +consider him precisely young, the analogy between +him and the hero of the tale was sufficient to take her +eyes from the book and to set her to dreaming.</p> +<p>“He could not be more than sixteen years old, and +this was his birthday. All this gaiety was in honor +of him; the sailors danced upon the deck; and when +the young prince came out a myriad of rockets flew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +high in the air, with a glitter like the brightest noontide, +and the little mermaid was so frightened that she dived +deep down under the water. She soon rose up again, +however, and it seemed as if all the stars of heaven +were falling round her in golden showers. Never had +she seen such fireworks; great, glittering suns wheeled +by her, fiery fishes darted through the blue air, and all +was reflected back from the quiet sea. The ship was +lighted up so that one could see the smallest rope. +How handsome the young prince looked! He shook +hands with everybody, and smiled, as the music rang +out into the glorious night. It grew late, but the +little mermaid could not turn her eyes away from the +ship and the handsome prince.”</p> +<p>Once more Letty’s thought wandered from the page. +She too would have watched her handsome prince, +no matter what the temptation to look elsewhere.</p> +<p>“The colored lanterns were put out, no rocket rose +in the air, no cannon boomed from the portholes; but +deep below there was a surging and a murmuring. +The mermaid sat still, cradled by the waves, so that +she could look in at the cabin window. But now the +ship began to make more way. One sail after another +was unfurled; the waves rose higher; clouds gathered +in the sky; and there was a distant flash of lightning. +The storm came nearer. All the sails were taken in, +and the ship rocked giddily, as she flew over the foaming +billows; the waves rose mountain-high, as if they +would swallow up the very masts, but the good ship +dived like a swan into the deep black trough, and rose +bravely to the foaming crest. The little mermaid +thought it was a merry journey, but the sailors were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +of a different opinion. The ship strained and creaked; +the timbers shivered as the thunder strokes of the +waves fell fast; heavy seas swept the decks; the mainmast +snapped like a reed; and the ship lurched heavily, +while the water rushed into the hold. Then the young +princess began to understand the danger, and she herself +was often threatened by the falling masts, yards, +and spars. One moment it was so dark that she could +see nothing, but when the lightning flamed out the ship +was as bright as day. She sought for the young +prince, and saw him sinking down through the water +as the ship parted. The sight pleased her, for she +knew he must sink down to her home. But suddenly +she remembered that men cannot live in the water, +and that he would only reach her father’s palace a +lifeless corpse. No; he must not die! She swam to +and fro among the drifting spars, forgetting that +they might crush her with their weight; she dived and +rose again, and reached the prince just when he felt +that he could swim no longer in the stormy sea. His +arms were beginning to fail him, his beautiful eyes +were closed; in another moment he must have sunk, +had not the little mermaid come to his aid. She kept +his head above water, and let the waves carry them +whither they would.”</p> +<p>Letty didn’t want Allerton’s life to be in danger, +but she would have loved saving it. She fell to pondering +possible conditions in which she could perform +this feat, while he ran no risk whatever.</p> +<p>“The next day the storm was over; not a spar of +the ship was left in sight. The sun rose red and +glowing upon the waves, and seemed to pour down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +new life upon the prince, though his eyes remained +closed. The little mermaid kissed his fair white forehead +and stroked back his wet hair. He was like the +marble statue in her little garden, she thought. She +kissed him again, and prayed that he might live.”</p> +<p>Letty saw herself seated somewhere in a mead, +Allerton lying unconscious with his head in her lap, +though the circumstances that brought them so together +remained vague.</p> +<p>“Suddenly the dry land came in sight before her, +high blue mountains on whose peaks the snow lay +white, as if a flock of swans had settled there. On +the coast below were lovely green woods, and close +on shore a building of some kind, the mermaid didn’t +know whether it was church or cloister. Citrons and +orange trees grew in the garden, and before the porch +were stately palm trees. The sea ran in here and +formed a quiet bay, unruffled, but very deep. The +little mermaid swam with the prince to the white +sandy shore, laid him on the warm sand, taking care +that his head was left where the sun shone warmest. +Bells began to chime and ring through all parts of +the building, and several young girls entered the +garden. The little mermaid swam farther out, behind +a tiny cliff that rose above the waves. She showered +sea-foam on her hair that no one might see its golden +glory, and then waited patiently to see if anyone would +come to the aid of the young prince.”</p> +<p>To Letty that was the heart-breaking part of the +story, the leaving the beloved one to others. It was +what she and the little mermaid had in common, unless +she too could get rid of her fish’s tail at the cost of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +walking on blades. But for the little mermaid there +the necessity was, as she, Letty read on.</p> +<p>“Before long a young girl came by; she gave a +start of terror and ran back to call for assistance. +Several people came to her aid, and after a while the +little mermaid saw the prince recover his consciousness, +and smile upon the group around him. But he +had no smile for her; he did not even know that she +had saved him. Her heart sank, and when she had +seen him carried into the large building, she dived +sorrowfully down to her father’s palace.”</p> +<p>Lifting her eyes to meditate on this situation Letty +saw Allerton standing between the portières. Her +dream of being little mermaid to his prince went out +like a pricked bubble. Though he neither smiled nor +sneered she knew he was amused at her, with a bitterness +in his amusement. In an instant she saw her +transformation as it must appear to him. She had +spent his money recklessly, and made herself look +ridiculous. All the many kinds of shame she had ever +known focused on her now, making her a glowing +brand of humiliations. She stood helpless. Hans +Andersen dropped to the floor with a soft thud. +Nevertheless, it was she who spoke first.</p> +<p>“I suppose you—you think it funny to see me +rigged up like this?”</p> +<p>He took time to pick up the book she had dropped +and hand it back to her. “Won’t you sit down again?”</p> +<p>While she seated herself and he followed her example +she continued to stammer on. “I—I thought +I ought to—to look proper for the house as long as +I was in it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></div> +<p>Her phrasing gave him an opening. “You’re quite +right. I should like you to get whatever would help +you in—in your profession before you—before you +leave us.”</p> +<p>Quick to seize the implications here she took them +with the submission of those whose lots have always +depended on other people’s wills.</p> +<p>“I’ll go whenever you want me to.”</p> +<p>Relieved as he was by this willingness he was +anxious not to seem brutal. “I’d—I’d rather you consulted +your own wishes about that.”</p> +<p>She put on a show of nonchalance. “Oh, I don’t +care. It’ll be just—just as you say <i>when</i>.”</p> +<p>He would have liked to say when at that instant, but +a pretense at courtesy had to be maintained. “There’s +no hurry—for a day or two.”</p> +<p>“You said a week or two yesterday.”</p> +<p>“Oh, did I? Well, then, we’ll say a week or two now.”</p> +<p>“Oh, not for me,” she hastened to assure him. +“I’d just as soon go to-night.”</p> +<p>“Have you hated it as much as that?”</p> +<p>“I’ve hated some of it.”</p> +<p>“Ah, well! You needn’t be bothered with it long.”</p> +<p>Her candor was of the kind which asks questions +frankly. “Haven’t you got any more use for me?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid—” it was not easy to put it into the +right words—“I’m afraid I was mistaken yesterday. +I put you in—in a false position with no necessity for +doing so.”</p> +<p>It took her a few seconds to get the force of this. +“Do you mean that you didn’t need me to be—to be a +shame and a disgrace to you <i>at all</i>?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>“Did I put it in that way?”</p> +<p>“Well, didn’t you?”</p> +<p>The fact that she was now dressed as she was +made it more embarrassing to him to be crude than +it had been when addressing the homeless and shabby +little “drab.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what I said then. I was—I was +upset.”</p> +<p>“And you’re upset very easy, ain’t you?” She corrected +herself quickly: “aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“I suppose that’s true. What of it?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing. I—I just happen to know a way +you can get over that—if you want to.”</p> +<p>He smiled. “I’m afraid my nervousness is too +deeply seated—I may as well admit that I’m nervous—you +saw it for yourself––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I saw you was—you were—sick up here—” +she touched her forehead—“as soon as you begun to +talk to me.”</p> +<p>Grateful for this comprehension he tried to use it to +his advantage. “So that you understand how I could +go off the hooks––”</p> +<p>“Sure! My mother’d go off ’em the least little +thing, till—till she done—till she did—the way I told +her.”</p> +<p>“Then some of these days I may ask you to—but +just now perhaps we’d better talk about––”</p> +<p>“When I’m to get out.”</p> +<p>Her bluntness of expression hurt him. “That’s +not the way I should have put it––”</p> +<p>“But it’s the way you’d ’a’ meant, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>He was the more disconcerted because she said this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +gently, with the same longing in her face and eyes as +in that of the little mermaid bending over the unconscious +prince.</p> +<p>The unconscious prince of the moment merely said: +“You mustn’t think me more brutal than I am––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t think you’re brutal. You’re just a +little dippy, ain’t—aren’t—you? But that’s because +you let yourself go. If when you feel it comin’ on +you’d just—but perhaps you’d rather <i>be</i> dippy. +Would you?”</p> +<p>If he could have called these wide goldstone eyes +with their tiny flames maternal it is the word he +would have chosen. In spite of the difficulty of the +minute he was conscious of a flicker of amusement.</p> +<p>“I don’t know that I would, but––”</p> +<p>“After I’m gone shall we—shall we <i>stay</i> married?”</p> +<p>This being the real question he was glad she faced +it with the directness which gave her a kind of charm. +He admitted that. She had the charm of everything +which is genuine of its kind. She made no pretense. +Her expression, her voice, her lack of sophistication, +all had the limpidity of water. He felt himself thanking +God for it. “He alone knows what kind of hands +I might have fallen into yesterday, crazy fool that I +am.” Of this child, crude as she was, he could make +his own disposition.</p> +<p>So in answer to her question he told her he had +seen his lawyer in the afternoon—he was a lawyer +himself but he didn’t practice—and the great man had +explained to him that of all the processes known to +American jurisprudence the retracing of such steps +as they had taken on the previous day was one of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +simplest. What the law had joined the law could put +asunder, and was well disposed toward doing so. +There being several courses which they could adopt, +he put them before her one by one. She listened with +the sort of attention which shows the mind of the +listener to be fixed on the speaker, rather than on anything +he says. Not being obliged to ask questions or +to make answers she could again see him as the handsome, +dark-eyed prince whom she would have loved to +save from drowning or any other fate.</p> +<p>Of all he said she could attach a meaning to but one +word: “desertion.” Even in the technical marital +sense she knew vaguely its significance. She thought +of it with a tightening about the heart. Any desertion +of him of which she would be capable would be like +that of the little mermaid when she dived sorrowfully +down to her father’s palace, leaving him with those to +whom he belonged. It was this thought which +prompted a question flung in among his observations, +though the link in the train of thought was barely +traceable:</p> +<p>“Is she takin’ you back—the girl you told me about +yesterday?”</p> +<p>He looked puzzled. “Did I tell you about a girl +yesterday?”</p> +<p>“Why, sure! You said she kicked you out––”</p> +<p>“Well, she hadn’t. I—I didn’t know I’d gone so +far as to say––”</p> +<p>“Oh, you went a lot farther than that. You said +you were goin’ to the devil. Ain’t you? I mean, +aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t seem able to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div> +<p>“You’re the first fellow I’ve ever heard say that.”</p> +<p>“I’m the first fellow I’ve ever heard say it myself. +But I tried to-day—and I couldn’t.”</p> +<p>“What did you do?”</p> +<p>“I tried to get drunk.”</p> +<p>She half rose, shrinking away from him. “Not—not +<i>you!</i>”</p> +<p>“Yes. Why not? I’ve been drunk before—not +often, but––”</p> +<p>“Don’t tell me,” she cried, hastily. “I don’t want to +know. It’s too––”</p> +<p>“But I thought it was just the sort of thing you’d +be––”</p> +<p>“I’d be used to. So it is. But that’s the reason. +You’re—you’re different. I can’t bear to think of +it—not with you.”</p> +<p>“But I’m just like any other man.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, you’re not.”</p> +<p>He looked at her curiously. “How am I—how am +I—different?”</p> +<p>“Oh, other men are just men, and you’re a—a kind +of prince.”</p> +<p>“You wouldn’t think so if you were to know me +better.”</p> +<p>“But I’m not goin’ to know you better, and I’d +rather think of you as I see you are.” She dropped +this theme to say: “So the other girl––”</p> +<p>“She didn’t mean it at all.”</p> +<p>“She’d be crazy if she did. But what made her let +you think so?”</p> +<p>“She’s—she’s simply that sort; goes off the hooks +too.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>“Oh! So there’ll be a pair of you.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid so.”</p> +<p>“That’ll be bloody murder, won’t it? Momma was +that way with Judson Flack. Hammer and tongs—the +both of them—till I took her in hand, and––”</p> +<p>“And what happened then?”</p> +<p>“She calmed down and—and died.”</p> +<p>“So that it didn’t do her much good, did it?”</p> +<p>“It did her that much good that she died. Death +was better than the way she was livin’ with Judson +Flack—and it wasn’t always his fault. I do’ wanta +defend him, but momma got so that if he did have a +quiet spell she’d go and stir him up. There’s not much +hope for two married people that lives like that, do +you think?”</p> +<p>“But you say your mother, under your instruction, +got over it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but it was too late. The more she got over it +the more he’d lambaste her, and when her money was +all gone––”</p> +<p>“But do you think all—all hot-tempered couples +have to go it in that way?”</p> +<p>She made a little hunching movement of the +shoulders. “It’s mostly cat and dog anyhow. You +and her—the other girl—won’t be much worse than +others.”</p> +<p>“But you think we’ll be worse, to some extent at +least.”</p> +<p>She ignored this to say, wistfully: “I suppose +you’re awful fond of her.”</p> +<p>“I think I can say as much as that.”</p> +<p>“And is she fond of you?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>“She says so.”</p> +<p>“If she is I don’t see how she could—” Her voice +trailed away. Her eyes forsook his face to roam the +shadows of the room. She added to herself rather +than to him: “I couldn’t ha’ done it if it was me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, if you were in love––”</p> +<p>The eyes wandered back from the shadows to rest +on him again. They were sorrowful eyes, and unabashed. +A child’s would have had this unreproachful +ache in them, or a dog’s. Though he didn’t know +what it meant it disturbed him into leaving his sentence +there.</p> +<p>It occurred to him then that they were forgetting +the subject in hand. He had not expected to be able +to converse with her, yet something like conversation +had been taking place. It had come to him, too, that +she had a mind, and now that he really looked at +her he saw that the face was intelligent. Yesterday +that face had been no more to him than a smudge, +without character, and almost featureless, while +to-day....</p> +<p>The train of his thought being twofold he could +think along one line, and speak along another. “So if +you go to see my lawyer he’ll suggest different things +that you could do––”</p> +<p>“I’d rather do whatever ’ud make it easiest for +you.”</p> +<p>“You’re very kind, but I think I’d better not suggest. +I’ll leave that to him and you. He knows +already that he’s to supply you with whatever money +you need for the present; and after everything is +settled I’ll see that you have––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>The damask flush which Steptoe had admired stole +over a face flooded with alarm. She spoke as she rose, +drawing a little back from him. “I do’ want any +money.”</p> +<p>He looked up at her in protestation. “Oh, but you +must take it.”</p> +<p>She was still drawing back, as if he was threatening +her with something that would hurt. “I do’ +want to.”</p> +<p>“But it was part of our bargain. You don’t understand +that I couldn’t––”</p> +<p>“I didn’t make no such—” She checked herself. +Her mother had rebuked her for this form of speech +a thousand times. She said the sentence over as she +felt he would have said it, as the people would have +said it among whom she had lived as a child. The +cadence of his speech, the half forgotten cadences of +theirs, helped her ear and her intuitions. “I didn’t +make any such bargain,” she managed to bring out, +at last. “You said you’d give me money; but I never +said I’d take it.”</p> +<p>He too rose. He began to feel troubled. Perhaps +she wouldn’t be at his disposition after all. “But—but +I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t let me––”</p> +<p>“And I couldn’t stand it if I did.”</p> +<p>“But that’s not reasonable. It’s part of the whole +thing that I should look out for your future after +what––”</p> +<p>“I know what you mean,” she declared, tremblingly. +“You think that because I’m—I’m beneath you that +I ain’t got—that I haven’t got—no sense of what a +girl should do and what she shouldn’t do. But you’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +wrong. Do you suppose I didn’t know all about how +crazy it was when I went with you yesterday? Of +course I did. I was as much to blame as you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, you weren’t. Apart from your being what +you call beneath me—and I don’t admit that you are—I’m +a great deal older than you––”</p> +<p>“You’re only older in years. In livin’ I’m twice +your age. Besides I’m all right here––” she touched +her forehead again—“and I could see first thing that +you was a fellow that needed to be took—to be taken—care +of.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you did!”</p> +<p>She strengthened her statement with an affirmative +nod. “Yes, I did.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, I’ve always paid the people who’ve +taken care of me––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but you didn’t ask me to take care of you, and +I didn’t take no care. You wanted me to be a disgrace +to you, and I thought so little of myself that I said I’d +go and be it. Now I’ve got to pay for that, not be +paid for it.”</p> +<p>Her head was up with what Steptoe considered to +be mettle. Though the picture she presented was +stamped on his mind as resembling the proud mien of +the girl in Whistler’s Yellow Buskin, he didn’t think +of that till later.</p> +<p>“There’s one thing I must ask you to remember,” he +said, in a tone he tried to make firm, “that I couldn’t +possibly accept from you anything in the way of +sacrifice.”</p> +<p>Her eyes were wide and earnest. “But I never +thought of <i>makin’</i> anything in the way of sacrifice.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></div> +<p>“It would be sacrifice for you to help me get out of +this scrape, and have nothing at all to the good.”</p> +<p>“But I’d have lots to the good.” She reflected. +“I’d have rememberin’.”</p> +<p>“What have you got to remember?”</p> +<p>With her child’s lack of self-consciousness she +looked him straight in the eyes. “You—for one +thing.”</p> +<p>“Me!” He had hardly the words for his amazement. +“For heaven’s sake, what can you have to +remember about me that—that could give you any +pleasure?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I didn’t say it would give me any pleasure. +I said I’d <i>have</i> it. It’d be mine—something no one +couldn’t take away from me.”</p> +<p>“But if it doesn’t do you any good––”</p> +<p>“It does me good if it makes me richer, don’t it?”</p> +<p>“Richer to—to remember <i>me</i>?”</p> +<p>She nodded, with a little twisted smile, beginning to +move toward the door. Over her shoulder she said: +“And it isn’t only you. There’s—there’s Steptoe.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Making her nod suffice for a good-night, Letty, +with the red volume of Hans Andersen under +her arm, passed out into the hall. It was not easy to +carry herself with the necessary nonchalance, but she +got strength by saying inwardly: “Here’s where I +begin to walk on blades.” The knowledge that she +was doing it, and that she was doing it toward an +end, gave her a dignity of carriage which Allerton +watched with sharpened observation.</p> +<p>Reaching the little back spare room she found the +door open, and Steptoe sweeping up the hearth before a +newly lighted fire. Beppo, whose basket had been +established here, jumped from his shelter to paw up +at her caressingly. With the hearth-brush in his hand +Steptoe raised himself to say:</p> +<p>“Madam’ll excuse me, but I thought as the evenin’ +was chilly––”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t want me to stay.”</p> +<p>She brought out the fact abruptly, lifelessly, because +she couldn’t keep it back. The calm she +had been able to maintain downstairs was breaking +up, with a quivering of the lip and two rolling +tears.</p> +<p>Slowly and absently Steptoe dusted his left hand +with the hearth-brush held in his right. “If madam’s +goin’ to decide ’er life by what another person wants +she ain’t never goin’ to get nowhere.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></div> +<p>There were tears now in the voice. “Yes, but when +it’s—<i>him</i>.”</p> +<p>“’Im or anybody else, we all ’ave to fight for what +we means to myke of our own life. It’s a poor gyme +in which I don’t plye my ’and for all I think it’ll win.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean that I should—act independent?”</p> +<p>“’Aven’t madam an independent life?”</p> +<p>“Havin’ an independent life don’t make it easier to +stay where you’re not wanted.”</p> +<p>“Oh, if madam’s lookin’ first for what’s easy––”</p> +<p>“I’m not. I’m lookin’ first for what he’ll <i>like</i>.”</p> +<p>Hanging the hearth-brush in its place he took the +tongs to adjust a smoking log. “I’ve been lookin’ for +what ’e’d like ever since ’e was born; and now I see +that gettin’ so much of what ’e liked ’asn’t been good for +’im. If madam’d strike out on ’er own line, whether ’e +liked it or not, and keep at it till ’e ’ad to like it––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but when it’s—” she sought for the right +word—“when it’s so humiliatin’––”</p> +<p>“Humiliatin’ things is not so ’ard to bear, once +you’ve myde up your mind as they’re to be borne.” +He put up the tongs, to busy himself with the poker. +“Madam’ll find that humiliation is a good deal like that +there quinine; bitter to the tyste, but strengthenin’. +I’ve swallered lots of it; and look at me to-dye.”</p> +<p>“I know as well as he does that it’s all been a crazy +mistake––”</p> +<p>“I was readin’ the other day—I’m fond of a good +book, I am—occupies the mind like—but I was readin’ +about a circus man in South Africa, what ’e myde a +mistyke and took the wrong tryle—and just when ’e +was a-givin’ ’imself up for lost among the tigers and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +the colored savages ’e found ’e’d tumbled on a mine of +diamonds. Big ’ouse in Park Lyne in London now, +and ’is daughter married to a Lord.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ve tumbled into the mine of diamonds all +right. The question is––”</p> +<p>“If madam really tumbled, or was led by the ’and +of Providence.”</p> +<p>She laughed, ruefully. “If that was it the hand of +Providence ’d have to have some pretty funny ways.”</p> +<p>“I’ve often ’eard as the wyes of Providence was +strynge; but I ain’t so often ’eard as Providence ’ad +got to myke ’em strynge to keep pyce with the wyes +of men. Now if the ’and of Providence ’ad picked +out madam for Mr. Rash, it’d ’ave to do somethink +out of the common, as you might sye, to bring together +them as man had put so far apart.” He looked +round the room with the eye of a head-waiter inspecting +a table in a restaurant. “Madam ’as everythink? +Well, if there’s anythink else she’s only got to ring.”</p> +<p>Bowing himself out he went down the stairs to +attend to those duties of the evening which followed +the return of the master of the house. In the library +and dining-room he saw to the window fastenings, +and put out the one light left burning in each room. +In the hall he locked the door with the complicated +locks which had helped to guarantee the late Mrs. +Allerton against burglars. There was not only a bolt, +a chain, and an ordinary lock, but there was an ingenious +double lock which turned the wrong way when +you thought you were turning it the right, and could +otherwise baffle the unskilful. Occupied with this task +he could peep over his shoulder, through the unlighted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +front drawing-room, and see his adored one standing +on the hearthrug, his hands clasped behind him, and +his head bent, in an attitude of meditation.</p> +<p>Steptoe, having much to say to him, felt the nervousness +of a prime minister going into the presence +of a sovereign who might or might not approve his +acts. It was at once the weakness and the strength of +his position that his rule was based on an unwritten +constitution. Being unwritten it allowed of a borderland +where powers were undefined. Powers being +undefined his scope was the more easily enlarged, +though now and then he found that the sovereign rebelled +against the mayor of the palace and had to be +allowed his way.</p> +<p>But the sovereign was nursing no seeds of the kind +of discontent which Steptoe was afraid of. As a +matter of fact he was thinking of the way in which +Letty had left the room. The perspective, the tea-gown, +the effectively dressed hair, enabled him to perceive +the combination of results which Madame +Simone had called <i>de l’élégance naturelle</i>. She had +that; he could see it as he hadn’t seen it hitherto. It +must have given what value there was to her poor +little rôles in motion pictures. Now that his eye had +caught it, it surprised, and to some degree disturbed, +him. It was more than the show-girl’s inane prettiness, +or the comely wax-work face of the girl on the +cover of a magazine. With due allowance for her +Anglo-Saxonism and honesty, she was the type of +woman to whom “things happen.” Things would +happen to her, Allerton surmised, beyond anything she +could experience in his cumbrous and antiquated house. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +This queer episode would drop behind her as an episode +and no more, and in the multitude of future incidents +she would almost forget that she had known him. +He hoped to God that it would be so, and yet....</p> +<p>He was noting too that she hadn’t taxed him, in +the way of calling on his small supply of nervous +energy. Rather she had spared it, and he felt himself +rested. After a talk with Barbara he was always +spent. Her emotional furies demanded so much of +him that they used him up. This girl, on the contrary, +was soothing. He didn’t know how she was soothing; +but she was. He couldn’t remember when he had +talked to a woman with so little thought of what he +was to say and how he was to say it, and heaven only +knew that the things to be said between them were +nerve-racking enough. But they had come out of their +own accord, those nerve-racking things, probably, he +reasoned, because she was a girl of inferior class with +whom he didn’t have to be particular.</p> +<p>She was quick, too, to catch the difference between +his speech and her own. She was quick—and pathetic. +Her self-correction amused him, with a strain of pity +in his amusement. If a girl like that had only had a +chance.... And just then Steptoe broke in on his +musing by entering the room.</p> +<p>The first subject to be aired was that of the changes +in the household staff, and Steptoe raised it diplomatically. +Mrs. Courage and Jane had taken offense +at the young lydy’s presence, and packed themselves +off in dishonorable haste. Had it not been that two +men friends of his own were ready to come at an +hour’s notice the house would have been servantless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +till he had procured strangers. No condemnation +could be too severe for Mrs. Courage and Jane, for +not content with leaving the house in dudgeon they +had insulted the young lydy before they went.</p> +<p>“Sooner or lyter they would ’a’ went any’ow. For +this long time back they’ve been too big for their +boots, as you might sye. If Mr. Rash ’ad married +the other young lydy she wouldn’t ’a’ stood ’em a +week. It don’t do to keep servants too long, not +when they’ve got no more than a menial mind, which +Jynie and Mrs. Courage ’aven’t. The minute they +’eard that this young lydy was in the ’ouse.... And +beautiful the wye she took it, Mr. Rash. I never see +nothink finer on the styge nor in the movin’ pictures. +Like a young queen she was, a-tellin’ ’em that she +’adn’t come to this ’ouse to turn out of it them as ’ad +’ad it as their ’ome, like, and that she’d put it up to +them. If they went she’d stye; but if they styed she’d +go––”</p> +<p>“She’s going anyhow.”</p> +<p>Steptoe moved away to feel the fastenings of the +back windows. “That’ll be a relief to us, sir, won’t +it?” he said, without turning his head.</p> +<p>“It’ll make things easier—certainly.”</p> +<p>“I was just ’opin’ that it mightn’t be—well, not too +soon.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean by too soon?”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, I’ve been thinkin’ it over through the +dye, just as you told me to do this mornin,’ and I +figger out—” on a table near him he began to arrange +the disordered books and magazines—“I figger out +that if she was to go it’d better be in a wye agreeable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +to all concerned. It wouldn’t do, I syes to myself, for +Mr. Rash to bring a young woman into this ’ouse +and ’ave ’er go awye feelin’ anythink but glad she’d +come.”</p> +<p>“That’ll be some job.”</p> +<p>“It’ll be some job, sir; but it’ll be worth it. It +ain’t only on the young lydy’s account; it’ll be on Mr. +Rash’s.”</p> +<p>“On Mr. Rash’s—how?”</p> +<p>The magazines lapping over each other in two long +lines, he straightened them with little pats. “What I +suppose you mean to do, sir, is to get out o’ this +matrimony and enter into the other as you thought as +you wasn’t goin’ to enter into.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“And when you’d entered into the other you +wouldn’t want it on your mind—on your conscience, +as you might sye—that there was a young lydy in the +world as you’d done a kind o’ wrong to.”</p> +<p>Allerton took three strides across the corner of the +room, and three strides back to the fireplace again. +“How am I going to escape that? She says she won’t +let me give her any money.”</p> +<p>“Oh, money!” Steptoe brushed money aside as if +it had no value. “She wouldn’t of course. Not ’er +sort.”</p> +<p>“But what <i>is</i> ’er sort. She seemed one thing yesterday, +and to-day she’s another.”</p> +<p>“That’s somethink like what I mean. That young +lydy ’as growed more in twenty-four hours than lots’d +grow in twenty-four years.” He considered how best +to express himself further. “Did Mr. Rash ever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +notice that it isn’t bein’ born of a certain kind o’ +family as’ll myke a man a gentleman? Of course ’e +did. But did ’e ever notice that a man’ll often <i>not</i> +be born of a certain kind o’ family, and yet be a +gentleman all the syme?”</p> +<p>“I know what you’re driving at; but it depends on +what you mean by a gentleman.”</p> +<p>“And I couldn’t ’ardly sye—not no more than I +could tell you what the smell of a flower was, not even +while you was a-smellin’ of it. You know a gentleman’s +a gentleman, and you may think it’s this or that +what mykes ’im so, but there ain’t no wye to put it +into words. Now you, Mr. Rash, anybody’d know +you was a gentleman what merely looked at you +through a telescope; but you couldn’t explyne it, not +if you was took all to pieces like the works of a clock. +It ain’t nothink you do and nothink you sye, because +if we was to go by that––”</p> +<p>“Good Lord, stop! We’re not talking about me.”</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Rash. We’re talkin’ about the queer thing +it is what mykes a gentleman, and I sye that I can’t +sye. But I <i>know</i>. Now, tyke Eugene. ’E’s just a +chauffeur. But no one couldn’t be ten minutes with +Eugene and not know ’e’s a gentleman through and +through. Obligin’—good-mannered—modest—polite +to the very cat ’e is—and always with that nice smile—wouldn’t +<i>you</i> sye as Eugene was a gentleman, if +anybody was to arsk you, Mr. Rash?”</p> +<p>“If they asked me from that point of view—yes—probably. +But what has that to do with it?”</p> +<p>“It ’as this to do with it that when you arsk me +what sort that young lydy is I ’ave to reply as she’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +not the sort to accept money from strynge gentlemen, +because it ain’t what she’s after.”</p> +<p>“Then what on earth <i>is</i> she after? Whatever it +is she can have it, if I can only find out what it is.”</p> +<p>Steptoe answered this in his own way. “It’s very +’ard for the poor to see so much that’s good and beautiful +in the world, and know that they can’t ’ave none +of it. I felt that myself before I worked up to where +I am now. ’Ere in New York a poor boy or a poor +girl can’t go out into the street without seein’ the +things they’re cryvin’ for in their insides flaunted +at ’em like—shook in their fyces—while the law +and the police and the church and everythink what +mykes our life says to ’em, ‘There’s none o’ this for +you.’”</p> +<p>“Well, money would buy it, wouldn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Money’d buy it if money knew what to buy. But +it don’t. Mr. Rash must ’ave noticed that there’s +nothink ’elplesser than the people with money what +don’t know ’ow to spend it. I used to be that wye +myself when I’d ’ave a little cash. I wouldn’t know +what to blow myself to what wouldn’t be like them +vulgar new-rich. But the new-rich is vulgar only +because our life ’as put the ’orse before the cart with +’em, as you might sye, in givin’ them the money +before showin’ ’em what to do with it.”</p> +<p>Having straightened the lines of magazines to the +last fraction of an inch he found a further excuse for +lingering by moving back into their accustomed places +the chairs which had been disarranged.</p> +<p>“You ’ave to get the syme kind of ’ang of things +as you and me’ve got, Mr. Rash, to know what it is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +you want, and ’ow to spend your money wise like. +Pleasure isn’t just in ’avin’ things; it’s in knowin’ +what’s good to ’ave and what ain’t. Now this young +lydy’d be like a child with a dime sent into a ten-cent +store to buy whatever ’e’d like. There’s so many +things, and all the syme price, that ’e’s kind of confused +like. First ’e thinks it’ll be one thing, and then +’e thinks it’ll be another, and ’e ends by tykin’ the +wrong thing, because ’e didn’t ’ave nothink to tell +’im ’ow to choose. Mr. Rash wouldn’t want a young +lydy to whom ’e’s indebted, as you might sye, to be +like that, now would ’e?”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t seem to me that I’ve got anything to do +with it. If I offer her the money, and can get her to +take it––”</p> +<p>“That’s where she strikes me as wiser than Mr. +Rash, for all she don’t know but so little. That much +she knows by hinstinck.”</p> +<p>“Then what am I going to do?”</p> +<p>“That’d be for Mr. Rash to sye. If it was me––”</p> +<p>The necessity for getting an armchair exactly beneath +a portrait seemed to cut this sentence short.</p> +<p>“Well, if it was you—what then?”</p> +<p>“Before I’d give ’er money I’d teach ’er the ’ang +of our kind o’ life, like. That’s what she’s aichin’ +and cryvin’ for. A born lydy she is, and ’ankerin’ +after a lydy’s wyes, and with no one to learn ’em to +’er––”</p> +<p>“But, good heavens, I can’t do that.”</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Rash, but I could, if you was to leave ’er +’ere for a bit. I could learn ’er to be a lydy in the +course of a few weeks, and ’er so quick to pick up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +Then if you was to settle a little hincome on ’er she +wouldn’t––”</p> +<p>Allerton took the bull by the horns. “She wouldn’t +be so likely to go to the bad. That’s what you mean, +isn’t it?”</p> +<p>Moving behind Allerton, who continued to stand on +the hearthrug, Steptoe began poking the embers, making +them safe for the night.</p> +<p>“Did Mr. Rash ever notice that goin’ to the bad, as +’e calls it, ain’t the syme for them as ’ave nothink as +it looks to them as ’ave everythink? When you’re +’ungry for food you heats the first thing you can lie +your ’ands on; and when you’re ’ungry for life you +do the first thing as’ll promise you the good you’re +lookin’ for. What people like you and me is hapt +to call goin’ to the bad ain’t mostly no more than +a ’ankerin’ for good which nothink don’t seem to +feed.”</p> +<p>Allerton smiled. “That sounds to me as if it might +be dangerous doctrine.”</p> +<p>“What excuses the poor’ll often seem dyngerous +doctrine to the rich, Mr. Rash. Our kind is awful +afryde of their kind gettin’ a little bit of what they’re +longin’ for, and especially ’ere in America. When +we’ve took from them most of the means of ’aving a +little pleasure lawful, we call it dyngerous if they tyke +it unlawful like, and we go to work and pass laws +agynst them. Protectin’ them agynst theirselves we +sye it is, and we go at it with a gun.”</p> +<p>“But we’re talking of––”</p> +<p>“Of the young lydy, sir. Quite so. It’s on ’er +account as I’m syin’ what I’m syin’. You arsk me if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +I think she’ll go to the bad in cyse we turn ’er out, and +I sye that––”</p> +<p>Allerton started. “There’s no question of our turning +her out. She’s sick of it.”</p> +<p>“Then that’d be my point, wouldn’t it, sir? If +she goes because she’s sick of it, why, then, natural +like, she’ll look somewhere else for what—for what +she didn’t find with us. You may call it goin’ to the +bad, but it’ll be no more than tryin’ to find in a wrong +wye what life ’as denied ’er in a right one.”</p> +<p>Allerton, who had never in his life been asked to +bear moral responsibility, was uneasy at this philosophy, +changing the subject abruptly.</p> +<p>“Where did she get the clothes?”</p> +<p>“Me and ’er, Mr. Rash, went to Margot’s this +mornin’ and bought a bunch of ’em.”</p> +<p>“The deuce you did! And you used my name?”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” Steptoe returned, with dignity, “I used +mine. I didn’t give no ’andle to gossip. I pyde for +the things out o’ some money I ’ad in ’and—my own +money, Mr. Rash—and ’ad ’em all sent to me. I +thought as we was mykin’ a mistyke the young lydy’d +better look proper while we was mykin’ it; and I +knew Mr. Rash’d feel the syme.”</p> +<p>The situation was that in which the <i>fainéant</i> king +accepts the act of the mayor of the palace because it +is Hobson’s choice. Moreover, he was willing that +she should have the clothes. If she wouldn’t take +money she would at least apparently take them, which, +in a measure, would amount to the same thing. He +was dwelling on this bit of satisfaction when Steptoe +continued.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p>“And as long as the young lydy remynes with us, +Mr. Rash, I thought it’d be discreeter like not to ’ave +no more women pokin’ about, and tryin’ to find out +what ’ad better not be known. It mykes it simpler +as she ’erself arsks to be called Miss Gravely––”</p> +<p>“Oh, she does?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir; and that’s what I’ve told William and +Golightly, the waiter and the chef, is ’er nyme. It +mykes it all plyne to ’em––”</p> +<p>“Plain? Why, they’ll think––”</p> +<p>“No, sir. They won’t think. When it comes to +what’s no one’s business but your own women thinks; +men just haccepts. They tykes things for granted, +and don’t feel it none of their affair. Mr. Rash’ll ’ave +noticed that there’s a different kind of honor among +women from what there is among men. I don’t sye +but what the women’s is all right, only the men’s is +easier to get on with.”</p> +<p>There being no response to these observations Steptoe +made ready to withdraw. “And shall you stye +’ome for breakfast, sir?”</p> +<p>“I’ll see in the morning.”</p> +<p>“Very good, sir. I’ve locked up the ’ouse and seen +to everythink, if you’ll switch off the lights as you +come up. Good-night, Mr. Rash.”</p> +<p>“Good-night.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>Chapter XIV</h2> +</div> +<p>While this conversation was taking place Letty, +in the back spare room, was conducting a ceremonial +too poignant for tears. There were tears in +her heart, but her eyes only smarted.</p> +<p>Taking off the blue-black tea-gown, she clasped it +in her arms and kissed it. Then, on one of the padded +silk hangers, she hung it far in the depths of the +closet, where it wouldn’t scorch her sight in the +morning.</p> +<p>Next she arrayed herself in a filmy breakfast thing, +white with a copper-colored sash matching some of +the tones in her hair and eyes, and simple with an +angelic simplicity. Standing before the long mirror +she surveyed herself mournfully. But this robe too +she took off, kissed, and laid away.</p> +<p>Lastly she put on the blue-green costume, with the +turquoise and jade embroidery. She put on also the +hat with the feather which shaded itself from green +into monkshood blue. She put on a veil, and a pair of +white gloves. For once she would look as well as she +was capable of looking, though no one should see her +but herself.</p> +<p>Viewing her reflection she grew frightened. It was +the first time she had ever seen her personal potentialities. +She had long known that with “half a chance” +she could emerge from the cocoon stage of the old +gray rag and be at least the equal of the average; but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +she hadn’t expected so radical a change. She was +not the same Letty Gravely. She didn’t know what +she was, since she was neither a “star” nor a “lady,” +the two degrees of elevation of which she had had +experience. All she could feel was that with the advantages +here presented she had the capacity to be +either. Since, apparently, the becoming a lady was +now excluded from her choice of careers, “stardom” +would still have been within her reach, only that she +was not to get the necessary “half a chance.” That +was the bitter truth of it. That was to be the result +of her walking on blades. All the same, as walking on +blades would help her prince she was resolved to walk +on them. For her mother’s sake, even for Judson +Flack’s, she had done things nearly as hard, when she +had not had this incentive.</p> +<p>The incentive nerved her to take off the blue-green +costume, kissing it a last farewell, and laying it to +rest, as a mother a dead baby in its coffin. Into the +closet went the bits of lingerie from the consignment +just arrived from Paris, and the other spoils of the +day. When everything was buried she shut the door +upon it, as in her heart she was shutting the door on +her poor little fledgling hopes. Nothing remained to +torment her vision, or distract her from what she had +to do. The old gray rag and the battered black hat +were all she had now to deal with.</p> +<p>She slept little that night, since she was watching +not for daylight but for that first stirring in the +streets which tells that daylight is approaching. Having +neither watch nor clock the stirring was all she +had to go by. When it began to rumble and creak +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +and throb faintly in and above the town she got up +and dressed.</p> +<p>So far had she travelled in less than forty-eight +hours that the old gray rag, and not the blue-green +costume, was now the disguise. In other words, once +having tasted the prosperous she had found it the +natural. To go back to poverty was not merely hard; +it was contrary to all spontaneous dictates. Dimly +she had supposed that in reverting to the harness she +had worn she would find herself again; but she only +discovered that she was more than ever lost.</p> +<p>Very softly she unlocked her door to peep out at +the landing. The house was ghostly and still, but it +was another sign of her development that she was no +longer afraid of it. Space too had become natural, +while dignity of setting had seemed to belong to her +ever since she was born. Turning her back on these +conditions was far more like turning her back on home +than it had been when she walked away from Judson +Flack’s.</p> +<p>She crept out. It was so dark that she was obliged +to wait till objects defined themselves black against +black before she could see the stairs. She listened too. +There were sounds, but only such sounds as all houses +make when everyone is sleeping. She guessed, it was +pure guessing, that it must be about five o’clock.</p> +<p>She stole down the stairs. The necessity for keeping +her mind on moving noiselessly deadened her +thought to anything else. She neither looked back to +what she was leaving behind, nor forward to what she +was going to. Once she had reached the street it +would be time enough to think of both. She had the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +fact in the back of her consciousness, but she kept it +there. Out in the street she would feel grief for the +prince and his palace, and terror at the void before her; +but she couldn’t feel them yet. Her one impulse was +to escape.</p> +<p>At the great street door she could see nothing; but +she could feel. She found the key and turned it easily. +As the door did not then yield to the knob she fumbled +till she touched the chain. Slipping that out of its +socket she tried the door again, but it still refused to +open. There must be something else! Rich houses +were naturally fortresses! She discovered the bolt +and pulled it back.</p> +<p>Still the door was fixed like a rock. She couldn’t +make it out. A lock, a chain, a bolt! Surely that +must be everything! Perhaps she had turned the key +the wrong way. She turned it again, but only with the +same result. She found she could turn the key either +way, and still leave the door immovable.</p> +<p>Perhaps she didn’t pull it hard enough. Doors +sometimes stuck. She pulled harder; she pulled with +her whole might and main. She could shake the door; +she could make it rattle. The hanging chain dangled +against the woodwork with a terrifying clank. If +anyone was lying awake she would sound like a burglar—and +yet she must get out.</p> +<p>Now that she was balked, to get out became an +obsession. It became more of an obsession the more +she was balked. It made her first impatient, and then +frantic. She turned the key this way and that way. +She pulled and tugged. The perspiration came out on +her forehead. She panted for breath; she almost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +sobbed. She knew there was a “trick” to it. She +knew it was a simple trick because she had seen Steptoe +perform it on the previous day; but she couldn’t find +out what it was. The effort made her only the more +desperate.</p> +<p>She was not crying; she was only gasping—in +raucous, exhausted, nervous sobs. They came shorter +and harder as she pitted her impotence against this +unyielding passivity. She knew it was impotence, and +yet she couldn’t desist; and she couldn’t desist because +she grew more and more frenzied. It was the kind of +frenzy in which she would have dashed herself wildly, +vainly against the force that blocked her with its pitiless +resistance, only that the whole hall was suddenly +flooded with a blaze of light.</p> +<p>It was light that came so unexpectedly that her +efforts were cut short. Even her hard gasps were +silenced, not in relief but in amazement. She remained +so motionless that she could practically see +herself, thrown against this brutal door, her arms +spread out on it imploringly.</p> +<p>Seconds that seemed like minutes went by before +she found strength to detach herself and turn.</p> +<p>Amazement became terror. On the halfway landing +of the stairs stood a figure robed in scarlet from head +to foot, with flying indigo lapels. He was girt with +an indigo girdle, while the mass of his hair stood up +as in tongues of forked black flame. The countenance +was terrible, in mingled perplexity and wrath.</p> +<p>She saw it was the prince, but a prince transformed +by condemnation.</p> +<p>“What on earth does this mean?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div> +<p>He came down the rest of the stairs till he stood on +the lowest step. She advanced toward him pleadingly.</p> +<p>“I was—I was trying to get out.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“I—I—I must get away.”</p> +<p>“Well, even so; is this the way to do it? I thought +someone was tearing the house down. It woke me up.”</p> +<p>“I was goin’ this way because—because I didn’t +want you to know what’d become of me.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and have you on my mind.”</p> +<p>“I hoped I’d be takin’ myself off your mind.”</p> +<p>“If you want to take yourself off my mind there’s +a perfectly simple means of doing it.”</p> +<p>“I’ll do anything—but take money.”</p> +<p>“And taking money is the only thing I ask of you.”</p> +<p>“I can’t. It’d—it’d—shame me.”</p> +<p>“Shame you? What nonsense!”</p> +<p>She reflected fast. “There’s two ways a woman can +take money from a man. The man may love her and +marry her; or perhaps he don’t marry her, but loves her +just the same. Then she can take it; but when––”</p> +<p>“When she only renders him a—a great service––”</p> +<p>“Ah, but that’s just what I didn’t do. You said +you wanted me to send you to the devil—and now +you ain’t a-goin’ to go.”</p> +<p>He grew excited. “But, good Lord, girl, you don’t +expect me to go to the devil just to keep my word +to you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want you to do anything just to keep your +word to me,” she returned, fiercely. “I only want you +to let me get away.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></div> +<p>He came down the remaining step, beginning to +pace back and forth as he always did when approaching +the condition he called “going off the hooks.” +Letty found him a marvelous figure in his scarlet robe, +and with his mass of diabolic black hair.</p> +<p>“Yes, and if I let you get away, where would you +get away <i>to</i>?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll find a place.”</p> +<p>“A place in jail as a vagrant, as I said the other +day.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather be in jail,” she flung back at him, “than +stay where I’m not wanted.”</p> +<p>“That’s not the question.”</p> +<p>“It’s the biggest question of all for me. It’d be the +biggest for you too if you were in my place.” She +stretched out her hands to him. “Oh, please show me +how to work the door, and let me go.”</p> +<p>He flared as he was in the habit of flaring whenever +he was opposed. “You can go when we’ve settled the +question of what you’ll have to live on.”</p> +<p>“I’ll have myself to live on—just as I had before +I met you in the Park.”</p> +<p>“Nothing is the same for you or for me as before +I met you in the Park.”</p> +<p>“No, but we want to make it the same, don’t we? +You can’t—can’t marry the other girl till it is.”</p> +<p>“I can’t marry the other girl till I know you’re +taken care of.”</p> +<p>“Money wouldn’t take care of me. That’s where +you’re makin’ your mistake. You rich people think +that money will do anything. So it will for you; but +it don’t mean so awful much to me.” Her eyes, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +lips, her hands besought him together. “Think now! +What would I do with money if I had it? It ain’t as +if I was a lady. A lady has ways of doin’ nothin’ +and livin’ all the same; but a girl like me don’t know +anything about them. I’d go crazy if I didn’t work—or +I’d die—or I’d do somethin’ worse.”</p> +<p>It was because his nerves were on edge that he cried +out: “I don’t care a button what you do. I’m thinking +of myself.”</p> +<p>She betrayed the sharpness of the wound only by a +deepening of the damask flush. “I’m thinkin’ of you, +too. Wouldn’t you rather have everything come right +again—so that you could marry the other girl—and +know that I’d done it for you <i>free</i>—and not that you’d +just bought me off?”</p> +<p>“You mean, wouldn’t I rather that all the generosity +should be on your side––”</p> +<p>“I don’t care anything about generosity. I +wouldn’t be doin’ it for that. It’d be because––”</p> +<p>He flung out his arms. “Well—why?”</p> +<p>“Because I’d like to do something <i>for</i> you––”</p> +<p>“Do something for me by making me a cad.” He +was beside himself. “That’s what it would come to. +That’s what you’re playing for. I should be a +cad. You dress yourself up again in this ridiculous +rig––”</p> +<p>“It’s not a ridic’lous rig. It’s my own clothes––”</p> +<p>“Your own clothes <i>now</i> are—are what I saw you in +when I came home last evening. You can’t go back +to that thing. We can’t go back in any way.” He +seemed to make a discovery. “It’s no use trying to +be what we were in the Park, because we can’t be. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +Whatever we do must be in the way of—of going on +to something else.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’d be something else, if you’d just let me +go, and do the desertion stunt you talked to me +about––”</p> +<p>“I’ll not let you do it unless I pay you for it.”</p> +<p>“But it’d be payin’ me for it if—if you’d just let +me do it. Don’t you see I <i>want</i> to?”</p> +<p>“I can see that you want to keep me in your debt. +I can see that I’d never have another easy moment in +my life. Whatever I did, and whoever I married, I +should have to owe it to <i>you</i>.”</p> +<p>“Well, couldn’t you—when I owe so much to you?”</p> +<p>“There you go! What do you owe to me? Nothing +but getting you into an infernal scrape––”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! It’s not been that at all. You’d have +to be me to understand what it <i>has</i> been. It’ll be something +to think of all the rest of my life—whatever +I do.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and I know how you’ll think of it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, you don’t. You couldn’t. It’s nothin’ to +you to come into this beautiful house and see its lovely +kind of life; but for me––”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t throw that sort of thing at me,” he +flamed out, striding up and down. “Steptoe’s been +putting that into your head. He’s strong on the sentimental +stuff. You and he are in a conspiracy against +me. That’s what it is. It’s a conspiracy. He’s got +something up his sleeve—I don’t know what—and he’s +using you as his tool. But you don’t come it over +me. I’m wise, I am. I’m a fool too. I know it well +enough. But I’m not such a fool as to––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></div> +<p>She was frightened. He was going “off the hooks.” +She knew the signs of it. This rapid speech, one word +leading to another, had always been her mother’s first +sign of super-excitement, until it ended in a scream. +If he were to scream she would be more terrified than +she had ever been in her life. She had never heard a +man scream; but then she had never seen a man grow +hysterical.</p> +<p>His utterance was the more clear-cut and distinct +the faster it became.</p> +<p>“I know what it is. Steptoe thinks I’m going +insane, and he’s made you think so too. That’s why +you want to get away. You’re afraid of me. Well, +I don’t wonder at it; but you’re not going. See? +You’re not going. You’ll go when I send you; but +you’ll not go before. See? I’ve married you, haven’t +I? When all is said and done you’re my wife. My +wife!” He laughed, between gritted teeth. “My +wife! That’s my wife!” He pointed at her. “Rashleigh +Allerton who thought so much of himself has +married <i>that</i>—and she’s trying to do the generous +by him––”</p> +<p>Going up to him timidly, she laid her hand on his +arm. “Say, mister, would you mind countin’ ten?”</p> +<p>The appeal took him so much by surprise that, both +in his speech and in his walk, he stopped abruptly. +She began to count, slowly, and marking time with her +forefinger. “One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten.”</p> +<p>He stared at her as if it was she who had gone “off +the hooks.” “What do you mean by that?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothin’. Now you can begin again.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>“Begin what?”</p> +<p>“What you was—what you were sayin’.”</p> +<p>“What I was saying?” He rubbed his hand across +his forehead, which was wet with cold perspiration. +“Well, what was I saying?”</p> +<p>He was not only dazed, but a pallor stole over his +skin, the more ghastly in contrast with his black hair +and his scarlet dressing-gown.</p> +<p>“Isn’t there no place you can lay down? I always +laid momma down after a spell of this kind. It did +her good to sleep and she always slept.”</p> +<p>He said, absently: “There’s a couch in the library. +I can’t go back to bed.”</p> +<p>“No, you don’t want to go back to bed,” she agreed, +as if she was humoring a child. “You wouldn’t sleep +there––”</p> +<p>“I haven’t slept for two nights,” he pleaded, in +excuse for himself, “not since––”</p> +<p>Taking him by the arm she led him into the library, +which was in an ell behind the back drawing-room. It +was a big, book-lined room with worn, shiny, leather-covered +furnishings. On the shiny, leather-covered +couch was a cushion which she shook up and smoothed +out. Over its foot lay an afghan the work of the late +Mrs. Allerton.</p> +<p>“Now, lay down.”</p> +<p>He stretched himself out obediently, after which +she covered him with the afghan. When he had closed +his eyes she passed her hand across his forehead, on +which the perspiration was still thick and cold. She +remembered that a bottle of Florida water and a paper +fan were among the luxuries of the back spare room.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>“Don’t you stir,” she warned him. “I’m goin’ to +get you something.”</p> +<p>Absorbed in her tasks as nurse she forgot to make the +sentimental reflections in which she would otherwise +have indulged. Back to the room from which she had +fled she hurried with no thought that she was doing so. +From the grave of hope she disinterred a half dozen +of the spider-web handkerchiefs to which a few +hours previously she had bid a touching adieu. With +handkerchiefs, fan, and Florida water, she flew +back to her patient, who opened his eyes as she +approached.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to be fussed over––” he was beginning, +fretfully.</p> +<p>“Lie still,” she commanded. “I know what to do. +I’m used to people who are sick—up here.”</p> +<p>“Up here” was plainly the forehead which she +mopped softly with a specimen from Margot’s Parisian +consignment. He closed his eyes. His features +relaxed to an expression of relief. Relief gave place +to repose when he felt her hand with the cool scented +essence on his brow. It passed and passed again, +lightly, soothingly, consolingly. Drowsily he thought +that it was Barbara’s hand, but a Barbara somehow +transformed, and grown tenderer.</p> +<p>He was asleep. She sat fanning him till a feeble +daylight through an uncurtained window warned her +to switch off the electricity. Coming back to her place, +she continued to fan him, quietly and deftly, with no +more than a motion of the wrist. She had the nurse’s +wrist, slender, flexible; the nurse’s hand, strong, +shapely, with practical spatulated finger-tips. After +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +all, he was in some degree the drowning unconscious +prince, and she the little mermaid.</p> +<p>“He’ll be ashamed when he wakes up. He’ll not like +to find me sittin’ here.”</p> +<p>It was broad daylight now. He was as sound asleep +as a child. Since she couldn’t disturb him by rising +she rose. Since she couldn’t disturb him even by kissing +him she kissed him. But she wouldn’t kiss his lips, +nor so much as his cheek or his brow. Very humbly +she knelt and kissed his feet, outlined beneath the +afghan. Then she stole away.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>Chapter XV</h2> +</div> +<p>The interlacing of destinies is such that you will +not be surprised to learn that the further careers +of Letty Gravely, of Barbara Walbrook, of Rashleigh +Allerton now turned on Mademoiselle Odette Coucoul, +whose name not one of the three was ever destined to +hear.</p> +<p>On his couch in the library Allerton slept till after +nine, waking in a confusion which did not preclude a +sense of refreshment. At the same minute Madame +Simone was finishing her explanations to Mademoiselle +Coucoul as to what was to be done to the seal-brown +costume, which Steptoe had added to Letty’s +wardrobe, in order to conceal the fact that it was a +model of a season old, and not the new creation its +purchasers supposed. Taking in her instructions with +Gallic precision mademoiselle was already at work +when Miss Tina Vanzetti paused at her door. The +door was that of a small French-paneled room, once +the boudoir of the owner of the Flemish chateau, but +set apart now by Madame Simone for jobs requiring +deftness.</p> +<p>Miss Vanzetti, whose Neapolitan grandfather had +begun his American career as a boot-black in Brooklyn, +was of the Americanized type of her race. She +could not, of course, eliminate her Latinity of eye +and tress nor her wild luxuriance of bust, but English +was her mother-tongue, and the chewing of gum +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +her national pastime. She chewed it now, slowly, +thoughtfully, as she stood looking in on Mademoiselle +Odette, who was turning the skirt this way and +that, searching out the almost invisible traces of use +which were to be removed.</p> +<p>“So she’s give you that to do, has she? Some stunt, +I’ll say. Gee, she’s got her gall with her, old Simone, +puttin’ that off on the public as something new. If +I had a dollar for every time Mamie Gunn has walked +in and out to show it to customers I’d buy a set of +silver fox.”</p> +<p>Mademoiselle’s smile was radiant, not because she +had radiance to shed, but because her lips and teeth +framed themselves that way. She too was of her +race, alert, vivacious, and as neat as a trivet, as became +a former midinette of the rue de la Paix and a +daughter of Batignolles.</p> +<p>“Madame she t’ink it all in de beezeness,” she contented +herself with saying.</p> +<p>With her left hand Miss Vanzetti put soft touches +to the big black coils of her back hair. “See that +kid that all these things is goin’ to? Gee, but she’s +beginnin’ to step out. I know her. Spotted her the +minute she come in to try on. Me and she went to +the same school. Lived in the same street. Name of +Letty Gravely.”</p> +<p>Seeing that she was expected to make a response +mademoiselle could think of nothing better than to +repeat in her pretty staccato English: “Name of +Let-ty Grav-el-ly.”</p> +<p>“Stepfather’s name was Judson Flack. Company-promoter +he called himself. Mother croaked three or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +four years ago, just before we moved to Harlem. +Never saw no more of her till she walked in here with +the old white slaver what’s payin’ for the outfit. +Gee, you needn’t tell me! S’pose she’ll hit the pace +till some fella chucks her. Gee, I’m sorry. Awful +slim chance a girl’ll get when some guy with a wad +blows along and wants her.” The theme exhausted +Miss Vanzetti asked suddenly: “Why don’t you +never come to the Lantern?”</p> +<p>In her broken English mademoiselle explained that +she didn’t know the American dances, but that a fella +had promised to teach her the steps. She had met him +at the house of a cousin who was married to a waiter +chez Bouquin. Ver’ beautiful fella, he was, and had +invited her to a chop suey dinner that evening, with +the dance at the Lantern to wind up with. Most +ver’ beautiful fella, single, and a detective.</p> +<p>“Good for you,” Miss Vanzetti commanded. “If you +don’t dance you might as well be dead, I’ll say. Keeps +you thin, too; and the music at the Lantern is swell.”</p> +<p>The incident is so slight that to get its significance +you must link it up with the sound of the telephone +which, as a simultaneous happening, was waking Judson +Flack from his first real sleep after an uncomfortable +night. Nothing but the fear lest by ignoring +the call the great North Dakota Oil Company whose +shares would soon be on the market, would be definitely +launched without his assistance dragged him +from his bed.</p> +<p>“Hello?”</p> +<p>A woman’s voice inquired: “Is this Hudson +283-J?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div> +<p>“You bet.”</p> +<p>“Is Miss Gravely in?”</p> +<p>“Just gone out. Only round the corner. Back in a +few minutes. Say, sister, I’m her stepfather, and +’ll take the message.”</p> +<p>“Tell her to come right over to the Excelsior +Studio. Castin’ director’s got a part for her. Real +part. Small but a stunner. Outcast girl. I s’pose +she’s got some old duds to dress it in?”</p> +<p>“Sure thing!”</p> +<p>“Well, tell her to bring ’em along. And say, listen! +I don’t mind passing you the tip that the castin’ director +has his eye on that girl for doin’ the pathetic +stunt; so see she ain’t late.”</p> +<p>“Y’betcha.”</p> +<p>That an ambitious man, growing anxious about his +future, was thus placed in a trying situation will be +seen at once. The chance of a lifetime was there and +he was unable to seize it. Everyone knew that by +these small condensations of nebular promise stars +were eventually evolved, and to have at his disposal +the earnings of a star....</p> +<p>It seemed providential then that on dropping into +the basement eating place at which he had begun to +take his breakfasts he should fall in with Gorry +Larrabin. They were not friends, or rather they +were better than friends; they were enemies who +found each other useful. Mutually antipathetic, they +quarrelled, but could not afford to quarrel long. A +few days or a few weeks having gone by, they met +with a nod, as if no hot words had been passed.</p> +<p>It was such an occasion now. Ten days earlier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +Judson had called Gorry to his teeth “no detective, +but a hired sneak.” Gorry had retorted that, hired +sneak as he was, he would have Judson Flack “in the +jug” as a promoter of faked companies before the year +was out. One word had led to another, and only the +intervention of friends to both parties had kept the +high-spirited fellows from exchanging blows. But the +moment had come round again when each had an axe +to grind, so that as Judson hung up his hat near the +table at which Gorry, having finished his breakfast, +was smoking and picking his teeth, the nod of reconciliation +was given and returned.</p> +<p>“Say, why don’t you sit down here?”</p> +<p>Politely Gorry indicated the unoccupied side of his +own table. It was a small table covered with a white +oil-cloth, and tolerably clean.</p> +<p>“Don’t mind if I do,” was the other’s return of +courtesy, friendly relations being thus re-established.</p> +<p>Having given his order to a stunted Hebrew maid +of Polish culture, Judson Flack launched at once into +the subject of Letty. He did this for a two-fold +reason. First, his grievance made the expression of +itself imperative, and next, Gorry being a hanger-on +of that profession which lives by knowing what other +people don’t might be in a position to throw light on +Letty’s disappearance. If he was he gave no sign of +it. As a matter of fact he was not, but he meant to +be. He remembered the girl; had admired her; had +pointed out to several of his friends that she had +only to doll herself up in order to knock spots out +of a lot of good lookers of recognized supremacy.</p> +<p>Odette Coucoul’s description of him as “most ver’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +beautiful fella” was not without some justification. +Regular, clean-cut features, long and thin, were the complement +of a slight well-knit figure, of which the only +criticism one could make was that it looked slippery. +Slipperiness was perhaps his ruling characteristic, a +softness of movement suggesting a cat, and a habit +of putting out and drawing back a long, supple, snake-like +hand which made you think of a pickpocket. +Eyes that looked at you steadily enough impressed +you as untrustworthy chiefly because of a dropping of +the pupil of the left, through muscular inability.</p> +<p>“Awful sorry, Judson,” was his summing up of +sympathy with his companion’s narrative. “Any dope +I get I’ll pass along to you.”</p> +<p>Between gentlemen, however, there are understandings +which need not be put into words, the principle of +nothing for nothing being one of them. The conversation +had not progressed much further before Gorry +felt at liberty to say:</p> +<p>“Now, about this North Dakota Oil, Judson. I’d +like awful well to get in on the ground floor of that. +I’ve got a little something to blow in; and there’s a lot +of suckers ready to snap up that stock before you +print the certificates.”</p> +<p>Diplomacy being necessary here Judson practiced it. +Gorry might indeed be seeking a way of turning an +honest penny; but then again he might mean to sell +out the whole show. On the one hand you couldn’t +trust him, and on the other it wouldn’t do to offend +him so long as there was a chance of his getting news +of the girl. Judson could only temporize, pleading +his lack of influence with the bunch who were getting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +up the company. At the same time he would do his +utmost to work Gorry in, on the tacit understanding +that nothing would be done for nothing.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Allerton too had breakfasted late, at the New +Netherlands Club, and was now with Miss Barbara +Walbrook, who received him in the same room, and +wearing the same hydrangea-colored robe, as on the +previous morning. He had called her up from the +Club, asking to be allowed to come once more at this +unconventional hour in order to communicate good +news.</p> +<p>“She’s willing to do anything,” he stated at once, +making the announcement with the glee of evident +relief. “In fact, it was by pure main force that I kept +her from running away from the house this morning.”</p> +<p>He was dashed that she did not take these tidings +with his own buoyancy. “What made you stop her?” +she asked, in some wonder. “Sit down, Rash. Tell +me the whole thing.”</p> +<p>Though she took a chair he was unable to do so. +His excitement now was over the ease with which the +difficulty was going to be met. He could only talk +about it in a standing position, leaning on the mantelpiece, +or stroking the head of the Manship terra cotta +child, while she gazed up at him, nervously beating +her left palm with the black and gold fringe of her +girdle.</p> +<p>“I stopped her because—well, because it wouldn’t +have done.”</p> +<p>“Why wouldn’t it have done? I should think that +it’s just what would have done.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div> +<p>“Let her slip away penniless, and—and without +friends?”</p> +<p>“She’d be no more penniless and without friends +than she was when—when you—” she sought for the +right word—“when you picked her up.”</p> +<p>“No, of course not; only now the—the situation is +different.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see that it is—much. Besides, if you were +to let her run away first, so that you get—whatever +the law wants you to get, you could see that she wasn’t +penniless and without friends afterwards. Most +likely that’s what she was expecting.”</p> +<p>His countenance fell. “I—I don’t think so.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t think so as long as she could +bamboozle you. I was simply thinking of your getting +what she probably wants to give you—for a price.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think you do her justice, Barbe. If you’d +seen her––”</p> +<p>“Very well; I shall see her. But seeing her won’t +make any difference in my opinion.”</p> +<p>“She’ll not strike you as anything wonderful of +course; but I know she’s as straight as they make ’em. +And so long as she is––”</p> +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> +<p>“Why, then, it seems to me, we must be straight on +our side.”</p> +<p>“We’ll be straight enough if we pay her her price.”</p> +<p>“There’s more to it than that.”</p> +<p>“Oh, there is? Then how much more?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that I can explain it.” He lifted one +of the Stiegel candlesticks and put it back in its place. +“I simply feel that we can’t—that we can’t let all the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +magnanimity be on her side. If she plays high, we’ve +got to play higher.”</p> +<p>“I see. So she’s got you there, has she?”</p> +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t be disagreeable about it, +Barbe.”</p> +<p>“My dear Rash,” she expostulated, “it isn’t being +disagreeable to have common sense. It’s all the more +necessary for me not to abnegate that, for the simple +reason that you do.”</p> +<p>He hurled himself to the other end of the mantelpiece, +picking up the second candlestick and putting it +down with force. “It’s surely not abnegating common +sense just to—to recognize honesty.”</p> +<p>“Please don’t fiddle with those candlesticks. They’re +the rarest American workmanship, and if you were to +break one of them Aunt Marion would kill me. I’ll +feel safer about you if you sit down.”</p> +<p>“All right. I’ll sit down.” He drew to him a small +frail chair, sitting astride on it. “Only please don’t +fidget me.”</p> +<p>“Would you mind taking <i>that</i> chair?” She pointed +to something solid and masculine by Phyffe. “That +little thing is one of Aunt Marion’s pet pieces of old +Dutch colonial. If anything were to happen to it—But +you were talking about recognizing honesty,” she +continued, as he moved obediently. “That’s exactly +what I should like you to do, Rash, dear—with your +eyes open. If I’m not looking anyone can pull the +wool over them, whether it’s this girl or someone +else.”</p> +<p>“In other words I’m a fool, as you were good +enough to say––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></div> +<p>“Oh, do forget that. I couldn’t help saying it, as +I think you ought to admit; but don’t keep bringing +it up every time I do my best to meet you pleasantly. +I’m not going to quarrel with you any more, Rash. +I’ve made a vow to that effect and I’m going to keep +it. But if I’m to keep it on my side you mustn’t +badger me on yours. It doesn’t do me any good, and +it does yourself a lot of harm.” Having delivered +this homily she took a tone of brisk cheerfulness. +“Now, you said over the phone that you were coming +to tell me good news.”</p> +<p>“Well, that was it.”</p> +<p>“What was it?”</p> +<p>“That she was ready to do anything—even to disappear.”</p> +<p>“And you wouldn’t let her.”</p> +<p>“That I couldn’t let her—with nothing to show +for it.”</p> +<p>“But she will have something to show for it—in the +end. She knows that as well as I do. Do you suppose +for a minute that she doesn’t understand the +kind of man she’s dealing with?”</p> +<p>“You mean that––?”</p> +<p>“Rash, dear, no girl who knows as much as this +girl knows could help seeing at a glance that she’s got +a pigeon to pluck, as the French say, and of course +she means to pluck it. You can’t blame her for that, +being what she is; but for heaven’s sake let her pluck +it in her own way. Don’t be a simpleton. Angels +shouldn’t rush in where fools would fear to tread—and +you <i>are</i> an angel, Rash, though I suppose I’m the +only one in the world who sees it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div> +<p>“Thank you, Barbe. I know you feel kindly toward +me, and that, as you say, you’re the only one in the +world who does. That’s all right, I acknowledge it, +and I’m grateful. What I don’t like is to see you +taking it for granted that this girl is merely playing +a game––”</p> +<p>“Rash, do you remember those two winters I +worked in the Bleary Street Settlement? and do you +remember that the third winter I said that I’d rather +enlist in the Navy that go back to it again? You all +thought that I was cynical and hard-hearted, but I’ll +tell you now what the trouble was. I went down there +thinking I could teach those girls—that I could do +them good—and raise them up—and have them call +me blessed—and all that. Well, there wasn’t one of +them who hadn’t forgotten more than I ever knew—who +wasn’t working me when I supposed she was +hanging on my wisdom—who wasn’t laughing at me +behind my back when I was under the delusion that +she was following my good example. And if you’ve +got one of them on your hands she’ll fool the eyes +out of your head.”</p> +<p>“You think so,” he said, drily. “Then I don’t.”</p> +<p>“In that case there’s no use discussing it any +further.”</p> +<p>“There may be after you’ve seen her.”</p> +<p>“How can I see her?”</p> +<p>“You can go to the house.”</p> +<p>“And tell her I know everything?”</p> +<p>“If you like. You could say I told you in confidence—that +you’re an old friend of mine.”</p> +<p>“And nothing else?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></div> +<p>“Since you only want to size her up I should think +that would be enough.”</p> +<p>She nodded, slowly. “Yes, I think you’re right. +Better not give anything away we can keep to ourselves. +Now tell me what happened this morning. +You haven’t done it yet.”</p> +<p>He told her everything—how he had been waked +by hearing someone fumbling with the lock of the +door, whether inside or outside the house he couldn’t +tell—how he had gone to the head of the stairs and +switched on the lower hall light—how she had flung +herself against the door as a little gray bird might +dash itself against its cage in its passion to escape.</p> +<p>“She staged it well, didn’t she? She must have +brains.”</p> +<p>“She has brains all right, but I don’t think––”</p> +<p>“She knew of course that if she made enough noise +someone would come, and she’d get the credit for good +intentions.”</p> +<p>“I really don’t think, Barbe.... Now let me tell +you. You’ll <i>see</i> what she’s like. I felt very much as +you do. I was right on the jump. Got all worked up. +Would have gone clean off the hooks if––”</p> +<p>There followed the narrative of his loss of temper, +of his wild talk, of her clever strategy in counting +ten—“just like a cold douche it was”—and the faint +turn he so often had after spells of emotion. To convince +Miss Walbrook of the queer little thing’s ingenuousness +he told how she had made him lie down on +the library couch, covered him up, rubbed his brow +with Florida water, and induced the best sleep he had +had in months.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></div> +<p>She surprised him by springing to her feet, her +arms outspread. “You great big idiot! Really there’s +no other name for you!”</p> +<p>He gazed up at her in amazement. “What’s the +matter now?”</p> +<p>Flinging her hands about she made inarticulate +sounds of exasperation beyond words.</p> +<p>“There, there; that’ll do,” she threw off, when he +jumped to her side, to calm her by taking her in his +arms. “<i>I’m</i> not off the hooks. <i>I</i> don’t want anyone +to rub Florida water on my brow—and hold my hand—and +cradle me to sleep––”</p> +<p>“She didn’t,” he exclaimed, with indignation. “She +never touched my hand. She just––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I know what she did—and of course I’m +grateful. I’m delighted that she was there to do it—<i>delighted.</i> +I quite see now why you couldn’t let her +go, when you knew your fit was coming on. I’ve seen +you pretty bad, but I’ve never seen you as bad as that; +and I must say I never should have thought of counting +ten as a cure for it.”</p> +<p>“Well, <i>she</i> did.”</p> +<p>“Quite so! And if I were you I’d never go anywhere +without her. I’d keep her on hand in case I took +a turn––”</p> +<p>He was looking more and more reproachful. “I +must say, Barbe, I don’t think you’re very reasonable.”</p> +<p>She pushed him from her with both hands against +his shoulders. “Go away, for heaven’s sake! You’ll +drive me crazy. I’m <i>not</i> going to lose my temper with +you. I’ll never do it again. I’ve got you to bear with, +and I’m going to bear with you. But go! No, go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +now! Don’t stop to make explanations. You can do +that later. I’ll lay in a supply of Florida water and +an afghan....”</p> +<p>He went with that look on his face which a well +meaning dog will wear when his good intentions are +being misinterpreted. On his way to the office he kept +saying to himself: “Well <i>I</i> don’t know what to do. +Whatever I say she takes me up the wrong way. All +I wanted was for her to understand that the little +thing is a <i>good</i> little thing....”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>Chapter XVI</h2> +</div> +<p>While Allerton was making these reflections +Steptoe was summoned to the telephone.</p> +<p>“Is this you, Steptoe? I’m Miss Barbara Walbrook.”</p> +<p>Steptoe braced himself. In conversing with Miss +Barbara Walbrook he always felt the need of inner +strengthening. “Yes, Miss Walbrook?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Allerton tells me you’ve a young woman at +the house.”</p> +<p>“We ’ave a young lydy. Certainly, miss.”</p> +<p>“And Mr. Allerton has asked me to call on her.”</p> +<p>Steptoe’s training as a servant permitted him no +lapses of surprise. “Quite so, miss. And when was +it you’d be likely to call?”</p> +<p>“This afternoon about four-thirty. Perhaps you +could arrange to have me see her alone.”</p> +<p>“Oh, there ain’t likely to be no one ’ere, miss.”</p> +<p>“And another thing, Steptoe. Mr. Allerton has +asked me just to call as an old friend of his. So +you’ll please not say to her that—well, anything about +me. I’m sure you understand.”</p> +<p>Steptoe replied that he did understand, and having +put up the receiver he pondered.</p> +<p>What could it mean? What could be back of it? +How would this unsophisticated girl meet so skilful +an antagonist. That Miss Walbrook was coming as +an antagonist he had no doubt. In his own occasional +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +meetings with her she had always been a superior, a +commander, to whom even he, ’Enery Steptoe, had been +a servitor requiring no further consideration. With so +gentle an opponent as madam she would order and be +obeyed.</p> +<p>At the same time he could not alarm madam, or +allow her to shirk the encounter. She had that in her, +he was sure, which couldn’t but win out, however much +she might be at a disadvantage. His part would be +to reduce her disadvantages to a minimum, allowing +her strong points to tell. Her strong points, he +reckoned, were innocence, an absence of self-consciousness, +and, to the worldly-wise, a disconcerting +candor. Steptoe analyzed in the spirit and not verbally; +but he analyzed.</p> +<p>For Letty the morning had been feverish, chiefly +because of her uncertainty. Was it the wish of the +prince that she should go, or was it not? If it was +his wish, why had he not let her? If, on the other +hand, he desired her to stay, what did he mean to do +with her? He had passed her on the way out to breakfast +at the Club—she had been standing in the hall—and +he had smiled.</p> +<p>What was the significance of that smile? She sat +down in the library to think. She sat down in the +chair she had occupied while he lay on the couch, +and reconstructed that scene which now, for all her +life, would thrill her with emotional memories. There +he had lain, his head on the very indentation which +the cushion still bore, his feet here, where she had +pressed her lips to them. She had actually had her +hand on his brow, she had smoothed back his hair, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +and had hardly noted at the time that such was her +extraordinary privilege.</p> +<p>She came back to the fact that he had smiled at her. +It would have been an enchanting smile from anyone, +but coming from a prince it had all the romantic +effulgence with which princes’ smiles are infused. +How much of that romantic effulgence came automatically +from the prince because he was a prince, +and how much of it was inspired by herself? Was +any of it inspired by herself? When all was said and +done this last was the great question.</p> +<p>It brought her where so many things brought her, +to the dream of love at first sight. Could it have +happened to him as it had happened to herself? It +was so much in her mental order of things that she +was far from considering it impossible. Improbable, +yes; she would admit as much as that; but impossible, +no! To be sure she had been in the old gray rag; +but Steptoe had informed her that there were kings +who went about falling in love with beggar-maids. +She would have loved being one of those beggar-maids; +and after all, was she not?</p> +<p>True, there was the other girl; but Letty found it +hard to see her as a reality. Besides, she had, in +appearance at least, treated him badly. Might it not +easily have come about that she, Letty, had caught +his heart in the rebound? She quite understood that +if the prince <i>had</i> fallen in love with her at first sight, +there might be convulsion in his inner self without, +as yet, a comprehension on his part of the nature of +his passion.</p> +<p>She had reached this point when Steptoe entered the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +library on one of his endless tasks of re-arranging +that which seemed to be in sufficiently good order. +Putting the big desk to rights he said over his +shoulder:</p> +<p>“Perhaps I’d better tell madam as she’s to ’ave a +caller this afternoon.”</p> +<p>Letty sprang up in alarm. “A—<i>what</i>?”</p> +<p>“A lydy what’ll myke a call. Oh, madam don’t need +to be afryde. She’s an old friend o’ Mr. Rash’s, and’ll +want, no doubt, to be a friend o’ madam too.”</p> +<p>“But what does she know about me?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Rash must ’a told ’er. She spoke to me just +now on the telephone, and seemed to know everything. +She said she’d be ’ere this afternoon about four-thirty, +if madam’d be so good as to give ’er a cup o’ tea.”</p> +<p>“Me?”</p> +<p>Having invented the cup of tea for his own purpose +Steptoe went on to explain further. “It’s what +the ’igh lydies mostly gives each other about ’alf +past four or five o’clock, and madam couldn’t homit it +without seemin’ as if she didn’t know what’s what. +It’ll be very important for madam to tyke ’er position +from the start. If the lydy is comin’ friendly like +she’d be ’urt if madam wasn’t friendly too.”</p> +<p>Letty had seen the giving and taking of tea in more +than one scene in the movies, and had also, from a +discreet corner, witnessed the enacting of it right in the +“set” on the studio lot. She remembered one time in +particular when Luciline Lynch, the star in <i>Our +Crimson Sins</i>, had driven Frank Redgar, the director, +almost out of his senses by her inability to get the +right turn of the wrist. Letty, too, had been almost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +out of her senses with the longing to be in Luciline +Lynch’s place, to do the thing in what was obviously +the way. But now that she was confronted with the +opportunity in real life she saw the situation otherwise.</p> +<p>“And I won’t be able to talk right,” was the difficulty +she raised next.</p> +<p>“That’ll be a chance for madam to listen and ketch +on. She’s horfly quick, madam is, and by listenin’ to +Miss Walbrook, that’s the lydy’s nyme, and listenin’ +to ’erself—” He broke off to emphasize this line of +suggestion—“it’s listenin’ to ’erself that’ll ’elp madam +most. It’s a thing as ’ardly no one does. If they did +they’d be ’orrified at their squawky voices and bad +pernounciation. If I didn’t listen to myself, why, I’d +talk as bad as anyone, but—Well, as I sye, this’ll +give madam a chance. All the time what Miss Walbrook +is speakin’ madam can be listenin’ to ’er and +listenin’ to ’erself too, and if she mykes mistykes this +time she’ll myke fewer the next.”</p> +<p>Letty was pondering these hints as he continued.</p> +<p>“Now if madam wouldn’t think me steppin’ out of +my plyce I’d suggest that me and ’er ’as a little tea +of our own like—right now—in the drorin’ room—and +I’ll be Miss Walbrook—and William’ll be William—and +madam’ll be madam—and we’ll get it letter-perfect +before ’and, just as with Mary Ann Courage +and Jyne.”</p> +<p>No sooner said than done. Letty was already wearing +the white filmy thing with the copper-sash, buried +with solemn rites on the previous night, but disinterred +that morning, which did very well as a tea-gown. +Steptoe placed her in the corner of the sofa +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +which the lyte Mrs. Allerton had generally occupied +when “receivin’ company”, and William brought in +the tea-equipage on a gorgeous silver tray.</p> +<p>Before he did this it had been necessary to school +William to his part, which, to do him justice, he carried +out with becoming gravity. Any reserves he +might have felt were expressed to Golightly by a +wink behind Steptoe’s back before he left the kitchen. +The wink was the more expressive owing to the fact +that Golightly and William had already summed up +the old fellow as “balmy on the bean,” while their part +was to humor him. Plain as a bursting shell seemed +to William Miss Gravely’s position in the household, +and Steptoe’s chivalry toward her an eccentricity +which a sense of humor could enjoy. Otherwise they +justified his reading of the fundamental non-morality +of men, in bringing no condemnation to bear on anyone +concerned. Being themselves two almost incapacitated +heroes, with jobs likely to prove “soft,” it was +wise, they felt, to enter into Steptoe’s comedy. At +half past ten in the morning, therefore, Golightly prepared +tea and buttered toast, while William arranged +the tea-tray with those over-magnificent appointments +which had been “the lyte Mrs. Allerton’s tyste.”</p> +<p>From her corner of the sofa Letty heard the butler +announce, in a voice stately but not stentorian: “Miss +Barbara Walbrook.”</p> +<p>He was so near the door that to step out and step +in again was the work of a second. In stepping in +again he trod daintily, wriggling the back part of his +person, better to simulate the feminine. In order +that Letty should nowhere be caught unaware he put +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +out his hand languidly, back upward, as princesses do +when they expect it to be kissed.</p> +<p>“So delighted to find you at ’ome, Mrs. Allerton. +It’s such a very fine dye I was sure as you’d be out.”</p> +<p>Rising from her corner Letty shook the relaxed +hand as she might have shaken a dog’s tail. “Very +pleased to meet you.”</p> +<p>From the histrionic Steptoe lapsed at once into the +critical. “I think if madam was to sye, ‘So glad to be +<i>at</i> ’ome, Miss Walbrook; do let me ring for tea,’ it’d +be more like the lyte Mrs. Allerton.”</p> +<p>Obediently Letty repeated this formula, had the +bell pointed out to her, and rang. The ladies having +seated themselves, Miss Walbrook continued to improvise +on the subject of the weather.</p> +<p>“Some o’ these October dyes’ll be just like summer +time! and then agyne there’ll be a nip in the wind as’ll +fairly freeze you. A good time o’ year to get out your +furs, and I’m sure I ’ope as ’ow the moths ’aven’t +gone and got at ’em. Horfly nasty things them moths. +They sye as everything in the world ’as a use; but +I’m sure I don’t see what use there is for moths, +eatin’ ’oles in the seats of gentlemen’s trousers, no +matter what you do to keep the coat-closet aired—and +everything like that. What do you sye, Mrs. +Allerton?”</p> +<p>Letty was relieved of the necessity of answering +by the entrance of William with the tray, after which +her task became easier. Used to making “a good cup +of tea” in an ordinary way, the doing it with this formal +ceremoniousness was only a matter of revision. +As if it was yesterday she recalled the instructions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +given to Luciline Lynch, “Lemon?—cream?—one +lump?—two lumps?” so that Miss Walbrook was +startled by her readiness. She, Miss Walbrook, was +betrayed, in fact, into some confusion of personality, +stating that she would have cream and no sugar, and +that furthermore Englishmen like herself ’ardly ever +took lemon in their tea, and in her opinion no one ever +did to whom the tea-drinking ’abit was ’abitual.</p> +<p>“It’s a question of tyste,” Miss Walbrook continued, +sipping with a soft siffling noise in the way he considered +to be ladylike. “Them that ’as drunk tea +with their mother’s milk, as you might sye, ’ll tyke +cream and sugar, one or both; but them that ’as picked +up the ’abit in lyter life ’ll often condescend to lemon.”</p> +<p>What the rehearsal did for Letty was to make the +mechanical task familiar, while she concentrated her +attention on Miss Walbrook.</p> +<p>It has to be admitted that to Barbara Walbrook +Letty was a shock. Having worked for two years in +the Bleary Street Settlement she had her preconceived +ideas of what she was to find, and she found something +so different that her first consciousness was that of +being “sold.”</p> +<p>Steptoe had received her at the door, and having +ushered her into the drawing-room announced, “Miss +Barbara Walbrook,” as if she had been calling on a +duchess. From the semi-obscurity of the back drawing-room +a small lithe figure came forward a step or +two. The small lithe figure was wearing a tea-gown +of which so practiced an eye as Miss Walbrook’s +could not but estimate the provenance and value, while +a sweet voice said:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></div> +<p>“I’m so glad to be at home, Miss Walbrook. Do +let me ring for tea.”</p> +<p>Before a protest could be voiced the bell had been +rung, so that Miss Walbrook found herself sitting +in the chair Steptoe had used in the morning, and +listening to her hostess as you listen to people in a +dream.</p> +<p>“Beautiful weather for October, isn’t it? Some of +these October days’ll be just like summer time. And +then again there’ll be a nip in the wind that’ll fairly +freeze you. A good time of year to get out your furs, +isn’t it? and I’m sure I hope the moths ain’t—haven’t—got +at them. Awfully nasty things moths––”</p> +<p>Letty’s further efforts were interrupted by William +bearing the tray as he had borne it in the morning, +and in the minutes of silence while he placed it Miss +Walbrook could go through the mental process known +as pulling oneself together.</p> +<p>But she couldn’t pull herself together without a +sense of outrage. She had expected to feel shame, +vicariously for Rash; she had not expected to be asked +to take part in a horrible bit of play-acting. This +dressing-up; this mock hospitality; this desecration of +the things which “dear Mrs. Allerton” had used; this +mingling of ignorance and pretentiousness, inspired +a rage prompting her to fling the back of her hand at +the ridiculous creature’s face. She couldn’t do that, +of course. She couldn’t even express herself as she +felt. She had come on a mission, and she must carry +out that mission; and to carry out the mission she must +be as suave as her indignation would allow of. <i>She</i> +was morally the mistress of this house. Rash and all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +Rash owned belonged to <i>her</i>. To see this strumpet +sitting in her place....</p> +<p>It did nothing to calm her that while she was pressing +Rash’s ring into her flesh, beneath her glove, this +vile thing was wearing a plain gold band, just as if +she was married. She could understand that if they +had absurdly walked through an absurd ceremony the +absurd minister who performed it might have insisted +on this absurd symbol; but it should have been +snatched from the creature’s hand the minute the business +was ended. They owed that to <i>her</i>. <i>Hers</i> was +the only claim Rash had to consider, and to allow this +farce to be enacted beneath his roof....</p> +<p>But she remembered that Letty didn’t know who +she was, or why she had come, or the degree to which +she, Barbara Walbrook, saw through this foolery.</p> +<p>Letty repeated her little formula: “Lemon?—cream?—one +lump?—two lumps?” though before she +reached the end of it her voice began to fail. Catching +the hostility in the other woman’s bearing, she +felt it the more acutely because in style, dress, and +carriage this was the model she would have chosen for +herself.</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook waved hospitality aside. “Thank +you, no; nothing in the way of tea.” She nodded over +her shoulder towards William’s retreating form. +“Who’s that man?”</p> +<p>Her tone was that of a person with the right to +inquire. Letty didn’t question that right, knowing the +extent to which she herself was an usurper. “His +name is William.”</p> +<p>“How did he come here?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“I—I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Where are Nettie and Jane?”</p> +<p>“They’ve—they’ve left.”</p> +<p>“Left? Why?”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“And has Mrs. Courage left too?”</p> +<p>Letty nodded, the damask flush flooding her cheeks +darkly.</p> +<p>“When? Since—since you came?”</p> +<p>Letty nodded again. She knew now that this was +the bar of social judgment of which she had been +afraid.</p> +<p>The social judge continued. “That must be very +hard on Mr. Allerton.”</p> +<p>Letty bowed her head. “I suppose it is.”</p> +<p>“He’s not used to new people about him, and it’s +not good for him. I don’t know whether you’ve seen +enough of him to know that he’s something of an +invalid.”</p> +<p>“I know—” she touched her forehead—“that he’s +sick up here.”</p> +<p>“Oh, do you? Then I shouldn’t have thought that +you’d have—” but she dropped this line to take up +another. “Yes, he’s always been so. When he was +a boy they were afraid he might be epileptic; and +though he never was as bad as that he’s always needed +to be taken care of. He can do very wild and foolish +things as—as you’ve discovered for yourself.”</p> +<p>Letty felt herself now a little shameful lump of +misery. This woman was so experienced, so right. +She spoke with a decision and an authority which +made love at first sight a fancy to blush at. Letty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +could say nothing because there was nothing to say, +and meanwhile the determined voice went on.</p> +<p>“It’s terrible for a man like him to make such a +mistake, because being what he is he can’t grapple with +it as a stronger or a coarser man would do.”</p> +<p>But here Letty saw something that might be faintly +pleaded in her own defence. “He says he wouldn’t +ha’ made the mistake if that—that other girl hadn’t +been crazy.”</p> +<p>Barbara drew herself up. “Did he—did he say +that?”</p> +<p>“He said something like it. He said she went off +the hooks, just like he did himself.” She raised her +eyes. “Do you know her, Miss Walbrook?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know her.”</p> +<p>“She must be an awful fool.”</p> +<p>Barbara prayed for patience. “What—what makes +you say so?”</p> +<p>“Oh, just what <i>he’s</i> said.”</p> +<p>“And what has he said? Has he talked about her +to <i>you</i>?”</p> +<p>“He hasn’t talked about her. He’s just—just let +things out.”</p> +<p>“What sort of things?”</p> +<p>“Only that sort.” She added, as if to herself: “I +don’t believe he thinks much of her.”</p> +<p>Barbara’s self-control was miraculous. “I’ve understood +that he was very much in love with her.”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps he is.” Letty’s little movement of +the shoulders hinted that an expert wouldn’t be of +this opinion. “He may think he is, anyhow.”</p> +<p>“But if he thinks he is––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></div> +<p>Letty’s eyes rested on her visitor with their compelling +candor. “I don’t believe men know much +about love, do you, Miss Walbrook?”</p> +<p>“It depends. All men haven’t had as much experience +of it as I suppose you’ve had––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I haven’t had any.” The candor of the eyes +was now in the whole of the truthful face. “Nobody +was ever in love with me—never. I never had a +fella—nor nothing.”</p> +<p>In spite of herself Barbara believed this. She +couldn’t help herself. She could hear Rash saying +that whatever else was wrong in the ridiculous business +the girl herself was straight. All the same the discussion +was beneath her. It was beneath her to listen to +opinions of herself coming from such a source. If +Rash didn’t “think much of her” there was something +to “have out” with him, not with this little street-waif +dressed up with this ludicrous mummery. The sooner +she ended the business on which she had come the +sooner she would get a legitimate outlet for the passion +of jealousy and rage consuming her.</p> +<p>“But we’re wandering away from my errand. I +won’t pretend that I’ve come of my own accord. I’m +a very old friend of Mr. Allerton’s, and he’s asked +me—or practically asked me—to come and find +out––”</p> +<p>For what she was to come and find out she lacked for +a minute the right word, and so held up the sentence.</p> +<p>“What I’d take to let him off?”</p> +<p>The form of expression was so crude that once more +Barbara was startled. “Well, that’s what it would +come to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div> +<p>“But I’ve told him already that—that I want to let +him off anyhow.”</p> +<p>“Yes? And on what terms?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any terms.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but there must be <i>terms</i>. He couldn’t let you +do it––”</p> +<p>“He could let me do it for <i>him</i>, couldn’t he? I’d +go through fire, if it’d make him a bit more comfortable +than he is.”</p> +<p>Barbara could not believe her ears. “Do you want +me to understand that––?”</p> +<p>“That I’ll do whatever will make him happy just +to <i>make</i> him happy? Yes. That’s it. He didn’t need +to send no one—to send anyone—to ask me, because +I’ve told him so already. He wants me to get out. +Well, I’m ready to get out. He wants me to go to +the bad. Well, I’m ready––”</p> +<p>“Yes; he understands all that. But, don’t you see? +a man in his position couldn’t take such a sacrifice +from a girl in yours––”</p> +<p>“Unless he pays me for it in cash.”</p> +<p>“That’s putting it in a nutshell. If you owned a +house, for instance, and I wanted it, I’d buy it from +you and pay you for it; but I couldn’t take it as a +gift, no matter how liberal you were nor how much I +needed it.”</p> +<p>“I can see that about a house; but your own self +is different. I could sell a house when I couldn’t sell—myself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but would you call that selling yourself?”</p> +<p>“It’d be selling myself—the way I look at it. When +I’m so ready to do what he wants I can’t see why he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +don’t let me.” She added, tearfully: “Did he tell +you about this morning?”</p> +<p>She nodded. “Yes, he told me about that.”</p> +<p>“Well, I would have gone then if—if I’d known +how to work the door.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s easy enough.”</p> +<p>“Do you know?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes.”</p> +<p>“Will you show me?”</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook rose. “It’s so simple.” She continued, +as they went toward the door: “You see, Mr. +Allerton’s mother always kept a lot of valuable jewelry +in the house, and she was afraid of burglars. She +had the most wonderful pearls. I suppose Mr. Allerton +has them still, locked away in some bank. Burglars +would never come in by the front door, my aunt +used to tell her, but—” They reached the door itself. +“Now, you see, there’s a common lock, a bolt, and a +chain––”</p> +<p>Letty explained that she had discovered them +already.</p> +<p>“But, you see these two little brass knobs over here? +That’s the trick. You push this one this way, and that +one that way, and the door is locked with an extra +double lock, which hardly anyone would suspect. +See?”</p> +<p>She shook the door which resisted as it had resisted +Letty in the morning.</p> +<p>“Now! You push that one this way, and this one +that way—and there you are!”</p> +<p>She opened the door to show how easily the thing +could be done; and the door being open she passed out. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +She had not intended to go in this way; but, after +all, was not her mission accomplished? It was nothing +to her whether this girl accepted money, or whether +she did not. The one thing essential was that she +should take herself away; and if she was sincere in +what she said she had now the means of doing it. +Without troubling herself to take her leave Miss Walbrook +went down the steps.</p> +<p>Before turning toward Fifth Avenue she glanced +back. Letty was standing in the open doorway, her +flaming eyes wide, her expression puzzled and +wounded. “It’s nothing to me,” Barbara repeated to +herself firmly; but because she was a lady, as she +understood the word lady, almost before she was a +woman, she smiled faintly, with a distant, and yet not +discourteous, inclination of the head.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XVII</h2> +</div> +<p>It was because she was a lady, as she understood +the word lady, that by the time she had walked the +few steps into Fifth Avenue Miss Walbrook already +felt the inner reproach of having done something +mean. To do anything mean was so strange to her +that she didn’t at first recognize the sensation. She +only found herself repeating two words, and repeating +them uneasily: “<i>Noblesse oblige!</i>”</p> +<p>Nevertheless, on the principle that all’s fair in love +and war, she fought this off. “Either she must go or +I must.” That she herself should go was not to be +considered; therefore the other must go, and by the +shortest way. The shortest way was the way she +had shown her, and which the girl herself was desirous +to take. There was no more than that to the situation.</p> +<p>There was no more than that to the situation unless +it was that the strong was taking a poor advantage +of the weak. But then, why shouldn’t the strong take +any advantage it possessed? What otherwise was the +use of being strong? The strong prevailed, and the +weak went under. That was the law of life. To suppose +that the weak must prevail because it was weak +was sheer sentimentality. All the same, those two +inconvenient words kept dinning in her ears: “<i>Noblesse +oblige!</i>”</p> +<p>She began to question the honesty which in Letty’s +presence had convinced her. It was probably not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +honesty at all. She had known girls in the Bleary +Street Settlement who could persuade her that black +was white, but who had proved on further knowledge +to be lying all round the compass. When it wasn’t +lying it was bluff. It was possible that Letty was +only bluffing, that in her pretense at magnanimity she +was simply scheming for a bigger price. In that case +she, Barbara, had called the bluff very skilfully. She +had put her in a position in which she could be taken +at her word. Since she was ready to go, she could go. +Since she was ready to go to the bad....</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook was not prim. She knew too much +of the world to be easily shocked, in the old conventional +sense. Besides, her Bleary Street work had +brought her into contact with girls who had gone to +the bad, and she had not found them different from +other girls. If she hadn’t known....</p> +<p>She could contemplate without horror, therefore, +Letty’s taking desperate steps—if indeed she hadn’t +taken them long ago—and yet she herself didn’t want +to be involved in the proceeding. It was one thing to +view an unfortunate situation from which you stood +detached, and another to be in a certain sense the +cause of it. She would not really be the cause of it, +whatever the girl did, since she, the girl, was a free +agent, and of an age to know her own mind. Moreover, +the secret of the door was one which she couldn’t +help finding out in any case. She, Miss Walbrook, +could dismiss these scruples; and yet there was that +uncomfortable sing-song humming through her brain: +“<i>Noblesse oblige! Noblesse oblige!</i>”</p> +<p>“I must get rid of it,” she said to herself, as Wildgoose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +admitted her. “I’ve got to be on the safe side. +I can’t have it on my mind.”</p> +<p>Going to the telephone before she had so much as +taken off her gloves she was answered by Steptoe. +“This is Miss Walbrook again, Steptoe. I should +like to speak to—to the young woman.”</p> +<p>Steptoe who had found Letty crying after Miss +Walbrook’s departure answered with resentful politeness. +“I’ll speak to Mrs. Allerton, miss. She <i>may</i> be +aible to come to the telephone.”</p> +<p>“Ye-es?” came later, in a feeble, teary voice.</p> +<p>“This is Miss Walbrook again. I’m sorry to +trouble you the second time.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that doesn’t matter.”</p> +<p>“I merely wanted to say, what perhaps I should have +said before I left, that I hope you won’t—won’t <i>use</i> +the information I gave you as I was leaving—at any +rate not at once.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean the door?”</p> +<p>“Exactly. I was afraid after I came away that you +might do something in a hurry––”</p> +<p>“It’ll have to be in a hurry if I do it at all.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t see that. In any case, I’d—I’d think +it over. Perhaps we could have another talk about it, +and then––”</p> +<p>Something was said which sounded like a faint, +“Very well,” so that Barbara put up the receiver.</p> +<p>Her conscience relieved she could open the dams +keeping back the fiercer tides of her anger. Rash had +talked about her to this girl! He had given her to +understand that she was a fool! He had allowed it to +appear that “he didn’t think much of her!” No matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +what he had said, the girl had been able to make these +inferences. What was more, these inferences might +be true. Perhaps he <i>didn’t</i> think much of her! Perhaps +he only <i>thought</i> he was in love with her! The +idea was so terrible that it stilled her, as approaching +seismic storm will still the elements. She moved about +the drawing-room, taking off her gloves, her veil, her +hat, and laying them together on a table, as if she +was afraid to make a sound. She was standing beside +that table, not knowing what to do next, or where to +go, when Wildgoose came to the door to announce, +“Mr. Allerton.”</p> +<p>“I’ve seen her.” Without other form of greeting, +or moving from beside the table, she picked up her +gloves, threw them down again, picked them up again, +threw them down again, with the nervous action of +the hands which betrayed suppressed excitement. “I +didn’t believe her—quite.”</p> +<p>“But you didn’t disbelieve her—wholly?”</p> +<p>“It’s a difficult case.”</p> +<p>“I’ve got you into an awful scrape, Barbe.”</p> +<p>She threw down the gloves with special vigor. “Oh, +don’t begin on that. The scrape’s there. What we +have to find is the way out.”</p> +<p>“Well, do you see it any more clearly?”</p> +<p>“Do you?”</p> +<p>He came near to her. “I see this—that I can’t let +her throw herself away for me. I’ve been thinking it +over, and I want to ask your opinion of this plan. +Let’s sit down.”</p> +<p>She thought his plan the maddest that was ever +proposed, and yet she accepted it. She accepted it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +because she was suspicious, jealous, and unhappy. +“It’ll give me the chance to watch—and <i>see</i>,” she said +to herself, as he talked.</p> +<p>In his opinion Letty couldn’t take their point of +view because she was so inexperienced. It seemed to +her a simple thing to go away, leaving them with the +responsibilities of her future on their consciences; and +it would not seem other than a simple thing till she +saw life more as they did. To bring her to this degree +of culture they must be subtle with her, and patient. +They <ins class="trnote" title="musn’t in original text">mustn’t</ins> rush things. They mustn’t let her rush +them. To end the situation in such a way as to make +for happiness they must end it at a point where all +would be best for all concerned. For Barbara and +himself nothing would be best which was not also best +for the girl. What would be best for the girl would be +some degree of education, of knowledge of the world, +so that she might go back to the life whence they had +plucked her less likely to be a prey to the vicious. In +that case, if they supplied her with a little income she +would know what to do with it, and would perhaps +marry some man in her own class able to take care of her.</p> +<p>Barbara’s impulse was to cry out: “That’s the most +preposterous suggestion I ever heard of in my life!” +But she controlled this quite reasonable prompting because +another voice said to her: “This will give you +the opportunity to keep an eye on them. If he’s not +true in his love for you—if there <i>is</i> an infatuation on +his part for this common and vulgar creature—you’ll +be able to detect it.” Jealousy loving to suffer she +was willing to inflict torture on herself for the sake +of catching him in disloyalty.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></div> +<p>Expecting a storm, and bringing out what he considered +his wise proposals with great embarrassment, +Allerton was surprised and pleased at the sympathetic +calm in which she received them.</p> +<p>“So that you’d suggest––?”</p> +<p>“Our keeping her on a while longer, and making +friends with her. I’d like it tremendously if you’d be +a friend to her, because you could do more for her than +anyone.”</p> +<p>“More than you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’d do my bit too,” he assured her, innocently. +“I could put her up to a lot of things, seeing her every +day as I should. But you’re the one I should really +count on.”</p> +<p>Because the words hurt her more than any she +could utter; she said, quietly: “I suppose you remember +sometimes that after all she’s your wife.”</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet. Knowing that he did at +times remember it he tried to deny it. “No, I don’t. +She’s not. I don’t admit it. I don’t acknowledge it. +If you care anything about me, Barbe, you’ll never +say that again.”</p> +<p>He came and knelt beside her, taking her hands +and kissing them. Laying his head in her lap, he +begged to be caressed, as if he had been a dog.</p> +<p>Nevertheless by half past nine that evening he was +at home, sitting by the fireside with Letty, and beginning +his special part in the great experiment.</p> +<p>“She’s not my wife,” he kept repeating to himself +poignantly, as he walked up the Avenue from the +Club; “she’s not—she’s <i>not</i>. But she <i>is</i> a poor child +toward whom I’ve undertaken grave responsibilities.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></div> +<p>Because the responsibilities were grave, and she was +a poor child, his attitude toward her began to be +paternal. It was the more freely paternal because +Barbe approved of what he was undertaking. Had she +disapproved he might have undertaken it all the same, +but he couldn’t have done it with this whole-heartedness. +He would have been haunted by the fear of +her displeasure; whereas now he could let himself go.</p> +<p>“We don’t want to keep you a prisoner, or detain +you against your will,” he said, with regard to the +incident of the morning, “but if you’ll stay with us a +little longer, I think we can convince you of our +good intentions.”</p> +<p>“Who’s—we?”</p> +<p>She shot the question at him, as she lay back in +her chair, the red book in her lap. He smiled inwardly +at the ready pertinence with which she went to +a point he didn’t care to discuss.</p> +<p>“Well, then, suppose I said—I? That’ll do, won’t +it?”</p> +<p>She shot another question, her flaming eyes half +veiled. “How long would you want me to stay?”</p> +<p>“Suppose we didn’t fix a time? Suppose we just +left it—like that?”</p> +<p>The question rose to her lips: “But in the end I’m +to go?” only, on second thoughts she repressed it. +She preferred that the situation should be left “like +that,” since it meant that she was not at once to be +separated from the prince. The fact that she was +legally the prince’s wife had as little reality to her as +to him. Could she have had what she yearned for +law or no law would have been the same to her. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +since she couldn’t have that, it was much that he +should come like this and sit with her by the fire in +the evening.</p> +<p>He leaned forward and took the book from her +lap. “What are you reading? Oh, this! I haven’t +looked at it for years.” He glanced at the title. “<i>The +Little Mermaid!</i> That used to be my favorite. It +still is. When I was in Copenhagen I went to see the +little bronze mermaid sitting on a rock on the shore. +It’s a memorial to Hans Andersen. She’s quite startling +for a minute—till you know what it is. Where +are you at?”</p> +<p>Pointing out the line at which she had stopped her +hand touched his, but all the consciousness of the +accident was on her side. He seemed to notice nothing, +beginning to read aloud to her, with no suspicion +that sentiment existed.</p> +<p>“Many an evening and morning she rose to the +place where she had left the prince. She watched the +fruits in the garden ripen and fall; she saw the snow +melt from the high mountains; but the prince she +never saw, and she came home sadder than ever. Her +one consolation was to sit in her little garden, with +her arms clasped round the marble statue which was +like the prince––”</p> +<p>“That’d be me,” Letty whispered to herself; “my +arms clasped round a marble statue—like my prince—but +only a marble statue.”</p> +<p>“Her flowers were neglected,” Allerton read on, +“and grew wild in a luxuriant tangle of stem and +blossom, reaching the branches of the willow-tree, and +making the whole place dark and dim. At last she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +could bear it no longer and she told one of her sisters––”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t tell my sister, if I had one,” Letty +assured herself. “I’d never tell no one. It’s more +like my own secret when I keep it to myself. Nobody’ll +ever know—not even him.”</p> +<p>“The other sisters learned the story then, but they +told it to no one but a few other mermaids, who told +it to their intimate friends. One of these friends +knew who the prince was, and told the princess where +he came from and where his kingdom lay. Now she +knew where he lived; and many a night she spent +there, floating on the water. She ventured nearer to +the land than any of her sisters had done. She +swam up the narrow lagoon, under the carved +marble balcony; and there she sat and watched the +prince when he thought himself alone in the moonlight. +She remembered how his head had rested +on her breast, and how she had kissed his brow; but +he would never know, and could not even dream +of her.”</p> +<p>Letty had not kissed her prince’s brow, but she had +kissed his feet; but he would never know that, and +would dream of her no more than this other prince +of the little thing who loved him.</p> +<p>Allerton continued to read on, partly because the +old tale came back to him with its enchanting loveliness, +partly because reading aloud would be a feature +of his educational scheme, and partly because it +soothed him to be doing it. He could never read to +Barbara. Once, when he tried it, the sound of his +voice and the monotony of his cadences, so got on her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +nerves that she stopped him in the middle of a word. +But this girl with her uncritical mind, and her gratitude +for small bits of kindliness, gave him confidence +in himself by her rapt way of listening.</p> +<p>She did listen raptly, since a prince’s reading must +always be more arresting than that of ordinary +mortals, and also because, both consciously and subconsciously, +she was taking his pronunciation as a +standard.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>And just at this minute her name was under discussion +in a brilliant gathering at The Hindoo Lantern, +in another quarter of New York.</p> +<p>If you know The Hindoo Lantern you know how +much it depends on atmosphere. Once a disused warehouse +in a section of the city which commerce had +forsaken, the enthusiasm for the dance which arose +about 1910, has made it a temple. It gains, too, by +being a temple of the esoteric. The Hindoo Lantern +is not everybody’s lantern, and does not swing in the +open vulgar street. You might live in New York a +hundred years and unless you were one of the initiated +and privileged, you might never know of its +existence.</p> +<p>You could not so much as approach it were it not +first explained to you what you ought to do. You +must pass through a tobacconist’s, which from the +street looks like any other tobacconist’s, after which +you traverse a yard, which looks like any other yard, +except that it is bounded by a wall in which there is +a small and unobtrusive door. Beside the small and +unobtrusive door there hangs a bell-rope, of the ancient +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +kind suggesting the convent or the Orient. The bell-rope +pulls a bell; the bell clangs overhead; the door +is opened cautiously by a Hindoo lad, or, as some say, +a mulatto boy dressed as a Hindoo. If you are with +a friend of the institution you will be admitted without +more inspection; but should you be a stranger there +will be a scrutiny of your passports. Assuming, however, +that you go in, you will find a small courtyard, +in which at last The Hindoo Lantern hangs mystic, +suggestive, in oriental iron-work, and panels of colored +glass.</p> +<p>Having passed beneath this symbol you will enter +an antechamber rich in the magic of the East. In a +reverent obscurity you will find Buddha on the right, +Vishnu on the left, with flowers set before the one, +while incense burns before the other. Somewhere in +the darkness an Oriental woman will be seated on the +ground, twanging on a sarabar, and now and then +crooning a chant of invitation to come and share in +darksome rites. You will thus be “worked up” to a +sense of the mysterious before you pass the third gate +of privilege into the shrine itself.</p> +<p>Here you will discover the large empty oval of floor, +surrounded by little tables for segregation and refreshment, +with which the past ten years have made us +familiar. The place will be buzzing with the hum of +voices, merry with duologues of laughter, and steaming +with tobacco smoke. A jazz-band will strike up, +coughing out the nauseated, retching intervals so +stimulating to our feet, and two by two, in driblets, +streamlets, and lastly in a volume, the guests will take +the floor.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></div> +<p>In the way of “steps” all the latest will be on exhibition. +You will see the cow-trot, the rabbit-jump, +the broom-stick, the washerwoman’s dip. Everyone +who is anyone will be here, if not on one night then +on another, in a jovial fraternity steeped in the spirit +of democracy. Revelry will be sustained on lemonade +and a resinous astringent known locally as beer, while +a sense of doing the forbidden will be in the air. For +commercial reasons it will be needful to keep it in the +air, since in the proceedings themselves there will be +nothing more occult, or more inciting to iniquity, than +a kindergarten game.</p> +<p>Hither Mr. Gorry Larrabin had brought Mademoiselle +Odette Coucoul, to teach her the new dances. +As a matter of fact, he had just led her back to their +little table, inconspicuously placed in the front row, +after putting her through the paces of the camel-step. +Mademoiselle had found it entrancing, so much more +novel in the motion than the antiquated valses she had +danced in France. Mr. Larrabin had retreated like +a camel walking backwards, while she had advanced +like a camel going forwards. The art was in lifting +the foot quite high, throwing it slightly backwards, +and setting it down with a delicate deliberation, while +you craned the neck before you with a shake of the +Adam’s apple. To incite you to produce this effect +the jazz-band urged you onward with a sob, a gulp, +a moan, an effect of strangulation, till finally it tore +up the seat of your being as if you had been suddenly +struck sea-sick.</p> +<p>“Mon Dieu, but it is lofely,” mademoiselle gurgled, +laughing in her breathlessness. “It is terr-i-bul to call +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +no one a camel—<i>un chameau</i>—in France; but here +am I a—<i>chameau</i>!”</p> +<p>Gorry took this with puzzled amusement. “What’s +the matter with calling anyone a camel? I don’t see +any harm in that.”</p> +<p>Mademoiselle hid her face in confusion. “Oh, but +it is terr-i-bul, terr-i-bul! It is almost so worse as +to call no one a—how you say zat word in Eenglish?—a +cow, n’est ce pas?—<i>une vache</i>—and zat is the +most bad name what you can call no one.”</p> +<p>Looking across the room Gorry was struck with an +idea. “Well, there’s a—what d’ye call it—<i>a vashe</i>—over +there. See that guy with the girl with the cream-colored +hair—fella with a big black mustache, like a +brigand in a play? There’s a <i>vashe</i> all-righty; and yet +I’ve got to keep in with him.”</p> +<p>As he explained his reasons for keeping in with the +“vashe” in question mademoiselle contented herself +with shedding radiance and paying no attention. +Neither did she pay attention when he went on to tell +of the girl who had disappeared, and of her stepfather’s +reasons for finding her. She woke to cognizance +of the subject only when Gorry repeated the +exact words of Miss Tina Vanzetti that morning: +“Name of Letty Gravely.”</p> +<p>It was mademoiselle’s turn for repetition. “But me, +I know dat name. I ’ear it not so long ago. Name +of Let-ty Grav-el-ly! I sure ’ear zat name all recently.” +She reflected, tapping her forehead with +vivacity. “Mais quand? Mais oui? C’était—Ah!” +The exclamation was the sharp cry of discovery. +“Tina Vanzetti—my frien’! She tell me zis morning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +Zat girl—Let-ty Grav-el-ly—she come chez +Margot with ole man—what he keep ze white slave—and +he command her grand beautiful trousseau—Tina +Vanzetti she will give me ze address—and I will +tell you—and you will tell him—and he will put you +on to <i>riche affairs</i>––”</p> +<p>“It’ll be dollars and cents in the box office for me,” +Gorry interpreted, forcibly, while the band belched +forth a chord like the groan of a dying monster, calling +them again to their feet.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“‘Remember,’ said the witch,” Allerton continued +to read, “‘when you have once assumed a human form +you can never again be a mermaid—never return to +your home or to your sisters more. Should you fail +to win the prince’s love, so that he leaves father and +mother for your sake, and lays his hand in yours +before the priest, an immortal soul will never be +granted you. On the same day that he marries another +your heart will break, and you will drift as sea-foam +on the water.’ ‘So let it be,’ said the little mermaid, +turning pale as death.’”</p> +<p>Allerton lifted his eyes from the book. “Does it +bore you?”</p> +<p>There was no mistaking her sincerity. “<i>No!</i> I <i>love</i> it.”</p> +<p>“Then perhaps we’ll read a lot of things. After +this we’ll find a good novel, and then possibly somebody’s +life. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”</p> +<p>Her joy was such that he could hardly hear the +“Yes,” for which he was listening. He listened because +he was so accustomed to boring people that to +know he was not boring them was a consolation.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></div> +<p>“Is there anybody’s life—his biography—that you’d +be specially interested in?”</p> +<p>She answered timidly and yet daringly. “Could +we—could we read the life of the late Queen Victoria—when +she was a girl?”</p> +<p>“Oh, easily! I’ll hunt round for one to-day. Now +let me tell you about Hans Andersen. He was born +in Denmark, so that he was a Dane. You know +where Denmark is on the map, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“I think I do. It’s there by Germany isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Quite right. But let me get the atlas, and we’ll +look it up.”</p> +<p>He was on his feet when she summoned her forces +for a question. “Do you read like this to—to the girl +you’re engaged to?”</p> +<p>“No,” he said, reddening. “She—she doesn’t like +it. She won’t let me. But wait a minute. I’ll go +and get the atlas.”</p> +<p>“‘On the same day that he marries another,’ Letty +repeated to herself, as she sat alone, ‘your heart will +break, and you will drift as sea-foam on the water.’ +‘So let it be,’ said the little mermaid.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XVIII</h2> +</div> +<p>On the next afternoon Allerton reported to Miss +Walbrook the success of his first educational +evening.</p> +<p>“She’s very intelligent, very. You’d really be +pleased with her, Barbe. Her mind is so starved that +it absorbs everything you say to her, as a dry soil +will drink up rain.”</p> +<p>Regarding him with the mysterious Egyptian expression +which had at times suggested the reincarnation +of some ancient spirit Barbara maintained the +stillness which had come upon her on the previous +day. “That must be very satisfactory to you, Rash.”</p> +<p>He agreed the more enthusiastically because of believing +her at one with him in this endeavor. “You +bet! The whole thing is going to work out. She’ll +pick up our point of view as if she was born to it.”</p> +<p>“And you’re not afraid of her picking up anything +else?”</p> +<p>“Anything else of what kind?”</p> +<p>“She might fall in love with you, mightn’t she?”</p> +<p>“With me? Nonsense! No one would fall in love +with me who––”</p> +<p>Her mysterious Egyptian smile came and went. +“You can stop there, Rash. It’s no use being more +uncomplimentary than you need to be. And then, +too, you might fall in love with her.”</p> +<p>“Barbe!” He cried out, as if wounded. “You’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +really too absurd. She’s a good little thing, and she’s +had the devil’s own luck––”</p> +<p>“They always do have. That was one thing I learnt +in Bleary Street. It was never a girl’s own fault. +It was always the devil’s own luck.”</p> +<p>“Well, isn’t it, now, when you come to think of +it? You can’t take everything away from people, and +expect them to have the same standards as you and +me. Think of the mess that people of our sort make +of things, even with every advantage.”</p> +<p>“We’ve our own temptations, of course.”</p> +<p>“And they’ve got theirs—without our pull in the +way of carrying them off. You should hear Steptoe––”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to hear Steptoe. I’ve heard him too +much already.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p> +<p>“What can I mean by it but just what I say? I +should think you’d get rid of him.”</p> +<p>Having first looked puzzled, with a suggestion of +pain, he ended with a laugh. “You might as well +expect me to get rid of an old grandfather. Steptoe +wouldn’t let me, if I wanted to.”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t like me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s just your imagination, Barbe. I’ll answer +for him when it comes to––”</p> +<p>“You needn’t take the trouble to do that, because +I don’t like him.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but you will when you come to understand him.”</p> +<p>“Possibly; but I don’t mean to come to understand +him. Old servants can be an awful nuisance, +Rash––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></div> +<p>“But Steptoe isn’t exactly an old servant. He’s +more like––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I know what he’s like. He’s a habit; and +habits are always dangerous, even when they’re good. +But we’re not going to quarrel about Steptoe yet. I +just thought I’d put you on your guard––”</p> +<p>“Against him?”</p> +<p>“He’s a horrid old schemer, if that’s what you want +me to say; but then it may be what you like.”</p> +<p>“Well, I do,” he laughed, “when it comes to him. +He’s been a horrid old schemer as long as I remember +him, but always for my good.”</p> +<p>“For your good as he sees it.”</p> +<p>“For my good as a kind old nurse might see it. He’s +limited, of course; but then kind old nurses generally +are.”</p> +<p>To be true to her vow of keeping the peace she +forced back her irritations, and smiled. “You’re an +awful goose, Rash; but then you’re a lovable goose, +aren’t you?” She beckoned, imperiously. “Come +here.”</p> +<p>When he was on his knees beside her chair she +pressed back his face framed by her two hands. “Now +tell me. Which do you love most—Steptoe or me?”</p> +<p>He cast about him for two of her special preferences. +“And you tell me; which do you love most, a +saddle-horse or an opera?”</p> +<p>“If I told you, which should I be?—the opera or +the saddle-horse?”</p> +<p>“If I told you, which would you give up?”</p> +<p>So they talked foolishly, as lovers do in the chaffing +stage, she trying to charm him into promising to get +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +rid of Steptoe, he charmed by her willingness to +charm him. Neither remembered that technically he +was a married man; but then neither had ever taken +his marriage to Letty as a serious breach in their +relations.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>While he was thus on his knees the kindly old nurse +was giving to Letty a kindly old nurse’s advice.</p> +<p>“If madam ’ud go out and tyke a walk I think it’d +do madam good.”</p> +<p>To madam the suggestion had elements of mingled +terror and attraction. “But, Steptoe, I couldn’t go +out and take a walk unless I dressed up in the new outdoor +suit.”</p> +<p>“And what did madam buy it for?—with the ’at +and the vyle, and everythink, just like the lyte Mrs. +Allerton.”</p> +<p>It was the argument she was hoping for. In the +first place she was used to the freedom of the streets; +and in the second the outdoor suit was calling her. +Letty’s love of dress was more than a love of appearing +at her best, though that love was part of it; it +was a love of the clothes themselves, of fabrics, +colors, and fashions. When her dreams were not of +wandering knights who loved her at a glance—bankers, +millionaires, casting directors in motion-picture +studios, or, in high flights of imagination, incognito +English lords—they dealt in costumes of magic +tissue, of hues suited to her hair and eyes, in which +the world saw and greeted her, not as the poor little +waif whom Judson Flack had put out of doors, but +the true Letty Gravely of romance. The Letty Gravely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +of romance was the real Letty Gravely, a being set +free from the cruel, the ugly, the carking, the sordid, +to flourish in a sunlight she knew to be shining +somewhere.</p> +<p>Oddly enough her vision had come partly true; and +yet so out of focus that she couldn’t see its truth. +It was like the sunlight which she knew to be shining +somewhere, with a wrong refraction in its rays. The +world into which she had been carried was like that +in a cubist picture which someone had shown her at +the studio. It bore a relation to the world she knew, +but a relation in which whatever she had supposed +to be perpendicular was oblique, and whatever she had +supposed to be oblique was horizontal, and nothing +as she had been accustomed to find it. It made her +head swim. It was literally true that she was afraid +to move lest she should make a misstep through an +error in her sense of planes.</p> +<p>But clothes she understood. In the swirling of her +universe they formed a rock to which her intelligence +could cling. They kept her sane. In a sense they kept +her happy. When all outside was confusion and topsy-turvyness +she could retire among Margot’s cartons, +and find herself on solid ground. I should be sorry +to record the hours she spent before the long mirror +in the little back spare room. Here her imagination +could give itself free range. She was Luciline Lynch, +and Mercola Merch, and Lisabel Anstey, and any +other star of whom she admired the attainments; she +could play a whole series of parts from which her +lack of a wardrobe had hitherto excluded her. From +time to time she ventured, like Steptoe, to be Barbara +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +Walbrook herself, though assuming the role with less +intrepidity than he.</p> +<p>It was easier, she found, to be any of the stars +than Barbara Walbrook, for the reason that the latter +was “the real thing.” She was living her part, not +playing it. She was “letter perfect,” in Steptoe’s +sense, not because a director moved her person this +way, or turned her head that way, but because life had +so infused her that she did what was right unconsciously. +Letty, by pretending to enter at the door and +come forward to the mirror as to a living presence, +studied what was right by imitation. Miss Walbrook +walked with a swift, easy gait which suggested the +precision of certain strong birds when swooping on +their prey. Between the door and the mirror Letty +aimed at the same effect till she made a discovery.</p> +<p>“I can’t do it her way; I can only do it my way.”</p> +<p>The ways were different; yet each could be effective. +That too was a discovery. Nature had no rule +to which every individual was obliged to conform. +The individual was, in a measure, his own rule, and +got his attractiveness from being so. The minute +you abandoned your own gifts to cultivate those with +which Nature had blessed someone else you lost not +only your identity but your charm.</p> +<p>Letty worked this out as something like a principle. +However many the hints she took it would be +folly to try to be anything but herself. After all, it +was what gave her value to a star, her personality. If +Luciline Lynch whom Nature had endowed with the +grand manner had tried to be Mercola Merch who was +all vivacious wickedness—well, anyone could see! So, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +if Barbara Walbrook suggested an eagle on the wing +and she, Letty Gravely, was only a sparrow in the +street, the sparrow would be more successful as a +sparrow than in trying to emulate the eagle.</p> +<p>And yet there was a value to good models which at +first she found difficult to reconcile with this truth +of personal independence. This too she thought out. +“It’s like a way to do your hair,” was her method of +expressing it. “You do what’s in fashion, but you +twist it so that it suits your own style. It isn’t the +fashion that makes you look right; it’s in being true +to what suits you.”</p> +<p>There was, however, in Barbara Walbrook a something +deeper than this which at first eluded her. It was +in Rashleigh Allerton too. It was in Lisabel Anstey, +and in a few other stars, but not in Mercola Merch, +nor in Luciline Lynch. “It’s the whole business,” +Letty summed up to herself, “and yet I don’t know +what it is. Unless I can put my finger on it....”</p> +<p>She was just at this point when Steptoe addressed +her on the subject of going out. That she do so was +part of his programme. Madam would not be madam +till she felt herself free to come and go; and till +madam was madam Mr. Rash would not understand +who it was they had in the ’ouse. That he didn’t +understand it yet was partly due to madam ’erself +who didn’t understand it on ’er side. To cultivate this +understanding in madam was Steptoe’s immediate aim, +in which Beppo, the little cocker spaniel, unexpectedly +came to his assistance.</p> +<p>As the two stood conversing at the foot of the +stairs Beppo lilted down, with that air of having no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +one to love which he had worn during all the eighteen +months since his mistress had died. The cocker +spaniel’s heart, as everyone knows, is imbued with the +principle of one life, one love. It has no room for +two loves; it has still less room for that general amiability +to which most dogs are born. Among the +human race it singles out one; and to that one it is +faithful. In separation it seeks no substitute; in +bereavement it rarely forms a second tie. To everyone +but Beppo the removal of Mrs. Allerton had made +the world brighter. He alone had mourned that presence +with a grief which sought neither comfort nor +mitigation. He had followed his routine; he had +eaten and slept; he had gone out when he was taken +out and come in when he was brought in; but he had +lived shut up within himself, aloof in his sorrow. For +the first time in all those eighteen months he had come +out of this proud gloom when Rashleigh’s key had +turned in the door that night, and Letty had entered +the house.</p> +<p>The secret call which Beppo had heard can never +be understood by men till men have developed more +of their latent faculties. As he lay in his basket something +reached him which he recognized as a summons +to a new phase of usefulness. Out of the lethargy of +mourning he had jumped with an obedient leap that +took him through the obscurity of the house to where +a frightened girl had need of a little dog’s sympathy. +Of that sympathy he had been lavish; and now that +there was new discussion in the air he came with his +contribution.</p> +<p>In words Steptoe had to be his interpreter. “That, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +poor little dog as ’as growed so fond of madam don’t +get ’alf the exercise he ought to be give. If madam +was to tyke ’im out like for a little stroll up the +Havenue....”</p> +<p>Thus it happened that in less than half an hour +Letty found herself out in the October sunlight, +dressed in her blue-green costume, with all the details +to “correspond,” and leading Beppo on the leash. To +lead Beppo on the leash, as Steptoe had perceived, gave +a reason for an excursion which would otherwise have +seemed motiveless. But she was out. She was out +in conditions in which even Judson Flack, had he met +her, could hardly have detected her. Gorgeously +arrayed as she seemed to herself she was dressed with +the simplicity which stamps the French taste. There +was nothing to make her remarked, especially in a +double procession of women so many of whom were +remarkable. Had you looked at her twice you would +have noted that while skill counted for much in her +gentle, well-bred appearance, a subtle, unobtrusive, +native distinction counted for most; but you would +have been obliged to look at her twice before noting +anything about her. She was a neatly dressed girl, +with an air; but on that bright afternoon in Fifth +Avenue neatly dressed girls with an air were as buttercups +in June.</p> +<p>Seizing this fact Letty felt more at her ease. No +one was thinking her conspicuous. She was passing +in the crowd. She was not being “spotted” as the +girl who a short time before had had nothing but the +old gray rag to appear in. She could enjoy the walk—and +forget herself.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></div> +<p>Then it came to her suddenly that this was the +secret of which she was in search, the power to forget +herself. She must learn to do things so easily that +she would have no self-consciousness in doing them. +In big things Barbara Walbrook might think of herself; +but in all little things, in the way she spoke and +walked and bore herself toward others, she acted as +she breathed. It seemed wonderful to Letty, this +assurance that you were right in all the fundamentals. +It was precisely in the fundamentals that she was so +likely to be wrong. It was where girls of her sort +suffered most; in the lack of the elementary. One +could bluff the advanced, or make a shot at it; but the +elementary couldn’t be bluffed, and no shot at it +would tell. It betrayed you at once. You must <i>have</i> +it. You must have it as you had the circulation of +your blood, as something so basic that you didn’t need +to consider it. That was her next discovery, as with +Beppo tugging at the end of his tether she walked +onward.</p> +<p>She was used to walking; she walked strongly, and +with a trudging sturdiness, not without its grace. She +came to the part of Fifth Avenue where the great +houses begin to thin out, and vacant lots, as if ashamed +of their vacancy, shrink behind boardings vivid with +the news of picture-plays. It was the year when they +were advertising the screen-masterpiece, <i>Passion +Aflame</i>; and here was depicted Luciline Lynch, a torch +in her hand, her hair in maenadic dishevelment, leading +on a mob to set fire to a town. Letty herself +having been in that mob paused in search of her face +among the horde of the great star’s followers. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +was a blob of scarlet and green from which she +dropped her eyes, only to have them encounter a +friend of long standing.</p> +<p>At the foot of the boarding, and all in a row, was +a straggling band of dust-flowers. It was late in the +season, yet not too late for their bit of blue heaven to +press in among the ways of men. She was not surprised +to find them there. Ever since the crazy woman had +pointed out the mission of this humble little helper +of the human race she had noted its persistency in +haunting the spots which beauty had deserted. You +found it in the fields, it was true; but you found it +rarely, sparsely, raggedly, blooming, you might say, +with but little heart for its bloom. Where other +flowers had been frightened away; where the poor +crowded; where factories flared; where junk-heaps +rusted; where backyards baked; where smoke defiled; +where wretchedness stalked; where crime brooded; +where the land was unkempt; where the human spirit +was sodden—there the celestial thing multiplied its +celestial growths, blessing the eyes and making the +heart leap. It mattered little that so few gave it a +thought or regarded it as other than a weed; there +were always those few, who knew that it spelled beauty, +who knew that it spelled something more.</p> +<p>Letty was of those few. She was of those few for +old sake’s sake, but also for the sake of a new yearning. +Slipping off a glove she picked a few of the +dusty stalks, even though she knew that once taken +from their task of glorifying the dishonored the blue +stars would shut almost instantly. “They’ll wither in +a few days now,” she said, in self-excuse; “and anyhow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +I’ll leave most of them.” Having shaken off +the dust she fastened them in her corsage, blue against +her blue-green.</p> +<p>They were her symbol for happiness springing up +in the face of despair, and from a soil where you would +expect it to be choked. She herself was happy to-day +as she could not remember ever to have been happy +in her life. For the first time she was passing among +decent people decently; and then—it was the great +hope beyond which she didn’t look—the prince might +read with her again that evening.</p> +<p>But as she turned from Fifth Avenue into East +Sixty-seventh Street the prince was approaching his +door from the other direction. Even she was aware +that it was contrary to his habits to appear at home by +five in the afternoon. She didn’t know, of course, +that Barbara had so stimulated his enthusiasm for the +educational course that he had come on the chance of +taking it up at the tea hour. He could not remember +that Barbara had ever before been so sympathetic to +one of his ideas. The fact encouraged his feeble +belief in himself, and made him love her with richer +tenderness.</p> +<p>In the gentle girl of quietly distinguished mien he +saw nothing but a stranger till Beppo strained at his +leash and barked. Even then it took him half a +minute to get his powers of recognition into play. He +stopped at the foot of his steps, watching her approach.</p> +<p>By doing so he made the approach more difficult +for her. The heart seemed to stop in her body. She +could scarcely breathe. Each step was like walking on +blades, yet like walking on blades with a kind of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +ecstasy. Luckily Beppo pranced and pulled in such a +way that she was forced to give him some attention.</p> +<p>The prince’s first words were also a distraction +from terrors and enchantments which made her feel +faint.</p> +<p>“Where did you get the poor man’s coffee?”</p> +<p>The question by puzzling her gave her some relief. +Pointing at the sprays in her corsage he went on:</p> +<p>“That’s what the country people often call the +chicory weed in France.”</p> +<p>She was able to gasp feebly: “Oh, does it grow +there?”</p> +<p>“I think it grows pretty nearly everywhere. It’s +one of the most classic wild flowers we know anything +about. The ancient Egyptians dried its leaves to give +flavor to their salad, and I remember being told at +Luxor that the modern Copts and Arabs do the same. +You see it’s quite a friendly little beast to man.”</p> +<p>It eased her other feelings to tell him about the +crazy woman in Canada, and her reading of the dust-flower’s +significance.</p> +<p>“That’s a good idea too,” Allerton agreed, smiling +down into her eyes. “There are people like that—little +dust-flowers cheering up the wayside for the rest of +us poor brutes.”</p> +<p>She said, wistfully: “I suppose you’ve known a lot +of them.”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/illus-230.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 371px; height: 428px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 371px;'> +THE PRINCE’S FIRST WORDS WERE ALSO A DISTRACTION FROM TERRORS, AND ENCHANTMENTS WHICH MADE HER FEEL FAINT<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div> +<p>As he laughed his eyes rested on a man sauntering +toward them from the direction of Fifth Avenue. +“I’ve known about two—” his eyes came back to +smile again down into hers—“or <i>one</i>.” He started +as a man starts who receives a new suggestion. “I +say! Let’s go in and look up chicory and succory in +the encyclopedia. Then we’ll know all about it. It +seems to me, too,” he went on, reminiscently, “that +I read a little poem about this very blue flower—by +Margaret Deland, I think it was—only a few weeks +ago. I believe I could put my hand on it. Come +along.”</p> +<p>As he sprang up the steps the pearly gates were +opening again before Letty when the man whom +Allerton had seen sauntering toward them actually +passed by. Passing he lifted his hat politely, smiled, +and said, “Good afternoon, Miss Gravely,” like any +other gentleman. He was a good-looking slippery +young man, with a cast in his left eye.</p> +<p>Because she was a woman before she was a lady, +as she understood the word lady, Letty responded +with, “Good afternoon,” and a little inclination of the +head. He was several doors off before she bethought +herself sufficiently to take alarm.</p> +<p>“Who’s that?” Allerton demanded, looking down +from the third or fourth step.</p> +<p>“I’m sure I haven’t an idea. I think he must be +some camera-man who’s seen me when they’ve been +shooting the pitch—” she made the correction almost +in time—“who’s seen me when they’ve been shooting +the <i>pick-tures</i>. I can’t think of anything else.”</p> +<p>They watched the retreating form till, without a +backward glance, it turned into Madison Avenue.</p> +<p>“Come along in,” Allerton called then, in a tone +intended to disperse misgiving, “and let’s begin.”</p> +<p>Ten minutes later he was reading in the library, +from a big volume open on his knees, how for over a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +century the chicory root had been dried and ground in +France, and used to strengthen the cheaper grades of +coffee, when Letty broke in, as if she had not been +following him:</p> +<p>“I don’t think that fella could have been a camera-man +after all. No camera-man would ha’ noticed me +in the great big bunch I was always in.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, he can’t do you any harm anyhow,” +Allerton assured her. “I’ll just finish this, and then +I’ll look for the poem by Mrs. Deland.”</p> +<p>With her veil and gloves in her lap Letty sat +thoughtful while he passed from shelf to shelf in +search of the smaller volume. Of her real suspicion, +that the man was a friend of Judson Flack’s, she +decided not to speak.</p> +<p>Seated once more in front of her, and bending +slightly toward her, Allerton read:</p> +<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'> +“Oh, not in ladies’ gardens,<br /> +My peasant posy!<br /> +Smile thy dear blue eyes,<br /> +Nor only—nearer to the skies—<br /> +In upland pastures, dim and sweet—<br /> +But by the dusty road<br /> +Where tired feet<br /> +Toil to and fro;<br /> +Where flaunting Sin<br /> +May see thy heavenly hue,<br /> +Or weary Sorrow look from thee<br /> +Toward a more tender blue.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Allerton glanced up from the book. “Pretty, isn’t +it?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></div> +<p>She admitted that it was, and then added: “And +yet there was the times when the castin’ director put +me right in the front, to register what the crowd +behind me was thinkin’ about. He might ha’ noticed +me then.”</p> +<p>“Yes, of course; that must have been it. Now +wouldn’t you like me to read that again? You must +always read a poem a second or third time to really +know what it’s about.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Meanwhile a poem of another sort was being read +to Miss Barbara Walbrook by her aunt, who had +entered the drawing-room within five minutes after +Allerton had left it. During those five minutes +Barbara had remained seated, plunged into reverie. +The problem with which she had to deal was the +degree to which she was right or wrong in permitting +Rashleigh to go on in his crazy course. That this +outcast girl was twining herself round his heart was +a fact growing too obtrusive to be ignored. Had +Rashleigh been as other men decisive action would +have been imperative. But he was not as other men, +and there lay the possibilities she found difficult.</p> +<p>If the aunt couldn’t help the niece to solve the +difficult question she at least could compel her to take +a stand.</p> +<p>As she entered the drawing-room she came from +out of doors, a slender, unfleshly figure, all intellect +and idea. Her vices being wholly of the spirit were +not recognized as vices, so that she passed as the +highest type of the good woman which the continent +of America knows anything about. Being the highest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +type of the good woman she had, moreover, +the privilege which American usage accords to all +good women of being good aggressively. No other +good woman in the world enjoys this right to the +same degree, a fact to which we can point with pride. +The good English woman, the good French woman, +the good Italian woman, are obliged by the customs +of their countries to direct their goodness into +channels in which it is relatively curbed. The good +American woman, on the other hand, is never so +much at home as when she is on the warpath. Her +goodness being the only standard of goodness which +the country accepts she has the right to impose it by +any means she can harness to her purposes. She is +the inspiration of our churches, and the terror of our +constituencies. She is behind state legislatures and +federal congresses and presidential cabinets. They +may elude her lofty purposes, falsify her trust, and +for a time hoodwink her with male chicaneries; but +they are always afraid of her, and in the end they +do as she commands. Among the coarsely, stupidly, +viciously masculine countries of the world the American +Republic is the single and conspicuous matriarchate, +ruled by its good women. Of these rulers Miss +Marion Walbrook was as representative a type as +could be found, high, pure, zealous, intolerant of +men’s weaknesses, and with only spiritual immoralities +of her own.</p> +<p>Seated in one of her slender upright armchairs she +had the impressiveness of goodness fully conscious of +itself. A document she held in her hand gave her the +judicial air of one entitled to pass sentence.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div> +<p>“I’m sorry, Barbara; but I’ve some disagreeable +news for you.”</p> +<p>Barbara woke. “Indeed?”</p> +<p>“I’ve just come from Augusta Chancellor’s. She +talked about—that man.”</p> +<p>“What did she say?”</p> +<p>“She said two or three things. One was that she’d +met him one day in the Park when he decidedly wasn’t +himself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s hard to say when he’s himself and +when he isn’t. He’s what the French would call <i>un +original</i>.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know about that. The originality of +men is commonplace as it’s most novel. This man is +on a par with the rest, if you call it original for him +to have a woman in the house.”</p> +<p>Barbara feigned languidness. “Well, it is—the way +he has her there.”</p> +<p>“The way he has her there? What do you mean +by that?”</p> +<p>“I mean what I say. There’s no one else in the +world who would take a girl under his roof in the +way Rash has taken this girl.”</p> +<p>“How, may I ask, did he take her?”</p> +<p>Having foreseen that one day she should be in this +position Barbara had made up her mind as to how +much she should say. “He found her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they all do that. They generally find them +in the Park.”</p> +<p>“Exactly; it’s just what he did.”</p> +<p>“I guessed—it was only guessing mind you—that +he also tried to find Augusta Chancellor.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></div> +<p>“Oh, possibly. He’d go as far as that, if he saw her +doing anything he thought not respectable.”</p> +<p>“Barbara, please! You’re talking about a friend of +mine, one of my colleagues. Let’s return to—I hope +you won’t find the French phrase invidious—to our +mutton.”</p> +<p>“Oh, very well! Rash found the girl homeless—penniless—with +no friends. Her stepfather had +turned her out. Another man would have left her +there, or turned her over to the police. Rash took +her to his own house, and since then we’ve both been +helping her to—to get on her feet.”</p> +<p>“Helping her to get on her feet in a way that’s +driven from the house the good old women who’ve +been there for nearly thirty years.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you know that too, do you?”</p> +<p>“Why, certainly. Jane, that was the parlor maid, +is very intimate with Augusta Chancellor’s cook; and +she says—Jane does—that he’s actually married the +creature.”</p> +<p>Barbara shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t help what +the servants say, Aunt Marion. I’m trying to be a +friend to the girl, and help her to pull herself together. +Of course I recognize the fact that Rash has been +foolish—quixotic—or whatever you like to call it; +but he hasn’t kept anything from me.”</p> +<p>“And you’re still engaged to him?”</p> +<p>“Of course I’m still engaged to him.” She held out +her left hand. “Look at his ring.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you get married?”</p> +<p>“Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?”</p> +<p>The question being a pleasantry Miss Walbrook +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +took it with a gentle smile. When she resumed it +was with a slight flourish of the document in her hand +and another turn to the conversation.</p> +<p>“I went to the bank this morning. I’ve brought +home my will. I’m thinking of making some changes +in it.”</p> +<p>Barbara looked non-committal, as if the subject +had nothing to do with herself.</p> +<p>“The question I have to decide,” Miss Walbrook +pursued, “is whether to leave everything to you, in the +hope that you’ll carry on my work––”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t know how.”</p> +<p>“Or whether to establish a trust––”</p> +<p>“I should do that decidedly.”</p> +<p>“And let it fall into the hands of a pack of men.”</p> +<p>“It will fall into the hands of a pack of men, whatever +you do with it.”</p> +<p>“And yet if you had it in charge––”</p> +<p>“Some man would get hold of it, Aunt Marion.”</p> +<p>“Which is what I’m debating. I’m not so very +sure––”</p> +<p>“That I shall marry in the end?”</p> +<p>“Well, you’re not married yet ... and if you +were to change your mind ... the world has such a +need of consecrated women with men so unscrupulous +and irresponsible ... we must break their power +some day ... and now that we’ve got the opportunity ... +all I want you to understand is that if +you shouldn’t marry there’d be a great career in store +for you....”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>Chapter XIX</h2> +</div> +<p>By the end of twenty-four hours the possibility of +this great career quickened Barbara’s zeal for +taking a hand in Letty’s education. Not only did that +impulse of furious jealousy, by which she meant at +first to leave it wholly to Rash, begin to seem dangerous, +but there was a world to consider and throw off +the scent. Now that Augusta Chancellor knew that +the girl was beneath Rash’s roof all their acquaintances +would sooner or later be in possession of the fact. It +was Barbara’s part, therefore, to play the game in such +a way that a bit of quixotism would be the most foolish +thing of which Rash would be suspected.</p> +<p>That she would be playing a game she knew in +advance. She must hide her suspicions; she must +control her sufferings. She must pretend to have +confidence in Rash, when at heart she cried against +him as an infant and a fool. Never was woman in +such a ridiculous situation as that into which she had +been thrust; never was heart so wild to ease itself by +invective and denunciation; and never was the padlock +fixed so firmly on the lips. Hour by hour the man +she loved was being weaned and won away from her; +and she must stand by with grimacing smiles, instead +of throwing up her arms in dramatic gestures and +calling on her gods to smite and smash and annihilate.</p> +<p>Since, however, she had a game to play, a game she +would play, though she did it quivering with protest +and repulsion.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“Do you mind if I take the car this afternoon, Aunt +Marion, since you’re not going to use it.”</p> +<p>“Take it of course; but where are you going?”</p> +<p>“I thought I would ask that protégée of Rash +Allerton’s, of whom we were speaking yesterday, to +come for a drive with me. But if you’d rather I +didn’t––”</p> +<p>“I’ve nothing to do with it. It’s entirely for you to +say. The car is yours, of course.”</p> +<p>The invitation being transmitted by telephone Steptoe +urged Letty to accept it. “It’ll be all in the wye +of madam’s gettin’ used to things—a bit at a time +like.”</p> +<p>“But I don’t think she likes me.”</p> +<p>“If madam won’t stop to think whether people likes +’er or not I think madam ’d get for’arder. Besides +madam’ll pretty generally always find as love-call +wykes love-echo, as the syin’ goes.”</p> +<p>Which, as a matter of fact, was what Letty did +find. She found it from the minute of entering the +car and taking her seat, when Miss Walbrook exclaimed +heartily: “What a lovely dress! And the +hat’s too sweet! Suits you exactly, doesn’t it? My +dear, I’ve the greatest bother ever to find a hat that +doesn’t make me look like a scarecrow.”</p> +<p>From the naturalness of the tone there was no +suspecting the cost of these words to the speaker, and +the subject was one in which Letty was at home. In +turn she could compliment Miss Walbrook’s appearance, +duly admiring the toque of prune-colored velvet, +with a little bunch of roses artfully disposed, and the +coat of prune-colored Harris tweed. In further discussing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +the length of the new skirts and the chances +of the tight corset coming back they found topics of +common interest. The fact that they were the topics +which came readiest to the lips of both made it possible +to maintain the conversation at its normal give-and-take, +while each could pursue the line of her own +summing up of the other.</p> +<p>To Letty Miss Walbrook seemed friendlier than +she had expected, only spasmodically so. Her kindly +moods came in spurts of which the inspiration soon +gave out. “I think she’s sad,” was Letty’s comment +to herself. Sadness, in Letty’s use of words, covered +all the emotions not distinctly cheerful or hilarious.</p> +<p>She knew nothing about Miss Walbrook, except +that it appeared from this conversation that she lived +with an aunt, whose car they were using. That she +was a friend of the prince’s had been several times +repeated, but all information ended there. To Letty +she seemed old—between thirty and forty. Had she +known her actual age she would still have seemed old +from her knowledge of the world and general sophistication. +Letty’s own lack of sophistication kept her a +child when she was nearly twenty-three. That Miss +Walbrook was the girl to whom the prince was engaged +had not yet crossed her thought.</p> +<p>At the same time, since she knew that girl she +brought her to the forefront of Letty’s consciousness. +She was never far from the forefront of her consciousness, +and of late speculation concerning her had +become more active. If she approached the subject with +the prince he reddened and grew ill at ease. The present +seemed, therefore, an opportunity to be utilized.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></div> +<p>They were deep in the northerly avenues of the +Park, when apropos of the dress topic, Letty said, +suddenly: “I suppose she’s awfully stylish—the girl +he’s engaged to.”</p> +<p>The response was laconic: “She’s said to be.”</p> +<p>“Is she pretty?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think you could say that.”</p> +<p>“Then what does he see in her?”</p> +<p>“Whatever people do see in those they’re in love +with. I’m afraid I’m not able to define it.”</p> +<p>Dropping back into her corner Letty sighed. She +knew this mystery existed, the mystery of falling in +love for reasons no one was able to explain. It was +the ground on which she hoped that at first sight +someone would fall in love with her. If he didn’t +do it for reasons beyond explanation he would, of +course, not do it at all.</p> +<p>It was some minutes before another question trembled +to her lips. “Does she—does she know about +me?”</p> +<p>“Oh, naturally.”</p> +<p>“And did she—did she feel very bad?”</p> +<p>Barbara’s long eyes slid round in Letty’s direction, +though the head was not turned. “How should you +feel yourself, if it had happened to you?”</p> +<p>“It’d kill me.”</p> +<p>“Well, then?” She let Letty draw her own conclusions +before adding: “It’s nearly killed her.”</p> +<p>Letty cowered. She had never thought of this. +That she herself suffered she knew; that the prince +suffered she also knew; but that this unknown girl, +whatever her folly, lay smitten to the heart brought a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +new complication into her ideas. “Even if he ever +did come to—” she held up her unspoken sentence +there—“I’d ha’ stolen him from her.”</p> +<p>There was little more conversation after that. Each +had her motives for reflections and silences. They +were nearing the end of the drive when Letty said +again:</p> +<p>“What would you do if you was—if you were—me?”</p> +<p>“I’d do whatever I felt to be highest.”</p> +<p>To Letty this was a beautiful reply, and proof of +a beautiful nature. Moreover, it was indirectly a +compliment to herself, in that she could be credited +with doing what she felt to be highest as well as +anyone else. In her life hitherto she had been figuratively +kicked and beaten into doing what she couldn’t +resist. Now she was considered capable of acting +worthily of her own accord. It inspired a new sentiment +toward Miss Walbrook.</p> +<p>She thought, too, that Miss Walbrook liked her a +little better. Perhaps it was the fulfillment of Steptoe’s +adage, love-call wakes love-echo. She was sure +that somehow this call had gone out from her to Miss +Walbrook, and that it hadn’t gone out in vain.</p> +<p>It hadn’t gone out in vain, in that Miss Walbrook +was able to say to herself, with some conviction, +“That’s the way it will have to be done.” It was a +way of which her experiences in Bleary Street had +made her skeptical. Among those whom she called +the lower orders innocence, ingenuousness, and integrity +were qualities for which she had ceased to look. +She didn’t look for them anywhere with much confidence; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +but she had long ago come to the conclusion +that the poor were schemers, and were obliged to be +schemers because they were poor. Something in +Letty impressed her otherwise. “That’s the way,” she +continued to nod to herself. “It’s no use trusting to +Rash. I’ll get her; and she’ll get him; and so we +shall work it.”</p> +<p>Arrived in East Sixty-seventh Street she went in +with Letty and had tea. But it was she who sat in +dear Mrs. Allerton’s corner of the sofa, and when +William brought in the tray she said, “Put it here, +William,” as one who speaks with authority. Of +this usurpation of the right to dispense hospitality +Letty did not see the significance, being glad to have +it taken off her hands.</p> +<p>Not so, however, with Steptoe who came in with a +covered dish of muffins. Having placed it before Miss +Walbrook he turned to Letty.</p> +<p>“Madam ain’t feelin’ well?”</p> +<p>Letty’s tone expressed her surprise. “Why, yes.”</p> +<p>“Madam’ll excuse me. As madam ain’t presidin’ at +’er own tyble I was afryde––”</p> +<p>It being unnecessary to say more he tiptoed out, +leaving behind him a declaration of war, which Miss +Walbrook, without saying anything in words, was not +slow to pick up. “Insufferable,” was her comment to +herself. Of the hostile forces against her this, she +knew, was the most powerful.</p> +<p>Neither did Rash perceive the significance of +Barbara’s place at the tea-table when he entered about +five o’clock, though she was quick to perceive the +significance of his arrival. It was not, however, a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +point to note outwardly, so that she lifted her hand +above the tea-kettle, letting him bend over it, as she +exclaimed:</p> +<p>“Welcome to our city! Do sit down and make +yourself at home. Letty and I have been for a drive, +and are all ready to enjoy a little male society.”</p> +<p>The easy tone helped Allerton over his embarrassment, +first in finding the two women face to face, +then in coming so unexpectedly face to face with +them, and lastly in being caught by Barbara coming +home at this unexpected hour. Knowing what the +situation must mean to her he admired her the more +for her sangfroid and social flexibility.</p> +<p>She took all the difficulties on herself. “Letty and +I have been making friends, and are going to know +each other awfully well, aren’t we?” A smile at +Letty drew forth Letty’s smile, to Rashleigh’s satisfaction, +and somewhat to his bewilderment. But +Barbara, handing him a cup of tea, addressed him +directly. “Who do you think is engaged? Guess.”</p> +<p>He guessed, and guessed wrong. He guessed a +second time, and guessed wrong. There followed a +conversation about people they knew, with regard to +which Letty was altogether an outsider. Now and +then she recognized great names which she had read +in the papers, tossed back and forth without prefixes +of Mr. or Miss, and often with pet diminutives. The +whole represented a closed corporation of intimacies +into which she could no more force her way than a +worm into a billiard ball. Rash who was at first +beguiled by the interchange of personalities began to +experience a sense of discomfort that Letty should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +be so discourteously left out; but Barbara knew that +it was best for both to force the lesson home. Rash +must be given to understand how lost he would be +with any outsider as his companion; and Letty must +be made to realize how hopelessly an outsider she +would always be.</p> +<p>But no lesson should be urged to the quick at a +single sitting, so that Barbara broke off suddenly to +ask why he had come home. In the same way as she +had given the order to William she spoke with the +authority of one at liberty to ask the question. Not +to give the real reason he said that it was to write a +letter and change his clothes.</p> +<p>“And you’re going back to the Club?”</p> +<p>He replied that he was going to dine with a bachelor +friend at his apartment.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll wait and drop you at the Club. You can +go on from there afterwards. I’ve got the time.”</p> +<p>This too was said with an authority against which +he felt himself unable to appeal.</p> +<p>Having written a note and changed to his dinner +jacket he rejoined them in the drawing-room. Barbara +held out her hand to Letty, with a briskness indicating +relief.</p> +<p>“So glad we had our drive. I shall come soon +again. I wish it could be to-morrow, but my aunt +will be using the car.”</p> +<p>“There’s my car,” Allerton suggested.</p> +<p>“Oh, so there is.” Barbara took this proposal as a +matter of course. “Then we’ll say to-morrow. I’ll +call up Eugene and tell him when to come for me.”</p> +<p>With Allerton beside her, and driving down Fifth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +Avenue, she said: “I see how to do it, Rash. You +must leave it to me.”</p> +<p>He replied in the tone of a child threatened with +the loss of his rôle in a game. “I can’t leave it to you +altogether.”</p> +<p>“Then leave it to me as much as you can. I see +what to do and you don’t. Furthermore, I know +just how to do it.”</p> +<p>“You’re wonderful, Barbe,” he said, humbly.</p> +<p>“I’m wonderful so long as you don’t interfere with +me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, I shan’t do that.”</p> +<p>She turned to him sharply. “Is that a promise?”</p> +<p>“Why do you want a promise?” he asked, in some +wonder.</p> +<p>“Because I do.”</p> +<p>“That is, you can’t trust me.”</p> +<p>“My dear Rash, who <i>could</i> trust you after what––?”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, then, I promise.”</p> +<p>“Then that’s understood. And if anything happens, +you won’t go hedging and saying you didn’t +mean it in that way?”</p> +<p>“It seems to me you’re very suspicious.”</p> +<p>“One’s obliged to foresee everything with you, +Rash. It isn’t as if one was dealing with an ordinary +man.”</p> +<p>“You mean that I’m to give you carte blanche, +and have no will of my own at all.”</p> +<p>“I mean that when I’m so reasonable, you must try +to be reasonable on your side.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></div> +<p>As they drew up in front of the New Netherlands +Club, he escaped without committing himself further.</p> +<p>If he dined with a bachelor friend that night he +must have cut the evening short, for at half past +nine he re-entered the back drawing-room where Letty +was sitting before the fire, her red book in her lap. +She sat as a lover stands at a tryst as to which there +is no positive engagement. To fortify herself against +disappointment she had been trying to persuade herself +that he wouldn’t come, and that she didn’t expect +him.</p> +<p>He came, but he came as a man who has something +on his mind. Almost without greeting he sat down, +took the book from her lap and proceeded to look up +the place at which he had left off.</p> +<p>“Miss Walbrook’s lovely, isn’t she?” she said, +before he had found the page.</p> +<p>“She’s a very fine woman,” he assented. “Do you +remember where we stopped?”</p> +<p>“It was at, ‘So let it be, said the little mermaid, +turning pale as death.’ You know her very well, +don’t you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, very well indeed. I think we begin here: +‘But you will have to pay me also––’”</p> +<p>“Have you known her very long?”</p> +<p>“All my life, more or less.”</p> +<p>“She says she knows the girl you’re engaged to.”</p> +<p>“Yes, of course. We all know each other in our +little set. Now, if you’re ready, I’ll begin to read.”</p> +<p>“‘But you will have to pay me also,’ said the witch; +‘and it is not a little that I ask. Yours is the loveliest +voice in the world, and you trust to that, I dare say, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +to charm your love. But you must give it to me. +For my costly drink I claim the best thing you possess. +I shall give you my own blood, so that my +draught may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.’ +‘But if you take my voice from me, what have I left?’ +asked the little mermaid, piteously. ‘Your loveliness, +your graceful movements, your speaking eyes. Those +are enough to win a man’s heart. Well, is your courage +gone? Stretch out your little tongue, that I may +cut it off, and you shall have my magic potion.’ ‘I +consent,’ said the little mermaid.”</p> +<p>Letty cried out: “So that when she’d be with him +she’d understand everything, and not be able to tell +him anything.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid,” he smiled, “that that’s what’s ahead +of her, poor thing.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but that—” she could hardly utter her distress—“Oh, +but that’s worse than anything in the +world.”</p> +<p>He looked up at her curiously. “Would you rather +I didn’t go on?”</p> +<p>“No, no; please. I—I want to hear it all.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>At The Hindoo Lantern Mr. Gorry Larrabin and +Mr. Judson Flack found themselves elbow to elbow +outside the rooms where their respective ladies were +putting the final touches to their hats and hair before +entering the grand circle. It was an opportunity +especially on Gorry’s part, to seal the peace which had +been signed so recently.</p> +<p>“Hello, Judson. What’s the prospects in oil?” +Judson’s tone was pessimistic. “Not a thing doin’, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +Gorry. Awful slow bunch, that lump of nuts I’m in +with on this. Mentioned your name to one or two of +’em; but no enterprise. Boneheads that wouldn’t know +a white man from a crane.” That he understood what +Gorry understood became clear as he continued: +“Friend o’ mine at the Excelsior passes me the tip that +they’ve held up that play they were goin’ to put my +girl into. Can’t get anyone else that would swing the +part. Waitin’ for her to turn up again. I suppose +you haven’t heard anything, Gorry?”</p> +<p>Gorry looked him in the eyes as straight as was +possible for a man with a cast in the left one. “Not +a thing, Judson; not a thing.”</p> +<p>The accent was so truthful that Judson gave his +friend a long comprehending look. He was sure that +Gorry would never speak with such sincerity if he +was sincere.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m on the job, Gorry,” he assured him, “and +one of these days you’ll hear from me.”</p> +<p>“I’m on the job too, Judson; and one of these +days––”</p> +<p>But as Mademoiselle Coucoul emerged from the +dressing-room and shed radiance, Gorry was obliged +to go forward.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>Chapter XX</h2> +</div> +<p>It was May.</p> +<p>In spite of her conviction that she knew what to do +and how it to do it, Barbara perceived that at the end +of seven months they were much where they had been +in the previous October. If there was a change it was +that all three, Rashleigh, Letty, and herself, had grown +strained and intense.</p> +<p>Outwardly they strove to maintain a semblance of +friendship. For that Barbara had worked hard, and +in a measure had succeeded. She had held Rash; she +had won Letty.</p> +<p>She had more than won Letty; she had trained her. +All that in seven months a woman of the world could +do for an unformed and ignorant child she had done. +Her experience at Bleary Street had helped her in +this; and Letty had been quick. She had seized not +only those small points of speech and action foundational +to rising in the world, but the point of view +of those who had risen. She knew how, Barbara was +sure, that there were certain things impossible to +people such as those among whom she had been +thrown.</p> +<p>Since it was May it was the end of a season, and +the minute Barbara had long ago chosen for a masterstroke. +Each of the others felt the crisis as near as +she did herself.</p> +<p>“It’s got to end,” Letty confessed to her, as amid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +the soft loveliness of springtime, they were again +driving in the Park.</p> +<p>Barbara chose her words. “I suppose he feels that +too.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t he let me end it?”</p> +<p>“I fancy that that’s a difficult position for a man. +If you ask his permission beforehand he feels obliged +to say––”</p> +<p>“And perhaps,” Letty suggested, “he’s too tender-hearted.”</p> +<p>“That’s part of it. He <i>is</i> tender-hearted. Besides +that, his position is grotesque—a man with whom two +women are in love. To one of them he’s been nominally +married, while to the other he’s bound by every tie +of honor. No wonder he doesn’t see his way. If +he moves toward the one he hurts the other—a man to +whom it’s agony to hurt a fly.”</p> +<p>“Does the other girl still feel the way she did?”</p> +<p>“She’s killing herself. She’s breaking her heart. +Nobody knows it but him and her—and even he +doesn’t take it in. But she is.”</p> +<p>“I suppose she thinks I’m something awful.”</p> +<p>“Does it matter to you what she thinks?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want her to hate me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I shouldn’t say she did that. She feels that, +considering everything, you might have acted with +more decision.”</p> +<p>“But he won’t let me.”</p> +<p>“And he never will, if you wait for that.”</p> +<p>“Then what do you think I ought to do?”</p> +<p>“That’s where I find you weak, Letty, since you +ask me the question. No one can tell you what to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +do—and he least of all. It’s a situation in which one +of you must withdraw—either you or the other girl. +But, don’t you see? he can’t say so to either.”</p> +<p>“And if one of us must withdraw you think it +should be me.”</p> +<p>“I have to leave that to you. You’re the one who +butted in. I know it wasn’t your fault—that the fault +was his entirely; but we recognize the fact that he’s—how +shall I put it?—not quite responsible. We women +have to take the burden of the thing on ourselves, if +it’s ever to be put right.”</p> +<p>In her corner of the car Letty thought this over. +The impression on her mind was the deeper since, for +several months past, she had watched the prince growing +more and more unhappy. He was less nervous +than he used to be, less excitable; and for that he had +told her the credit was due to herself. “You soothe +me,” he had once said to her, in words she would +always treasure; and yet as his irritability decreased +his unhappiness seemed to grow. She could only infer +that he was mourning over the girl to whom he was +engaged, and on whom he had inflicted a great wrong. +For the last few weeks Letty’s mind had occupied +itself with her almost more than with the prince +himself.</p> +<p>“Do you think I shall ever see her?” she asked, +suddenly now.</p> +<p>Barbara reflected. “I think you could if you wanted +to.”</p> +<p>“Should you arrange it?”</p> +<p>“I could.”</p> +<p>“You’re sure she’d be willing to see me?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div> +<p>“Yes; I know she would.”</p> +<p>“When could you do it?”</p> +<p>“Whenever you like.”</p> +<p>“Soon?”</p> +<p>“Yes; sooner perhaps than—” Barbara spoke +absently, as if a new idea was taking possession of +her mind—“sooner perhaps than you think.”</p> +<p>“And you say she’s breaking her heart?”</p> +<p>“A little more, and it will be broken.”</p> +<p>By the time Letty had been set down at the door in +East Sixty-seventh Street the afternoon had grown +chilly. In the back drawing-room Steptoe was on his +knees lighting the fire. Letty came and stood behind +him. Without preliminary of any kind she said, +quietly:</p> +<p>“Steptoe, it’s got to end.”</p> +<p>Expecting a protest she was surprised that he should +merely blow on the shivering flame, saying, in the +interval between two long breaths: “I agrees with +madam.”</p> +<p>“And it’s me that must end it.”</p> +<p>He blew gently again. “I guess that’d be so too.”</p> +<p>She thought of the little mermaid leaping into the +sea, and trembling away into foam. “If he wants to +marry the girl he’s in love with he’ll never do it the +way we’re living now.”</p> +<p>He rose from his knees, dusting one hand against +the other. “Madam’s quite right. ’E won’t—not +never.”</p> +<p>She threw out her arms, and moaned. “And, O +Steptoe! I’m so tired of it.”</p> +<p>“Madam’s tired of––?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div> +<p>“Of living here, and doing nothing, and just watching +and waiting, and nothing never happening––”</p> +<p>“Does madam remember that, the dye when she first +come I said there was two reasons why I wanted to +myke ’er into a lydy?”</p> +<p>Letty nodded.</p> +<p>“The one I told ’er was that I wanted to ’elp someone +who was like what I used to be myself.”</p> +<p>“I remember.”</p> +<p>“And the other, what I didn’t tell madam, I’ll tell ’er +now. It was—it was I was ’opin’ that a woman’d come +into my poor boy’s life as’d comfort ’im like––”</p> +<p>“And she didn’t come.”</p> +<p>“’E ain’t seen that she’s come. I said it’d be a +tough job to bring ’im to fallin’ in love with ’er like; +but it’s been tougher than what I thought it’d be.”</p> +<p>“So that I must—must do something.”</p> +<p>“Looks as if madam’d ’ave to.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you know that there’s an easy way for +me to do it?”</p> +<p>“Nothink ain’t so very easy; but if madam ’as a +big enough reason––”</p> +<p>She felt the necessity of being plain. “I suppose +that if he hadn’t picked me up in the Park that day +I’d have gone to the bad anyhow.”</p> +<p>“If madam’s thinkin’ about goin’ to the bad––”</p> +<p>She threw up her head defiantly. “Well, I am. +What of it?”</p> +<p>“I was just thinkin’ as I might ’elp ’er a bit about +that.”</p> +<p>She was puzzled. “I don’t think you know what I +said. I said I was––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div> +<p>“Goin’ to the bad, madam. That’s what I understood. +But madam won’t find it so easy, not ’avin +’ad no experience like, as you might sye.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you needed experience—for that.”</p> +<p>“All good people thinks that wye, madam; but +when you tackle it deliberate like, there’s quite a trick +to it.”</p> +<p>“And do you know the trick?” was all she could +think of saying.</p> +<p>“I may not know the very hidentical trick madam’d +be in want of—’er bein’ a lydy, as you might sye—but +I could put ’er in the wye of findin’ out.”</p> +<p>“You don’t think I could find out for myself?”</p> +<p>“You see, it’s like this. I used to know a young +man what everythink went ag’in’ ’im. And one dye +’e started out for to be a forgerer like—so as ’e’d be +put in jyle—and be took care of—board and lodgin’ +free—and all that. Well, out ’e starts, and not knowin’ +the little ins and outs, as you might sye, everythink +went agin ’im, just as it done before. And, would +madam believe it? that young man ’e hended by studying +for the ministry. Madam wouldn’t want to myke +a mistyke like that, now would she?”</p> +<p>Letty turned this over in her mind. A career parallel +to that of this young man would effect none of +the results she was aiming at.</p> +<p>“Then what would you suggest?” she asked, at +last.</p> +<p>“I could give madam the address of a lydy—an +awful wicked lydy, she is—what’d put madam up to +all the ropes. If madam was to go out into the cold +world, like, this lydy’d give ’er a home. Besides the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +address I’d give madam a sign like—so as the lydy’d +know it was somethink special.”</p> +<p>“A sign? I don’t know what you mean.”</p> +<p>“It’d be this, madam.” He drew from his pocket a +small silver thimble. “This’d be a password to the +lydy. The minute she’d see it she’d know that the +time ’ad come.”</p> +<p>“What time?”</p> +<p>“That’s somethink madam’d find out. I couldn’t +explyne it before’and.”</p> +<p>“It sounds very queer.”</p> +<p>“It’d <i>be</i> very queer. Goin’ to the bad is always +queer. Madam wouldn’t look for it to be like ’avin’ +a gentleman lead ’er in to dinner.”</p> +<p>“What’s she like—the lady?”</p> +<p>“That’s somethink madam’d ’ave to wyte and see. +She wouldn’t <i>seem</i> so wicked, not at first sight, as +you might sye. But time’d tell. If madam’d be +pytient—well, I wouldn’t like to sye.” He eyed the +fire. “I think that fire’ll burn now, madam; and if +it don’t, madam’ll only ’ave to ring.”</p> +<p>He was at the door when Letty, feeling the end of +all things to be at hand, ran after him, laying her +fingers on his sleeve.</p> +<p>“Oh, Steptoe; you’ve been so good to me!”</p> +<p>He relaxed from his dignity sufficiently to let his +hand rest on hers, which he patted gently. “I’ve been +madam’s servant—and my boy’s.”</p> +<p>“I shall never think of you as a servant—never.”</p> +<p>The frosty color rose into his cheeks. “Then +madam’ll do me a great wrong.”</p> +<p>“To me you’re so much higher than a servant––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></div> +<p>“Madam’ll find that there ain’t nothink ’igher than +a servant. There’s a lot about service in the pypers +nowadyes, crackin’ it up, like; but nobody don’t seem +to remember that servants knows more about that +than what other people do, and servants don’t remember +it theirselves. So long as I can serve madam, just +as I’ve served my boy––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but, Steptoe, I shall have gone to the bad.”</p> +<p>“That’d be all the syme to me, madam. At my time +o’ life I don’t see no difference between them as ’as +gone to the bad and them as ’as gone to the good, as +you might sye. I only sees—people.”</p> +<p>Left alone Letty went back to the fire, and stood +gazing down at it, her foot on the fender. So it was the +end. Even Steptoe said so. In a sense she was relieved.</p> +<p>She was relieved at the prospect of being freed +from her daily torture. The little mermaid walking on +blades in the palace of the prince, and forever dumb, +had known bliss, but bliss so akin to anguish that +her heart was consumed by it. The very fact that +the prince himself suffered from the indefinable misery +which her presence seemed to bring made escape the +more enticing.</p> +<p>She was so buried in this reflection as to have heard +no sound in the house, when Steptoe announced in +his stately voice: “Miss Barbara Walbrook.” Having +parted from this lady half an hour earlier Letty +turned in some surprise.</p> +<p>“I’ve come back again,” was the explanation, sent +down the long room. “Don’t let William bring in +tea,” the imperious voice commanded Steptoe. “We +wish to be alone.” There was the same abruptness as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +she halted within two or three feet of where Letty +stood, supporting herself with a hand on the edge of +the mantelpiece. “I’ve come back to tell you something. +I made up my mind to it all at once—after I +left you a few minutes ago. Now that I’ve done it I +feel easier.”</p> +<p>Letty didn’t know which was uppermost in her +mind, curiosity or fear. “What—what is it?” she +asked, trembling.</p> +<p>“I’ve given up the fight. I’m out of it.”</p> +<p>Letty crept forward. “You’ve—you’ve done +<i>what</i>?”</p> +<p>“I told you in the Park that one or the other of us +would have to withdraw––”</p> +<p>“One or the other of—of <i>us</i>?”</p> +<p>“Exactly and I’ve done it.”</p> +<p>With horror in her face and eyes Letty crept nearer +still. “But—but I don’t understand.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, you do. How can you help understanding. +You must have seen all along that––”</p> +<p>“Not that—that you were—the other girl. Oh, not +that!”</p> +<p>“Yes, that; of course; why not?”</p> +<p>“Because—because I—I couldn’t bear it.”</p> +<p>“You can bear it if I can, can’t you—if I’ve had to +bear it all these weeks and months.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but that’s—” she covered her face with her +hands—“that’s what makes it so terrible.”</p> +<p>“Of course it makes it terrible; but it isn’t as terrible +now as it was—to you anyhow.”</p> +<p>“But why do you withdraw when—when you love +him—and he loves you––?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div> +<p>“I do it because I want to throw all the cards on +the table. It’s what my common sense has been telling +me to do all along, only I’ve never worked round +to it till we had our talk this afternoon. Now I +see––”</p> +<p>“What do you see, Miss Walbrook?”</p> +<p>“I see that we’ve got to give him a clean sheet, or +he’ll never know where he is. He can’t decide between +us because he’s in an impossible position. We’ll +have to set him absolutely free, so that he may begin +again. I’ll do it on my side. You can do—what +you like.”</p> +<p>She went as abruptly as she came, leaving Letty +clearer than ever as to her new course.</p> +<p>By midnight she was ready. In the back spare room +she waited only to be sure that all in the house were +asleep.</p> +<p>She had heard Allerton come in about half past +nine, and the whispering of voices told that Steptoe +was making his explanations, that she was out of +sorts, had dined in her room, and begged not to be +disturbed. At about half past ten she heard the +prince go upstairs to his own room, though she fancied +that outside her door he had paused for a second to +listen. That was the culminating minute of her self-repression. +Once it was over, and he had gone on his +way, she knew the rest would be easier.</p> +<p>By midnight she had only to wait quietly. In the +old gray rag and the battered black hat she surveyed +herself without emotion. Since making her last +attempt to escape her relation to all these things had +changed. They had become less significant, less important. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +The emblems of the higher life which in +the previous autumn she had buried with ritual and +regret she now packed away in the closet, with hardly +a second thought. The old gray rag which had then +seemed the livery of a degraded life was now no +more than the resumption of her reality.</p> +<p>“I’ll go as I came,” she had been saying to herself, +all the evening. “I know he’d like me to take the +things he’s given me; but I’d rather be just what I +was.”</p> +<p>If there was any ritual in what she had done since +Miss Walbrook had left her it was in the putting away +of small things by which she didn’t want to be +haunted.</p> +<p>“I couldn’t do it with this on,” she said of the plain +gold band on her finger, to which, as a symbol of +marriage, she had never attached significance in any +case.</p> +<p>She took it off, therefore, and laid it on the dressing +table.</p> +<p>“I couldn’t do it with this in my pocket,” she said +of the purse containing a few dollars, with which +Steptoe had kept her supplied.</p> +<p>This too she laid on the dressing table, becoming +as penniless as when Judson Flack had put her out of +doors. Somehow, to be penniless seemed to her an +element in her new task, and an excuse for it.</p> +<p>Since Allerton had never made her a present there +was nothing of this kind to discard. It had been part +of his non-committal, impersonal attitude toward her +that he had never given her a concrete sign that she +meant anything to him whatever. He had thanked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +her on occasions for the comforting quality he found +in her presence. He had, in so many words, recognized +the fact that when he got into a tantrum of +nerves she could bring him out of it as no one else +had ever done. He had also imparted to her the discovery +that in reading to her, and trying to show her +the point of view of a life superior to her own, he +had for the first time in his life done something for +someone else; but he had never gone beyond all this or +allowed her to think that his heart was not given to +“the girl he was engaged to.” In that at least he had +been loyal to the mysterious princess, as the little mermaid +could not but see.</p> +<p>She was not consciously denuded, as she would have +felt herself six months earlier. As to that she was +not thinking anything at all. Her motive, in setting +free the prince from the “drag” on him which she +now recognized herself to be, filled all her mental +horizons. So dominated was she by this overwhelming +impulse as to have no thought even for self-pity.</p> +<p>When a clock somewhere struck one she took it as +the summons. From the dressing-table she picked up +the scrawl in Steptoe’s hand, giving the name of Miss +Henrietta Towell, at an address at Red Point, L. I. +She knew Red Point, on the tip of Long Island, as +a distant, partially developed suburb of Brooklyn. In +the previous year she had gone with a half dozen other +girl “supes” from the Excelsior Studio to “blow in” +a quarter looking at the ocean steamers passing in and +out. She had no intention of intruding on Miss Towell, +but she couldn’t hurt Steptoe’s feelings by leaving the +address behind her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></div> +<p>For the same reason she took the silver thimble +which stood on the scrap of paper. On its rim she +read the inscription, “H.T. from H.S.” but she made +no attempt to unravel the romance behind it. She +merely slipped the scrawl and the thimble into the +pocket of her jacket, and stood up.</p> +<p>She took no farewells. To do so would have unnerved +her. On the landing outside her door she +listened for a possible sound of the prince’s breathing, +but the house was still. In the lower hall she resisted +the impulse to slip into the library and kiss the place +where she had kissed his feet on the memorable morning +when her hand had been on his brow. “That won’t +help me any,” were the prosaic words with which she +put the suggestion away from her. If the little mermaid +was to leap over the ship’s side and dissolve into +foam the best thing she could do was to leap.</p> +<p>The door no longer held secrets. She had locked +it and unlocked it a thousand times. Feeling for the +chain in the darkness she slipped it out of its socket; +she drew back the bolt; she turned the key. Her +fingers found the two little brass knobs, pressing this +one that way, and that one this way. The door rolled +softly as she turned the handle.</p> +<p>Over the threshold she passed into a world of silence, +darkness, electricity, and stars. She closed the door +noiselessly. She went down the steps.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXI</h2> +</div> +<p>Having the choice between going southward +either by Fifth Avenue or by Madison Avenue, +Letty took the former for the reason that there were +no electric cars crashing through it, so that she would +be less observed. It seemed to her important to get +as far from East Sixty-seventh Street as possible before +letting a human glance take note of her personality, +even as a drifting silhouette.</p> +<p>In this she was fortunate. For the hour between +one and two in the early morning this part of Fifth +Avenue was unusually empty. There was not a pedestrian, +and only a rare motor car. When one of the +latter flashed by she shrank into the shadow of a great +house, lest some eye of miraculous discernment should +light on her. It seemed to her that all New York +must be ready to read her secret, and be on the watch +to turn her back.</p> +<p>She didn’t know why she was going southward +rather than northward, except that southward lay +the Brooklyn Bridge, and beyond the Brooklyn Bridge +lay Beehive Valley, and within Beehive Valley the +Excelsior Studio, and in the Excelsior Studio the faint +possibility of a job. She was already thinking in +the terms that went with the old gray rag and the +battered hat, and had come back to them as to her +mother-tongue. In forsaking paradise for the +limbo of outcast souls she was at least supported +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +by the fact that in the limbo of outcast souls she was +at home.</p> +<p>She was not frightened. Now that she was out of +the prince’s palace she had suddenly become sensationless. +She was like a soul which having reached the +other side of death is conscious only of release from +pain. She was no longer walking on blades; she was +no longer attempting the impossible. Between her +and the life which Barbara Walbrook understood the +few steps she had taken had already marked the gulf. +The gulf had always been there, yawning, <ins class="trnote" title="unbridgable in original text">unbridgeable</ins>, +only that she, Letty Gravely, had tried to shut her +eyes to it. She had tried to shut her eyes to it in the +hope that the man she loved might come to do the +same. She knew now how utterly foolish any such +hope had been.</p> +<p>She would have perceived this earlier had he not +from time to time revived the hope when it was about +to flicker out. More than once he had confessed to +depending on her sympathy. More than once he had +told her that she drew out something he had hardly +dared think he possessed, but which made him more of +a man. Once he harked back to the dust flower, saying +that as its humble and heavenly bloom brightened +the spots bereft of beauty so she cheered the lonely and +comfortless places in his heart. He had said these +things not as one who is in love, but as one who is +grateful, only that between gratitude and love she had +purposely kept from drawing the distinction.</p> +<p>She did not reproach him. On the contrary, she +blessed him even for being grateful. That meed he +gave her at least, and that he should give her anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +at all was happiness. Leaving his palace she did so +with nothing but grateful thoughts on her own side. +He had smiled on her always; he had been considerate, +kindly, and very nearly tender. For what he called +the wrong he had done her, which she held to be no +wrong at all, he would have made amends so magnificent +that the mere acceptance would have overwhelmed +her. Since he couldn’t give her the one thing she +craved her best course was like the little mermaid to +tremble into foam, and become a spirit of the wind.</p> +<p>It was what she was doing. She was going without +leaving a trace. A girl more important than she couldn’t +have done it so easily. A Barbara Walbrook had she +attempted a freak so mad, would be discovered within +twenty-four hours. It was one of the advantages of +extreme obscurity that you came and went without notice. +No matter how conspicuously a Letty Gravely passed +it would not be remembered that she had gone by.</p> +<p>With regard to this, however, she made one reserve. +She couldn’t disappear forever, not any more than +Judith of Bethulia when she went to the tent of Holofernes. +The history of Judith was not in Letty’s mind, +because she had never heard of it; there was only the +impulse to the same sort of sacrifice. Since Israel +could be delivered only in one way, that way Judith +had been ready to take. To Letty her prince was her +Israel. One day she would have to inform him that +the Holofernes of his captivity was slain—that at +last he was free.</p> +<p>There were lines along which Letty was not imaginative, +and one of those lines ran parallel to Judith’s +experience. When it came to love at first sight, she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +could invent as many situations as there were millionaires +in the subway. In interpreting a part she had +views of her own beyond any held by Luciline Lynch. +As to matters of dress her fancy was boundless.</p> +<p>Her limitations were in the practical. Among practical +things “going to the bad” was now her chief +preoccupation. She had always understood that when +you made up your mind to do it you had only to +present yourself. The way was broad; the gate wide +open. There were wicked people on every side eager +to pull you through. You had only to go out into the +street, after dark especially—and there you were!</p> +<p>Having walked some three or four blocks she made +out the figure of a man coming up the hill toward +her. Her heart stopped beating; her knees quaked. +This was doom. She would meet it, of course, since +her doom would be the prince’s salvation; but she +couldn’t help trembling as she watched it coming on.</p> +<p>By the light of an arc-lamp she saw that he was in +evening dress. The wicked millionaires who, in +motion-pictures, were the peril of young girls, were +always so attired. Iphigenia could not have trodden +to the altar with a more consuming mental anguish +than Letty as she dragged herself toward this approaching +fate; but she did so drag herself without +mercy. For a minute as he drew near she was on the +point of begging him to spare her; but she saved herself +in time from this frustration of her task.</p> +<p>The man, a young stock-broker in a bad financial +plight, scarcely noticed that a female figure was passing +him. Had the morrow’s market been less a matter +of life and death to him he might have thrown her a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +glance; but as it was she did not come within the range +of his consciousness. To her amazement, and even to +her consternation, Letty saw him go onward up the +hill, his eyes straight before him, and his profile +sharply cut in the electric light.</p> +<p>She explained the situation by the fact that he +hadn’t seen her at all. That a man could actually <i>see</i> +a girl, in such unusual conditions, and still go by +inoffensively, was as contrary to all she had heard of +life as it would have been to the principles of a Turkish +woman to suppose that one of this sex could behold +her face and not fall fiercely in love with her. +As, however, two men were now coming up the hill +together Letty was obliged to re-organize her forces +to meet the new advance.</p> +<p>She couldn’t reason this time that they hadn’t seen +her, because their heads turned in her direction, and +the intonation of the words she couldn’t articulately +hear was that of faint surprise. Further than that +there was no incident. They were young men too, +also in evening dress, and of the very type of which +all her warnings had bidden her beware. The immunity +from insult was almost a matter for chagrin.</p> +<p>As she approached Fifty-ninth Street encounters +were nearly as numerous as they would have been in +daylight; but Letty went on her way as if, instead of +the old gray rag, she wore the magic cloak of invisibility. +So it was during the whole of the long half +mile between Fifty-ninth Street and Forty-second +Street. In spite of the fact that she was the only unescorted +woman she saw, no invitation “to go to the +bad” was proffered her. “There’s quite a trick to it,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +Steptoe had said, in the afternoon; and she began to +think that there was.</p> +<p>At Forty-second Street, for no reason that she could +explain, she turned into the lower and quieter spur of +Madison Avenue, climbing and descending Murray +Hill. Here she was almost alone. Motor-car traffic +had practically ceased; foot-passengers there were +none; on each side of the street the houses were +somber and somnolent. The electric lamps flared as +elsewhere, but with little to light up.</p> +<p>Her sense of being lost became awesome. It began +to urge itself in on her that she was going nowhere, +and had nowhere to go. She was back in the days +when she had walked away from Judson Flack’s, without +the same heart in the adventure. She recalled +now that on that day she had felt young, daring, equal +to anything that fate might send; now she felt curiously +old and experienced. All her illusions had been dished +up to her at once and been blown away as by a hurricane. +The little mermaid who had loved the prince +and failed to win his love in return could have nothing +more to look forward to.</p> +<p>She was drifting, drifting, when suddenly from the +shadow of a flight of broad steps a man stalked out +and confronted her. He confronted her with such +evident intention that she stopped. Not till she +stopped could she see that he was a policeman in his +summer uniform.</p> +<p>“Where you goin’, sister?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t goin’ nowheres.”</p> +<p>She fell back on the old form of speech as on another +tongue.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></div> +<p>“Where you come from then?”</p> +<p>Feeling now that she had gone to the bad, or was +at the beginning of that process, she made a reply +that would seem probable. “I come from a fella I’ve +been—I’ve been livin’ with.”</p> +<p>“Gee!” The tone was of deepest pity. “Darned +sorry to hear you’re in that box, a nice girl like you.”</p> +<p>“I ain’t such a nice girl as you might think.”</p> +<p>“Gee! Anyone can see you’re a nice girl, just from +the way you walk.”</p> +<p>Letty was astounded. Was the way you walked +part of Steptoe’s “trick to it?” In the hope of getting +information she said, still in the secondary tongue: +“What’s the matter with the way I walk?”</p> +<p>“There’s nothin’ the matter with it. That’s the +trouble. Anyone can see that you’re not a girl that’s +used to bein’ on the street at this hour of the night. +Ain’t you goin’ <i>anywheres</i>?”</p> +<p>Fear of the police-station suddenly made her faint. +If she wasn’t going <i>anywheres</i> he might arrest her. +She bethought her of Steptoe’s scrawled address. +“Yes, I’m goin’ there.”</p> +<p>As he stepped under the arc-light to read it she saw +that he was a fatherly man, on the distant outskirts +of youth, who might well have a family of growing +boys and girls.</p> +<p>“That’s a long ways from here,” he said, handing +the scrap of paper back to her. “Why don’t you +take the subway? At this time of night there’s a +train every quarter of an hour.”</p> +<p>“I ain’t got no bones. I’m footin’ it.”</p> +<p>“Footin’ it all the way to Red Point? You? Gee!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></div> +<p>Once more Letty felt that about her there was something +which put her out of the key of her adventure.</p> +<p>“Well, what’s there against <i>me</i> footin’ it?”</p> +<p>“There’s nothin’ against you footin’ it—on’y you +don’t seem that sort. Haven’t you got as much as +two bits? It wouldn’t come to that if you took the +subway over here at––”</p> +<p>“Well, I haven’t got two bits; nor one bit; nor +nothin’ at all; so I guess I’ll be lightin’ out.”</p> +<p>She had nodded and passed, when a stride of his +long legs brought him up to her again. “Well, see +here, sister! If you haven’t got two bits, take this. +I can’t have you trampin’ all the way over to Red +Point—not <i>you</i>!”</p> +<p>Before knowing what had happened Letty found +her hand closing over a silver half-dollar, while her +benefactor, as if ashamed of his act, was off again on +his beat. She ran after him. Her excitement was +such that she forgot the secondary language.</p> +<p>“Oh, I couldn’t accept this from you. Please! +Don’t make me take it. I’m—” She felt it the moment +for making the confession, and possibly getting hints—“I’m—I’m +goin’ to the bad, anyhow.”</p> +<p>“Oh, so that’s the talk! I thought you said you’d +gone to the bad already. Oh, no, sister; you don’t +put that over on me, not a nice looker like you!”</p> +<p>She was almost sobbing. “Well, I’m going—if—if +I can find the way. I wish you’d tell me if there’s a +trick to it.”</p> +<p>“There’s one trick I’ll tell you, and that’s the way +to Red Point.”</p> +<p>“I know that already.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></div> +<p>“Then, if you know that already, you’ve got my +four bits, which is more than enough to take you there +decent.” He lifted his hand, with a warning forefinger. +“Remember now, little sister, as long as you +spend that half dollar it’ll bind you to keep good.”</p> +<p>He tramped off into the darkness, leaving Letty +perplexed at the ways of wickedness, as she began +once more to drift southward.</p> +<p>But she drifted southward with a new sense of misgiving. +Danger was mysteriously coy, and she didn’t +know how to court it. True, there was still time +enough, but the debut was not encouraging. When +she had gone forth from Judson Flack’s she had felt +sure that adventure lay in wait for her, and Rashleigh +Allerton had responded almost instantaneously. Now +she had no such confidence. On the contrary; all her +premonitions worked the other way. Perhaps it was +the old gray rag. Perhaps it was her lack of feminine +appeal. Men had never flocked about her as they +flocked about some girls, like bees about flowers. If +she was a flower, she was a dust flower, a humble +thing, at home in the humblest places, and never regarded +as other than a weed.</p> +<p>She wandered into Fourth Avenue, reaching Astor +Place. From Astor Place she descended the city by +the long artery of Lafayette Street, in which teams +rumbled heavily, and all-night workers shouted raucously +to each other in foreign languages. One of a +band of Italians digging in the roadway, with colored +lanterns about them, called out something at her, the +nature of which she could only infer from the laughter +of his compatriots. Here too she began to notice other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +women like herself, shabby, furtive, unescorted, with +terrible eyes, aimlessly drifting from nowhere to +nowhere. There were not many of them; only one at +long intervals; but they frightened her more than +the men.</p> +<p>They frightened her because she saw what she must +look like herself, a thing too degraded for any man +to want. She was not that yet, perhaps; but it was +what she might become. They were not wholly new to +her, these women; and they all had begun at some such +point as that from which she was starting out. Very +well! She was ready to go this road, if only by this +road her prince could be freed from her. Since she +couldn’t give up everything for him in one way, she +would do it in another. The way itself was more or +less a matter of indifference—not entirely, perhaps, but +more or less. If she could set him free in any way +she would be content.</p> +<p>The rumble and stir of Lafayette Street alarmed +her because it was so foreign. The upper part of the +town had been empty and eerie. This quarter was +eerie, alien, and occupied. It was difficult for her +to tell what so many people were doing abroad because +their aims seemed different from those of daylight. +What she couldn’t understand struck her as +nefarious; and what struck her as nefarious filled her +with the kind of terror that comes in dreams.</p> +<p>By these Italians, Slavs, and Semites she was more +closely scrutinized than she had been elsewhere. She +was scrutinized, too, with a hint of hostility in the +scrutiny. In their jabber of tongues they said things +about her as she passed. Wild-eyed women, working +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +by the flare of torches with their men, resented her +presence in the street. They insulted her in terms +she couldn’t understand, while the men laughed in +frightful, significant jocosity. The unescorted women +alone looked at her with a hint of friendliness. One +of them, painted, haggard, desperate, awful, stopped as +if to speak to her; but Letty sped away like a snowbird +from a shrike.</p> +<p>At a corner where the cross-street was empty she +turned out of this haunted highway, presently finding +herself lost in a congeries of old-time streets of which +she had never heard. Her only knowledge of New +York was of streets crossing each other at right +angles, numbered, prosaic, leaving no more play to +the fancy than a sum in arithmetic. Here the ways +were narrow, the buildings tall, the night effects fantastic. +In the lamp light she could read signs bearing +names as unpronounceable as the gibbering monkey-speech +in Lafayette Street. Warehouses, offices, big +wholesale premises, lairs of highly specialized businesses +which only the few knew anything about, +offered no place for human beings to sleep, and little +invitation to the prowler. Now and then a marauding +cat darted from shadow to shadow, but otherwise she +was as nearly alone as she could imagine herself being +in the heart of a great city.</p> +<p>Still she went on and on. In the effort to escape +this overpowering solitude she turned one corner and +then another, now coming out beneath the elevated +trains, now on the outskirts of docks where she was +afraid of sailors. She was afraid of being alone, and +afraid of the thoroughfares where there were people. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +On the whole she was more afraid of the thoroughfares +where there were people, though her fear soon +entered the unreasoning phase, in which it is fear and +nothing else. Still headed vaguely southward she zigzagged +from street to street, helpless, terrified, longing +for day.</p> +<p>She was in a narrow street of which the high +weird gables on either side recalled her impressions +on opening a copy of <i>Faust</i>, illustrated by Gustave +Doré, which she found on the library table in East +Sixty-seventh Street. On her right the elevated and +the docks were not far away, on the left she could +catch, through an occasional side street the distant +gleam of Broadway. Being afraid of both she kept +to the deep canyon of unreality and solitude, though she +was afraid of that. At least she was alone; and yet to +be alone chilled her marrow and curdled her blood.</p> +<p>Suddenly she heard the clank of footsteps. She +stopped to listen, making them out as being on the +other side of the street, and advancing. Before she +had dared to move on again a man emerged from the +half light and came abreast of her. As he stopped +to look across at her, Letty hurried on.</p> +<p>The man also went on, but on glancing over her +shoulder to make sure that she was safe she saw him +pause, cross to her side of the street, and begin to +follow her. That he followed her was plain from his +whole plan of action. The ring of his footsteps told +her that he was walking faster than she, though in +no precise hurry to overtake her. Rather, he seemed +to be keeping her in sight, and watching for some +opportunity.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span></div> +<p>It was exactly what men did when they robbed and +murdered unprotected women. She had read of scores +of such cases, and had often imagined herself as +being stalked by this kind of ghoul. Now the thing +which she had greatly feared having come upon her +she was nearly hysterical. If she ran he would run +after her. If she only walked on he would overtake +her. Before she could reach the docks on one side or +Broadway on the other, where she might find possible +defenders, he could easily have strangled her and +rifled her fifty cents.</p> +<p>It was still unreasoning fear, but fear in which +there was another kind of prompting, which made her +wheel suddenly and walk back towards him. She +noticed that as she did so, he stopped, wavered, but +came on again.</p> +<p>Before the obscurity allowed of her seeing what +type of man he was she cried out, with a half +sob:</p> +<p>“Oh, mister, I’m so afraid! I wish you’d help me.”</p> +<p>“Sure!” The tone had the cheery fraternal ring +of commonplace sincerity. “That’s what I turned +round for. I says, that girl’s lost, I says. There’s +places down here that’s dangerous, and she don’t know +where she is.”</p> +<p>Hysterical fear became hysterical relief. “And +you’re not going to murder me?”</p> +<p>“Gee! Me? What’d I murder you for? I’m a +plumber.”</p> +<p>His tone making it seem impossible for a plumber +to murder anyone she panted now from a sense of +reassurance and security. She could see too that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +was a decent looking young fellow in overalls, off on +an early job.</p> +<p>“Where you goin’ anyhow?” he asked, in kindly +interest. “The minute I see you on the other side of +the street, I says Gosh, I says! That girl’s got to be +watched, I says. She don’t know that these streets +down by the docks is dangerous.”</p> +<p>She explained that she was on her way to Red +Point, Long Island, and that having only fifty cents +she was sparing of her money.</p> +<p>“Gee! I wouldn’t be so economical if it was me. +That ain’t the only fifty cents in the world. Look-a-here! +I’ve got a dollar. You must take that––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I couldn’t.”</p> +<p>“Shucks! What’s a dollar? You can pay me back +some time. I’ll give you my address. It’s all right. +I’m married. Three kids. And say, if you send me +back the dollar, which you needn’t do, you know—but +if you <i>must</i>—sign a man’s name to the letter, because +my wife—well, she’s all right, but if––”</p> +<p>Letty escaped the necessity of accepting the dollar +by assuring him that if he would tell her the way to +the nearest subway station she would use a portion +of her fifty cents.</p> +<p>“I’ll go with you,” he declared, with breezy fraternity. +“No distance. They’re expecting me on a +job up there in Waddle Street, but they’ll wait. Pipe +burst—floodin’ a loft where they’ve stored a lot of +jute—but why worry?”</p> +<p>As they threaded the broken series of streets toward +the subway he aired the matrimonial question.</p> +<p>“Some think as two can live on the same wages as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +one. All bunk, I’ll say. My wife used to be in the +hair line. Some little earner too. Had an electric +machine that’d make hair grow like hay on a marsh. +Two dollars a visit she got. When we was married +she had nine hunderd saved. I had over five hunderd +myself. We took a weddin’ tour; Atlantic City. +Gettin’ married’s a cinch; but <i>stayin</i>’ married—she’s +all right, my wife is, only she’s kind o’ nervous like +if I look sideways at any other woman—which I +hardly ever do intentional—only my wife’s got it into +her head that....”</p> +<p>At the entrance to the subway Letty shook hands +with him and thanked him.</p> +<p>“Say,” he responded, “I wish I could do something +more for you; but I got to hike it back to Waddle +Street. Look-a-here! You stick to the subway and +the stations, and don’t you be in a hurry to get to your +address in Red Point till after daylight. They can’t +be killin’ nobody over there, that you’d need to be in +such a rush, and in the stations you’d be safe.”</p> +<p>To a degree that was disconcerting Letty found +this so. Having descended the stairs, purchased a +ticket, and cast it into the receptacle appointed for that +purpose, she saw herself examined by the colored man +guarding the entry to the platform. He sat with his +chair tilted back, his feet resting on the chain which +protected part of the entrance, picking a set of brilliant +teeth. Letty, trembling, nervous, and only partly +comforted by the cavalier who was now on his way +to Waddle Street, shrank from the colored man’s gaze +and was going down the platform where she could be +away from it. Her progress was arrested by the sight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +of two men, also waiting for the train, who on perceiving +her started in her direction.</p> +<p>The colored man lifted his feet lazily from the chain, +brought his chair down to four legs, put his toothpick +in his waistcoat pocket, and dragged himself up.</p> +<p>“Say, lady,” he drawled, on approaching her, “I +think them two fellas is tough. You stay here by me. +I’ll not let no one get fresh with you.”</p> +<p>Languidly he went back to his former position and +occupation, but when after long waiting, the train +drew in he unhooked his feet again from the chain, +rose lazily, and accompanied Letty across the otherwise +empty platform.</p> +<p>“Say, brother,” he said to the conductor, “don’t let +any fresh guy get busy with this lady. She’s alone, +and timid like.”</p> +<p>“Sure thing,” the conductor replied, closing the +doors as Letty stepped within. “Sit in this corner, +lady, next to me. The first mutt that wags his jaw at +you’ll get it on the bean.”</p> +<p>Letty dropped as she was bidden into the corner, +dazed by the brilliant lighting, and the greasy unoccupied +seats. She was alone in the car, and the kindly +conductor having closed his door she felt a certain +sense of privacy. The train clattered off into the +darkness.</p> +<p>Where was she going? Why was she there? How +was she ever to accomplish the purpose with which +two hours earlier she had stolen away from East +Sixty-seventh Street? Was it only two hours earlier? +It seemed like two years. It seemed like a space of +time not to be reckoned....</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></div> +<p>She was tired as she had never been tired in her +life. Her head sank back into the support made by +the corner.</p> +<p>“There’s quite a trick to it,” she found herself repeating, +though in what connection she scarcely knew. +“An awful wicked lydy, she is, what’d put madam up +to all the ropes.” These words too drifted through +her mind, foolishly, drowsily, without obvious connection. +She began to wish that she was home again +in the little back spare room—or anywhere—so long +as she could lie down—and shut her eyes—and go to +sleep....</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXII</h2> +</div> +<p>It was Steptoe who discovered that the little back +spare room was empty, though William had informed +him that he thought it strange that madam +didn’t appear for breakfast. Steptoe knew then +that what he had expected had come to pass, and if +earlier than he had looked for it, perhaps it was just +as well. Having tapped at madam’s door and received +no answer he ventured within. Everything +there confirming his belief, he went to inform +Mr. Rash.</p> +<p>As Mr. Rash was shaving in the bathroom Steptoe +plodded round the bedroom, picking up scattered +articles of clothing, putting outside the door the shoes +which had been taken off on the previous night, digging +another pair of shoes from the shoe-cupboard, +and otherwise busying himself as usual. Even when +Mr. Rash had re-entered the bedroom the valet made no +immediate reference to what had happened in the +house. He approached the subject indirectly by saying, +as he laid out an old velvet house-jacket on the +bed:</p> +<p>“I suppose if Mr. Rash ain’t goin’ out for ’is breakfast +’e’ll put this on for ’ome.”</p> +<p>Mr. Rash, who was buttoning his collar before the +mirror said over his shoulder: “But I am going out +for my breakfast. Why shouldn’t I? I always do.”</p> +<p>Steptoe carried the house-jacket back to the closet.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></div> +<p>“I thought as Mr. Rash only did that so as madam +could ’ave the dinin’ room to ’erself, private like.”</p> +<p>As a way of expressing the fact that Allerton had +never eaten a meal with Letty the choice of words +was neat.</p> +<p>“Well? What then?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothink, sir. I was only thinkin’ that, as +madam was no longer ’ere––”</p> +<p>Allerton wheeled round, his fingers clawing at the +collar-stud, his face growing bloodless. “No longer +here? What the deuce do you mean?”</p> +<p>“Oh, didn’t Mr. Rash know? Madam seems to ’ave +left us. I supposed that after I’d gone upstairs last +night Mr. Rash and ’er must ’ave ’ad some sort of +hunderstandin’—and she went.”</p> +<p>“Went?” Allerton’s tone was almost a scream. +Leaping on the old man he took him by the shoulders, +snaking him. “Damn you! Get it out! What are +you trying to tell me?”</p> +<p>Steptoe quaked and cowered. “Why, nothink, sir. +Only when William said as madam didn’t come down +to ’er breakfast I went to ’er door and tapped—and +there wasn’t no one in the room. Mr. Rash ’ad better +go and see for ’imself.”</p> +<p>The young man not only released the older one, +but pushed him aside with a force which sent him +staggering backwards. Over the stairs he scrambled, +he plunged. Though he had never entered the back +spare room since allotting it to Letty as her own he +threw the door open now as if the place was on fire.</p> +<p>But by the time Steptoe had followed and reached +the threshold Allerton had calmed suddenly. He stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +in front of the open closet vaguely examining its contents. +He picked up the little gold band, chucked it +a few inches into the air, caught it, and put it down. +He looked into the little leather purse, poured out its +notes and pennies into his hand, replaced them, and +put that also down again. He opened the old red +volume lying on the table by the bed, finding <i>The +Little Mermaid</i> marked by two stiff dried sprays of +dust flower, which more than ever merited its name. +When he turned round to where Steptoe, white and +scared by this time, was standing in the open doorway, +his, Allerton’s, face was drawn, in mingled convulsion +and bewilderment. With two strides he was across +the room.</p> +<p>“Tell me what you know about this, you confounded +old schemer, before I kick you out.”</p> +<p>Shivering and shaking, Steptoe nevertheless held +himself with dignity. “I’ll tell you what I know, Mr. +Rash, though it ain’t very much. I know that madam +’as ’ad it in ’er mind for some time past that unless +she took steps Mr. Rash’d never be free to marry +the young lydy what ’e was in love with.”</p> +<p>“What did she mean by taking steps?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know exactly, but I think it was the kind o’ +steps as’d give Mr. Rash ’is release quicker nor any +other.”</p> +<p>Allerton’s arm was raised as if to strike a blow. +“And you let her?”</p> +<p>The old face was set steadily. “I didn’t do nothin’ +but what Mr. Rash ’imself told me to do.”</p> +<p>“Told you to do?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. Rash; six months ago; the mornin’ after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +you’d brought madam into the ’ouse. I was to get +you out of the marriage, you said; but I think madam +’as done it all of ’er own haccord.”</p> +<p>“But why? Why should she?”</p> +<p>Steptoe smiled, dimly. “Oh, don’t Mr. Rash see? +Madam ’ad give ’erself to ’im ’eart and spirit and soul. +If she couldn’t go to the good for ’im, she’d go to the +bad. So long as she served ’im, it didn’t matter to +madam what she done. And if I was Mr. Rash––”</p> +<p>Allerton’s spring was like that of a tiger. Before +Steptoe felt that he had been seized he was on his +back on the floor, with Allerton kneeling on his chest.</p> +<p>“You old reptile! I’m going to kill you.”</p> +<p>“You may kill me, Mr. Rash, but it won’t make no +difference to madam ’avin’ loved you––”</p> +<p>Two strong hands at his throat choked back more +words, till the sound of his strangling startled Allerton +into a measure of self-control. He scrambled to +his feet again.</p> +<p>“Get up.”</p> +<p>Steptoe dragged himself up, and after dusting himself +with his fingers stood once more passive and +respectful, as if nothing violent had occurred.</p> +<p>“If I was Mr. Rash,” he went on, imperturbably, +“I’d let well enough alone.”</p> +<p>It was Allerton who was breathless. “Wha—what +do you mean by well enough alone?”</p> +<p>“Well the wye I see it, it’s this wye. Mr. Rash is +married to one young lydy and wants to marry another.” +He broke off to ask, significantly: “I suppose +that’d be so, Mr. Rash?”</p> +<p>“Well, what then?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></div> +<p>“Why, then, ’e can’t marry the other young lydy +till the young lydy what ’e’s married to sets ’im free. +Now that young lydy what ’e’s married to ’as started +out to set ’im free, and if I was Mr. Rash I’d let ’er.”</p> +<p>“You’d let her throw herself away for me?”</p> +<p>“I’d let ’er do anythink what’d show I knowed my +own mind, Mr. Rash. If it wouldn’t be steppin’ out +of my place to sye so, I wish Mr. Rash could tell +which of these two young lydies ’e wanted, and which +’e’d be willin’ for to––”</p> +<p>“How can I tell that when—when both have a claim +on me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but only one ’as a clyme on Mr. Rash now. +Madam ’as given up ’er clyme, so as to myke things +easier for <i>’im</i>. There’s only one clyme now for Mr. +Rash to think about, and that mykes everythink +simple.”</p> +<p>An embarrassed cough drew Steptoe’s attention to +the fact that someone was standing in the hall outside. +It was William with a note on a silver tray. Beside +the note stood a small square package, tied with a +white ribbon, which looked as if it contained a piece +of wedding cake. His whisper of explanation was the +word, “Wildgoose,” but a cocking of his eye gave +Steptoe to understand that William was quite aware +of wading in the current of his employer’s love-affairs. +Moreover, the fact that Steptoe and his master should +be making so free with the little back spare room was +in William’s judgment evidence of drama.</p> +<p>“What’s this?”</p> +<p>Glancing at the hand-writing on the envelope, and +taking in the fact that a small square package, looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +like a bit of wedding cake stood beside it, Allerton +jumped back. Steptoe might have been presenting +him with a snake.</p> +<p>“I don’t know, Mr. Rash. William ’as just brought +it up. Someone seems to ’ave left it at the door.”</p> +<p>As Steptoe continued to stand with his offering +held out Allerton had no choice but to take up the +letter and break the seal. He read it with little grunts +intended to signify ironic laughter, but which betrayed +no more than bitterness of soul.</p> +<p style='margin-left:2.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Dear Rash:</span></p> +<p style='margin-left:2.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>I have come to see that we shall never get out of +the impasse in which we seem to have been caught +unless someone takes a stand. I have therefore decided +to take one. Of the three of us it is apparently +easiest for me, so that I am definitely breaking our +engagement and sending you back your ring. Any +claim I may have had on you I give up of my own +accord, so that as far as I am concerned you are free. +This will simplify your situation, and enable you to +act according to the dictates of your heart. Believe +me, dear Rash, affectionately yours</p> +<p style='margin-left:2.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'><span style='margin-right: 0.78125em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Barbara Walbrook.</span>”</span><br /></p> +<p>Though it was not his practice to take his valet into +the secret of his correspondence the circumstances +were exceptional. Allerton handed the letter to Steptoe +without a word. As the old man was feeling for +his glasses and adjusting them to his nose Mr. Rash +turned absently away, picking up the volume of Hans +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +Andersen, from which the sprays of dust flower +tumbled out. On putting them back his eyes fell upon +the words, which someone had marked with a pencil:</p> +<p>“Day by day she grew dearer to the prince; but he +loved her as one loves a child. The thought of making +her his queen never crossed his mind.”</p> +<p>A spasm passed over his face. He turned the page +impatiently. Here he caught the words which had +been underlined:</p> +<p>“I am with him every day. I will watch over him—love +him—and sacrifice my life for him.”</p> +<p>Shutting the book with a bang, and throwing it on +the table, he wheeled round to where Steptoe, having +folded the letter, was taking off his spectacles.</p> +<p>“Well, what do you say to that?”</p> +<p>“What I’d sye to that, Mr. Rash, is that it’s as good +as a legal document. If any young lydy what wrote +that letter was to bring a haction for breach, this ’ere +pyper’d nyle ’er.”</p> +<p>“So where am I now?”</p> +<p>“Free as a lark, Mr. Rash. One young lydy ’as +turned you down, and the other ’as gone to the bad +for you; so if you was to begin agyne with a third +you’d ’ave a clean sheet.”</p> +<p>He groaned aloud. “Ah, go to ––”</p> +<p>But without stating the place to which Steptoe was +to go he marched out of the room, and back to his +dressing upstairs.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>More dispassionate was the early morning scene in +the little basement eating house in which the stunted +Hebrew maid of Polish culture was serving breakfast +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +to two gentlemen who had plainly met by appointment. +Beside the one was an oblong packet, of which some +of the contents, half displayed, had the opulent engraved +decorations of stock certificates.</p> +<p>The other gentleman, resembling an operatic brigand +a little the worse for wear, was saying with conviction: +“Oil! Don’t talk to me! No, sir! There’s +enough oil in Milligan Center alone to run every car +in Europe and America at this present time; while if +you include North Milligan, where it’s beginnin’ to +shoot like the Old Faithful geyser––”</p> +<p>“Awful obliged to you, Judson,” the other took up, +humbly. “I thought that bunch o’ nuts ’d never––”</p> +<p>“So did I, Gorry. I’ve sweated blood over this job +all winter. Queer the way men are made. Now you’d +hardly believe the work I’ve had to show that lot of +boneheads that because a guy’s a detective in one +line, he ain’t a detective in every line. Homicide, I +said, was Gorry Larrabin’s specialty, and where there’s +no homicide he’s no more a detective than a busted +rubber tire.”</p> +<p>“You’ve said it,” Gorry corroborated, earnestly. +“One of the cussed things about detectin’ is that fellas +gets afraid of you. Think because you’re keepin’ up +your end you must be down on every little thing, and +that you ain’t a sport.”</p> +<p>“Must be hard,” Judson said, sympathetically.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you it’s hard. Lots of fun I’d like to be +let in on—but you’re kept outside.”</p> +<p>The drawbacks of the detective profession not being +what Judson chiefly had on his mind he allowed the +subject to drop. An interval of silence for the consumption +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +of a plateful of golden toasties permitted +Gorry to begin again reminiscently.</p> +<p>“By the way, Judson, do you remember that about +six months ago you was chewin’ over that girl of +yours, and what had become of her?”</p> +<p>To himself Judson said: “That’s the talk; now +we’re comin’ to business.” Aloud he made it: “Why, +yes. Seems to me I do. She’s been gone so long +I’d almost forgot her.”</p> +<p>“Well, what d’ye know? Last night—lemme see, +was it last night?—no, night before last—I kind o’ +got wind of her.”</p> +<p>“Heaven’s sake!”</p> +<p>“Guy I know was comin’ through East Sixty-seventh +Street, and there was my lady, dressed to beat +the band, leadin’ one of them little toy dogs, and +talkin’ to a swell toff that lives in one of them houses. +Got the number here in my pocket-book.”</p> +<p>While he was searching his pocket-book Judson +asked, breathlessly: “Couldn’t be no mistake?”</p> +<p>“It’s nix on mistakes. That guy don’t make ’em. +Surest thing on the force. He said, ‘Good afternoon, +Miss Gravely’; and she said, ‘Good afternoon’ back +to him—just like that. The guy walked on and turned +a corner; but when he peeped back, there was the +couple goin’ into the house just like husband and +wife. What d’ye know?”</p> +<p>“What do I know? I know I’ll spill his claret for +him before the week is out.”</p> +<p>“Ah, here it is! Knew I had that address on me +somewheres.” He handed the scrap of paper across +the table. “That’s his name and number. Seems to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +me you may have a good thing there, Judson, if you +know how to work it.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>In another early morning scene the ermine was +cleaning her nest; and you know how fastidious she +is supposed to be as to personal spotlessness. The +ermine in question did not belie her reputation, as +you would have seen by a glance at the three or four +rooms which made up what she called her “flat.”</p> +<p>Nothing was ever whiter than the wood-work of +the “flat” and its furnishings. Nothing was ever +whiter than the little lady’s dress. The hair was white, +and even the complexion, the one like silver, the other +like the camelia. Having breakfasted from white +dishes placed on a white napkin, she was busy with a +carpet-sweeper sweeping up possible crumbs. In an +interval of the carpet-sweeper’s buzz she heard the +telephone.</p> +<p>“Hello!” The male voice was commanding.</p> +<p>“Yes?” The response was sweetly precise.</p> +<p>“Is this Red Point 3284-W?”</p> +<p>“It is.”</p> +<p>“Can I speak to Miss Henrietta Towell?”</p> +<p>“This is Miss Henrietta Towell.”</p> +<p>“This is the Brooklyn Bridge Emergency Hospital. +Do you know a girl named Letitia Rashleigh?”</p> +<p>There was a second’s hesitation. “I was once a +lady’s maid to a lady whose maiden name was Rashleigh. +I think there may be a connection somewhere.”</p> +<p>“She was found unconscious on a car in the subway +last night and brought in here.”</p> +<p>“And has she mentioned me?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span></div> +<p>“She hasn’t mentioned anyone since she came to; +but we find your address on a paper in her pocket.”</p> +<p>“That seems singular, but I expect there’s a purpose +behind it. Is that everything she had?”</p> +<p>“No; she had forty-five cents and a thimble.”</p> +<p>“A thimble! Just an ordinary thimble.”</p> +<p>“Yes, an ordinary thimble, except that it has initials +on the edge. ‘H.T. from H.S.’ Does that mean anything +to you?”</p> +<p>“Yes; that means something to me. May I ask how +to reach the hospital?”</p> +<p>This being explained Miss Towell promised to +appear without delay, begging that in the meantime +everything be done for Miss Rashleigh’s comfort.</p> +<p>She was not perturbed. She was not surprised. +She did not wonder who Letitia Rashleigh could be, +or why her address should be found in the girl’s +pocket. She was as quiet and serene as if such incidents +belonged to every day’s work.</p> +<p>Dressed for the street she was all in black. A +mantua covered with bugles and braid dropped from +her shoulders, while a bonnet which rose to a pointed +arch above her brow, and allowed the silver knob of +her hair to escape behind, gave her a late nineteenth +century dignity. Before leaving the house she took +two volumes from her shelves—read first in one, then +in the other—sat pensive for a while, with head bent +and eyes shaded—after which she replaced her books, +turned the key in her door, and set forth for Brooklyn +Bridge.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIII</h2> +</div> +<p>“Why you should hold me responsible,” Barbara +was saying, “I can’t begin to imagine. Surely +I’ve done everything I could to simplify matters, to +straighten them out, and to give you a chance to +rectify your folly. I’ve effaced myself; I’ve broken +my heart; I’ve promised Aunt Marion to go in for a +job for which I’m not fitted and don’t care a rap; and +yet you come here, accusing me––”</p> +<p>“But, Barbe, I’m <i>not</i> accusing you! If I’m accusing +anyone it’s myself. Only I can’t speak without +your taking me up––”</p> +<p>“There you go! Oh, Rash, dear, if you’d only been +able to control yourself nothing of this would have +happened—not from the first.”</p> +<p>She was pacing up and down the little reception +room, and rubbing her hands together, while the twisting +of the fish-tail of her hydrangea-colored robe, like +an eel in agony, emphasized her agitation. Rashleigh +was seated, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed +between his hands, of which the fingers clutched and +tore at the masses of his hair. Only when he spoke +did he lift his woe-begone black eyes.</p> +<p>“Well, I didn’t control myself,” he admitted, impatiently; +“that’s settled. Why go back to it? The +question is––”</p> +<p>“Yes; why go back to it? That’s you all over, +Rash. You can do what no one else in his senses +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +would ever think of doing; and when you’ve upset +the whole apple cart it must never be referred to again. +I’m to accept, and keep silence. Well, I’ve <i>kept</i> +silence. I’ve gone all winter like a muzzled dog. I’ve +wheedled that girl, and kow-towed to her, and made +her think I was fond of her—which I am in a way—you +may not believe it, but I am—and what’s the +result? She gets sick of the whole business; runs +away; and you come here and throw the whole blame +on me.”</p> +<p>He tried to speak with special calmness. “Barbe, +listen to me. What I said was this––”</p> +<p>She came to a full stop in front of him, her arms +outspread. “Oh, Rash, dear, I know perfectly well +what you said. You don’t have to go all over it again. +I’m not deaf. If you would only not be so excitable––”</p> +<p>He jumped to his feet. “I’m excitable, I know, +Barbe. I confess it. Everybody knows it. What I’m +trying to tell you is that I’m not excited <i>now</i>.”</p> +<p>She laughed, a little mocking laugh, and started once +more to pace up and down. “Oh, very well! You’re +not excited now. Then that’s understood. You never +are excited. You’re as calm as a mountain.” She +paused again, though at a distance. “<i>Now?</i> What +is it you’re going to do? That’s what you’ve come to +ask me, isn’t it? Are you going to run after her? +Are you going to let her go? Are you going to +divorce her, if she gives you the opportunity? If +you divorce her are you going to––?”</p> +<p>“But, Barbe, I can’t decide all these questions now. +What I want to do is to <i>find</i> her.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></div> +<p>“Well, I haven’t got her here? Why don’t you go +after her? Why don’t you apply to the police? Why +don’t you––?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but that’s just what I want to discuss with +you. I don’t <i>like</i> applying to the police. If I do it’ll +get into the papers, and the whole thing become so +odious and vulgar––”</p> +<p>“And it’s such an exquisite idyll now!”</p> +<p>He threw back his head. “<i>She’s</i> an exquisite +idyll—in her way.”</p> +<p>“There! That’s what I wanted to hear you say! +I’ve thought you were in love with her––”</p> +<p>He remembered the penciled lines in Hans Andersen. +“If I have been, it’s as you may be in love with +an innocent little child––”</p> +<p>She laughed again, wildly, almost hysterically. +“Oh, Rash, don’t try to get that sort of thing off on +me. I know how men love innocent little children. +You can see the way they do it any night you choose +to hang round the stage-door of a theatre where the +exquisite idylls are playing in musical comedy.”</p> +<p>“Don’t Barbe! Not when you’re talking about her! +I know she’s an ignorant little thing; but to me she’s +like a wild-flower––”</p> +<p>“Wild-flowers can be cultivated, Rash.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but the wild-flower she’s most like is the one +you see in the late summer all along the dusty highways––”</p> +<p>She put up both palms in a gesture of protestation. +“Oh, Rash, please don’t be poetical. It gets on my +nerves. I can’t stand it. I like you in every mood +but your sentimental one.” She came to a halt beside +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +the mantelpiece, on which she rested an elbow, turning +to look at him. “Now tell me, Rash! Suppose +I wasn’t in the world at all. Or suppose you’d never +heard of me. And suppose you found yourself married +to this girl, just as you are—nominally—legally—but +not really. Would you—would you make it—really?”</p> +<p>They exchanged a long silent look. His eyes had +not left hers when he said: “I—I might.”</p> +<p>“Good! Now suppose she wasn’t in the world at +all, or that you’d never heard of her. And suppose +that you and I were—were on just the same terms that +we are to-day. Would you—would you want to +marry me? Answer me truly.”</p> +<p>“Why, yes; of course.”</p> +<p>“Now suppose that she and I were standing together, +and you were led in to choose between us. And +suppose you were absolutely free and untrammelled in +your choice, with no question as to her feelings or +mine to trouble you. Which would you take? Answer +me just as truly and sincerely as you can.”</p> +<p>He took time to think, wheeling away from her, +and walking up and down the little room with his +hands behind his back. It occurred to neither that +Barbara having broken the “engagement,” and returned +the ring, the choice before him was purely +hypothetical. Their relations were no more affected +by the note she had written him that morning than +by the ceremony through which he and Letty had +walked in the previous year.</p> +<p>To Barbara the suspense was almost unbearable. In +a minute or two, and with a word or two, she would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +know how life for the future was to be cast. She +would have before her the possibility of some day becoming +a happy wife—or a great career like her aunt’s.</p> +<p>Pausing in his walk he confronted her just as he +stood, his hands still clasped behind his back. Her +own attitude, with elbow resting on the mantelpiece, +was that of a woman equal to anything.</p> +<p>He spoke slowly. “Just as truly and sincerely as +I can answer you—I don’t know.”</p> +<p>She stirred slightly, but otherwise gave no sign of +her impatience. “And is there anything that would +help you to find out?”</p> +<p>He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of, +unless––”</p> +<p>“Yes? Unless—what?”</p> +<p>“Unless it’s something that would unlock what’s +locked in my subconsciousness.”</p> +<p>“And what would that be?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t the faintest idea.”</p> +<p>She moved from the mantelpiece with a gesture of +despair. “Rash, you’re absolutely and hopelessly +impossible.”</p> +<p>“I know that,” he admitted, humbly.</p> +<p>With both fists clenched she stood in front of him. +“I could kill you.”</p> +<p>He hung his head. “Not half so easily as I could +kill myself.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Letty’s judgment on Miss Henrietta Towell was +different from yours and mine. She found her just +what she had expected to see from the warnings long +ago issued by Mrs. Judson Flack in putting her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +daughter on her guard. In going about the city she, +Letty, was always to be suspicious of elderly ladies, +respectably dressed, enticingly mannered, and with +what seemed like maternal intentions. The more any +one of these traits was developed, the more suspicious +Letty was to be. With these instructions carefully at +heart she would have been suspicious of Henrietta +Towell in any case; but with Steptoe’s description to +fall back upon she couldn’t but feel sure.</p> +<p>By the time Miss Towell had arrived at the hospital +Letitia Rashleigh had sufficiently recovered to be +dressed and seated in the armchair placed beside the +bed in the small white ward. On one low bedpost +the jacket had been hung, and on the other the battered +black hat.</p> +<p>“There’s nothing the matter with her,” the nurse +explained to Miss Towell, before entering the ward. +“She had fainted in the subway, but I think it was only +from fatigue, and perhaps from lack of food. She’s +quite well nourished, only she didn’t seem to have +eaten any supper, and was evidently tired from a long +and frightening walk. She gives us no explanation of +herself, and is disinclined to talk, and if it hadn’t been +that she had your address in her pocket––”</p> +<p>“I think I know how she got that. From her name +I judge that she’s a relative of the family in which I +used to be employed; but as they were all very wealthy +people––”</p> +<p>“Even very wealthy people often have poor relations.”</p> +<p>“Yes, of course; but I was with this family for so +many years that if there’d been any such connection +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +I think I must have heard of it. However, it makes +no difference to me, and I shall be glad to be of use +to her, especially as she has in her possession an +article—a thimble it is—which once belonged to me.”</p> +<p>At the bedside the nurse made the introduction. +“This is the lady whose address you had in your +pocket. She very kindly said she’d come and see what +she could do for you.”</p> +<p>Having placed a chair for Miss Towell the nurse +withdrew to attend to other patients in the ward, of +whom there were three or four.</p> +<p>Letty regarded the newcomer with eyes that seemed +lustreless in spite of their tiny gold flames. Having a +shrewd idea of what she would mean to her visitor +she felt it unnecessary to express gratitude. In a +certain sense she hated her at sight. She hated her +bugles and braid and the shape of her bonnet, as the +criminal about to be put to death might hate the +executioner’s mask and gaberdine. The more Miss +Towell was sweet-spoken and respectable, the more +Letty shrank from these tokens of hypocrisy in one +who was wicked to the core. “She wouldn’t seem so +wicked, not at first,” Steptoe had predicted, “but +time’d tell.” Well, Letty didn’t need time to tell, since +she could see for herself already. She could see from +the first words addressed to her.</p> +<p>“You needn’t tell me anything about yourself, dear, +that you don’t want me to know. If you’re without a +place to go to, I shall be glad if you’ll come home with +me.”</p> +<p>It was the invitation Letty had expected, and to +which she meant to respond. Knowing, however, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +what was behind it she replied more ungraciously than +she would otherwise have done. “Oh, I don’t mind +talking about myself. I’m a picture-actress, only I’ve +been out of a job. I haven’t worked for over six +months. I’ve been—I’ve been visiting.”</p> +<p>Miss Towell lowered her eyes, and spoke with modesty. +“I suppose you were visiting people who knew—who +knew the person who—who gave you my address +and the thimble?”</p> +<p>This question being more direct than she cared for +Letty was careful to answer no more than, “Yes.”</p> +<p>Miss Towell continued to sit with eyes downcast, +and as if musing. Two or three minutes went by before +she said, softly: “How is he?”</p> +<p>Letty replied that he was very well, and in the same +place where he had been so long. Another interval +of musing was followed by the simple statement: +“We differed about religion.”</p> +<p>This remark had no modifying effect on Letty’s +estimate of Miss Towell’s character, since religion was +little more to her than a word. Neither was she interested +in dead romance between Steptoe and Miss +Towell, all romance being summed up in her prince. +That flame burned with a pure and single purpose +to wed him to the princess with whom he was in love, +while the little mermaid became first foam, and then +a spirit of the air. It took little from the poetry of +this dissolution that it could be achieved only by trundling +over Brooklyn Bridge, and through a nexus of +dreary streets. In Letty’s outlook on her mission the +end glorified the means, however shady or degraded.</p> +<p>It was precisely this spirit—mistaken, if you choose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +to call it so—which animated Judith of Bethulia, +Monna Vanna, and Boule de Suif. Letty didn’t class +herself with these heroines; she only felt as they did, +that there was something to be done. On that something +a man’s happiness depended; on it another +woman’s happiness depended too; on it her own happiness +depended, since if it wasn’t done she would feel +herself a clog to be cursed. To be cursed by the +prince would mean anguish far more terrible than +any punishment society could mete out to her.</p> +<p>“If you feel equal to it we might go now, dear,” +Miss Towell suggested, on waking from her dreams +of what might have been. “I wish I could take you +in a taxi; but I daresay you won’t mind the tram.”</p> +<p>Letty rose briskly. “No, I shan’t mind it at all.” +She looked Miss Towell significantly in the eyes, hoping +that her words would carry all the meaning she +was putting into them. “I shan’t mind—anything you +want me to do, no matter what.”</p> +<p>Miss Towell smiled, sweetly. “Thank you, dear. +That’ll be very nice. I shan’t ask you to do much, +because it’s your problem, you know, and you must +work it out. I’ll stand by; but standing by is about all +we can do for each other, when problems have to be +faced. Don’t you think it is?”</p> +<p>As this language meant nothing to Letty, she +thanked the nurse, smiled at the other patients, and, +trudging at Miss Towell’s side with her quaintly sturdy +grace, went forth to her great sacrifice.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Allerton had drawn from his conversation with +Barbara this one practical suggestion. As he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +months before consulted his lawyer, Mr. Nailes, as +to ways of losing Letty after she had been found, +he might consult him as to ways of finding her now +that she had been lost. Mr. Nailes would not go to +the police. He would apply to some discreet house of +detectives who would do the work discreetly.</p> +<p>“Then, I presume, you’ve changed your mind about +this marriage,” was Mr. Nailes’ not unnatural inference, +“and mean to go on with it.”</p> +<p>“N-not exactly.” Allerton was still unable to define +his intentions. “I only don’t want her to disappear—like +this.”</p> +<p>Mr. Nailes pondered. He was a tall, raw-boned +man, of raw-boned countenance, to whom the law +represented no system of divine justice, but a means +by which Eugene Nailes could make money, as his +father had made it before him. Having inherited his +father’s practice he had inherited Rashleigh Allerton, +the two fathers having had a long-standing business +connection. Mr. Nailes had no high opinion of Rashleigh +Allerton—in which he was not peculiar—but a +client with so much money was entitled to his way. At +the same time he couldn’t have been human without +urging a point of common sense.</p> +<p>“If you <i>don’t</i> want to—to continue your—your relation +with this—this lady, doesn’t it strike you that +now might be a happy opportunity––?”</p> +<p>Allerton did what he did rarely; he struck the table +with his fist. “I want to find her.”</p> +<p>The words were spoken with so much force that +to Mr. Nailes they were conclusive. It was far from +his intention to compel anyone to common sense, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +least of all a man whose folly might bring increased +fees to the firm of Nailes, Nailes, and Nailes.</p> +<p>It was agreed that steps should be taken at once, +and that Mr. Nailes would report in the evening. +Gravely was the name Allerton was sure she would +use, and the only one that needed to be mentioned. +It needed only to be mentioned too that Mr. Nailes +was acting for a client who preferred to remain +anonymous.</p> +<p>It was further agreed that Mr. Nailes should report +at Allerton’s office at ten that evening, in person if +there was anything to discuss, by telephone if there +was nothing. This was convenient for Mr. Nailes, +who lived in the neighborhood of Washington Square, +while it protected Rash from household curiosity. At +ten that night he was, therefore, in the unusual position +of pacing the rooms he had hardly ever seen +except by daylight.</p> +<p>Not Letty’s disappearance was uppermost in his +mind, for the moment, but his own inhibitions.</p> +<p>“My God, what’s the matter with me?” he was +muttering to himself. “Am I going insane? Have I +been insane all along? Why <i>can’t</i> I say which of +these two women I want, when I can have either?”</p> +<p>He placed over against each other the special set +of spells which each threw upon his heart.</p> +<p>Barbara was of his own world; she knew the people +he knew; she had the same interests, and the same way +of showing them. Moreover, she had in a measure +grown into his life. Their friendship was not only +intimate it was one of long standing. Though she +worried, hectored, and exasperated him, she had fits +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +of generous repentance, in which she mothered him +adorably. This double-harness of comradeship had +worked for so many years that he couldn’t imagine +wearing it with another.</p> +<p>And yet Letty pulled so piteously at his heart that +he fairly melted in tenderness toward her. Everything +he knew as appeal was summed up in her soft voice, +her gentle manner, her humility, her unquestioning +faith in himself. No one had ever had faith in him +before. To Barbe he was a booby when he was not a +baby. To Letty he was a hero, strong, wise, commanding. +It wasn’t merely his vanity that she touched; +it was his manliness. Barbe suppressed his manliness, +because she herself was so imperious. Letty depended +on it, and therefore drew it out. Because she believed +him a man, he could be a man; whereas with Barbe, +as with everyone else, he was a creature to be liked, +humored, laughed at, and good-naturedly despised. +He was sick of being liked, humored, and laughed +at; he rebelled with every atom in him that was masculine +at being good-naturedly despised. To find anyone +who thought him big and vigorous was to his +starved spirit, as the psalmist says, sweeter also than +honey and the honeycomb. In having her weakness +to hold up he could for the first time in his life feel +himself of use.</p> +<p>If there was no Barbe in the world he could have +taken Letty as the mate his soul was longing for. Yet +how could he deal such a blow at Barbe’s loyalty? She +had protected him during all his life, from boyhood +upwards. Between him and derision she had stood +like a young lioness. How could he deny her now?—no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +matter what frail, gentle hands were clinging +around his heart?</p> +<p>“How can I? How can I? How can I?”</p> +<p>He was torturing himself with this question when +the telephone rang, and he knew that Letty had not +been found.</p> +<p>“No; nothing,” were the words of Mr. Nailes. +“No one of the name has been reported at any of the +hospitals, or police stations, or any other public institution. +They’ve applied at all the motion-picture +studios round New York; but still with no result. +This, of course, is only the preliminary search, as +much as they’ve been able to accomplish in one afternoon +and evening. You mustn’t be disappointed. +To-morrow is likely to be more successful.”</p> +<p>Rash was, therefore, thrown back on another phase +of his situation. Letty was lost. She was not only +lost, but she had run away from him. She had not +only run away from him, but she had done it so that +he might be rid of her. She had not only done it so +that he might be rid of her, but....</p> +<p>His spirit balked. His imagination could work no +further. Horror staggered him. A mother who +knows that her child is in the hands of kidnappers +who will have no mercy might feel something like the +despair and helplessness which sent him chafing and +champing up and down the suite of rooms, cursing +himself uselessly.</p> +<p>Suddenly he paused. He was in front of the cabinet +which had come via Bordentown from Queen +Caroline Murat. Behind its closed door there was +still the bottle on the label of which a kilted Highlander +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +was dancing. He must have a refuge from +his thoughts, or else he would go mad. He was already +as near madness as a man could come and still be +reckoned sane.</p> +<p>He opened the door of the cabinet. The bottle and +the glass stood exactly where he had placed them on +that morning when he had tried to begin going to +the devil, and had failed. Now there was no longer +that same mysterious restraint. He was not thinking +of the devil; he was thinking only of himself. He +must still the working of his mind. Anything would +do that would drug his faculties, and so....</p> +<p>It was after midnight when he dragged himself out +of a stupor which had not been sleep. Being stupor, +however, it was that much to the good. He had +stopped thinking. He couldn’t think. His head didn’t +ache; it was merely sore. He might have been dashing +it against the wall, as figuratively he had done. +His body was sore too—stiff from long sitting in the +same posture, and bruised as if from beating. All +that was nothing, however, since misery only stunned +him. To be stunned was what he had been working +for.</p> +<p>Out in the air the wind of the May night was comforting. +It soothed his nerves without waking the +dormant brain. Instead of looking for a taxi he began +walking up the Avenue. Walking too was a +relief. It allowed him to remain as stupefied as at +first, and yet stirred the circulation in his limbs. He +meant to walk till he grew tired, after which he would +jump on an electric bus.</p> +<p>But he did not grow tired. He passed the great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +milestones, Fourteenth Street, Twenty-third Street, +Forty-second Street, Fifty-ninth Street, and not till +crossing the last did he begin to feel fagged. He was +then so near home that the impulse of doggedness +kept him on foot. He was a strong walker, and +physically in good condition, without being wholly +robust. Had it not been for the kilted Highlander +he would hardly have felt fatigue; but as it was, the +corner of East Sixty-seventh Street found him as +spent as he cared to be.</p> +<p>Advancing toward his door he saw a man coming in +the other direction. There was nothing in that, and +he would scarcely have noticed him, only for the fact +that at this hour of the night pedestrians in the +quarter were rare. In addition to that the man, having +reached the foot of Allerton’s own steps, stood +there waiting, as if with intention.</p> +<p>Through the obscurity Rash could see only that the +man was well built, flashily dressed, and that he wore +a sweeping mustache. In his manner of standing +and waiting there was something significant and menacing. +Arrived at the foot of the steps Allerton could +do no less than pause to ask if the stranger was +looking for anyone.</p> +<p>“Is your name Allerton?”</p> +<p>“Yes; it is.”</p> +<p>“Then I want my girl.”</p> +<p>It was some seconds before Rash could get his +dulled mind into play. Moreover, the encounter was +of a kind which made him feel sick and disgusted.</p> +<p>“Whom do you mean?” he managed to ask, at +last.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></div> +<p>“You know very well who I mean. I mean Letty +Gravely. I’m her father; and by God, if you don’t +give her up—with big damages––”</p> +<p>“I can’t give her up, because she’s not here.”</p> +<p>“Not here? She was damn well here the day +before yesterday.”</p> +<p>“Yes; she was here the day before yesterday; but +she disappeared last night.”</p> +<p>“Ah, cut that kind o’ talk. I’m wise, I am. You +can’t put that bunk over on me. She’s in there, and +I’m goin’ to get her.”</p> +<p>“I wish she was in there; but she’s not.”</p> +<p>“How do I know she’s not?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for it.”</p> +<p>“Like hell I’ll take your word for it. I’m goin’ +to see for myself.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see how you’re going to do that.”</p> +<p>“I’m goin’ in with you.”</p> +<p>“That wouldn’t do you any good. Besides, I can’t +let you.”</p> +<p>The man became more bullying. “See here, son. +This game is my game. Did j’ever see a thing like +this?”</p> +<p>Watching the movement of his hand Rash saw +the handle of a revolver displayed in a side pocket.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve seen a thing like that; but even if it +was loaded—which I don’t believe it is—you’ve too +much sense to use it. You might shoot me, of course; +but you wouldn’t find the girl in the house, because +she isn’t there.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m goin’ to see. You march. Up you +go, and open that door, and I’ll follow you.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></div> +<p>“Oh, no, you won’t.” Allerton looked round for +the policeman who occasionally passed that way; but +though a lighted car crashed down Madison Avenue +there was no one in sight. He might have called in +the hope of waking the men upstairs, but that seemed +cowardly. Though in a physical encounter with a +ruffian like this he could hardly help getting the worst +of it—especially in his state of half intoxication—it +was the encounter itself that he loathed, even more +than the defeat. “Oh, no, you won’t,” he repeated, +taking one step upward, and turning to defend his +premises. “I don’t mean that you shall come into +this house, or ever see the girl again, if I can prevent +it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you don’t, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t.”</p> +<p>“Then take that.”</p> +<p>The words were so quickly spoken, and the blow +in his face so unexpected, that Rash staggered backwards. +Being on a step he had little or no footing, +and having been drinking his balance was the more +quickly lost.</p> +<p>“And that!”</p> +<p>A second blow in the face sent him down like a +stone, without a struggle or a cry.</p> +<p>He fell limply on his back, his feet slipping to the +sidewalk, his body sagging on the steps like a bit of +string, accidentally dropped there. The hat, which +fell off, remained on the step beside the head it had +been covering.</p> +<p>The man leaped backward, as if surprised at his +own deed. He looked this way and that, to see if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +he had been observed. A lighted car crashed up +Madison Avenue, but otherwise the street remained +empty. Creeping nearer the steps he bent over his +victim, whose left hand lay helpless and outstretched. +Timidly, gingerly, he put his fingers to the pulse, +starting back from it with a shock. He spoke but +two words, but he spoke them half aloud.</p> +<p>“Dead! God!”</p> +<p>Then he walked swiftly away into Madison Avenue, +where he soon found a car going southward.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIV</h2> +</div> +<p>Barbara was late for breakfast. Miss Walbrook, +the aunt, was scanning the morning paper, +her refined, austere Americanism being as noticeable +in the dining-room as elsewhere in the house. Everything +was slender and strong; everything was American, +unless it was the Persian rug. On the paneled +walls there were but three portraits, a Boston ancestress, +in lace cap and satins, painted by Copley; a +Philadelphia ancestor in the Continental uniform, +painted by Gilbert Stuart; and her New York grandmother, +painted by Thomas Sully, looking over her +shoulder with the wild backward glance that artist +gives to the girl Victoria in the Metropolitan Museum. +In a flat cabinet along a wall was the largest collection +of old American glass to be found in the country.</p> +<p>Barbara rushed in, with apologies for being late. +“I didn’t sleep a wink. It doesn’t seem to me as if +I should ever sleep again. Where’s my cup?”</p> +<p>“Wildgoose will bring it. As the coffee had grown +cold he took that and the cup to keep warm. What’s +the matter?”</p> +<p>Wildgoose stepped in with the missing essentials. +A full-fed, round-faced, rubicund man of fifty-odd +he looked a perennial twenty-five. Barbara began +to minister to herself.</p> +<p>“Oh, everything’s the matter. I told you yesterday +that that girl had run away. Well, I begin to +wish she’d run back again.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span></div> +<p>Miss Walbrook, the elder, had this in common +with Miss Henrietta Towell, that she believed it best +for everyone to work out his own salvation. Barbara +had her personal life to live, and while her aunt would +help her to live it, she wouldn’t guide her choice. +She continued, therefore, to scan the paper till her +niece should say something more.</p> +<p>She said it, not because she wanted to give information, +but because she was temperamentally outspoken. +“I begin to wish there were no men in the +world. If women are men in a higher stage of development, +why didn’t men die out, so that we could be +rid of them? Isn’t that what we generally get from +the survival of the fittest?”</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook’s thin, clear smile suggested the +edge of a keenly tempered blade. “I’ve never said +that women were men in a higher stage of development. +I’ve said that in their parallel states of development +women had advanced a stage beyond men. +You may say of every generation born that women +begin where men leave off. I suppose that that’s +what’s meant by the myth of Eve springing from +Adam’s side. It was to be noticed even then, in the +prehistoric, in the age that formed the great legends. +Adam was asleep, when Eve as a vital force leaped +away from him. If it wasn’t for Eve’s vitality the +human race would still be in the Stone Age.”</p> +<p>Barbara harked back to what for her was the practical. +“Some of us are in the Stone Age as it is. +I’m sure Rash Allerton is as nearly an elemental as +one can be, and still belong to clubs and drive in +motorcars.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></div> +<p>Miss Walbrook risked her principles of non-interference +so far as to say: “It’s part of our feminine +lack of development that we’re always inclined to +look back on the elemental with pity, and even with +regret. The woman was never born who didn’t have +in her something of Lot’s wife.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Aunt Marion. In a way that lets +me out. If I’m no weaker than the rest of my +sex––”</p> +<p>“Than many of the rest of your sex.”</p> +<p>“Very well, then; than many of the rest of my +sex; if I’m no weaker than that I don’t have to lose +my self-respect.”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to lose your self-respect; you only +risk—your reason.”</p> +<p>Barbara stared at her. “That’s the very thing I’m +afraid of. I’d give anything for peace of mind. +How did you know?”</p> +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t call for much astuteness. I don’t +suppose there’s a married woman in the world in +full command of her wits. You’ve noticed how +foolish most of them are. That’s why. It isn’t that +they were born foolish. They’ve simply been addled +by enforced adaptation to mates of lower intelligence. +Oh, I’m not scolding. I’m merely stating a natural, +observed, psychological fact. The woman who marries +says good-bye to the orderly working of her +faculties. For that she may get compensations, with +which I don’t intend to find fault. But compensations +or no, to a clear-thinking woman like––”</p> +<p>“Like yourself, Aunt Marion.”</p> +<p>“Very well; like myself, if you will; but to a clear-thinking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +woman it’s as obvious as daylight that her +married sisters are partially demented. They may +not know it; the partially demented never do. And +it’s no good telling them, because they don’t believe +you. I’m only saying it to you to warn you in +advance. If you part with your reason, it’s something +to know that you do it of your own free will.”</p> +<p>Once more Barbara confined herself to the case in +hand. “Still, I don’t believe every man is as trying +as Rash Allerton.”</p> +<p>“Not in his particular way, perhaps. But if it’s +not in one way then it’s in another.”</p> +<p>“Even he wouldn’t be so bad if he could control +himself. At the minute when he’s tearing down the +house he wants you to tell him that he’s calm.”</p> +<p>“If he didn’t want you to tell him that it would be +something equally preposterous. There’s little to +choose between men.”</p> +<p>Barbara grew thoughtful. “Still, if people didn’t +marry the human race would die out.”</p> +<p>“And would there be any harm in that? It’s not +a danger, of course; but if it was, would anyone in +his senses want to stop it? Looking round on the +human race to-day one can hardly help saying that +the sooner it dies out the better. Since we can’t kill +it off, it’s well to remember––”</p> +<p>“To remember what, Aunt Marion?”</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook reflected as to how to express herself +cautiously. “To remember that—in marrying—and +having children—children who will have to face +the highly probable miseries of the next generation—Well, +I’m glad there’ll be no one to reproach me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +with his being in the world, either as his mother or +his ancestress.”</p> +<p>“They say Rash’s father and mother didn’t want +<i>him</i> in the world, and I sometimes wish they’d had +their way. If he wasn’t here—or if he was dead—I +believe I could be happier. I shouldn’t be forever +worrying about him. I shouldn’t have him on my +mind. I often wonder if it’s—if it’s love I feel for +him—or only an agonizing sense of responsibility.”</p> +<p>The door being open Walter Wildgoose waddled +to the threshold, where he stood with his right hand +clasped in his left. “Mr. Steptoe at Mr. Allerton’s +to speak to Miss Barbara on the telyphone, please.”</p> +<p>Barbara gasped. “Oh, Lord! I wonder what it is +now!”</p> +<p>Left to herself Miss Walbrook resumed her scanning +of the paper, but she resumed it with the faintest +quiver of a smile on her thin, cleanly-cut lips. It +was the kind of smile which indicates patient hope, or +the anticipation of something satisfactory.</p> +<p>“Oh!”</p> +<p>The exclamation was so loud as to be heard all the +way from the telephone, which was in another part +of the house. Miss Walbrook let the paper fall, sat +bolt upright, and listened.</p> +<p>“Oh! Oh!”</p> +<p>It was like a second, and repeated, explosion. Miss +Walbrook rose to her feet; the paper rustled to the +floor.</p> +<p>“Oh! Oh!”</p> +<p>The sound was that which human beings make +when the thing told them is more than they can bear. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +Barbara cried out as if someone was beating her with +clubs, and she was coming to her knees.</p> +<p>She was not coming to her knees. When her +aunt reached her she was still standing by the little +table in the hall which held the telephone, on which +she had hung up the receiver. She supported herself +with one hand on the table, as a woman does when all +she can do is not to fall senseless.</p> +<p>“It’s—it’s Rash,” she panted, as she saw her aunt +appear. “Somebody has—has killed him.”</p> +<p>Miss Walbrook stood with hands clasped, like one +transfixed. “He’s dead?—after all?”</p> +<p>Barbara nodded, tearlessly. She could stammer +out the words, but no more. “Yes—all but!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>In the flat at Red Point there was another and dissimilar +breakfast scene. For the first time in her +life Letty was having coffee and toast in bed. The +window was open, and between the muslin curtains, +which puffed in the soft May wind, she could see +the ocean with steamers and ships on it.</p> +<p>The room was tiny, but it was spotless. Everything +was white, except where here and there it was +tied up with a baby-blue ribbon. Anything that could +be tied with a baby-blue ribbon was so tied.</p> +<p>Letty thought she had never seen anything so +dainty, though her experienced eye could detect the +fact that nothing had really cost money. As an opening +to the career on which she had embarked the +setting was unexpected, while the method of her +treatment was bewildering. In the black recesses of +her heart Miss Henrietta Towell might be hiding all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +those feline machinations which Mrs. Judson Flack had +led Letty to believe a part of the great world’s stock-in-trade; +but it couldn’t be denied that she hid them well. +Letty didn’t know what to make of it. “There’s +quite a trick to it,” Steptoe had warned her; but the +explanation seemed inadequate to the phenomena.</p> +<p>Sipping her coffee and crunching her toast she was +driven to ponder on the ways of wickedness. She had +expected them to be more obvious. All her information +was to the effect that an unprotected girl in a +world of males was a lamb among lions, a victim +with no way of escape. That she was a lamb among +lions, and a victim with no way of escape, she was +still prepared to believe; only the preliminaries puzzled +her. Instead of being crude, direct, indelicate, +they were subtle and misleading. After twenty-four +hours in Miss Towell’s spare room there was still no +hint of anything but coddling.</p> +<p>“You see, my dear,” Miss Towell had said, “if I +don’t nurse you back to real ’ealth, him that gave you +the thimble might be displeased with me.”</p> +<p>It was not often that Miss Towell dropped an <i>h</i> or +added one; but in moments of emotion early habit was +too strong for her.</p> +<p>Coming into the room now, on some ermine’s errand +of neatness, she threw a glance at Letty, and said: +“You don’t <i>look</i> like a Rashleigh, do you, dear? But +then you never can tell anything about families from +looks, can you?”</p> +<p>It was her nearest approach as yet to the personal, +and Letty considered as to how she was to meet it. +“I’m not a Rashleigh—not really—only by—by marriage. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +Rashleigh isn’t my real name. It’s—it’s the +name I’m going by in pictures.”</p> +<p>“Oh!”</p> +<p>Miss Towell’s exclamation was the subdued one of +acquiescence. She knew that ladies in pictures often +preferred names other than their own, and if Letty +was not a Rashleigh it “explained things.” That is, +it explained how anyone called Rashleigh could be +wandering about in this friendless way, though it +made ’Enery Steptoe’s intervention the more mysterious. +It was conceivable that he might act on behalf +of a genuine Rashleigh, however out at elbow; but +that he should take such pains for a spurious one, and +go to the length of sending the sacred silver thimble +as a pledge, rendered the situation puzzling.</p> +<p>Schooled by her religious precepts to taking her +duties as those of a minute at a time Miss Towell +made no effort to force the girl’s confidence, and especially +since Letty, like most young people in trouble, +was on her guard against giving it. So long as she +preferred to be shut up within herself, shut up within +herself she should remain. Miss Towell felt that, for +the moment at least, her own responsibility was limited +to making the child feel that someone cared for her.</p> +<p>At the same time she couldn’t have been a lonely +woman with a love-story behind her without the impulse +to dwell a little longingly on the one romantic +incident in her experience. Though it had never come +to anything, the fact that it had once opened its shy +little flower made a sweet bright place to which her +thoughts could retire.</p> +<p>The references came spasmodically and without context, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +as the little white lady busied herself in waiting +on Letty or in the care of her room.</p> +<p>“I haven’t seen him since a short time after the mistress +went away.”</p> +<p>Letty felt herself coloring. Though not prudish +there were words she couldn’t get used to. Besides +which she had never thought that Steptoe.... But +Miss Towell pursued her memories.</p> +<p>“It always worried him that I should hold views +different from his but I couldn’t submit to dictation, +now, could I, dear?”</p> +<p>Once more Letty felt herself awkwardly placed. +The only interpretation she could put on Miss Towell’s +words referring to moral reformation on her hostess’s +part she said, as non-committally as might be: “He’s +a good deal of a stickler.”</p> +<p>“He’s been so long in a high position that he becomes—well, +I won’t be ’arsh—but he becomes a little +harbitrary. That’s where it was. He was a little +harbitrary. With a mistress who allowed him a great +deal of his own way—well, you can hardly blame him, +can you, dear?”</p> +<p>Letty forced herself to accept the linguistic standard +of the world. “I suppose if she hadn’t allowed him a +great deal of his own way he’d have looked somewhere +else.”</p> +<p>“That he could easily have done. He had temptations +enough—a man like him. Why, dear, there was +a lady in Park Avenue did everything she could that +wasn’t positively dishonorable to win him away––”</p> +<p>“He must have been younger and better looking +than he is now,” Letty hazarded, bluntly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span></div> +<p>“Oh, it wasn’t a question of looks. Of course if +she’d considered that, why, any foolish young fellow—but +she knew what she would have got.”</p> +<p>Not being at her ease in this kind of conversation, +and finding the effort to see Steptoe as Lothario difficult, +Letty became blunt again. “He must have had +an awful crush on the first one.”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t her exactly; it was the boy.”</p> +<p>“Oh, there was a boy?”</p> +<p>“Why of course, dear! Didn’t you know that?”</p> +<p>“Whose boy was it?”</p> +<p>“Why, the mistress’s boy; but I don’t think <i>he</i>––” +Letty understood the pronoun as applying to Steptoe—“I +don’t think <i>he</i> ever realized that he wasn’t his very +own.” Straightening the white cover on the chest of +drawers Miss Towell shook her head. “It was a sad +case.”</p> +<p>“What made it sad?”</p> +<p>“A lovely boy he was. Had a kind word for everyone, +even for the cat. But somehow his father and +mother—well, they were people of the world, and +they hadn’t wanted a child, and when he came—and +he so delicate always—I could have cried over him.”</p> +<p>Letty’s heart began to swell; her lip trembled. “I +know someone like that myself.”</p> +<p>“Do you, dear? Then I’m sure you understand.”</p> +<p>Partly because the minute was emotional, and partly +from a sense that she needed to explain herself, Letty +murmured, more or less indistinctly: “It’s on his +account that I’m here.”</p> +<p>Failing to see the force of this Miss Towell was +content to say: “I’m glad you were led to me, dear. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +There’s always a power to shepherd us along, if we’ll +only let ourselves be guided.”</p> +<p>To Letty the moment had arrived when plainness of +speech was imperative. Leaning across the tray, which +still stood on her lap, she gazed up at her hostess with +eager, misty eyes. “<i>He</i> said you’d teach me all the +ropes.”</p> +<p>Miss Towell paused beside the bed, to look inquiringly +at the tense little face. “The ropes of what, +dear?”</p> +<p>“Of what—” it was hard to express—“of what +you—you used to be yourself. You don’t seem like +it now,” she added, desperately, “but you were, weren’t +you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, that!” The surprise was in the discovery that +an American girl of Letty’s age could entertain so +sensible a purpose. “Why, of course, dear! I’ll tell +you all I know, and welcome.”</p> +<p>“There’s quite a trick to it, isn’t there?”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s more than a trick. There are two or +three things which you simply <i>have</i> to be.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I know that. That’s what frightens me.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t be afraid, once you’ve made up your +mind to it.” She leaned above the bed to relieve Letty +of the tray. “For instance—you don’t mind my asking +questions do you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! You can ask me anything.”</p> +<p>“Then the first thing is this: Are you pretty good +as a needle-woman?”</p> +<p>Letty was astounded. “Why—why you don’t have +to <i>sew</i>, do you?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, dear. That’s one of the most important +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +things you’d be called on to do. You’d never get anywhere +if you weren’t quick with your needle and +thread. And then there’d be hair-dressing. You have +to know something about that. I don’t say that you +must be a professional; but for the simpler occasions—after +that there’s packing. That’s something we +often overlook, and where French girls have us at a +disadvantage. They pack so beautifully.”</p> +<p>Letty was entirely at sea. “Pack what?”</p> +<p>“Pack trunks, dear.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“For travel; for moving from town to country; or +from country to town; or making visits; you see +you’re always on the go. Oh, it’s more than a trick; +it’s quite an art; only—” She smiled at Letty as she +stood holding the tray, before carrying it out—“only, +I shouldn’t have supposed you’d be thinking of that +when you act in moving pictures.”</p> +<p>“I—I thought I might do both.”</p> +<p>“Now, I should say that that’s one thing you couldn’t +do, dear. If you took up this at all you’d find it so +absorbing––”</p> +<p>“And you’re very unhappy too, aren’t you? I’ve +always heard you were.”</p> +<p>“Well, that would depend a good deal on yourself. +There’s nothing in the thing itself to make you unhappy; +but sometimes there are other women––”</p> +<p>Letty’s eyes were flaming. “They say they’re +awful.”</p> +<p>“Oh, not always. It’s a good deal as you carry +yourself. I made it a point to keep my position and +respect the position of others. It wasn’t always easy, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +especially with Mary Ann Courage and Janie Cakebread; +but––”</p> +<p>Letty’s head fell back on the pillow. Her eyes +closed. A merry-go-round was spinning in her head. +Where was she? How had she come there? What +was she there <i>for?</i> Where was the wickedness she +had been told to look for everywhere? Having gone +in search of it, and expected to find it lying in wait +from the first minute of passing the protecting door, +she had been shuffled along from one to another, with +exasperating kindness, only to be brought face to face +with Jane Cakebread and Mary Ann Courage at the +end.</p> +<p>Miss Towell having borne away the tray, Letty +struggled out of bed, and put on the woollen dressing +gown thrown over a chair by the bedside. This was +no place for her. Beehive Valley was not far off, and +her forty-five cents would more than suffice to take +her there. She would see the casting director. She +would get a job. With food to eat and a place to +sleep as a starting point she would find her own way +to wickedness, releasing the prince in spite of all the +mishaps which kept her as she was.</p> +<p>But she trembled so that having wrapped the dressing +gown about her she was obliged to sit down again. +She would have to be crafty. She must get this woman +to help her with her dressing, without suspecting what +she meant to do. How could she manage that? She +must try to think.</p> +<p>She was trying to think when she heard the ring +of the telephone. It suggested an idea. Some time—not +this time, of course—when the telephone rang and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +the woman was answering it, she, Letty, would be +able to slip away. The important thing was to do her +hair and get her clothes on.</p> +<p>“Yes?... Yes?” There was a little catch to the +breath, a smothered laugh, a smothered sigh. “Oh, +so this is you!... Yes, I got it.... Seeing it again +gave me quite a turn.... I never expected that you’d +keep it all this time, but.... Yes, she’s here.... +No; she didn’t come exactly of her own accord, but +I—I found her.... I could tell you about it easier +if you were—it’s so hard on the telephone when there’s +so much to say—but perhaps you don’t care to.... +Yes, she’s quite well—only a little tired—been worked +up somehow—but a day or so in bed.... Oh, very +sensible ... and she wants me to teach her how to +be a lady’s maid....”</p> +<p>So that was it! Steptoe had been treacherous. +Letty would never believe in anyone again. She +could make these reflections hurriedly because the voice +at the telephone was silent.</p> +<p>“Oh!”</p> +<p>It was the same exclamation as that of Barbara +Walbrook, but in another tone—a tone of distress, +sharp, sympathetic. Pulling the dressing gown about +her, frightened, tense, Letty knew that something had +gone wrong.</p> +<p>“Oh! Oh!... last night, did you say?... +early this morning....”</p> +<p>Letty crept to where her hostess was seated at the +telephone. “What is it?”</p> +<p>But Miss Towell either didn’t hear the question or +was too absorbed to answer it. “Oh, ’Enery, <i>try</i> to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span> +remember that God is his life—that there can be no +death to be afraid of when––”</p> +<p>Letty snatched the receiver from the other woman’s +hands, and fell on her knees beside the little table. +“Oh, what is it? What is it? It’s me; Letty! Something’s +happened. I’ve got to know.”</p> +<p>Amazed and awed by the force of this intrusion +Miss Towell stood up, and moved a little back.</p> +<p>Over the wire Steptoe’s voice sounded to Letty +like the ghost of his voice, broken, dead.</p> +<p>“I think if I was madam I’d come back.”</p> +<p>“But what’s happened? Tell me that first.”</p> +<p>“It’s Mr. Rash.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know it’s Mr. Rash. But what is it? Tell +me quickly, for God’s sake.”</p> +<p>“’E’s been ’it.”</p> +<p>Her utterance was as nearly as possible a cry. “But +he hasn’t been <i>killed</i>?”</p> +<p>“Madam’d find ’im alive—if she ’urried.”</p> +<p>When Letty rose from her knees she was strong. +She was calm, too, and competent. She further surprised +Miss Towell by the way in which she took +command.</p> +<p>“I must hurry. They want me at once. Would +you mind helping me to dress?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV' id='CHAPTER_XXV'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXV</h2> +</div> +<p>“The queer thing about it, miss,” Steptoe was saying +to Barbara, “is that I didn’t ’ear no noise. My +winder is just above the front door, two floors up, +and it was open. I always likes an open winder, +especially when the weather begins to get warm—makes +it ’ealthier like, and so––”</p> +<p>“Yes, but tell me just how he is.”</p> +<p>“That’s what I’m comin’ to, miss. The minute I +see what an awful styte we was in, I says, Miss Walbrook, +she’ll ’ave to know, I says; and so I called up. +Well, as I was a-tellin you, miss, I couldn’t sleep all +night, ’ardly not any, thinkin of all what ’ad ’appened +in the ’ouse, in the course of a few months, as you +might sye—and madam run awye—and Mr. Rash ’e +not ’ome—and it one o’clock and lyter. Not but what +’e’s often lyter than that, only last night I ’ad that kind +of a feelin’ which you’ll get when you know things is +not right, and you don’t ’ardly know ’ow you know +it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Steptoe,” she interposed, eagerly; “but is he +conscious now? That’s what I want to hear about.”</p> +<p>Steptoe’s expression of grief lay in working up to +a dramatic climax dramatically. He didn’t understand +the hurried leaps and bounds by which you took the +tragic on the skip, as if it were not portentous. In +his response to Miss Walbrook there was a hint of +irritation, and perhaps of rebuke.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span></div> +<p>“I couldn’t sye what ’e is now, miss, as the doctor +and the nurse is with ’im, and won’t let nobody in +till they decides whether ’e’s to live or die.” Rocking +himself back and forth in his chair he moaned in +stricken anticipation. “If ’e goes, I shan’t be long +after ’im. I may linger a bit, but the good Lord won’t +move me on too soon.”</p> +<p>Barbara curbed her impatience to reach the end, +going back to the beginning. “Well, then, was it you +who found ’im?”</p> +<p>“It was this wye, miss. Knowin’ ’e wasn’t in the +’ouse, I kep’ goin’ to my winder and listenin’—and +then goin’ back to bed agyne—I couldn’t tell you ’ow +many times; and then, if you’d believe it I must ’ave fell +asleep. No; I can’t believe as I was asleep. I just +seemed to come to, like, and as I laid there wonderin’ +what time it was, seems to me as if I ’eard a kind of +a snore, like, not in the ’ouse, but comin’ up from the +street.”</p> +<p>“What time was that?”</p> +<p>“That’d be about ’alf past one. Well, up I gets +and creeps to the winder, and sure enough the snore +come right up from the steps. Seems to me, too, I +could see somethink layin’ there, all up and down the +steps, just as if it ’ad been dropped by haccident like. +My blood freezes. I slips into my thick dressin’ +gown—no, it was my thin dressin’ gown—I always +keeps two—one for winter and one for summer—and +this spring bein’ so early like––”</p> +<p>“But in the end you got down stairs.”</p> +<p>“If I didn’t, miss, ’ow could I ’a’ found ’im? I +ain’t one to be afryde of dynger, not even ’ere in New +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +York, where you can be robbed and murdered without +’ardly knowin’ it—and the police that slow about +follerin’ up a clue––”</p> +<p>“And what happened when you’d opened the front +door?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t open it at once, miss. I put my hear to +the crack and listened. And there it was, a long kind +of snore, like—only it wasn’t just what you’d call a +snore. It was more like this.” He drew a deep, rasping, +stertorous breath. “Awful, it was, miss, just like +somebody in liquor. ‘It’s liquor,’ I says, and not +wantin’ to be mixed up in no low company I wasn’t +for openin’ the door at all––”</p> +<p>“But you did?”</p> +<p>“Not till I’d gone ’alf wye upstairs and down agyne. +I’m like that. I often thinks I’ll not do a thing, and +then I’ll sye to myself, ‘Now, perhaps I’d better, and +so it was that time. ’E’s out, I says, and who knows +but what ’e’s fell in a fynt like?’ So back I goes, +and I peeps out a little bit—just my nose out, as you +might sye, not knowin’ but what if there was low +company––”</p> +<p>“When did you find out who it was?”</p> +<p>“I knowed the ’at, like. It was that ’at what ’e +bought afore ’e bought the last one. No; I don’t +know but what ’e’s bought two since ’e bought that +one—a soft felt, and a cowboy what he never wore +but once or twice because it wasn’t becomin’. You’ll +’ave noticed, miss, that ’e ’ad one o’ them fyces what +don’t look well in nothink rakish—a real gentleman’s +fyce ’e ’ad—and them cowboy ’ats––”</p> +<p>“Well, when you saw that hat, what did you do?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span></div> +<p>“For quite a spell I didn’t do nothink. I was all +blood-curdled, as you might sye. But by and by I +creeps out, and down the steps, and there ’e was, all +’uddled every wye––”</p> +<p>His lip trembled. In trying to go on he produced +only a few incoherent sounds. Reaching for his handkerchief, +he blew his nose, before being able to say +more.</p> +<p>“Well, the first thing I says to myself, miss, was, +Is ’e dead? It was a terrible thing to sye of one that’s +everythink in the world to me; but seein’ ’im there, +all crumpled up, with one leg one wye, and the other leg +another wye, and a harm throwed out ’elpless like—well, +what was I to think? miss—and ’im not aible to sye a +word, and me shykin’ like a leaf, and out of doors in +my thin dressin’ gown—if I’d ’ad on my thick one +I wouldn’t ’a’ felt so kind of shymeful like––”</p> +<p>“You might have known he wasn’t dead when you +heard him breathing.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t think o’ that. I thought as ’e was. And +when I see ’is poor harm stretched out so wild like I +creeps nearer and nearer, and me ’ardly aible to move—I +felt so bad—and I puts my finger on ’is pulse. +Might as well ’ave put it on that there fender. Then I +looks at ’is fyce and I see blood on ’is lip and ’is cheek. +‘Somethink’s struck ’im,’ I says; and then I just loses +consciousness, and puts back my ’ead, as you’ll see a +dog do when ’e ’owls, and I yells, ‘Police!’”</p> +<p>“Oh, you did that, did you?”</p> +<p>“I’m ashymed to sye it, miss, but I did; and who +should come runnin’ along but the policeman what in +the night goes up and down our beat. By that time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +I’d got my ’and on ’is ’eart, and the policeman ’e calls +out from a distance, ‘Hi, there! What you doin’ to +that man?’ Thought I was murderin’ ’im, you see. I +says, ‘My boy, ’e is, and I’m tryin’ to syve ’is life.’ +Well, the policeman ’e sees I’m in my dressin’ gown, +and don’t look as if I’d do ’im any ’arm, so ’e kind o’ +picks up ’is courage, and blows ’is whistle, and another +policeman ’e runs up from the wye of the Havenue. +Then when there’s two of ’em they ain’t afryde no +more, so that the first one ’e comes up to me quite +bold like, and arsks me who’s killed, and what’s killed +’im, and I tells ’im ’ow I was layin’ awyke, with the +winder open, and Mr. Rash bein’ out I couldn’t sleep +like––”</p> +<p>“How long did they let him lie there?”</p> +<p>“Oh, not long. First they was for callin’ a hambulance; +but when I tells ’em that ’e’s my boy, and lives +in my ’ouse, they brings ’im in and we lays ’im on +the sofa in the libery, and I rings up Dr. Lancing, +and––”</p> +<p>But something in Barbara snapped. She could +stand no more. Not to cry out or break down she +sprang to her feet. “That’ll do, Steptoe. I know now +all I need to know. Thank you for telling me. I +shall stay here till the doctor or the nurse comes down. +If I want you again I’ll ring.”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +<img src='images/illus-328.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 365px; height: 495px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 365px;'> +“BUT BY AND BY I CREEPS OUT AND DOWN THE STEPS, AND THERE ’E WAS, ALL ’UDDLED EVERY WYE.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span></div> +<p>Lashing up and down the drawing-room, wringing +her hands and moaning inwardly, Barbara reflected +on the speed with which Nemesis had overtaken her. +“If he wasn’t here—or if he was dead,” she had said, +“I believe I could be happier.” As long as she lived +she would hear the curious intonation in Aunt +Marion’s voice: “He’s dead?—after all?” It was in +that <i>after all</i> that she read the unspeakable accusation +of herself.</p> +<p>Waiting for the doctor was not long. On hearing +his step on the stair Barbara went out to meet him. +“How is he?” she asked, without wasting time over +self-introductions.</p> +<p>“It’s a little difficult to say as yet. The case is serious. +Just how serious we can’t tell to-day—perhaps +not to-morrow. I find no trace of fracture of the +cranium, or of laceration of the brain; but it’s too soon +to be sure. Dr. Brace and Dr. Wisdom, who’ve both +been here, are inclined to think that it may be no more +than a simple concussion. We must wait and see.”</p> +<p>Relieved to this extent Barbara went on to explain +herself. “I’m Miss Walbrook. I was engaged to Mr. +Allerton till—till quite recently. We’re still great +friends—the greatest friends. He had no near relations—only +cousins—and I doubt if any of them are +in New York as late in the season as this—and even +if they are he hardly knows them––”</p> +<p>The doctor, a cheery, robust man in the late thirties, +in his own line one of the ablest specialists in New +York, had a foible for social position and his success +in it. Even now, with such grave news to communicate, +he couldn’t divest himself of his dinner-party +manner or his smile.</p> +<p>“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Miss Walbrook, +at the Essingtons’ dinner—the big one for Isabel—and +afterwards at the dance.”</p> +<p>“Oh, of course,” Barbara corroborated, though with +no recollection of the encounter. “I knew it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +somewhere, but I couldn’t quite recall—So I felt, +when the butler called me up, that I should be +here––”</p> +<p>“Quite so! quite so! You’ll find Miss Gallifer, +who’s with him now, a most competent nurse, and I +shall bring a good night nurse before evening.” The +professional side of the situation disposed of, he +touched tactfully on the romantic. “It will be a great +thing for me to know that in a masculine household +like this a woman with knowledge and authority is +running in and out. The more you can be here, Miss +Walbrook, the more responsibility you’ll take off my +hands.”</p> +<p>“May I be in his room—and help the nurse—or do +anything like that?”</p> +<p>“Quite so! quite so! I’m sure Miss Gallifer, who +can’t be there every minute of the time, you understand, +will be glad to feel that there’s someone she +can trust––”</p> +<p>“And he couldn’t know I was there?”</p> +<p>“Not unless he returned unexpectedly to consciousness, +which is possible, you understand––”</p> +<p>Her distress was so great that she hazarded a question +on which she would not otherwise have ventured. +“Doctor, you’re a physician. I can speak to you as +I shouldn’t speak to everyone. Suppose he did return +unexpectedly to consciousness, and found me there in +the room, do you think he’d be—annoyed?”</p> +<p>It was the sort of situation he liked, a part in the +intimate affairs of people of the first quality. “As to +his being annoyed I can’t say. It might be the very +opposite. What I know is this, that in the coming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span> +back of the mind to its regular functions inhibitions +are often suspended––”</p> +<p>“And you mean by that––?”</p> +<p>“That the first few minutes in which the mind revives +are likely to be minutes of genuine reality. I +don’t say that the mind could keep it up. Very few +of us can be our genuine selves for more than flashes +at a time; but a returning consciousness doesn’t put +on its inhibitions till––”</p> +<p>“So that what you see in those few minutes you +can take as the truth.”</p> +<p>“I should say so. I’m not in a position to affirm it; +but the probabilities point that way.”</p> +<p>“And if there had been, let us say, a lesser affection, +something of recent origin, and lower in every +way––”</p> +<p>“I think that until it forged its influence again—if +it ever did—you’d see it forgotten or disowned.”</p> +<p>She tried to be even more explicit. “He’s perfectly +free, in every way. I broke off my engagement just +to make him free. The—the other woman, she, too, +has—has left him––”</p> +<p>“So that,” he summed up, “if in those first instants +of returning to the world you could read his choice +you’d be relieved of doubts for the future.”</p> +<p>Having made one or two small professional recommendations +he was about to go when Barbara’s mind +worked to another point. “You know, he’s been +very excitable.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve understood. I go a good deal to the +Chancellors’. You know them, of course. I’ve heard +about him there.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span></div> +<p>“Well, then, if he got better, is there anything we +could do about that?”</p> +<p>“In a general way, yes. If you’re gentle with +him––”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am.”</p> +<p>“And if you try to smooth him down when you see +him beginning to be ruffled––”</p> +<p>“That’s just what I do, only it seems to excite him +the more.”</p> +<p>“Then, in that case, I should say, break the conversation +off. Go away from him. Let him alone. +Let him work out of it. Begin again later.”</p> +<p>“Ye-es, only—” she was wistful, unconvinced—“only +later it’s so likely to be the same thing over +again.”</p> +<p>He dodged the further issue by running up to explain +to the nurse Miss Walbrook’s position in the +house, and as helper in case of necessity. By the time +he had come down again Barbara’s anguish was visible. +“Oh, doctor, you think he <i>will</i> get better, don’t +you?”</p> +<p>He was at the front door. “I hope he will. Quite—quite +possibly he will. His pulse isn’t very strong +as yet, but—Well, Dr. Brace and Dr. Wisdom are +coming for another consultation this afternoon; only +his condition, you understand, is—well, serious.”</p> +<p>Barbara divined the malice beneath Steptoe’s indications, +as he conducted her upstairs. “That was the +lyte Mrs. Allerton’s room; that’s the front spare room; +and that’s our present madam’s room—when she’s ’ere—heach +with its barth. I’m sure if Miss Walbrook +was inclined to use the front spare room I’d be entirely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span> +welcome, and ’ave put in clean towels, and everythink, +a-purpose.”</p> +<p>When Rash’s door was pointed out to her she +tapped. Miss Gallifer opened it, receiving her colleague +with a great big hearty smile. Great, big, and +hearty were the traits by which Miss Gallifer was +known among the doctors. Healthy, skilful, jolly, +and offhand, she carried the issues of life and death, +in which she was at home, with a lightness which +made her easy to work with. Some nurses would +have resented the intrusion of an outsider—professionally +speaking—like Miss Walbrook; but to Miss +Gallifer it was the more the merrier, even in the sickroom. +The very fact of coming to close quarters with +the type she knew as a “society girl” added spice to +the association.</p> +<p>For the first few seconds Barbara found her breeziness +a shock. She had expected something subdued, +hushed, funereal. Miss Gallifer hardly lowered her +voice, which was naturally loud, or quieted her manner, +which, when off duty, could be boisterous. It +was not boisterous now, of course; only quick, free, +spontaneous. Then Barbara saw the reason.</p> +<p>There was no need to lower the voice or quiet the +manner or soften the swish of rustling to and fro, +in presence of that still white form composed in the +very attitude of death. If Barbara hadn’t known he +was alive she wouldn’t have supposed it. She had seen +dead men before—her father, two brothers, other relatives. +They looked like this; this looked like them. +She said <i>this</i> to herself, and not <i>he</i>, because it seemed +the word.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span></div> +<p>But by the time she had moved forward and was +standing by the bed Miss Gallifer’s businesslike tone +became a comfort. You couldn’t take such a tone if +you thought there was danger; and in spite of the +hemming and hawing of the doctors Miss Gallifer +didn’t think there was.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ve seen lots of such cases, and <i>I</i> say it’s a +simple concussion. Old Wisdom, he doesn’t know +anything. I wouldn’t consult him about an accident +to a cat. Laceration of the brain is always his first +diagnosis; and if the patient didn’t have it he’d get it +to him before he’d admit that he was wrong.”</p> +<p>Barbara put the question in which all her other +questions were enfolded. “Then you think he’ll get +better?”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised.”</p> +<p>“Would you be surprised—the other way?”</p> +<p>“I think I should—on the whole. Pulse is poor. +That’s the worst sign.” She picked up the hand lying +outside the coverlet and put her finger-tips to the wrist, +doing it with the easy nonchalant carelessness with +which she might have seized an inanimate object, yet +knowing exactly what she was about. “H’m! Fifty-six! +That’s pretty low. If we could get it above +sixty—but still!” Dropping the hand with the same +indifference, yet continuing to know what she was +about, Miss Gallifer tossed aside the index of the pulse +as wholly non-convincing. “I’ve known cases where +the pulse would go down till there was almost no pulse +at all, and <i>yet</i> it would come up again.”</p> +<p>“So that you feel––?”</p> +<p>“Oh, he’ll do. I shouldn’t worry—yet. If he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span> +wasn’t going to pull through there would be something––”</p> +<p>“Something to tell you?”</p> +<p>“Well, yes—if you put it that way. I most always +know with a patient. It isn’t anything in his condition. +It’s more like a hunch. There’s often the difference +between a doctor and a nurse. The doctor goes by +what he sees, the nurse by what she feels. Nine +times out of ten the doctor’ll see wrong and the nurse’ll +feel right—and there you are! You can’t go by +doctors. A lot of guess-work gumps, I often think; +and yet the laity need them for comfort.”</p> +<p>Making the most of all this Barbara asked, timidly: +“Is there anything I could do?”</p> +<p>“Well, no! There isn’t much that anyone can do. +You’ve just got to wait. If you’re going to stay––”</p> +<p>“I should like to.”</p> +<p>“Then you can be somewhere else in the house so +that I could call you—or you could sit right here—whichever +you preferred.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather sit right here, if I shouldn’t be in the +way.”</p> +<p>“Oh, when you’re in the way I’ll tell you.”</p> +<p>On this understanding Barbara sat down, in a small +low armchair not far from the foot of the bed. Miss +Gallifer also sat down, nearer to the window, taking +up a book which, as Barbara could see from the +“jacket” on the cover, bore the title, <i>The Secret of +Violet Pryde</i>. It was clear that there was nothing to +be done, since Miss Gallifer could so easily lose herself +in her novel.</p> +<p>Not till her jumble of impressions began to arrange +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span> +themselves did Barbara realize that she was in Rash’s +room, surrounded by the objects most intimate to +his person. Here the poor boy slept and dressed, and +lived the portion of his life which no one else could +share with him. In a sense they were rifling his +privacy, the secrecy with which every human being +has in some measure to surround himself. She recalled +a day in her childhood, after her parents and +both her brothers had died, when their house with +its contents was put up for sale. She remembered +the horror with which she had seen strangers walking +about in the rooms sanctified by loved presences, +and endeared to her holiest memories. Something of +that she felt now, as Miss Gallifer threw aside her +book, sprang lightly to her feet, hurried into Rash’s +bathroom, and came out with a towel slightly damped, +which she passed over the patient’s brow. She was +so horribly at ease! It was as if Rash no longer had +a personality whose rights one must respect.</p> +<p>But he might get better! Miss Gallifer believed +that he would! Barbara clung to that as an anchor in +this tempest of emotions. If he got better he would +open his eyes. If he opened his eyes it would be, for +a little while at least, with his inhibitions suspended. +If his inhibitions were suspended the thing he most +wanted would be in his first glance; and if his first +glance fell on her....</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI' id='CHAPTER_XXVI'></a> +<h2>Chapter XXVI</h2> +</div> +<p>Waiting was becoming dreamlike. She didn’t +find it tedious, or over-fraught with suspense. +On the contrary, it was soothing. It was a little +trance-like, too, almost as if she had been enwrapped +in Rash’s stillness.</p> +<p>It was so strange to see him still. It was so strange +to be still herself. Of her own being, as of his, +she had hardly any concept apart from the high +winds of excitement. Calm like this was new to her, +and because new it was appeasing, wonderful. It +was not unlike content, only the content which comes +in sleep, to be broken up by waking. Somewhere in +her nature she liked seeing him as he was, helpless, +inert, with no power of enraging her by being restive +to her will. It was, in its way, a repetition of what +she had said that morning: “If he wasn’t here—or +if he was dead!” Longing for peace, her stormy soul +seemed to know by instinct the price she would have +to pay for it. For peace to be possible Rash must pass +out of her life, and the thought of Rash passing out +of her life was agony.</p> +<p>While Miss Gallifer was downstairs at lunch +Barbara had the sweet, unusual sense of having him all +to herself. She had never so had him in their hours +together because the violence of their clashes had prevented +communion. Seated in this silence, in this +quietude, she felt him hers. There was no one to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span> +dispute her claim, no one whose claim she had in any +way to recognize as superior. Letty’s claim she had +never recognized at all. It was accidental, spurious. +Letty herself didn’t put it forth—and even she was +gone. If Rash were to open his eyes he would see no +one but herself.</p> +<p>She was sorry when Miss Gallifer came back, +though there was no help for that; but Miss Gallifer +was obtrusive only when she chatted or moved +about. For much of the time she pursued the secret +of Violet Pryde with such assiduity that the room +became quiescent, and communion with Rash could +be re-established.</p> +<p>The awesome silence was disturbed only by the +turning of Miss Gallifer’s pages. It might have been +three o’clock. Once more Barbara was lost in the +unaccustomed hush, her eyes fixed on the white face +on the pillow, in almost hypnotic restfulness. The +pushing open of the door behind was so soft that she +didn’t notice. Miss Gallifer turned another page.</p> +<p>It was the sense that someone was in the room which +made Barbara glance over her shoulder and Miss +Gallifer look up. A little gray figure in a battered +black hat stood just within the door. She stood just +within the door, but with no consciousness of anything +or anyone in the room. She saw only the upturned +face and its deathlike fixity.</p> +<p>With slow, spellbound movement she began to come +forward. Barbara, who had never seen the Letty +who used to be, knew her now only by a terrified +intuition. Miss Gallifer was entirely at a loss, and +somewhat indignant. The little gray vagrant was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span> +not of the type she had been used to treating with +respect.</p> +<p>“What are you doing here?” she asked quickly, +as soon as speech came to her.</p> +<p>Letty didn’t look at her, or remove her eyes from +the face on the pillow. A woman in a trance could +not have spoken with greater detachment or self-control. +“I came—to see.”</p> +<p>“Well, now that you’ve seen, won’t you please go +away, before I call the police?”</p> +<p>Of this Letty took no notice, going straight to the +bedside, while Miss Gallifer moved toward Barbara, +who stood as she had risen from her chair.</p> +<p>“Do you know who she is?” Miss Gallifer asked, +with curiosity greater than her indignation.</p> +<p>Barbara nodded. “Yes, I know who she is. I +thought she’d—disappeared.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they never disappear for long—not that kind. +What had I better do? Is she anything—to <i>him</i>?”</p> +<p>Barbara was saved the necessity of answering because +Letty, who was on the other side of the bed, +bent over and kissed the feet, as she had kissed them +once before.</p> +<p>“Is she dotty?” Miss Gallifer whispered. “Ought I +to take her by the shoulders and put her out the +door? I could, you know—a scrap of a thing like +that.”</p> +<p>Barbara whispered back. “I can’t tell you who she +is, but—but I wouldn’t interfere with her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, the doctor’ll do that. <i>He’ll</i> not––”</p> +<p>But Letty raised herself, addressing the nurse. “Is +he—dead?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span></div> +<p>Miss Gallifer’s tone was the curt one we use to +inferiors. “No, he’s not dead.”</p> +<p>“Is he going to die?”</p> +<p>“Not this time, I think.”</p> +<p>Letty looked round her. “Well, I’ll just sit over +here.” She went to a chair at the back of the room, +in a corner on a line with the door. “I won’t give +any trouble. The minute he begins to—to live I’ll go.”</p> +<p>It was Barbara who arranged the matter peaceably, +mollifying Miss Gallifer. Without explaining who +Letty was she insisted on her right to remain. If +Miss Gallifer was mystified, it was no more than Miss +Towell was, or anyone else who touched the situation +at a tangent. To that Barbara was indifferent, while +Letty didn’t think of it.</p> +<p>In rallying her forces Barbara’s first recollection had +been, “I must be a sport.” With theoretical sporting +instincts she knew herself the kind of sport who +doesn’t always run true to form. Hating meanness +she could lapse into the mean, and toward Letty herself +had so lapsed. That accident she must guard +against. The issues were so big that whatever happened, +she couldn’t afford to reproach herself. Self-reproach +would not only magnify defeat but poison +success, since, if she availed herself of her advantages, +no success would ever prove worth while.</p> +<p>For her own sake rather than for Letty’s she made +use of the hour while the doctors were again in consultation +to explain the possibilities. She would have +the whole thing clearly understood. Whether or not +Letty did understand it she wasn’t quite sure, since she +seemed cut off from thought-communication. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span> +listened, nodded, was docile to instructions, but made +no response.</p> +<p>To be as lucid as possible Barbara put it in this way: +“Since you’ve left him, and I’ve broken my engagement +he’ll be absolutely free to choose; and yet, you +must remember, we may—we may both lose him.”</p> +<p>That both should lose him seemed indeed the more +probable after the consultation. All the doctors looked +grave, even Dr. Lancing. His dinner-party manner +had forsaken him as he talked to Barbara, his emphasis +being thrown on the word “prepared.” It was still +one of those cases in which you couldn’t tell, though +so far the symptoms were not encouraging. He felt +himself bound in honor to say as much as that, hoping, +however, for the best.</p> +<p>Closing the front door on him Barbara felt herself +shaken by a frightful possibility. If he never regained +consciousness that would “settle it.” The suspense +would be over. Her fate would be determined. She +would no longer have to wonder and doubt, to strive +or to cry. No longer would she run the risk of seeing +another woman get him. She would find that which +her tempestuous nature craved before everything—rest, +peace, release from the impulse to battle and dominate. +Not by words, not so much as by thought, but only +in wild emotion she knew that, as far as she was concerned, +it might be better for him to die. If he lived, +and chose herself, the storm would only begin again. +If he lived and chose the other....</p> +<p>But as to that she could see no reasonable prospect. +She had only to look at Letty, shrinking in her corner +of the bedroom, to judge any such mischance impossible. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span> +She was so humble; so negligible; so much a +bit of flotsam of the streets. She had an appeal of +her own, of course; but an appeal so lowly as to be +obscured by the wayside dust which covered it. What +was the flower to which Rash had now and then compared +her? Wasn’t that what he called it—the dust +flower?—that ragged blue thing of byways and backyards, +which you couldn’t touch without washing your +hands afterwards. No, no! Not even the legal tie +which nominally bound them could hold in the face of +this inequality. It would be too grotesque.</p> +<p>The hours passed. The night nurse was now installed, +and was reading <i>Keith Macdermot’s Destiny</i>. +She was one of those tall, slender women whom you +see to be all bone. As businesslike as Miss Gallifer, +and quite as detached, Miss Moines was brisk and systematic. +It being her habit to subdue a household to +herself before she entered on her duties her eyes regarded +Miss Walbrook and Letty with the startled +glance of a horse’s.</p> +<p>For before going Miss Gallifer had given her a hint. +“You’ll have to do a lot of side-stepping here. This +is the famous House of Mystery. You’ll find two +nuts upstairs—that’s what I’d call them if they were +men—but they’re women—girls, sort of—and you’ve +just got to leave them alone. One’s a high-stepper—regular +society—was engaged to the patient and now +acts as if she’d married him; and the other—well, perhaps +you can make her out; I can’t. Seems a little +off. May be the poor castaway, once loved, and now +broken-hearted but faithful, you read about in books. +Anyhow, there they are, and you’d best let them be. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span> +It won’t be for more than—well, I give him twenty-four +hours at the most. I begin to think that for once +old Wisdom is right. Good-looker too, poor fellow, +and can’t be more than thirty-five. I wonder what +could have happened? I suppose they’ll go into that +at the inquest.”</p> +<p>But Miss Moines was too systematic to have companions +in the room without marshaling them to some +form of duty. They needed to eat; they needed to +sleep. Now and then someone had to go out on the +landing and comfort or reassure Steptoe, who sat on +the attic stairs like a grief-stricken dog.</p> +<p>Letty was the first to consent to go and lie down. +She did so about nine o’clock, extracting a promise +that whatever happened she would be called at twelve. +If there was any change in the meantime—but that, +Miss Moines assured her, was understood in all such +ride-and-tie arrangements. At twelve Letty was to +return and Barbara lie down till three, with the same +proviso in case of the unexpected. But, so to put it, +the unexpected seemed improbable, in view of that +rigid form, and the white, upturned face.</p> +<p>“And yet,” Miss Moines confided to Barbara, “I +don’t think he’s as far gone as they think. Miss Gallifer +only changed her mind when they talked her round. +A doctor just sees the patient in glimpses, whereas a +nurse lives with him, and knows what he can stand.”</p> +<p>About eleven Miss Moines closed <i>Keith Macdermot’s +Destiny</i>, and took the pulse. She nodded as she +did so, with a slight exclamation of triumph. “Ah, +ha! Fifty-eight! That’s the first good sign. It may +not mean anything, but––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span></div> +<p>Barbara was too exhausted to feel more than a +gleam of comfort. The lassitude being emotional +rather than physical Miss Moines detected it easily +enough, and sent her to rest before the hour agreed +upon. She went the more willingly, since the pulse +had risen and hope could begin once more.</p> +<p>On the stairs Steptoe raised his bowed head, with +a dazed stare. Seeing Miss Walbrook he stumbled to +his feet.</p> +<p>“’Ow is ’e now, miss?”</p> +<p>She told him the good news.</p> +<p>“Ah, thank God! Perhaps after all ’E’ll spare ’im.”</p> +<p>Steptoe informed Letty, who right on the stroke of +midnight returned to her post. “Pulse gone up two +of them degrees, madam. ’E’s goin’ to pull through!”</p> +<p>To Letty this was a signal. On going to rest in the +little back spare room she had thrown off her street +things, worn during all the hours of watching, and +put on the dressing gown she had left there a few +nights earlier. She was still wearing it, but at Steptoe’s +news she went back again. On passing him the +second time she was clad in the old gray rag and the +battered hat in which it would be easier to escape. +Steptoe said nothing; but he nodded to himself comprehendingly.</p> +<p>A clock struck two. Miss Moines was hungry. +Expecting to be hungry she had had a small tray, with +what she called a “lunch,” placed for her in the dining-room. +Had there been immediate danger she would +not have left her post; but with Letty there she saw no +harm in taking ten or fifteen minutes to conserve her +strength.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span></div> +<p>For the first time in all those hours Letty was alone +with him. Not expecting to be so left she was at first +frightened, then audacious. Except for the one time +when she had approached the bedside and kissed his +feet she had remained in her corner, watching with the +silent, motionless intentness of a little animal. Her +eyes hardly ever left the white face; but at this distance +even the white face was dim.</p> +<p>Now she was possessed by a great daring. She +would steal to the bedside again. Again she would +see the beloved features clearly. Again she would +have the amazing bliss of kissing the coverlet that +covered the dear feet. When Miss Moines returned +she would be back again in her corner, as if she had +never left it. If the pulse rose higher, if there was +further hope, if he seemed to be reviving, she could +slip away in the confusion of their joy.</p> +<p>She rose and listened. The house was as still as it +had been at other times when she had listened in the +night. She glided to the bed.</p> +<p>He lay as if he had been carved in stone, propped up +with pillows to make breathing easier, his arms outside +the coverlet. He was a little as he had been on the +morning when she had passed her hand across his +brow. As then, too, his hair rose in tongues of +diabolic flame.</p> +<p>She was near him. She was bending over him. +She was bending not above his feet, but above his +head. She knew how mad she was, but she couldn’t +help herself. Stooping—stooping—closer—closer—her +lips touched the forked black mane of his hair.</p> +<p>She leaped back. She leaped not only because of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span> +her own boldness, but because he seemed to stir. It +was as if this kiss, so light, so imperceptible, had sent +a galvanic throbbing through his frame. She herself +felt it, as now and then in winter she had felt an +electric spark.</p> +<p>Her sin had found her out. She was terrified. He +lay just as he had lain before—only not quite—not +quite! His arms were not just as they had been; the +coverlet was slightly, ever so slightly, disturbed. The +nurse would see it and know that....</p> +<p>There was a stirring of a hand. It was so little of +a stirring that she thought her eyes must have deceived +her when it stirred again—a restless toss, like a +muscular contraction in sleep. She was not alarmed +now, only excited, and wondering what she ought to +do. She ought to run to the head of the stairs and +call Miss Moines, only that she couldn’t bring herself +to leave him.</p> +<p>Then, as she stood in her attitude of doubt, the eyes +opened and looked at her. They looked at her straight, +and yet glassily. They looked at her with no gladness +in the look, almost with no recognition. If anything +there was a kind of sickness there, as if the finding her +by his bedside was a disappointment.</p> +<p>“I know what it is,” she said to herself. “He wants—<i>her</i>.”</p> +<p>But the eyes closed again. The face was as white, +the profile as rigid, as ever.</p> +<p>She sped to Barbara, who was lying on a couch in +the front spare room. “Come! He woke up! He +wants you!”</p> +<p>Back in the bedroom she effaced herself. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span> +were all there now—Barbara, Steptoe, and Miss +Moines.</p> +<p>“It’s what he would do,” Miss Moines corroborated, +“if he was coming back.”</p> +<p>Letty had told part of what she had seen, but only +part of it. The rest was her secret. The little mermaid’s +kiss had left the prince as inanimate as before; +hers had brought him back to life!</p> +<p>It was the moment to run away. Miss Moines had +said that having once opened his eyes he would open +them again. When he did he mustn’t find her there. +They were all so intent on watching that this was her +opportunity.</p> +<p>They were all so intent—but Steptoe. She was +buttoning her jacket when she saw his eyes steal round +in her direction. A second later he had tiptoed back +into the hall, and closed the door behind him.</p> +<p>It was vexing, but not fatal. He had probably gone +for something. While he was getting it she would +elude him. One thing was certain—she couldn’t face +the look of disappointment in those sick dark eyes +again. She opened the door. She shut it noiselessly +behind her. Steptoe wasn’t there, and the way was free.</p> +<p>Barbara stood just where Letty had described herself +as standing when the eyes had given her that +glassy stare. To herself she seemed to stand there for +ever, though the time could be counted in minutes. +The pounding of her heart was like a pulsating of +the house.</p> +<p>The eyes opened again. They opened, first wearily, +and then with a fretful light which seemed to be +searching for what they couldn’t find.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span></div> +<p>Barbara stood still.</p> +<p>There was another stirring of the hand, irritated, +impatient. A little moan or groan was distinctly of +complaint. The eyes having rolled hither and thither +helplessly, the head turned slowly on the pillow so +as to see the other side of the room.</p> +<p>“He’s looking for something that he misses,” Miss +Moines explained, wonderingly. “What do you suppose +it can be?”</p> +<p>“He wants—<i>her</i>.”</p> +<p>Barbara found her at the street door, pleading with +Steptoe, who actually held her by the arm. The loud +whisper down the stairs was a cry as well as a +command.</p> +<p>“Come!”</p> +<p>At the bedroom door they parted. With a light instinctive +push Barbara forced Letty to go back to the +spot on which she had stood earlier. She herself went +to the other side of the bed, only to find that the head, +in which the eyes were closed again, was now turned +that way.</p> +<p>As if aware that some mysterious decision was approaching +Miss Moines kept herself in the background. +Steptoe had hardly advanced from the +threshold. Neither of the women by the bedside +seemed to breathe.</p> +<p>When the eyes opened for the third time the intelligence +in them was keener. On Barbara they rested +long, quietly, kindly, till memory came back.</p> +<p>With memory there was again that restless stirring, +that complaining moan. Once more, slowly, distressfully, +the head turned on the pillow.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span></div> +<p>On Letty the long, quiet, kindly regard lay as it had +lain on Barbara. They waited; but in the look there +was no more than that.</p> +<p>From two hearts two silent prayers were going up.</p> +<p>“Oh, God, end it somehow—and let me have <i>peace</i>!”</p> +<p>“Oh, God, make him live again—and give them to +each other!”</p> +<p>Then, when no one was expecting it, a faint smile +quivered on the lips, as if the returning mind saw +something long desired and comforting. Faintly, +feebly, unsteadily, the hands were raised toward the +dust flower. The lips moved, enough to form dumbly +the one word, “Come!”</p> +<p>The invitation was beyond crediting. Letty trembled, +and shrank back.</p> +<p>But from the support of the pillow the whole figure +leaned forward. The hands were lifted higher, more +firmly and more longingly. Strength came with the +need for strength. A smile which was of life, not +death, beamed on the features and brought color to +the face which had all these hours seemed carved +in stone.</p> +<p>“He’ll do now,” the nurse threw off, professionally. +“He’ll be up in a few days.”</p> +<p>It was Barbara who gave the sign to both Steptoe +and Miss Moines. By the imperiousness of her +gesture and her uplifted head she swept them out before +her. If she was leaving all behind her she was +leaving it superbly; but she wasn’t leaving all. Back +of her tumultuous passions a spirit was crying to +her spirit, “Now you’ll get what you want far more +than you want this—rest from vain desire.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span></div> +<p>Letty approached the bedside slowly, as if drawn by +an enchantment. To the outstretched hands she +stretched out hers. The door was closed, and once +more she was alone with him.</p> +<p>But neither saw that for the space of a few inches +the closed door was opened again, and that an old +profile peered within. Then, as slowly, slowly, slowly, +Letty sank on her knees, bowing her head on the hands +which drew her closer, and closer still, a pair of old +lips smiled contentedly.</p> +<p>When the head drew back, the door was closed +again.</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;'>THE END</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p><a name="ATN"></a></p> +<table summary="additional transcriber notes" style='margin:1em auto; width:35em; border:1px solid;color: #778899; padding:5px;'> + +<tr><td> +<p style='font-size:small; color:#303030; text-align:left;'>Additional Transcriber’s Notes:<br /><br /> + +The following changes were made to the original text.<br /><br /> + +Page 38: burred to blurred (her appearance struck him simply as blurred)<br /><br /> + +Page 207: musn’t to mustn’t (They mustn’t rush things.)<br /><br /> + +Page 264: unbridgable to unbridgeable (The gulf had always been there, yawning, unbridgeable,)<br /><br /></p> +</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 0.20c --> +<!-- timestamp: Tue Mar 31 21:17:07 -0700 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dust Flower, by Basil King + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUST FLOWER *** + +***** This file should be named 28590-h.htm or 28590-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/9/28590/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Darleen Dove and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-001.png b/28590-h/images/illus-001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a284729 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-001.png diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-068.jpg b/28590-h/images/illus-068.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..900fefa --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-068.jpg diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-230.jpg b/28590-h/images/illus-230.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42dcc47 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-230.jpg diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-328.jpg b/28590-h/images/illus-328.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9149fb --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-328.jpg diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-emb.jpg b/28590-h/images/illus-emb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94f94b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-emb.jpg diff --git a/28590-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/28590-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7507d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/28590-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg |
