diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:10 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:10 -0700 |
| commit | 855a306ac4e5c3eda3e125a0dd7cabe53510bd2a (patch) | |
| tree | f07c75e2073d7ad6b6b54238f3c7206e470a92a7 /29753-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '29753-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/29753-h.htm | 11606 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-012.jpg | bin | 0 -> 77656 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-188.jpg | bin | 0 -> 70324 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-284.jpg | bin | 0 -> 78674 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-emb.png | bin | 0 -> 3226 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg | bin | 0 -> 77119 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29753-h/images/illus-tpg.png | bin | 0 -> 3778 bytes |
7 files changed, 11606 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/29753-h/29753-h.htm b/29753-h/29753-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..45f2a02 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/29753-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11606 @@ +<!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 Gorgeous Girl, by Nalbro Bartley</title> +<style type="text/css"> + @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; text-indent: 0; 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; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 190%; } + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size: 110%; } + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.ralign {text-align: right !important;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Gorgeous Girl, by Nalbro Bartley</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Gorgeous Girl</p> +<p>Author: Nalbro Bartley</p> +<p>Release Date: August 22, 2009 [eBook #29753]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GORGEOUS GIRL***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='352' height='570' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>He was very diplomatic in his undertaking</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style="padding:30px 30px; border:1px solid black" summary="title page"> +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.0em;margin-bottom:40px;'>THE GORGEOUS GIRL</p> +<p class='tp' >BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>NALBRO BARTLEY</p> +<div style='margin:40px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-tpg.png' /> +</div> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:100px;'><i>Illustrated</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-variant:small-caps;'>Garden City New York</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' >1920</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-top:20px;'>COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY<br /> +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF<br /> +TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES,<br /> +INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:20px;margin-top:40px;'>COPYRIGHT, 1919, 1920, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>He was very diplomatic in his undertaking</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>FACING PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>The Gorgeous Girl had never known anything but the most gorgeous side of life</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>It was with a charming timidity that she tip-toed into the office</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>188</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>A get-rich-quick man always pays for his own speed</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>284</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>THE GORGEOUS GIRL</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE GORGEOUS GIRL</p> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> +<p>“Before long two bank accounts will beat as +one,” Trudy said to Mary Faithful. “Tra-la-la-la-la,“ +humming the wedding march +while the office force of the O’Valley Leather Company +listened with expressions ranging from grins to +frowns.</p> +<p>“Sh-h-h! Mr. O’Valley has just opened his door.” +As she was private secretary and general guardian to +Steve O’Valley, president of the concern, Miss Faithful’s +word usually had a decisive effect.</p> +<p>But Trudy was irrepressible. Besides boarding +at the Faithful home and thus enjoying a certain +intimacy with Mary, she was one of those young +persons who holds a position merely as a means to an +end––the sort who dresses to impress everyone, from +the president of the concern if he is in the matrimonial +or romantic market to the elevator boy if said elevator +boy happens to have a bank account capable of +taking one to all the musical shows and to supper +afterward. Having been by turns a milliner’s apprentice, +assistant in a beauty parlour, and cashier in a +business men’s restaurant, Truletta Burrows had +acquired a certain chicness enabling her to twist a +remnant of chiffon or straw into a creation and wear +it in impressive contrast with her baby-blue eyes and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +Titian-red hair. In the majority of cases where a +girl has neither family nor finances she must seek a +business situation in order to win a husband. Trudy +went after her game in no hesitating manner.</p> +<p>She had no intention of becoming one of the +multitude of commercial nuns who inhabit the +United States of America this day––quiet women +with quick eyes, a trifle cold or pensive if analyzed, +severely combed hair, trim tailor suits and mannish +blouses with dazzling neckties as their bit of vanity––the +type that often shoulders half the responsibility +of the firm. Whether achieving a private office and +a nervous stenographer who is disappointed at having +a lady boss is to be preferred to a house-and-garden +career is, like all vital issues, a question for debate.</p> +<p>Neither did Trudy propose to shrivel into a timid, +slave-like type of person kept on the pay roll from +pity or by reason of the fact that initiating a novice +would be troublesome. Such a one was Miss Nellie +Lunk, who sat in a corner of the hall making out +requisition slips and taking care of unwelcome +visitors––a pathetic figure with faded eyes and +scraggly hair, always keeping a posy on her old-style +desk and crocheting whenever there was a lull in +work. Thirty years in business was Miss Lunk’s +record, twenty-five in Mark Constantine’s office and +five in the employ of Mr. O’Valley, that lovable, +piratical Irishman who achieved his success by being +a brilliant opportunist and who, it would seem, ran a +shoestring into a fortune by a wink of his blue eyes.</p> +<p>Trudy knew that Miss Lunk lived alone––the third +story back, where she cooked most of her meals, while +a forlorn canary cheeped a welcome. She possessed +a little talking machine with sentimental records, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +on Sundays she went to a cafeteria for a good, hearty +meal unless cousins asked her to their establishment. +Some day Miss Lunk would find herself in a home +with other no longer useful old people and here she +would stay with her few keepsakes, of which the +world knew nothing and cared less, the cousins +dropping in at intervals to impress upon her how +carefree and fortunate she was!</p> +<p>In conclusion Trudy had decided not to accept the +third choice of the modern business woman, which, +she decided, was Mary Faithful’s fate––to give your +heart to a man who never had thought of you and +never would think of you as other than a reliable and +agreeable machine; as someone––should Florida and a +certain Gorgeous Girl named Beatrice Constantine +beckon––who would say:</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. O’Valley, I understand what to do. I +arranged the New Haven sale this morning. You +were at the jewellery store to see about Miss Constantine’s +ring. So I long-distanced Martin & Newman +and put it through. If the ring is sent in your absence +I know what you have ordered and can return +it if it does not comply with instructions––platinum +set with diamonds, three large stones of a carat each +and the twenty smaller stones surrounding them. +And a king’s-blue velvet case with her initials in +platinum. And you want me to discharge Dundee +and divide up his work. Yes, I gave the janitor the +gold piece for finding your pet cane. I’ll wire you +every day.”</p> +<p>And Steve O’Valley had swung jauntily out +of the office, secure in his secretary’s ability to meet +any crisis, to have to work alone in the almost garish +office apparently quite content that she was not going +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +to Florida, too. Trudy’s imagination pictured there +a someone petulant, spoiled, and altogether irresistible +in the laciest of white frocks and a leghorn hat with +pink streamers, at whose feet Steve O’Valley offered +some surprise gift worth months of Mary Faithful’s +salary while he said: “I ran away from work to +play with you, Gorgeous Girl! See how you demoralize +me? Even your father frowned when I +said I was coming. How are you, darling? I don’t +give a hang if I make poor Miss Faithful run the shop +for a year as long as you want me to play with you.”</p> +<p>Having the advantage of studying Mary Faithful’s +position both from the business and family aspects +Trudy had long ago decided that she was not going to +be like her. In no way did she envy Mary’s position.</p> +<p>Since her dreamer of a father had died and left dependent +upon her her four-year-old brother and a +mother whose chief concern in life was to have the +smartest-looking window curtains in the neighbourhood, +Mary went to work at thirteen with a remnant +of an education. Possessions spelled happiness to +Mrs. Faithful; poetical dreams had been Mr. Faithful’s +chief concern, and as an unexpected consequence +their first child had been endowed with +common sense. With Mary at the wheel there had +been just enough to get along with, so they stayed +on in the old-fashioned house while Mrs. Faithful +bewailed Mary’s having to work for a living and +not be a lady, as she could have been if her father +had had any judgment.</p> +<p>Mrs. Faithful had become quite happy in her +martyrdom as she was still able to maintain the +starched window curtains. After a conventional +period of mourning she began to relive the past, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +husband’s mistakes, her own girlhood and offers of +marriage––such incidents as these sufficed to keep +her from enjoying the present, while Mary rose from +errand girl to grocery clerk, with night school as a +recreation, from grocery clerk to filing clerk, assistant +bookkeeper, bookkeeper, stenographer, and finally +private secretary to Steve O’Valley, one of the war-fortune +kings. And she had given her heart to him +in the same loyal way she had always given her services.</p> +<p>At home Trudy noted that Mary worked round the +house because she liked the change from office routine, +deaf to the complaining maternal voice reciting +past glories in which Mary had no part. If the +parlour furniture with its tidies and a Rogers group in +the front window sometimes got on her nerves she +forced herself to laugh over it and say: “It’s mother’s +house, and all she has.” She concerned herself far +more with Luke, an active, fair-to-middling American +boy somewhat inclined to be spoiled. Mary had +taken Luke into the office after school hours to keep +a weather eye on him and make him contribute a +stipend to the expenses.</p> +<p>“If a man won’t work he should not eat,” she informed +him as she proportioned his wage.</p> +<p>Recalling Mary’s position at home––though Trudy +rejoiced in her own front room and the comforts of +the household––she shrugged her shoulders in disapproval. +Certainly she could never endure the +same lot in life. For if one man will not love you +why waste time bewailing the fact? Find another. +Mary could have had other suitors. Mr. Tompkins, +the city salesman, and young Elias, of Elias & Son, +had both made brave attempts to plead their cause, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +only to be treated in the same firm manner that Luke +was treated when he hinted of making off to sea.</p> +<p>“She’ll spend her life loving Steve O’Valley and +slaving for him,” Trudy had confided to her dozen +intimate friends, who never repeated anything told +them. “And he will spend his life being trampled on +by Beatrice Constantine, and after they are married +she will be meaner than ever to him. But he will love +her all the more. Honest, business men make the +grandest husbands! College professors are lots +harder to get along with––but business men are as +cross as two sticks in their offices and at home they’re +so sweet it would melt pig iron.”</p> +<p>The first plank in Trudy’s platform was to marry a +business man as nearly like Steve O’Valley as possible. +The second was––whether or not she had a stunning +home with brick fireplaces––never to spend her days +hanging round them. Her most envied friend lived +in New York, and her life was just one roof garden +after another. She had everything heart could +desire––Oriental rugs, a grandfather’s clock, a +mechanical piano, bird-of-paradise sprays for her hat, +a sealskin ulster, and plenty of alimony. And in case +said business man proved unsatisfactory Trudy had +resolved to exchange him for unlimited legal support +at the earliest possible opportunity.</p> +<p>But she would not trespass upon Mary’s platform, +which consisted of loving Steve O’Valley yet knowing +of his love for the Gorgeous Girl, as Mark Constantine +had named his daughter. And of course Mary +must have realized that though she might earn three +thousand a year as private secretary she would +eternally lock her desk at six o’clock and trudge home +to her mother and the starched window curtains, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +watch Luke fall in love and scorn her advice, wash +her hemstitched ruffles and black her boots, and keep +her secret as she grew older and plainer of face!</p> +<p>Trudy often tried to decide just how handsome and +how plain Mary was; it was a matter for argument +because the expression of Mary Faithful’s eyes +largely determined her charm. She was a sober young +person with thick braids of brown hair and surprising +niceties of dress, sensible shoes, a frill of real lace on her +serge dress, no hint of perfume, no attempt at wearing +party attire for business as the rest of the staff not +only attempted but unfortunately achieved. She +had honest gray eyes, the prophecy of true greatness +in her face with its flexible mouth and prominent +cheek bones, the sort of woman who would be the +mother of great men, tall and angular in build and +walking with an athletic stride offset by a feminine +cry-baby chin and the usual mediocre allotment of +freckles on the usual mediocre nose! Mary Faithful +was not pretty; she was a “good-looking thing,” +Trudy would usually conclude, glancing in a near-by +mirror to approve of the way her fluff of pink tulle +harmonized with her pink camisole under the tissue-paper +bodice.</p> +<p>Indulging in one of these reveries Trudy suddenly +realized that she had not added the checks on her +desk. She went to work disdainfully, first feeling of +her skirt and waist at the back, slipping a caramel in +her mouth, and making eyes at a clerk who passed her +desk.</p> +<p>Mary came out of her office and stopped before +Trudy accusingly. “I’ve been waiting for these,” +she said.</p> +<p>“It’s so grand out to-day––look at that sunshine! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +May’s the hardest month of the year to work; you +just can’t help planning your summer clothes.”</p> +<p>“Miss Constantine is coming to call for Mr. +O’Valley and I want his O. K. on those before he +gets away.”</p> +<p>“Listen, don’t you think the diamonds he is buying +her are vulgar? A bunch of electric bulbs is what I +call it, I certainly would not permit–––”</p> +<p>Mary’s pencil tapped authoritatively on the desk, +then she signed an order someone brought her.</p> +<p>“Are they going to be married at high noon in +church?”</p> +<p>“Yes––June the first.”</p> +<p>“Lucky girl! She’s older than me; everyone says +so. It’s only her money and clothes that has built +her up. I don’t think she’s so much. Her nose is as +flat as a pancake and she rouges something fierce. I +saw them at the theatre and I certainly was–––”</p> +<p>Mary took the checks out of Trudy’s hand and +walked away. Undecided as to her course of action +Trudy hummed a few bars of “Moving Man, +Don’t Take My Baby Grand” and then followed +Mary into her office.</p> +<p>Mary added up the checks without glancing at her +caller. Then she said sharply: “I cannot pay out +someone else’s money for work that is not done.”</p> +<p>“Don’t get a grouch on; it will spread through the +whole plant. When you’re cross everybody’s cross.”</p> +<p>“Then do your work––for it isn’t much.” She +could not help adding: “You think I can smooth over +everything just because you board with me.”</p> +<p>Trudy giggled. “It’s the wedding in the air, and +spring, and those diamonds! She never works, she +never does anything but spend the money we make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +for her. All she has is a good time, and what’s the +use of living if you don’t have a good time? I’ll have +it if I have to steal it. Oh, you needn’t look so +horrified. Steve O’Valley almost stole his fortune +just because he had to be a rich man before Constantine +would let him marry his daughter. Anyway, I’d +rather have a good time for a few years and then die +than to live to be a hundred and never have an +honest-to-goodness party. Wouldn’t you?”</p> +<p>“You’re foolish to-day. If you only wouldn’t +wear such low-cut waists and talk to the men! Mr. +O’Valley has noticed it.”</p> +<p>“I can get another job and another boarding +house,” Trudy began, defiantly.</p> +<p>“You wouldn’t last out at either. You need this +sort of a place and our sort of house, you ridiculous +little thing. Besides, you have Gaylord at your beck +and call”––Trudy blushed––“and you seem to +manage to have a pretty good time when all is said +and done. I do feel responsible for you because at +twenty-three you are more scatterbrained than–––”</p> +<p>“Finish it––than you were at thirteen! Well, +what of it? I’m out for a good time and you are always +talking about the right time, I suppose. I’ll +take your lecture without weeping and promise to +reform. But don’t be surprised at anything I may +do regarding tra-la-la-la-la.” She burst into the +wedding march again and vanished, Mary shaking +her head as she prepared to sign off some letters.</p> +<p>Steve O’Valley opened the door connecting their +offices, displaying a face as happy as a schoolboy’s on +a Christmas holiday. “Miss Constantine is downstairs, +I’m going to escort her up,” he announced, +shutting the door as abruptly as he had opened it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div> +<p>Presently there came into Steve’s office someone +who was saying in a light, gay voice: “Perfectly awful +old place, Stevuns––as bad as papa’s. I hate business +offices; make my head ache. It was Red Cross to-day, +and after that I had to rush to cooking school–––”</p> +<p>Steve answered in rapt fashion: “I’ll have to talk +to Miss Faithful for half a jiffy and then I’m free for +the rest of the day–––” opening the door of Mary’s +office and beckoning to her.</p> +<p>Coming into his office Mary nodded pleasantly at +the Gorgeous Girl, who nodded pleasantly in return +and settled herself in an easy-chair while Steve rehearsed +the things to be attended to the following day +since he was not to be at the office.</p> +<p>“I’m getting Miss Faithful ready to run the shop +single-handed,” he explained, telling Mary details +which she already knew better than he but to which +she listened patiently, her twilight eyes glancing now +at Beatrice and back again at Steve.</p> +<p>Outside the hum of commerce played the proper +accompaniment to Steve O’Valley’s orders and +Mary’s thoughts and Beatrice’s actions––a jangling +yet accurate rhythm of typewriters and adding +machines and office chatter, pencil sharpeners, windows +being opened, shades adjusted, wastebaskets +dragged into position, boys demanding their telegrams +or delivering the same, phone bells ringing, +voices asking for Mr. O’Valley and being told that he +was not in, other voices asking for Miss Faithful and +being told she was not at liberty just now––would +they be seated? Trudy’s giggle rose above the hum +at odd intervals, elevators crept up and down, and +outside the spring air escorted the odour of hides and +tallow and what not, grease and machine oil and +general junk from across the courtyard; trucks rumbled +on the cobblestones while workingmen laughed +and quarrelled––a confusing symphony of the business +world. While Steve hurriedly gave his orders +Mary Faithful in almost the panoramic fashion of the +drowning swiftly recalled the incidents of Steve’s life +and of the Gorgeous Girl’s and her own as well, forcing +herself mechanically to say yes and no in answer +to his questions and to make an occasional notation.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-012.jpg' alt='' title='' width='500' height='318' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>The Gorgeous Girl had never known anything but the most gorgeous side of life</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<p>The panorama rather bewildered her; it was like +being asked to describe a blizzard while still in it, +whereas one should be sitting in a warm, cheery room +looking impersonally at the storm swirl.</p> +<p>First of all, she thought of Steve O’Valley’s Irish +grandfather, by like name, who spent his life in +Virginia City trying to find a claim equal to the +Comstock lode, dying penniless but with a prospector’s +optimism that had he been permitted to live +<i>manana</i> surely would have seen the turning of the +tide. Old O’Valley’s only son and his son’s wife +survived him until their ability to borrow was at an +end and work would have been their only alternative. +So they left a small, black-haired, blue-eyed young +man named Stephen O’Valley to battle single-handed +with the world and bring honour to his name.</p> +<p>The first twelve years of the battle were spent in an +orphanage in the Grass Valley, the next four as a +chore boy on a ranch, after which the young man +decided with naïve determination that in order to +obtain anything at all worth while he must be fully +prepared to pay its price, and that he desired above +all else to become a rich man––a truly rich man, and +marry a fairy-princess sort of person. And as far as +education was concerned he felt that if he was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +quite so brushed up on his A B C’s as he was on +minding his P’s and Q’s the result would not be half +bad. Unconsciously his attitude toward the world +was a composite of the philosophy of Marcus Aurelius, +the cynical wisdom of Omar Khayyam, and plain and +not to be duplicated Yankee pep.</p> +<p>As Steve planned it he was to leave his mark on the +world and not endure the world’s mark upon himself. +This straight-limbed and altogether too handsome +youngster––his grandmother had been a Basque––possessed +the same quality of the fortune hunter as +his grandfather, only he did not propose to do his +prospecting in the mines of Nevada. Following the +general tactics of a Stone Age man––a belief in +muscle and great initiative––Steve found himself at +twenty-four in the city of Hanover and in the employ +of Mark Constantine, a hide-and-leather magnate +who was said to be like all hard-boiled eggs––impossible +to beat. After Steve advanced to the top +notch of his ability he discovered that the only +reason he was not considered as a junior member of +the firm was because he could not buy stock. At +this same time Beatrice Constantine had become +interested in him.</p> +<p>To her mind Steve was different in other ways than +merely being handsome and possessed of physical +strength. And she considered that if he had a fortune +he would be far more wonderful than any of the +young gentlemen of her set who wondered which +would be the lucky chap to lead Constantine’s +Gorgeous Girl to the wedding-license bureau.</p> +<p>In the seventeen-year-old patronizing fashion of a +Gorgeous Girl she permitted Steve to see that she was +interested, and Steve with the romance of his Basque +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +grandmother and the audacity of his Irish grandfather +immediately thought of what a strange and +wonderful thing it would be if he could by hook or +crook become a rich man all in the twinkling of an +eye, and marry this superior, elegant little person.</p> +<p>The Gorgeous Girl had never known anything but +the most gorgeous side of life. Her father, self-made +from a boyhood as poor as Steve’s, carved his way to +the top without delay or remorse for any one he may +have halted or harmed in the so doing. He had +wisely married a working girl whom he loved in undemonstrative +fashion, and when at the turning +point of his career she bore him a daughter and then +died he erected an expensive monument to her +memory and took his oath that their daughter +should be the most gorgeous girl in Hanover and that +her life should be spent in having as good a time as +her father’s fortune allowed. He then invited his +widowed sister to live with him and take charge of his +child.</p> +<p>After this interlude he returned to his business +grimmer of face and harsher of heart, and the world +was none the wiser regarding his grief for the plain-faced +woman in the churchyard. As his fortune +multiplied almost ironically he would often take +time to think of his wife Hannah, who was so tired of +pots and pans and making dollars squeal so that he +might succeed and who was now at rest with an +imposing marble column to call attention to the fact.</p> +<p>So the Gorgeous Girl, as Hanover called her, half in +ridicule and half in envy, developed into a gorgeous +young woman, as might be expected with her father +to pay her bills and her Aunt Belle to toddle meekly +after her. Aunt Belle, once married to a carpenter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +who had conveniently died, never ceased to rejoice in +her good fortune. She was never really quite used to +the luxury that had come to her instead of to the +woman in the churchyard. She revelled in Beatrice’s +clothes, her own elaborate costumes, ordered the servants +about, went to Florida and the Bermudas +whenever the Gorgeous Girl saw fit, rolled about the +country in limousines, and secretly admired the +hideous mansion Constantine had built––an ornate, +overbearing brick affair with curlicue trimmings and +a tower with a handful of minor turrets. It was +furnished according to the dictates of a New York +decorator, though Constantine added several large +pieces of village colour after the decorator had pronounced +his work as ended.</p> +<p>Hannah had always planned for a red-velvet cozy +corner, and Constantine didn’t give a dozen damns +if they were out of date––a red velvet cozy corner +was going to be installed in the blue drawing room. +A Swiss music box was another thing Hannah had +hankered after––spoken of just before she died––so the +Swiss music box was given a place of honour beside +the residence pipe organ, and likewise some draperies +with plush tassels. The decorator, having his check, +did not attempt to argue, since his clientele were not +apt to stop off at Hanover and discover the crime.</p> +<p>Aunt Belle saw that Beatrice had a governess, a +dancing teacher, more party frocks than any other +little girl in Hanover, and later on a French maid and +other accessories necessary to being a Gorgeous Girl. +In reality a parasitical little snob, hopelessly self-indulged, +though originally kind-hearted and rather +clever; and utterly useless but unconscious of the fact. +She was sent to a finishing school, after which she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +thought it would be more fun to go abroad to another +finishing school and study music and art, travelling +summers instead of having a formal début. +Most of her chums were doing this and so she went +with them. The red velvet cozy corner and the +music box and so on disappeared immediately upon +her first return visit. Likewise Beatrice succeeded +finally in dissuading Aunt Belle from wearing her +jewellery while travelling, though that outspoken lady +never could refrain from vivid descriptions of it to +her fellow passengers.</p> +<p>After the European sojourn the Gorgeous Girl +went in for Hanover society and proved herself a +valuable asset. She was nearly twenty-four, almost +as slight of figure as a child, as dainty as Watteau’s +most delicate imaginings, with tiny, nondescript +features, lovely sunshine hair, and big dove-coloured +eyes with pale-gold lashes. Meantime, the question +of a husband for this lovely young person was before +the household. She had had a dozen offers of +marriage but accepted none of them because she had +plenty of time and loads of money and she wanted to +make the best of her unencumbered youth as long as +possible. Besides, it was now considered great fun +to go in for charities, she was ever so busy serving on +committees, she never had a moment for herself, and +it would take months to plan a trousseau and a +wedding and decide about her house. Most important +of all was the fact that when she was about to +go to the French finishing school she had told Steve +O’Valley that if he did not come to her farewell +party she would be quite hurt. She felt he did not +appreciate the honour in having been asked.</p> +<p>Steve, who would have lain down and let her walk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +over him roughshod, said simply: “But I’m poor. +I’m not in a position to meet your friends.”</p> +<p>“Then be rich––and I’ll ask you again,” she +challenged.</p> +<p>“If I were a rich man––would you let me try?”</p> +<p>“See if I wouldn’t.” And she disappeared before +he realized she had practically said yes.</p> +<p>Characteristically Steve lost no time. He went to +her father the day after she had sailed, having sent +her a veritable washtub of flowers for bon voyage––and +said briefly: “I have loved your daughter +ever since I first saw her. I’m as poor as you were +once, but if I see my way to making a fortune and +can give her everything she ought to have will you +oppose my efforts to make her marry me?”</p> +<p>The daring of the thing pleased Constantine to the +point of saying: “Do you want a loan, O’Valley? I +think you’ll make good. Then it’s up to my daughter; +she knows whom she wants to marry better than I do. +You’re a decent sort––her mother would have liked +you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want a loan just yet. I want to make her +marry me because I have made my own money and +can take care of my own wife. I’m just asking you +not to interfere if I do win out. I’ve saved a little––I’m +going to take a plunge in stocks and draw out +before it’s too late. Then I’m going into business if +I can; but I’ll have to try my luck gambling before I +do. When I hang out my shingle I may ask you to +help––a little. Self-made men of to-day are made on +paper––not by splitting logs or teaching school in +the backwoods in order to buy a dictionary and law +books––we haven’t the time for that. So I’ll take +my chances and you’ll hear from me later.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></div> +<p>While Beatrice was skimming through school and +taking walking trips through Norway punctuated by +fleeting visits home, remaining as childish and unconcerned +as to vital things as her mother had been +at fourteen, Steve left the Constantine factory and +took the plunge.</p> +<p>Good luck favoured him, and for five golden years +he continued to rise in the financial world, causing +his rivals to say: “A fool’s luck first then the war +made him––the government contracts, you know. +He’s only succeeded because of luck and the fact of +it’s being the psychological moment. Worked in the +ordnance game––didn’t see active service––money +just kept rolling in. Well, who wants a war fortune? +Some folks in 1860 bought government mules for +limousine prices and sold them for the same. Besides, +it’s only so he can marry the Gorgeous Girl. I +guess he’ll find out it was cheap at half the price!”</p> +<p>While talk ran riot Steve’s fortune multiplied with +almost sinister speed. He learned that flattery and +ridicule were the best weapons known to man. And +while the Gorgeous Girl flew home at the first war +cloud to bury herself in serious war activities Steve +climbed the upward path and never once glanced +backward lest he grow dizzy.</p> +<p>At thirty-two, in the year 1919, he was able to say +to Mark Constantine, in the fashion of a fairy-story +hero: “I still love your daughter, sir, and I’ve made +my fortune. We want to be married. Your blessing, +please.” And to himself: “I’ll show the worst side +of me to the world so wolves won’t come and steal my +precious gold that I had to have in order to win her; +and I’ll show my best side to the woman I love, and +that’s fair enough!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></div> +<p>With surprising accuracy Mary Faithful’s keen +mind, aided by a tender heart, had pieced this +mosaic business and love story together, and as she +finished the panorama she glanced at the Gorgeous +Girl in her mink dolman and bright red straw hat, the +useless knitting bag on her arm, and Steve’s engagement +ring blazing away on her finger, and she sighed +unconsciously.</p> +<p>“Don’t tell Miss Faithful any more,” Beatrice +protested. “I’m sure she knows about everything, +and it’s late––I’m tired.”</p> +<p>“All right, lady fair. That’s all, Miss Faithful. +Good-night,” Steve dismissed her abruptly.</p> +<p>As Mary left the room he was saying tenderly: +“What did you do at cooking school?”</p> +<p>And the Gorgeous Girl was answering: “We made +pistachio fondant; and next week it will be Scotch +broth. It takes an hour to assemble the vegetables +and I dread it. Only half the class were there, the +rest were at Miss Harper’s classical-dancing lesson. +That’s fun, too. I think I’ll take it up next year. I +was just thinking how glad I am papa built the big +apartment house five years ago; it’s so much nicer to +begin housekeeping there instead of a big place of +one’s own. It’s such work to have a house on your +hands. Are you ready?”</p> +<p>“Hold on. Don’t I deserve a single kiss?... +Thank you, Mrs. O’Valley.” Then the door closed.</p> +<p>Mary Faithful picked up her notations. She tried +to comfort herself with the thought that no one +should ever have reason to guess her secret. If all +honest men steal umbrellas and kisses, so do all +honest women fib as to the size of their shoes and the +person they love best of all the world!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> +<p>Sunday was a much-dreaded day in Mary’s +calendar, partly because she surrendered herself +to the maternal monologue of how dreadful +it was to have a daughter in business and not a lady +in a home of her own, and partly because she missed +the office routine and the magical stimulation of +Steve’s presence. Besides, Trudy was a thorn in +Mary’s flesh and on Sundays the thorn had a chance +to assert herself in particularly unendurable fashion.</p> +<p>For instance––the Sunday morning following the +Gorgeous Girl’s visit to Steve’s office Trudy unwillingly +dragged herself downstairs at half-past ten in a +faded, bescrolled kimono over careless lingerie, her +hair bundled under a partially soiled boudoir cap, and +her feet flopping along in tattered silk slippers.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, it’s Sunday again,” she began. “Goodness +me, Mary, I’d hate to be as good as you are––always +up and smiling! Why don’t you have a +permanent smile put on your face? It would be lots +easier.”</p> +<p>At which joke Luke giggled, and Mrs. Faithful, +ensconced in a large rocker behind the starched curtains +so that nothing passing on the street could +escape her eagle, melancholy eye, nodded approval +and added: “I should think Mary would lie abed +the one morning she could. But no, she gets Luke +up no matter what the weather is, and flies round like +a house afire. When I was in my father’s house I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +never had to lift a finger. Trudy, I wish you could +have seen my bedroom. I had a mahogany four-poster +bed with white draperies, and a dresser to +match the bed, and my father bought me a silver +toilet set when he was in Lexington, Kentucky, one +time. He used to go there to sell horses. I remember +one time I went with him and if I do say so +I was much admired.</p> +<p>“I rode horseback those days and I had a dappled-gray +pony named Pet, and everyone said it was just +like looking at a picture to see me go prancing by. +Of course I never thought about it. I wore a black +velvet riding habit with a long train and a black velvet +hat with a white plume just floating behind, and I +had white gauntlets, too.</p> +<p>“Mary, Trudy wants her coffee. Hot cakes? Oh, +pshaw, they won’t hurt you a mite. I was raised on +’em. I guess I’ll have another plateful, Mary, while +you’re frying ’em. I’m so comfortable I hate to get +up.... You poor little girls having to go out +and hustle all week long and not half appreciated! +Never mind, some Prince Charming will come and +carry you off sometime.” Whereat she waddled to +the table to wait for the hot cakes to arrive.</p> +<p>Mrs. Faithful had pepper-and-salt-coloured hair +and small dark eyes that snapped like an angry +bird’s, and a huge double chin. Her nondescript +shape resolved itself into a high, peaked lap over +which, when not eating hot cakes, her stubby hands +seemed eternally clasped.</p> +<p>“Mary takes after her pa, poor child,” she had told +Trudy confidentially. “Lean and lank as a clothes +pole! And those gray eyes that look you straight +through. I wish she didn’t think so much of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +office and would get a nice young man. I’d like to +know what it is in those books she finds so fascinating. +Can you tell me? I tried to read Omar Canine myself +but it was too much for me.”</p> +<p>“I’m no highbrow,” Trudy had laughed. “Mary +is; and a fine girl, besides,” she had added, resentfully.</p> +<p>With all Trudy’s shallow nature and shrewd +selfishness she was as fond of Mary as she was capable +of being fond of any one. Besides, it was more comfortable +to be a member of the Faithful household +for nine dollars a week and be allowed hot cakes and +sirup à la kimono on Sunday morning; to have Gaylord +Vondeplosshe, her friend, frequent the parlour at +will; to use the telephone and laundry, and to occupy +the best room in the house than to have to tuck into +a room similar to Miss Lunk’s––and she was truly +grateful to Mary for having taken her in. She felt +that Mrs. Faithful underestimated her man of the +family.</p> +<p>Mary at the present time earned forty dollars a +week. Out of this she supported her family and +saved a little. At regular intervals she tried persuading +her mother to leave the old-fashioned house and +move into a modern apartment, which would give +her the opportunity of dispensing with Trudy as a +boarder. But her mother liked Trudy, with her airs +and graces, her beaux, her startling frocks. Trudy +was company; Mary was not. She was the breadwinner +and a wonderful daughter, as Mrs. Faithful +always said when callers mentioned her. But the +mother had never been friends with her children nor +with their father. So Mary had grown up accustomed +to work and loneliness; and, most important +of all, accustomed to considering everyone else first +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +and herself last. It was Mary who saw beneath the +boisterousness of Luke’s boy nature and spied the +good therein, trying to develop it as best she could. +Aside from Luke and her business she found amusement +in her dream life of loving Steve O’Valley and +vicariously sharing his joys and sorrows, safeguarding +his interests.</p> +<p>She had told herself four years ago: “You +clumsy, thin business woman––the idea of halfway +dreaming that such a man as Steve would ever love +you! Of course he’s intended for the Gorgeous Girl; +the very law of opposites makes him care for her––pretty, +useless doll. So take your joy in being his +business partner, because the Gorgeous Girl can +never share the partnership any more than you could +share his name; and there’s a heap of comfort in being +of some use.”</p> +<p>After which self-inflicted homily Mary had set to +work and followed her own advice. She had discovered +very shortly that there were many things to +enjoy and be thankful for.</p> +<p>As soon as she was able Mary had refurnished her +father’s study and taken it for her own. Here she +made out household bills, lectured Luke, planned +work, sewed, and read. It was a shabby, cheery room +with a faded old carpet, an open fireplace, some easy-chairs, +and a black-walnut secretary over which her +father had dreamed his dreams. On the walls were +stereotyped engravings such as Cherry Ripe and The +Call to Arms, which Mrs. Faithful refused to part +with; no one, herself included, ever knowing just why.</p> +<p>Mary also took herself to task in the little study +in as impersonal a manner as a true father confessor. +“You are twenty-six and growing set in your ways,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +she would mentally accuse––“always wanting a certain +table at the café and a certain waitress. Old +Maid! Must have your little French book to read +away at as you munch your rolls and refuse to be +sociable. Hermitess! And always buy chocolates +and a London <i>News</i> on Saturday night. Getting so +you fuss if you have square-topped hairpins instead +of round, and letting milliners sell you any sort of +hats because you are too busy to prink! Going to +art galleries and concerts alone––and quite satisfied +to do so. Now, please, Mary, try not to be so queer +and horrid!” Followed by a one-sided debate as to +whether or not these were normal symptoms of +maturity, and if she were mistress of a house would +she not entertain equally set notions regarding brands +of soap, and so on?</p> +<p>“Office notions are not so nice as the frilly, +cry-on-a-shoulder-when-the-biscuits-burn notions,” she would +end, dolefully. “Fancy my tall self weeping on the +superintendent’s shoulder because a cablegram has +gone astray! Making women over into commercial +nuns is a problem––some of us take it easily and +don’t try to fight back, some of us fight and end +defeated and bitter, and some of us don’t play the +game but just our own hand––like Trudy. And +what’s the square game for a commercial nun? That +is what I’d like to know.”</p> +<p>She would then find herself dreaming of two distinct +forks in the road, both of which might be possible +for her but only one of which was probable. +Each fork led to a feminine rainbow ending.</p> +<p>The more probable fork would resolve itself, a few +years hence, into a trim suburban bungalow with a +neat roadster to whisk her into business and whisk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +her away from it. The frilly, cry-on-a-shoulder-when-the-biscuits-burn +part of Mary would have long +ago vanished, leaving the business woman quite serene +and satisfied. She would find her happiness in mere +things––in owning her home; in facing old age single-handed +and knowing it would not bring the gray +wolf; in helping Luke through college while her +mother was in a comfy orthodox heaven with plenty +of plates of hot cakes and dozens of starched window +curtains; in rejoicing at some new possession for her +living room, at her immaculate business costumes, +new books, tickets for the opera season; in vacationing +wherever she wished, sometimes with other commercial +nuns and sometimes alone; in having that +selfish, tempting freedom of time and lack of personal +demands which permit a woman to be always well +groomed and physically rested, and to take refuge in +a sanitarium whenever business worries pressed too +hard. To sum it up: it meant to sit on the curbstone––a +nice, steam-heated, artistically furnished +curbstone, to be sure, and have to watch the procession +pass by.</p> +<p>The other fork in the road led to a shadowy rainbow +since Mary knew so little concerning it. It +comprised the exacting, unselfish role of having baby +fingers tagging at her skirts and shutting her away +from easy routines and lack of responsibility; of +having a house to suit her family first and herself last; +of growing old and tired with the younger things +growing up and away from her, and the strong-shouldered +man demanding to be mothered, after the +fashion of all really strong-shouldered and successful +men––requiring more of her patience and love than +all the young things combined; of subordinating her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +personality, perhaps her ideas, and most certainly +her surface interests. To be that almost mystical +relation, a wife; which includes far more than having +Mrs. Stephen O’Valley––just for example––on a calling +card.</p> +<p>To her lot would fall the task of always being there +to welcome the strong man with tender joy when he +has succeeded or to comfort him with equal tenderness +when he has failed, and at all times spurring him +to live up to the ideal his wife has set for him. To +stay aloof from his work inasmuch as it would annoy +him, yet to be adviser emeritus, whether the matter +involved hiring a new sweeper-out or moving the +whole plant to the end of the world. Someone who +ministered to the needs of the strong man’s very soul +in unsuspected, often unconscious and unthanked +fashion; such a trifle as a rose-shaded lamp for tired +eyes; a funny bundle of domestic happenings told +cleverly to offset the jarring problems of commerce; a +song played by sympathetic fingers; a little poem +tucked in the blotter of the strong man’s desk, an +artful praising of the strong man’s self!</p> +<p>Mary realized this latter fork was not probable––nor +was she unhappy because of it. She sometimes +retired to her study to vow eternal wrath upon Trudy +Burrows for having attached herself to the household; +or to pray that her mother be enlightened to the +extent of moving; but beyond an occasional “mad +on,” as Luke said, Mary viewed life from the angle of +the doughnut and not that of the hole.</p> +<p>“I wish someone else would try baking these +greasy things,” she said, coming in with another +plateful.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you slip on a kimono instead of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +starched house dress, Mary? Whoever is spick-and-span +on Sunday morning?”</p> +<p>“Don’t get Mary to lecturing,” Mrs. Faithful +warned between bites. “She’ll make us all go to +church if we’re not careful. Are you going out with +Gay to-day, Trudy?”</p> +<p>“Yes. And I’m awfully mad at him, too. It’s +fierce the way he gambles.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too harsh; it’s a mistake to nag too much +beforehand. He’s a lovely young man and I wish +Luke could have one of those green paddock coats. +I always like a gentleman’s coat with a sealskin +collar, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“If it’s paid for.” Trudy’s eyes darkened. “Just +because Gay comes of a wonderful family he thinks +he has the keys to the city.”</p> +<p>“He’s a lovely young man,” Mrs. Faithful reiterated. +“Oh, what did Beatrice Constantine wear +when she came down to the office?”</p> +<p>“Clothes.” Mary was deep in the Sunday paper +art section.</p> +<p>“She looked like a Christmas tree on fire,” Luke +supplemented. “Lovely butter-coloured hair she +has!”</p> +<p>“That will do. She is very nice, but different from +our sort.” Mary glanced up from her paper.</p> +<p>Trudy bridled. “She’s no different; she has +money. My things have as much style. Gaylord +knows her intimately, and he says she is a wretched +dancer and pouts if things don’t please her. The +best tailors and modistes in the country make her +things. Who wouldn’t look well? If I had one +tenth of her income I’d be a more Gorgeous Girl than +she is––and don’t I wish I had it! Oh, boy! Why, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +that girl has her maid, the most wonderful jewellery +you ever saw, two automobiles of her own and a +saddle horse, and her father owns the best apartment +house in town, and Beatrice is going to have the best +apartment in it when she marries Steve. And you +can just bet she knew she was going to marry him a +long time ago––because she knew he’d rob the Bank of +England to get a fortune. She’s flirted with everyone +from an English nobleman to the Prince of Siam, and +now she’s marrying the handsomest, brightest, most +devoted cave man in the world.” Trudy glanced at +Mary. “Yet she doesn’t really care for him, she +just wants to be married before she is considered +passée.” Trudy was very proud of her occasional +French. “She’ll be twenty-six her next birthday!”</p> +<p>“Dear me, girls take their time these days; I was +eighteen the day Mr. Faithful led me to the altar.”</p> +<p>“When are you going to get married?” Luke asked +Trudy with malice aforethought.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll give Mary a chance. She don’t want to +dance in the pig trough.”</p> +<p>Mary laid down the paper. “I wish you people +would finish eating. Luke, are you going fishing +with me out at the old mill? Then you better get the +walks swept. We’ll be home in time for dinner, +mother. I’ll leave the things as nearly ready as I +can. How about you, Trudy?”</p> +<p>“Gay wants me to go to the Boulevard Café––they +dance on Sunday just the same as weekdays––and +then we’ll do a movie afterward. I suppose Steve +and his Beatrice are now revelling in the Constantine +conservatory, with Steve walking on all fours to +prove his devotion. Why is it some girls have +everything? Look at me––no one cares if I live or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +die. First I had a stepmother, and then I tried +living with a great-aunt, and then I went to work. +Here I am still working, and a lot of thanks I get for +it. I’d like to see the Gorgeous Girl have to work––well, +I would!”</p> +<p>Mary brushed by with some dishes. Whereupon +Trudy settled herself in an easy-chair and ran +through the supplement sections, discussing the +latest New York scandal with Mrs. Faithful. The +next thing on Trudy’s Sunday program was washing +out “just a few little things, Mary dear; and have you +a bit of soap I could borrow and may I use the electric +iron for half a jiffy?”</p> +<p>Presently there were hung on the line some dabs of +chiffon and lace, and Trudy, taking advantage of her +softened cuticle, sat down and did her nails, Mrs. +Faithful admiring the high polish she achieved and +reading Advice to the Anxious aloud for general +edification.</p> +<p>After ironing the few little things Trudy shampooed +her hair with scented soap and by the time its reddish +loveliness was dry it was high noon and she repaired +to her bedroom to mend and write letters. At one +o’clock, in the process of dressing, she rapped at +Mary’s door and asked to borrow a quarter.</p> +<p>“I’m terribly poor this week and if I should have a +quarrel with Gay I want to have enough carfare to +come home alone––you know how we scrap,” she +explained.</p> +<p>About two o’clock there emerged from the front +bedroom an excellent imitation of the Gorgeous Girl. +Trudy had not exaggerated when she boasted of her +own style. Though patronizing credit houses exclusively +and possessing not a single woollen garment nor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +a penny of savings, she tripped down the stairs in +answer to Luke’s summons, a fearful, wonderful little +person in a gown of fog-coloured chiffon with a violet +sash and a great many trimmings of blue crystal +beads. She boasted of a large black hat which +seemed a combination of a Spanish scarf and a South +Sea pirate’s pet headgear, since it had red coral earrings +hanging at either side of it. Over her shoulders +was a luxurious feline pelt masquerading comfortably +under the title of spotted fox. White kid boots, +white kid gloves, a silver vanity case, and a red satin +rose at her waist completed the costume.</p> +<p>Standing in the offing, about to decamp with Mary, +Luke gave a low whistle to tip her off to look out the +window and not miss it. Mrs. Faithful was peeking +from behind the starched window curtains as there +glided before her eyes the most elegant young woman +and impressive young man ever earning fifteen dollars +and no dollars a week respectively.</p> +<p>“How do they do it?” Mary sighed. “Come, Luke, +let’s get on the trail of something green and real.”</p> +<p>A few moments later there hurried along the same +pathway a tall young woman in an old tailored suit +which impressed one with the wearer’s plainness. +Instead of a silver vanity case she was laden with a +basket of newspapers, string, and a garden trowel, indicating +that fern roots would be the vogue shortly. +Shouldering fishing tackle Luke turned his freckled +face toward Mary as they began a conversation, and +his perpetual grin was momentarily replaced by an +expression of respect. At least his sister was not like +the average woman, who depends solely on her +clothes to make her interesting.</p> +<p>Meantime, Trudy and Gaylord Vondeplosshe were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +beginning their Sunday outing by walking to the +corner in silence––the usual preliminary to a dispute. +Gaylord was quite Trudy’s equal as to clothes, not +only in style but in forgetfulness to pay for them. +Still, he was not unusual after one fully comprehended +the type, for they flourished like mushrooms. +His had been a rich and powerful family––only-the-father-drank-you-see +variety––the sort taking the +fastest and most expensive steamer to Europe and +bringing shame upon the name of American traveller +after arriving. Gaylord had been the adored and +only son, and his adored and older sister had managed +to marry fairly well before the crash came and debts +surrounded the entire Vondeplosshe estate.</p> +<p>He was small and frail, a trifle bow-legged to be +exact, with pale and perpetually weeping eyes, a +crooked little nose with an incipient moustache doing +its best to hide a thick upper lip. His forehead +sloped back like a cat’s, and his scanty, sandy hair +was brushed into a shining pompadour, while white +eyelashes gave an uncanny expression to his face. +Abortive lumps of flesh stuck on at careless intervals +sufficed for ears, and his scrawny neck with its absurdly +correct collar and wild necktie seemed like an +old, old man’s when he dresses for his golden-wedding +anniversary. Everything about Gaylord seemed old, +exhausted, quite ineffectual. His mother had never +tired boasting that Gaylord had had mumps, measles, +chicken pox, whooping cough, St. Vitus dance, double +pneumonia, and typhoid, had broken three ribs, his +left arm, his right leg, and his nose––all before reaching +the age of sixteen. And yet she raised him!</p> +<p>Coupled with this and the fact of his father’s +failure people were lenient to him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div> +<p>“He’s Vondeplosshe’s boy,” they said; so they gave +him a position or a loan or a letter of introduction, +and thought at the same time what a splendid thing +it was Vondeplosshe was out of it instead of having to +stand by and see his son make a complete foozle. +For some time Gaylord had been scampering up and +down the gauntlet of sympathy, and as long as he +could borrow more money in Hanover than he could +possibly earn he refused to go to work.</p> +<p>Originally he would have been almost as rich as the +Gorgeous Girl herself, but as it was he was poor as +Trudy Burrows, only Trudy was a nobody, her +family being a dark and uncertain quantity in the +wilds of Michigan.</p> +<p>Whereas Gaylord was Vondeplosshe and he could––and +did––saunter past a red-brick mansion and +remark pensively: “I was born in the room over the +large bay window; the one next to it was my nursery––a +dear old spot. Rather tough, old dear, to have +to stand outside!” Or: “Father was a charter +member of the club, so they carry me along without +dues. Decent of them, isn’t it? Father was a prince +among men, robbed right and left, y’know––always +the way when a gentleman tries to be in business. +Some say it was Constantine himself who did the +worst of it. Of course never repeat it, will you? It +takes a man with Steve O’Valley’s coarseness to forge +ahead.”</p> +<p>His wobbly, rickety little body always wore the +most startling of costumes. A green paddock coat, +well padded, a yellow walking stick in the thin fingers, +a rakish hat, patent-leather boots, striped suits, silk +shirts with handkerchiefs to match, a gold cigarette +case, and a watch chain like a woman’s, were a few of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +Gaylord’s daily requisites. He lived at a club called +The Hunters of Arcadia, where he paid an occasional +stipend and gambled regularly, sometimes winning. +He also promoted things in half-dishonest, half-idiotic +fashion, undertaking to bring on opera singers for a +concert, sometimes realizing a decent sum and sometimes +going behind only to be rescued by an old +family friend.</p> +<p>Gaylord was always keen on dinner invitations. +And because he was a son of Vondeplosshe the same +family friends endured his conceited twaddle and his +knock-kneed, wicked little self, and sighed with relief +when he went away. It would be so much easier to +send these dethroned sons of rich men a supply of +groceries and an order for coal!</p> +<p>Besides these lines of activity Gaylord wrote +society items for the paper, and as he knew everyone +and everything about them he was worth a stipend to +the editor. He was considered a divine dancer by +the buds, and counted as a cutey by widows. But +his standing among creditors was: If he offered a +check for the entire amount or a dollar on account, +pass up the check!</p> +<p>Steve had destroyed several IOU’s with Gaylord’s +name attached for the sole reason that Gay had been +a playmate of Beatrice’s and she rather favoured +him.</p> +<p>“He is so convenient,” she had defended. “You +can always call him up at the last minute if someone +has disappointed for cards or dinner, and he is never +busy. He can shop with you as well as a woman, +lunch with you, dance with you––and he does know +the proper way to handle small silver. Besides, he +loves Monster.” Monster was Bea’s pound-and-a-half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +spaniel, which barked her wonder at the silken +beauty of Beatrice’s boudoir.</p> +<p>So Gaylord travelled his own peculiar gait, with his +married sister occasionally sending him checks; as +busy as a kitten with a ball of yarn in making everyone +tolerate though loathing him. When he visited +Steve’s office in the first flush of Steve’s success, to +ask the thousandth favour from him, and spied +Trudy Burrows in all her lemon-kid booted, pink-chiffon +waisted, red-haired loveliness––as virile and +bewitching as any one Gaylord’s pale little mind +could picture––he proved himself a “true democrat,” +as he boasted at the club, and offered her his hand in +marriage in short order.</p> +<p>Having just despaired of winning a moneyed bride +Gaylord chose Truletta, reasoning that if she were a +little nobody it would give him the whiphand over +her, since she would feel that to marry a Vondeplosshe +was no small triumph. Besides, a chic red-haired +wife who knew how to make the most of nothing and +to smile, showing thirty-two pearly teeth as cleverly +as any dental ad, would not be a bad asset among his +men friends. Had the Vondeplosshe fortunes remained +intact and Gay met Trudy he would still have +pressed his attentions upon her, though they might +not have taken the form of an offer of marriage. +Trudy’s virile, magnetic personality would have commanded +this weakling’s attention and admiration at +any time and in any circumstances––which is the +way of things.</p> +<p>Very wisely Trudy kept the engagement somewhat +of a secret. She estimated that by being seen with +Gay she might meet a not impoverished and real +man; and Gay––who still hoped for an heiress to fall +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +madly in love with him––was willing to let the matter +be a mere understanding. So this oversubscribed +flirt and this underendowed young gentleman had +been waiting for nearly two years for something to +live on in order to be married or else two new affinities +in order that they might part amicably.</p> +<p>They did not speak until they were in the café, +where it looked well for Gaylord to be attentive and +Trudy gracious.</p> +<p>Under the mask of a smile Trudy began: “I’m cross. +You were gambling again––yes, you were! Never +mind how I know. I know!... I’ll have +macaroni, ripe olives, and a cream puff.”</p> +<p>“The same,” Gay said, mournfully; adding: “Well, +deary, I have to live!”</p> +<p>“Why not work? I do. You sponge along and +waste everyone’s time. I’m not getting any younger, +and it’s pretty rough to be in an office with horrid +people ordering you round––to have to hear all about +Beatrice Constantine and her wonderful wedding. +I’m as good as she is––yet I’ll not be asked, and you +will be.”</p> +<p>“Of course I am. I’m her oldest playmate,” he +said, proudly.</p> +<p>Trudy’s temper jumped the stockade. “So, you +paste jewel, you’ll go mincing into church and see her +married and dance with everyone afterward; and I’ll +sit in the office licking postage stamps while you kiss +the bride! I’m better looking than she is; and if you +are good enough to go to that wedding so am I!”</p> +<p>“Why, Trudy,” he began, in a bewildered fashion, +“don’t make a scene.”</p> +<p>“No use making a scene in a fifty-cent café,” she +told him, bitterly, “but I’m plenty good looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +enough to have a real man buy me a real dinner with +a taxi and wine and violets as extras. Don’t think +you are doing me a big favour by being engaged to +me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you’re a great little girl,” he said, nervously; +“and it’s all going to come out right. It does rile me +to think of your working for Steve. Never mind, my +ship will come in and then we’ll show them all.”</p> +<p>“I’m twenty-three and you’re twenty-six, and my +eyes ache when I work steadily. I’ll have to wear +glasses in another year––but I’ll wash clothes before +I’ll do it!”</p> +<p>“When it gets that bad we’ll be married,” he said, +seriously.</p> +<p>The humour passed over Trudy’s head. “Married +on what?” She was her prettiest when angry +and she stirred in Gaylord’s one-cylinder brain a +resolve to play fairy-godfather husband and somehow +deliver a fortune at her feet.</p> +<p>“I can’t live at your club,” she continued; “and +your sister is jealous of her husband and wouldn’t +want me round. We couldn’t live with the Faithfuls; +Mary’s a nice girl but I can’t go their quiet +ways. I only stay because it’s cheap. I owe more +than two hundred dollars right now.”</p> +<p>Gaylord was sympathetic. “I owe more than +that,” he admitted; “but I’m going to have some +concerts and there’ll be good horse races soon––sure +things, you know. You’ll see, little girl. What +would you say if I showed you a real bank account?”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t waste time talking. I’d marry you.” +Her good humour was returning. “Honest, Gay, do +you think you might draw down some kale?”</p> +<p>Like all her kind she had an absurd trust in any one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +who was paying her attention. With a different type +of man Trudy would have been beaten, courageously +had the gentleman arrested, and then interfered when +the judge was directing him to the penitentiary.</p> +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way. When we are +married and you meet my friends you’ll have to brush +up on a lot of things.”</p> +<p>“I guess I’ll manage to be understood,” she retorted; +“and when we are married maybe you can get +my job so as to support your wife!”</p> +<p>The orchestra began playing a new rag, and Trudy +and Gay immediately left their chairs to be the first +couple on the floor. They were prouder of their +dancing than of each other.</p> +<p>After several dances they became optimistic over +the future and finished their dinner with the understanding +that at the first possible moment they would +be married and Trudy was to be a hard-working little +bride causing her husband’s men friends to be nice to +the Vondeplosshes, while husband would persuade +the Gorgeous Girl to be nice to his wife.</p> +<p>They decided, too, that Mary Faithful was clever +and good––but queer.</p> +<p>That Steve O’Valley would discover that a self-made +man could not marry an heiress and make a go +of it as well as a man of an aristocratic family could +marry an adorable red-haired young lady and elevate +her to his position.</p> +<p>That Trudy was far more beautiful than Beatrice +Constantine, and as one lived only once in this world––why +not always strive for a good time?</p> +<p>Whereat they had a farewell dance and moved on +to the moving-picture world, where they held hands +and stared vapidly at the films, repairing to a cafeteria +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +on a side street for a lunch, and then to the +Faithful parlour. Mary had gone to church, Luke +had boy friends in to discuss a summer camp, and his +mother snored mildly on the dining-room sofa.</p> +<p>They took possession of the front parlour, and the +enlarged crayons of the Faithful ancestors bore witness +that for more than two hours these young people +giggled over the comic supplement, debated as to the +private life of the movie stars, tried new dance steps, +and then planned how to get everything for nothing +and, having done so, not to share their spoils.</p> +<p>“A perfectly lovely time!” Trudy said, glibly, as +she kissed Gay good-night.</p> +<p>“Perfectly lovely!” he echoed, politely. “Don’t +work too hard to-morrow, Babseley, will you? And +do nothing rash until you see me.”</p> +<p>“Call me up to-morrow at eight, Bubseley,” she +giggled. The pet names were of Gay’s choice.</p> +<p>So Bubseley tottered down the walk while Babseley +turned out the lights and retired to her room with a +bag of candy and a paprika-brand of novel. At midnight +she tossed it aside and with self-pity prepared to +go to sleep.</p> +<p>“And I’ll have to go to work to-morrow,” she +sighed, planning her next silk dress as she did up the +Titian hair in curlers.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> +<p>WHEN the world was considerably younger it +dressed children in imitation of its adults––those +awful headdresses and heavy stays, +long skirts to trip up tender little feet, and jewelled +collars to make tiny necks ache. Now that the world +“is growing evil and the time is waxing late” the +grown-ups have turned the tables and they dress like +the children––witness thereof to be found in the costume +of Aunt Belle Todd, Mark Constantine’s sister, +who had shared her brother’s fortunes ever since his +wife had been presented with the marble monument.</p> +<p>Like all women who have ceased having birthdays +Aunt Belle had not ceased struggling. She still had +hopes of a financier who would carry her off in a +storm of warmed-over romance to a castle in Kansas. +Her first husband was Thomas Todd, the carpenter, +chiefly distinguished for falling off a three-story +building on which he was working and never harming +a hair of his head; also for singing first bass in the +village quartet. Aunt Belle had slightly recoloured +her past since she had lived with her brother. The +account of Mr. Todd’s singing in the quartet was +made to resemble a brilliant début in grand opera +which was abandoned because of Aunt Belle’s dislike +of stage life and its temptations, while his rolling off +the three-story building was never alluded to except +when Mark Constantine wished to tease.</p> +<p>She was a short, plump person with permanently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +jet-black hair and twinkling eyes. Prepared to forgo +all else save elegance, she had brought up her gorgeous +niece with the idea that it was never possible to +have too much luxury. Seated in the Gorgeous +Girl’s dressing room she now presented excellent +proof that the world was growing very old indeed, +for her plump self was squeezed into a short purple +affair made like a pinafore, her high-heeled bronze +slippers causing her to totter like a mandarin’s wife; +and strings of coral beads and a gold lorgnette rose +and fell with rhythmic motion as she sighed very +properly over her niece’s marriage.</p> +<p>“It will never be the same, darling,” she was saying, +glancing in a mirror to see if the light showed the +rouge boundaries too clearly––“never quite the same. +You’ll understand when your daughter marries––for +you have been just as dear as one.”</p> +<p>Beatrice, who was busy inspecting some newly +arrived lingerie, did not glance up as she answered: +“Don’t be silly. You know it’s a relief. You can +sit back and rest from now on––until I’m divorced,” +she added with a smile.</p> +<p>“How can you even say such a thing?”</p> +<p>Beatrice tossed the filmy creamy silk somethings +or other away and delivered herself of her mind. +“Alice Twill was divorced before she married this +specimen; so was Coralie Minter; and Harold Atwater; +and both the Deralto girls were divorced, and +their mother, too. And Jill Briggs is considering it, +and I’m sure I don’t blame her. Everyone seems to +think a divorce quite the proper caper when things +grow dull. You may as well have all the fun you can. +Steve wants me to have everything I fancy, and I’m +sure he’d never deny me a divorce.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div> +<p>“You are marrying a splendid, self-made young +man who adores you and who is making money every +day in the week. No girl is to be more envied––you +have had a wonderful ten years of being a ‘Gorgeous +Girl,’ as your dear papa calls it, and at twenty-six you +are to become the bride of a wonderful man––neither +too early nor too late an age. I cannot really +grieve––when I realize how happy you are going to be, +and yet–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t work so hard, aunty,” Bea said, easily. “Of +course Steve’s a wonderful old dear and all that––I +wish I had asked him for the moon. I do believe he’d +have gotten an option on it.” She laughed and +reached over to a bonbon dish to rummage for a +favourite flavour. She selected a fat, deadly looking +affair, only to bite into it and discover her mistake. +She tossed it on the floor so that Monster could creep +out of her silk-lined basket and devour the remains.</p> +<p>“If you call natural feelings of a mother and an +aunt ‘working hard’ I am at a loss–––” her aunt +began with attempted indignation.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t call anything anything; I’m dead and +almost buried.” She looked at her small self in the +pier glass. “Think of all I have to go through with +before it is over and we are on our way west. Here it +is half-past twelve and I’ve not eaten breakfast really. +I’m so tired of presents and bored with clothes that +I cannot acknowledge another thing or decide anything. +I think weddings are a frightful ordeal. Did +you know the women on my war-relief committee +presented me with a silver jewel box? Lovely of them, +wasn’t it? But I deserve it––after slaving all last +winter. My bronchitis was just because I sold tags +for them during that rainy weather.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div> +<p>“No, I haven’t seen it. But I am glad you decided +on a church wedding––there is such a difference +between a wedding and just a marriage.”</p> +<p>Beatrice shoved the box of lingerie away. “Those +are all wrong, so back they go; and I can’t help it if +that woman does need money, I told her I wanted a +full inch-and-a-half beading and she has put this +crochet edge all round everywhere. I shan’t accept +a single piece!”</p> +<p>Whereupon she sat down at her dressing table and +rang for her maid. Madame Pompadour herself had +no lovelier boudoir than Beatrice. It was replete +with rose-coloured taffeta curtains, padded sky-blue +silk walls with garlands of appliquéd flowers. Lace +frills covered every possible object; the ivory furniture +was emphasized by smart rose upholstery, and +the dressing table itself fairly dazzled one by the +array of gold-topped bottles and gold-backed brushes.</p> +<p>Johanna, the maid, began brushing the sunshiny +hair, the Gorgeous Girl stamping her feet as snarls +asserted themselves.</p> +<p>“Two more days before the wedding,” she complained. +“There’s the Twill luncheon to-day and a +bridge and tea at Marion Kavanaugh’s––I hate her, +too. She gave me the most atrocious Chinese idol. +I’m going to tell her I have no proper place for it, that +it deserves to be alone in a room in order to have it +properly appreciated.” She laughed at herself. “So +I’ll leave it for papa. The apartment won’t hold +but just so much––it’s a tiny affair.” She laughed +again, the apartment having only eleven rooms and a +profusion of iron grille work at all the windows. +“But it’s a wonderful way to start––in an apartment––it +is such a good excuse for not dragging in all the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +terrible wedding presents. I can leave everything I +like with papa because he never minds anything as +long as he has old slippers and plenty of mince pie. +After a year or so I’m going to have a wonderful +house copied after one I saw in Italy. By then they +will all have forgotten what they gave me and I +can furnish it so we won’t have to go about wearing +blinders.... The blue dress, Jody, that’s +right.”</p> +<p>“And what is it to-night?” her aunt asked, meekly.</p> +<p>“The Farmsworth dinner; and to-morrow another +luncheon and the garden party at the club. Then +the dinner here, rehearsal; and Wednesday, thank +heaven, it will be all ended!”</p> +<p>Johanna helped fasten the king’s-blue satin with +seed-pearl trimmings and place a trig black hat atilt +on the yellow hair.</p> +<p>“The ermine scarf, please.”</p> +<p>The Gorgeous Girl was slipping matronly looking +rings on her fingers and adding an extra dab of powder. +She took another chocolate, hugged Monster, +gave orders about sending back the lingerie, remarked +that she must send her photograph to the society +editor for the next day’s edition, and she thought the +one taken in her Red Cross outfit would be the +sweetest; and then kissing the tip of her aunt’s right +ear she sailed downstairs and into the closed car to be +whirled to Alice Twill’s house, a duplicate of the +Gorgeous Girl’s. There she was enthusiastically +embraced and there followed a mutual admiration as +to gowns, make-ups, and jewellery, and a mutual sympathy +as to being desperately tired and busy.</p> +<p>“My dear, I haven’t had time to breath––it’s +perfectly awful! I’ll have to drop out of things next +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +winter. Steve will never allow me to be so overburdened. +I can’t sleep unless I take a powder and I +can’t have any enthusiasm in the morning unless I +have oodles of black coffee. Of course one has had to +do serious work––thank heavens the war is over!––but +you can’t give up all the good times.... +What a lovely centre piece! And those cunning +little gilt suitcases for favours! A really truly gold +veil pin in each one? You love! Oh, let’s have a +cocktail before any one comes in. It does pick me up +wonderfully.... Thanks.... Yes, I had +breakfast in bed––some coffee and gluten crackers +was all, and aunty had to stay in my room half the +morning trying to be pensive about my wedding! +No, Markham didn’t make my travelling suit half as +well as he did Peggy Brewster’s. I shall never go +near him again.... And did you hear that Jill +found her diamond pendant in her cold cream jar, so +it wasn’t a burglar at all!</p> +<p>“Yes, Gaylord Vondeplosshe is going to be an +usher.... Well, what else could I do at the +last moment? Wasn’t it absurd for a grown man like +Fred Jennings to go have the mumps? Gay knows +everyone and I’m sure he is quite harmless.... +Oh, Steve is well and terribly busy, you know. He +is giving me the most wonderful present. Papa +hasn’t given me his yet and I’m dying to know what +it is, he always gives me such wonderful things, +too.... There’s the bell. I do hope it isn’t +Lois Taylor, because she always wants people to sign +petitions and appear in court. It is Lois Taylor! Why +didn’t you leave word to have all petitions checked +with wraps?” Giggles. “Good heavens, what a +fright of a hat. Well, are you ready to go down?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></div> +<p>Five hours later Beatrice was being dressed for the +evening’s frolic, dipping into the bonbon box for a +stray maple cream, and complaining of her headache. +At this juncture her father tiptoed clumsily into her +room and laid a white velvet jewel case on her dressing +table, standing back to watch her open it.</p> +<p>“You dear–––” she began in stereotyped, high-pitched +tones as she pressed the spring. “You duck!” +she added a trifle more enthusiastically, viewing the +bowknot of gems in the form of a pin––a design of +diamonds four inches wide with a centre stone of +pigeon’s-blood ruby. “You couldn’t have pleased +me more”––trying it against her dressing gown. +“See, Jody, isn’t this wonderful? I must kiss you.” +She rustled over to her father and brushed her lips +across his cheek, rustling back again to tell Jody that +she must try the neck coil again––it was entirely too +loose.</p> +<p>“I guess Steve can’t go any better than that,” her +father said, balancing himself on his toes and, in so +doing, rumpling the rug.</p> +<p>He was a tall, heavily built man with harsh +features and gray hair, the numerous signs of a self-made +man who is satisfied with his own achievements. +He had often told his sister: “Bea can be the lady +of the family. I’m willing to set back and pay for it. +It’d never do for me to start buying antiques or +quoting poetry. I can wear a dress suit without +disgracing Bea, and make an after-dinner speech if +they let me talk about the stockyards. But when it +comes to musicals and monocles I ask to be counted +out. I had to work too hard the first half of my life +to be able to play the last half of it. I wasn’t born +in cold storage and baptized with cracked ice the way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +these rich men’s sons are. I’ve shown this city that a +farmer’s boy can own the best in the layout and have +his girl be the most gorgeous of the crew––barring +none!</p> +<p>“This is a joy,” Beatrice was saying, rapidly, her +small face wrinkled with displeasure.</p> +<p>She wished her father would go away because she +wanted to think of a hundred details of the next forty-eight +hours and her nerves were giving warning that +their limit of endurance was near at hand. This big, +awkward man who was so harsh a task-master to the +world and so abject a slave to her own useless little +self annoyed her. He offended in an even deeper +sense––he did not interest her. Things which did +not interest her were met with grave displeasure. +Religion did not interest her; neither did Steve +O’Valley’s business––her head ached whenever he +ventured to explain it. She never had to listen to +anything to which she did not wish to listen; the only +rule imposed upon her was that of becoming the most +gorgeous girl in Hanover, and this rule she had +obeyed.</p> +<p>“Tired?” he asked, timidly.</p> +<p>“Dead. It’s terrible, papa. I don’t know how I’ll +stay bucked up. I want to burst out crying every time +a bell rings or any one speaks to me.... Oh, Jody, +your fingers are all thumbs! Please try it again.”</p> +<p>“It looks nice,” her father ventured, indicating +the puff of gold hair.</p> +<p>Beatrice did not answer; she sighed and had Johanna +proceed.</p> +<p>“The Harkin detectives will watch the presents,” +her father ventured again. “There are some more +packages downstairs.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span></div> +<p>“I’m tired of presents; I want to be through unwrapping +crystal vases and gold-lined fruit dishes and +silly book ends and having to write notes of thanks +when I hate the gifts. My mind seems quivering +little wires that won’t let me have a moment’s rest.” +She took another piece of candy.</p> +<p>“When I married your mother,” her father remarked, +softly, evidently forgetting Johanna’s presence, +“we walked to a minister’s house in Gardenville +about five miles south of here. Your mother was +working for a farmer’s wife and she didn’t say she was +going to be married. She was afraid they might try +talking her out of it––you know how women do.” +He looked round the elegant little room. “I was +getting ten dollars a week––that seemed big money +in those days. I rented two rooms in the rear cottage +of a house on Ontario Street––it’s torn down now. +And I bought some second-hand stuff to furnish it.”</p> +<p>He paced up and down; he had a habit of so doing +since he was always whisked about in his motor car +and he feared growing stiff if he did not exercise.</p> +<p>“But your mother liked the rooms––and the things. +I remember I bought a combination chair and stepladder +for a dollar and it didn’t work.” He gave a +chuckle. “It stayed in a sort of betwixt and between +position, about one third stepladder and about two +thirds chair, and that worried me a lot. A dollar +meant a good deal then. But your mother knew +what to do with it, she used it for kindling wood and +said we’d charge it up to experience. Yes, sir, we +walked to the minister’s––she wore a blue-print dress +with a little pink sprig in it, and a sort of a bonnet.” +His hand made an awkward descriptive gesture.</p> +<p>“The minister was mighty nice––he took us into his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +garden and let your mother pick a bunch of roses, and +then he hitched up his horse and buggy and drove us +back to the farmer’s house. The farmer’s wife cried +a little when we told her; she liked your mother. +She gave us a crock of butter and some jam. While +your mother packed her little trunk––it wasn’t any +bigger than one of your hatboxes––I went out and +stood at the gate. I kept thinking, ‘By jingo, I’m a +married man! Mr. and Mrs. Mark Constantine.’ +And I felt sort of afraid––and almost ashamed. It +frightened me because I knew it was two to feed instead +of one, and I wondered if I’d done wrong to take +Hannah away from the farmer’s wife when I was only +getting ten dollars a week.</p> +<p>“Well, when she came out of the door she looked +as pretty as you’ll look in all your stuff, and she came +right up to me and said, game as a pebble, ‘Mark, +we’re man and wife and we’ll never be sorry, will we? +And when you’re rich and I’m old we will stay just as +loving!’ I didn’t feel sorry or frightened any more––not +once. Not until you came and they told me +she had gone on. Then I felt mighty sorry––and +frightened. She looked so tired when I saw her +then––so tired.”</p> +<p>He paused, staring at his sunken gardens as seen +from Beatrice’s windows. Some men lazily raked +new-cut grass and a peacock preened itself by the +sundial. The glass conservatory showed signs of +activity. The florists were at work for the coming +event. Then he looked at his daughter, who waited +with polite restraint until his reverie was ended.</p> +<p>“I’ve given you all she would have had,” he said, +as if in debate with himself that this was the last rebuttal +against possible criticism.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></div> +<p>Beatrice glided over beside him; she looked out of +the window, too, and then at her father. Something +quite like tears was in his harsh eyes.</p> +<p>“Daddy,” she began with a quick indrawing of her +breath, “do you think she’d have wanted me to have +all––all this?”</p> +<p>“Why wouldn’t she?” he answered, taking her arm +gently. He had always treated her with a formality +amounting almost to awe.</p> +<p>“I don’t know––only I sometimes do almost +think––would you suspect it? When I go to the +office and watch those queerly dressed women bending +over desks and earning a few dollars a week and +having to live on it––and when I see how they manage +to smile in spite of it––and how I waste and +spend––and shed a great many tears––well, I wonder +if it is quite safe to start as Steve and I are starting!” +Then she threw her arms round him. “Steve won’t +believe that I’ve been serious, will he? Now, daddy +dear, please go ’way and let me dress, for I’m ’way +late.”</p> +<p>She kissed him almost patronizingly and he tiptoed +out of her room, rather glad to get into his own domain––the +majestic library with its partially arranged +wedding gifts.</p> +<p>“We’re doing ourselves proud,” he remarked to +his sister, who had been rearranging them.</p> +<p>“What I told Beatrice this morning. Only she is +all nerves. She can’t enjoy anything––it will be a +relief to me, Mark, as well as a loss, when it is +over.”</p> +<p>Her brother viewed her with a quizzical expression. +Like the rest of the world his sister never fooled him. +But like all supermen there was one human being in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +whom all his trust was centred, and who very often +thus brought about his defeat. In his case, as with +Steve O’Valley, it chanced to be Beatrice.</p> +<p>Regarding her both men––merciless with their +associates and dubbed as fish-blooded coroners by +their enemies––were like gullible children following a +lovely and willful Pied Piperess. But Mark’s sister +with her vanities and fibs irritated and amused him by +turns. Perhaps he resented her sharing this material +triumph instead of the tired-faced woman in the +churchyard.</p> +<p>“Do you remember the time you did the beadwork +for the head carpenter’s wife and when she paid you +for it you spent the dollar for liquid rouge? Todd +was so mad he wouldn’t speak for a week,” he +chuckled, unkindly.</p> +<p>“Don’t say such things! Think how it would +embarrass Bea. Of course I don’t remember. +Neither do you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t I? What’s the harm recalling old +times? I remember when you tried to make Todd a +winter overcoat and he said it looked most as good as +a deep-sea diver’s outfit. My Hannah nearly died +a-laughing.”</p> +<p>Fortunately Steve appeared, flourishing Beatrice’s +corsage by way of a greeting.</p> +<p>“Aha, the conquerer comes. My dear lad, your +lady love has just ousted me from her room, she’ll be +down presently. Belle, Steve and I are going into +the den to smoke.”</p> +<p>“I’m trying to look as amiable as possible, but I +wish fuss and feathers were not the mode.” Steve +smiled his sweetest at Aunt Belle and then took +Constantine’s arm. “The cave-man style of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +clubbing one’s chosen into unconsciousness and strolling +at leisure through the jungle with her wasn’t half bad. +By the way, I did sell the Allandale man to-day, and +the razor-factory stock is going to boom instead of +flatten out––I’m sure of it.”</p> +<p>He lit a cigarette and threw himself into an easy-chair. +Constantine selected a cigar and trimmed its +end, watching Steve as he did so.</p> +<p>“You’ve come on about as well as they ever do,” +he remarked, unexpectedly. “None of these rich +young dogs could have matched you. Seen the +presents?”</p> +<p>“Scads of ’em. Awful stuff. I don’t know what +half of it is for. Bea is going to hand you most of it. +The apartment is to be a thing of beauty and she +won’t hear of taking the offerings along.”</p> +<p>“How is the shop?”</p> +<p>“Splendid––Mary Faithful will manage it quite as +well as I do. I shall hear from her daily, you’ll stroll +over that way, and I can manage to keep my left little +finger on the wheel.”</p> +<p>“Mary’s a good sort,” Constantine mused. “Sorry +I ever let her go over to your shebang. What’s her +family like?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know. Never thought about ’em. Her +kid brother works round the place after school. +Guess Mary’s the man of the family.”</p> +<p>“How much do you pay her?”</p> +<p>“Forty a week.”</p> +<p>“Cheap enough. A man would draw down +seventy and demand an assistant. I never had any +luck with women secretaries––they all wanted to +marry me,” he admitted, grimly.</p> +<p>“Mary’s not that sort. Business is her life. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +she were a man I’d have a rival. I’m going to give +her fifty a week from now on; she’s giving up her +vacation to stay on the job.”</p> +<p>“Don’t spoil her.”</p> +<p>“No danger. I’ve promised Beatrice to really +learn to play bridge,” he changed the conversation.</p> +<p>“Accept my sympathy–––” Constantine began +and then Beatrice in a lovely Bohemian rainbow +dinner gown came stealing in to stand before them +and complain of her headache and admire her corsage +and let Steve wrap her in her cape and half carry her +to the limousine.</p> +<p>“I shan’t see you a moment until we’re married,” +he began, mournfully. “I’ve been most awfully +neglected. But as you are going to be all mine +I can’t complain. You’re prettier than ever, +Bea.... Love me?... Lots?... +Whole lots? You don’t say it the way I want you +to,” laughing at his own nonsense.</p> +<p>“I’ll scream it and a crowd can gather to bear +witness.” She dimpled prettily and nibbled at a +rose leaf. “It’s all like a fairy tale––everyone says +so, and lots of the girls would like to be marrying you +on Wednesday.”</p> +<p>“Tell them I belong to the Gorgeous Girl until six +men are walking quietly beside me and assisting me +to a permanent resting place. Even then I’ll belong +to her,” he added.</p> +<p>“Your nose is so handsome,” she said, wistfully, +recalling her own.</p> +<p>“Talking of noses! Bea, sometimes it’s terrible to +realize that my ambitions have become true. To +dream and work without ceasing and without much +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +caring what you do until your dream merges into +reality––it makes even a six-footer as hysterical as a +schoolgirl.”</p> +<p>“You’re intense,” she said, soberly. “Jill says +you’d make a wonderful actor.”</p> +<p>Steve looked annoyed. “Those scatterbrained +time wasters––don’t listen to them. Let’s find our +real selves––you and I; be worth while. Now that +I’ve made my fortune I want to spend it in a right +fashion––I want to be interested in things, not just +dollars and cents. Help me, dearest. You know +about such things; you’ve never had the ugliness of +poverty bruise the very soul of you.”</p> +<p>“You mean having a good time––and parties–––” +she began.</p> +<p>“No; books, music; studying human conditions. +I want to study the slow healing of industrial wounds +and determine the best treatment for them. I have +made the real me go ’way, ’way off somewheres for a +long time until I won my pile of gold that helped me +capture the girl I loved. Now it is done the real me +wants to come back and stay.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I see,” she said, vaguely. “Of course there +are tiny things to brush up on––greeting people, and +you mustn’t be so in earnest at dinner parties and +contradict and thump your fist. It isn’t good +form.”</p> +<p>“When whippersnappers like Gaylord Vondeplosshe–––”</p> +<p>“Sh-h-h! Gay’s a dear. He is accepted every +place.”</p> +<p>“We’re nearly there, tough luck! One kiss, +please; no one can see. Say you care, then everything +else must true up.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>The wedding took place at high noon in church, +with the bishop and two curates to officiate. There +was a vested choir singing “The Voice That Breathed +O’er Eden”; a thousand dollars’ worth of flowers; six +bridesmaids in pastel frocks and picture hats, +shepherdess’ staffs, and baskets of lilies of the valley; +a matron of honour, flower girls, ushers; a best man, a +papa, an aunty in black satin with a large section of +an ostrich farm for her hat––and a bridegroom.</p> +<p>After the wedding came the breakfast at the +Constantine house. Though certain guests murmured +that it was a trifle too ultra like the house itself, +which was half a medieval castle and half the +makings of a village fire department, it was generally +considered a success. Nothing was left undone. The +bride left the church amid the ringing of chimes; +her health was drunk, and she slipped up to the rose-taffeta-adorned +boudoir to exchange her ivory satin +for a trim suit of emerald green. Everyone wished +on the platinum circlet of diamonds and there was the +conventional throwing of the bouquet, the rush +through the back of the grounds to the hired taxi, +the screams of disappointment at the escape––and +Mr. and Mrs. O’Valley were en route on their honeymoon.</p> +<p>It remained for the detectives to guard the presents, +the society reporters to discover new adjectives of +superlative praise, and the guests to drink up the +champagne and say: “Wonderful.” “Must have +cost thousands.” “Handsome couple. Couldn’t +have happened in any other country but America.” +“War fortune.” “Oh, yes, no doubt of it––hides +and razors turned the trick.” “Well, how long do +you think it is going to last?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></div> +<p>The office forces of the O’Valley and Constantine +companies had been excused so as to be present at the +ceremony. But Mary Faithful and Trudy Burrows +had not availed themselves of the opportunity. +Womanly rebellion and heartache suddenly blotted +out Mary’s emotionless scheme of action. Besides, +there was a valid excuse of waiting to catch an important +long-distance call. With Trudy it was mere +envy causing her to say over and over: “See Gay, the +ragged little beggar, walk up the aisle with one of +those rich girls and never glance at me––just because +he’s a Vondeplosshe? And me have to sit beside +Nellie Lunk, who’ll cry when the organ plays and +wear that ridiculous bathtub of a hat? Never! I +won’t go unless I can walk up the aisle with Gay. +Wait until I see him to-night; I’ll make it very +pleasant.”</p> +<p>Life seemed rather empty for Trudy as she sat in +the deserted offices pretending to add figures and +trying to hum gayly. Even the box of wedding cake +laid on her desk––it was laid on everyone’s desk––brought +forth no smile or intention of dreaming over +it. Was she to spend her days earning fifteen dollars +a week in this feudal baron’s employ? Tears marred +the intensive cultivation on her rouged cheeks as she +looked out the window to see the office force being +brought back from the church in trucks.</p> +<p>“Like cattle––peasants––all because of money. +A war profiteer, that’s what he was. And she isn’t +anything at all except that she has her father’s +money.” She glanced toward Mary’s closed door. +“Poor Mary,” she thought; “she cares! I don’t––that +makes it easier. Well, he could have done +worse than to take Mary,” tossing her head as she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +tried to create the impression of indifference now that +the employees were coming back to their desks.</p> +<p>For there was a forked road for Trudy as well as for +Mary Faithful. Women are no longer compelled to +accept the one unending pathway of domesticity. +Trudy’s forked road resolved itself into either marriage +with Gay as a stepping stone to marriage with +someone else, or a smart shop with society women and +actresses as patrons, being able to live at a hotel and +do as she wished, inventing a neat little past of escaping +from a Turkish harem or being the widow of +an English officer who died serving his country. +Trudy was not without resources, in her own estimation, +and whether she married Gay or achieved the +shop was a toss-up. Like the rest of the world she +considered herself capable of doing both!</p> +<p>Hearing the scuffle of feet Mary opened the door +and forced herself to ask about the wedding. Presently +the excitement died down and the round of +mechanical drudgery took its place. An hour later +someone knocked at an inner door which led to steep +side stairs connecting with a side street entrance. +Wondering who it was Mary opened it, to find Steve, +very flushed and handsome, a flower in his buttonhole +yet no hint of rice about him.</p> +<p>“Sh-h-h! Not a word out loud! I want to escape. +Mrs. O’Valley is waiting round the corner in a cab. I +forgot the long-distance call––the one we expected +yesterday.”</p> +<p>“It came while everyone was at the church. I +stayed here in case it did. They will pay your price, +so I closed the deal.”</p> +<p>“Hurrah for Mary Faithful! But I wish you could +have been there. It was like a picture. I never saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +her look so lovely. Well, that’s settled. Wire me at +Chicago. I think that’s everything. Oh, you’re to +have fifty a week from now on. What man isn’t +generous on his wedding day? Good-bye, Miss Head +of Affairs.” A moment later he was climbing down +the rickety flight of stairs.</p> +<p>For a long time Mary sat watching the hands of +her desk clock slowly proceed round the dial. Someone +knocked at the door and she said to come in, but +her voice sounded faint and far away.</p> +<p>Fifty dollars a week––generous on his wedding +day! She ought to be very glad; it meant she could +save more and have an occasional treat for Luke. It +was good to think that women had forked roads these +days. How terrible if she were left in the shelter of a +home to mourn unchecked. Besides, she was guarding +his business; that was a great comfort. The +Gorgeous Girl was sharing him with Mary Faithful––would +always share him. That was a comfort, too.</p> +<p>After the errand boy left, Mary tried to write a +letter but she found herself going into the washroom +off Steve’s office and without warning weakly burying +her face in an old working coat he had left behind. +She had just made a great many dollars for him +which he would spend on the Gorgeous Girl; she +would make many more during the long summer +while she stayed at the post and was Miss Head of +Affairs. She had laid her woman’s hopes on the +altar of commerce because of Steve O’Valley, and he +rewarded her with a ten-dollar-a-week raise since a +man was always generous on his wedding day.</p> +<p>Yet there was a distinct satisfaction in the heartache +and the responsibility, even in the irony of the +ten-dollar-a-week advance. Life might be hard––but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +it was not empty! She was glad to be in the +deserted office replete with his belongings and +breathing of his personality. She was glad to be an +acknowledged Miss Head of Affairs.</p> +<p>“You’d miss even a heartache if it was all you had,” +she whispered to herself from within the folds of +Steve’s office coat.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> +<p>During the summer the O’Valley Leather +Company discovered that Mary Faithful +made quite as efficient a manager as Steve +O’Valley himself. Nor did she neglect any of a +multitude of petty details––such as the amount of +ice needed for the water cooler, the judicious issue +of office supplies; the innovation of a rest-room for +girls metamorphosed out of a hitherto dingy storeroom; +the eradication of friction between two ancient +bookkeepers who had come to regard the universe +as against them. Even the janitor’s feelings were +appeased by a few kind words and a crossing of his +palm with silver when Mary decided to houseclean +before Steve’s return.</p> +<p>It is impossible for a business woman not to have +feminine notions. They stray into her routine existence +like blades of pale grass persistently shooting +up between the cracks of paving blocks. Quite frilly +curtains adorned Mary’s office windows, fresh flowers +were kept in a fragile vase, a marble bust of Dante +guarded the filing cabinet, and despite the general +cleaning she used a special little silk duster for her +own knicknacks. On a table was a very simple +tea service with a brass samovar for days when the +luncheon hour proved too stormy for an outside +excursion.</p> +<p>Sharing Steve with the Gorgeous Girl, Mary had +decided to clean his business home just as the Gorgeous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +Girl would have the apartment set in spick-and-span +order. It was during the general upsetting +with brooms, mops, paint pots, and what not, while +Mary good-naturedly tried to work at a standing +desk, that Mark Constantine dropped in unexpectedly.</p> +<p>“Gad!” he began, characteristically. “Thought +I’d find you in your cool and hospitable office inviting +me to have a siesta.” He mopped his face with a +huge silk handkerchief.</p> +<p>“Try it in a few days and we will be quite shipshape.” +Mary wheeled up a chair for him. “Anything +I can do for you?”</p> +<p>He sank down with relief; his fast-accumulating +flesh made him awkward and fond of lopping down +at unexpected intervals. He glanced up at this amazing +young woman, crisp and cool in her blue muslin +dress, the tiny gold watch in a black silk guard being +her only ornament. His brows drew into what appeared +to be a forbidding frown; he really liked +Mary, with her steady eyes somehow suggesting +eternity and her funny freckled nose destroying any +such notion.</p> +<p>“How are you getting on?” was all he said.</p> +<p>“Splendidly. We expect Mr. O’Valley a week +from Monday––but of course you know that yourself.”</p> +<p>“Gad,” Constantine repeated.</p> +<p>“And how is Mr. Constantine?” Mary asked, +almost graciously.</p> +<p>“In the hands of my enemy,” he protested. “Bea +left a hundred and one things to be seen to. My +sister has sprained her ankle and is out of the running. +It’s the apartment that causes the trouble––Bea has +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +sent letter after letter telling what she wants us to +do. I thought everything was all set before she +went away but––here!” He drew out violet notepaper +and handed it over. “Sorry to bother you, +but when that girl gets home and settled I hope she’ll +be able to tend to her own affairs and leave us in +peace. I guess you understand how women are +about settling a new house.”</p> +<p>Reluctantly Mary deciphered the slanting, curlicue +handwriting, which said in part:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Now, papa dear, I’m terribly worried about the painted +Chinese wall panels for the little salon. They are likely to +be the wrong design. Jill has written that hers were. So +please get the man to give you a guarantee that he will +correct any mistakes. I want you to go to Brayton’s and +get white-and-gold jars that will look well in the dining +room––Brayton knows my tastes. Besides this, he is to +have two rose pots of old Wheldon ware for me––they will +contain electrically lighted flowers––like old-fashioned +bouquets. I wish you and aunty would drive out to the +arts-and-crafts shop and bid on the red lacquer cabinet +and the French clock that is in stock; I am sure no one +has bought them. I could not decide whether I wanted +them or not until now, and I must have them. They will +tone in beautifully with the rugs.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mary turned the page:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Also, Aunt Belle has not answered my letter asking her +to order the monogrammed stationery––four sizes, please, +ashes of roses shade and lined with gold tissue. I also told +Aunt Belle to see about relining my mink cape and muff. +I shall wish to wear it very early in the season, and I want +something in a smart striped effect with a pleated frill for +the muff. And the little house for Monster completely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +slipped my mind––Aunt Belle knows about it––with a +wind-harp sort of thing at one side and funny pictures +painted on the outside. I have changed my mind about +the colour scheme for the breakfast nook––I am going to +have light gray, almost a silver, and I would like some +good pewter things.</p> +<p>It seems to me I shall never be rested. Steve wants to +see every sunrise and explore every trail. We have met +quite nice people and the dancing at the hotels is lovely. +Oh, yes, if you need any help I know Miss Faithful will be +glad to help, and Gaylord has ripping ideas.</p> +<p>Loads of love to you, dear papa. Your own</p> +<p class='ralign'><span class='smcap'>Bea</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mary returned the letter without comment.</p> +<p>“Will you help me?” Constantine demanded almost +piteously. “Belle’s out of the running, you know.”</p> +<p>“I’m cleaning my own house,” Mary began, looking +at the surrounding disorder, “but I can run up +to the apartment with you and see what must be +done; though it seems to me–––”</p> +<p>“Seems to you what, young woman?”</p> +<p>“––that your daughter would prefer to do these +at her leisure––they are so personal.”</p> +<p>Constantine moved uneasily in his chair. “I +guess women don’t like to do things these days”––rather +disgruntled in general––“but she might as +well have asked an African medicine man as to ask +me. What do I know about red lacquered cabinets +and relining fur capes? I just pay for them.”</p> +<p>Mary smiled. Something about his gruff, merciless +personality had always attracted her. She had sometimes +suspected that the day would come when she +would be sorry for him––just why she did not know. +She had watched him from afar during the period of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +being his assistant bookkeeper, and now, having risen +with the fortunes of Steve O’Valley, she faced him on +an almost equal footing––another queer quirk of +American commerce.</p> +<p>She realized that his tense race after wealth had +been in a sense his strange manner of grieving for his +wife. But his absolute concentration along one line +resulted in a lack of wisdom concerning all other +lines. Though he could figure to the fraction of a +dollar how to beat the game, play big-fish-swallow-little-fish +and get away with it, he had no more judgment +as to his daughter’s absurd self than Monster, +who had gone on the honeymoon wrapped in a new +silken blanket. You cannot have your cake and +eat it, too, as Mary had decided during her early days +of running errands for nervous modistes who boxed +her ears one moment and gave her a silk remnant +the next. Neither can a man put all his powers of +action into one channel, blinding himself to all else +in the world, and expect to emerge well balanced and +normal in his judgments.</p> +<p>As Mary agreed to help Constantine out of his +débris of French clocks and pewter for the breakfast +room she began to feel sorry for him even if he was a +business pirate––for he had paid an extremely high +price for the privilege of being made a fool of by his +own child.</p> +<p>He escorted her to the limousine and they whirled +up to the apartment house, where in all the gray +stone, iron grille work, hall-boy elegance there now +resided three couples of the Gorgeous Girl type, and +where Bea’s apartment awaited her coming, the +former tenants having been forced to vacate in time +to have the place completely redone.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></div> +<p>“I wouldn’t ask Gaylord if I had to do it myself,” +Constantine said, brushing by the maid who opened +the door. “There is a young man we could easily +spare. If he ever gets as good a job as painting spots +on rocking-horses I’ll eat my hat.”</p> +<p>Mary was surveying the room. “Where––where +do we go to from here?” she faltered.</p> +<p>Constantine sank into a large chair, shaking his +head. “Damned if I know,” he panted. “Look at +that truck!”––pointing to piles of wedding gifts.</p> +<p>Mary walked the length of the drawing room. It +had black velvet panels and a tan carpet with angora +rugs spread at perilous intervals; there was a +flowered-silk chaise-longue, bright yellow damask +furniture, and an Italian-Renaissance screen before +the marble fireplace.</p> +<p>Opening out of this was a salon––this was where +the Chinese panels were to find a haven––and already +cream-and-gold furniture had been placed at artistic +angles with blue velvet hangings for an abrupt contrast. +There was a multitude of books bound in +dove-coloured ooze; cut glass, crystal, silver candelabra +sprinkled throughout. Men were working on +fluted white satin window drapes, and Mary glanced +toward the dining room to view the antique mahogany +and sparkle of plate. Someone was fitting more +hangings in the den, and a woman was disputing +with her co-worker as to the best place for the goldfish +globe and the co-worker was telling her that Monster’s +house was to occupy the room––yes, Monster, the +O’Valley dog––a pound and a half, he weighed, and +was subject to pneumonia. Here they began to +laugh, and someone else, knowing of Constantine’s +presence, discreetly closed the door.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p>Flushing, Mary returned to the drawing room and +standing before Constantine’s chair she said swiftly: +“I’m afraid I cannot help you, sir. I’m not this sort. +I shouldn’t be able to please. Besides, it is robbing +your daughter of a great joy––and a wonderful duty, +if you don’t mind my saying it––this arranging of her +own home. We have no right to do it for her.”</p> +<p>“She’s asked us to do it,” spluttered the big man.</p> +<p>“Then you will have to ask her to excuse me.”</p> +<p>Mary was almost stern. It seemed quite enough +to have to stay at her post all summer, run the business +and houseclean the office for his return, without +being expected to come into the Gorgeous Girl’s realm +and do likewise. In this new atmosphere she began +to feel old and plain, quite impossible! The yellow +damask furniture, the rugs, the silver and gold and +lovely extravagances seemed laughing at her and +suggesting: “Go back to your filing cabinet and your +old-maid silk dusting cloths, to your rest-rooms for +girls, and to your arguments with city salesmen. You +have no more right here than she will ever have in +your office.”</p> +<p>When Constantine would have argued further she +threw back her head defiantly, saying: “Someone explains +the difference between men and women by the +fact that men swear and women scream, which is true +as far as it goes. But in these days you often find +a screaming gentleman and a profane lady––and +there’s a howdy-do! You can’t ask the profane lady––no +matter if she is a right-hand business man––to +come fix pretties. You better write your daughter +what I’ve said, and if you don’t mind I’d like to get +back to the office.”</p> +<p>Constantine rose, frowning down at her with an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +expression that would have frightened a good many +women stauncher than Mary Faithful. For she had +mentioned to him what no one, not even his sluggish +conscience, had ever hinted at––his daughter’s duty.</p> +<p>But all he said was: “Profane ladies and screaming +gentlemen. Well, I’ve put a screaming-gentleman +tag on Gaylord Vondeplosshe––but what about yourself? +Where are you attempting to classify?”</p> +<p>“Me? I’ll be damned if I help you out,” she +laughed up at him as she moved toward the door.</p> +<p>Chuckling, yet defeated, Constantine admitted +her triumph and sent her back to the office in the +limousine.</p> +<p>At that identical moment Gaylord, alias the screaming +gentleman, had been summoned to Aunt Belle’s +bedside. For Beatrice believed in having two strings +to her bow and she had written her aunt a second +deluge of complaints and requests. Bemoaning the +sprained ankle––and the probable regaining of three +pounds which had been laboriously massaged away––Aunt +Belle had called for Gaylord’s sympathy and +support.</p> +<p>While Mary, rather perturbed yet unshaken in her +convictions, returned to the office and Constantine +had decided his blood pressure could not stand any +traipsing round after folderols, Gaylord was eagerly +taking notes and saying pretty nothings to the doleful +Mrs. Todd, who relied utterly on his artistic +judgment and promptness of action.</p> +<p>Whereupon Gaylord proudly rolled out of the Constantine +gates in a motor car bearing Constantine’s +monogram, and by late afternoon he had come to +a most satisfactory understanding with decorators +and antique dealers––an understanding which led +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +to an increase in the prices Beatrice was to pay and +the splitting of the profits between one Gaylord +Vondeplosshe and the tradesmen.</p> +<p>“A supper!” Mark Constantine demanded crisply +that same evening, merely groaning when his sister +told him that Gaylord had undertaken all the errands +and was such a dear boy. “And send it up to my +room––ham, biscuits, pie, and iced coffee, and I’m +not at home if the lord mayor calls.”</p> +<p>He departed to the plainest room in the mansion +and turned on an electric fan to keep him company. +He sat watching the lawn men at their work, wondering +what he was to do with this barn of a place. Beatrice +had told him forcibly that she was not going to live +in it. Wherein was the object of keeping it open for +Belle Todd and himself when more and more he +wished for semi-solitude? Noise and crowds and +luxuries irritated him. He liked meals such as the +one he had ordered, the plebeian joy of taking off +tight shoes and putting on disreputable slippers, +sitting in an easy-chair with his feet on another, while +he read detective stories or adventurous romances +with neither sense nor moral. He liked to relive +in dream fashion the years of early endeavour––of +his married life with Hannah. After he finished the +reverie he would tell himself with a flash of honesty, +“Gad, it might as well have happened to some other +fellow––for all the good it does you.” Nothing +seemed real to Constantine except his check book +and his wife’s monument.</p> +<p>It was still to dawn upon him that his daughter +partly despised him. He had always said that no +one loved him but his child, and that no one but his +child mattered so far as he was concerned. Since +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +Beatrice’s marriage he had become restless, wretched, +desperately lonesome; he found himself missing +Steve quite as much as he missed Beatrice. Their +letters were unsatisfactory since they were chiefly +concerned with things––endless things that they +coveted or had bought or wanted in readiness for their +return. As he sat watching the lawn men gossip +he knitted his black brows and wondered if he ought +to sell the mansion and be done with it. Then it +occurred to him that grandchildren playing on the +velvety lawn would make it quite worth while. +With a thrill of anticipation he began to plan for his +grandchildren and to wonder if they, too, would be +eternally concerned with things.</p> +<p>As he recalled Mary’s defiance he chuckled. “A +ten-dollar-a-week raise was cheap for such a woman,” +he thought.</p> +<p>Meantime, Trudy informed the Faithful family +at supper: “Gay has telephoned that he is coming +to-night. Were you going to use the parlour, +Mary?” A mere formality always observed for no +reason at all.</p> +<p>“No, I’m going to water the garden. It’s as dry +as Sahara.”</p> +<p>Luke groaned.</p> +<p>“Don’t make Luke help you. He’s stoop-shouldered +enough from study without making him +carry sprinkling cans,” Mrs. Faithful objected.</p> +<p>“Nonsense! It’s good for him, and he will be +through in an hour.”</p> +<p>“Too late for the first movie show,” expostulated +Luke.</p> +<p>“A world tragedy,” his sister answered.</p> +<p>“I wanted to go to-night,” her mother insisted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +“It’s a lovely story. Mrs. Bowen was in to tell +me about it––all about a Russian war bride. They +built a whole town and burnt it up at the end of the +story. I guess it cost half a million––and there’s +fighting in it, too.”</p> +<p>“All right, go and take Luke. But I don’t think +the movies are as good for him as working in a +garden.”</p> +<p>“You never want me to have pleasure. Home all +day with only memories of the dead for company, +and then you come in as cross as a witch, ready to +stick your nose in a book or go dig in the mud! Excuse +me, Trudy, but a body has to speak out sometimes. +Your father to the life––reading and grubbing +with plants. Oh, mother’s proud of you, +Mary, but if you would only get yourself up a little +smarter and go out with young people you’d soon +enough want Luke to go out, too! I don’t pretend +to know what your judgment toward your poor old +mother would be!”</p> +<p>Mary’s day had included a dispute with a firm’s +London representative, the Constantine incident, a +session at the dentist’s as a noon-recess attraction, +housecleaning the office, and two mutually contradictory +wires from Steve. She laid her knife and fork +down with a defiant little clatter.</p> +<p>“I can’t burn the candle at both ends. I work all +day and I have to relax when I leave the office. If +my form of a good time is to read or set out primroses +it is nothing to cry thief for, is it? I want you to go +out, mother, as you very well know. And you are +welcome to fill the house with company. Only if I’m +to do a man’s work and earn his wage I must claim +my spare time for myself.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div> +<p>“Now listen here, dear,” interposed Trudy, who +took Mary’s part when it came to a real argument, +“don’t get peeved. Let me buy your next dress +and show you how to dance. You’ll be surprised +what a difference it will make. You’ll get so you +just hate ever to think of work.”</p> +<p>“Splendid! Who will pay the butcher, baker, and +candlestick maker?” Mary thought of the wedding +presents carelessly stacked about Beatrice’s apartment. +One pile of them, as she measured expenses, +would have paid the aforementioned gentlemen for a +year or more.</p> +<p>“Now you’ve got her going,” Luke objected. “Say, +Trudy, you don’t kill yourself tearing off any work +at the shop!”</p> +<p>“Luke,” began his mother, “be a gentleman. +Dear me, I wish I hadn’t said a word. To think of +my children in business! Why, Luke ought to be +attending a private school and going to little cotillion +parties like my brothers did; and Mary in her +own home.” She pressed her napkin to her eyes.</p> +<p>“I admit Mary carries me along on the pay roll––I’m +Mary’s foolishness,” Trudy said, easily. “Mary’s +a good scout even if she does keep us stepping. She +has to fall down once in a while, and she fell hard +when she hired me and took me in as a boarder.”</p> +<p>Mary flushed. “I try to make you do your share,” +she began, “and–––”</p> +<p>“I ought to pay more board,” Trudy giggled at her +own audacity. “But I won’t. You’re too decent +to make me. You know I’m such a funny fool I’d +go jump in the river if I got blue or things went +wrong, and you like me well enough to not want that. +Don’t worry about our Mary, Mrs. Faithful. Just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +let her manage Luke and he won’t wander from her +apron strings like he will if you and I keep him in +tow.”</p> +<p>Luke made a low bow, scraping his chair back from +the table. “I’ll go ahead and get reserved seats and +mother can come when she’s ready,” he proposed.</p> +<p>Mrs. Faithful beamed with triumph. “That’s +my son! Get them far enough back, the pictures +blur if I’m too close.”</p> +<p>“I’ll do the dishes,” Mary said, briefly. “Go and +get ready.”</p> +<p>“I’d wipe them only Gay is coming so early,” +Trudy explained, glibly.</p> +<p>“I’d rather be alone.” Mary was piling up the +pots and pans.</p> +<p>“Now, deary, if you don’t feel right about mother’s +going,” her mother resumed a little later as she poked +her head into the kitchen, “just say so. But I +certainly want to see that town burnt up; and besides, +it’s teaching Luke history. Dear me, your hair is dull. +Why don’t you try that stuff Trudy uses?”</p> +<p>“Because I’m not Trudy. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>“You’re all nerves again. I’d certainly let someone +else do the work.”</p> +<p>“I need a vacation.”</p> +<p>“That means you want to get away from us. Well, +I try to keep the home together. Leave that coffeepot +just as it is, I’ll want a drop when I get back.” +Waddling out the door Mrs. Faithful left Mary to +assault the dishes and long for Steve’s return.</p> +<p>“I wonder why the great plan did not make it +possible for all folks to like their relatives?” she asked +herself as she finally hung the tea towels on the line; +“or their star boarder?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></div> +<p>Then she became engrossed in the way the newly +set out plants had taken root. Bending over the +flower beds she was hardly conscious that darkness +had fallen over the earth––a heavenly, summer-cool +darkness with veiled stars prophetic of a blessed +shower. She repaired to the porch swing to dream +her dreams of fluffs and frills, arrange a dream house +and live therein. It should be quite unlike the +Gorgeous Girl’s apartment––but a roomy, sprawling +affair with old furniture that was used and loved +and shabby, well-read books, carefully chosen pictures, +dull rugs, and oddly shaped lamps, a shaggy +old dog to lie before the open fireplace and be +patted occasionally, fat blue jugs of Ragged Robin +roses at frequent intervals. Perhaps there would +be a baby’s toy left somewhere along the stairway +leading to the nursery. When one has the cool of +a summer’s night, a porch screened with roses and a +comfortable swing, what does it matter if there +are unlikable persons and china-shop apartment +houses?</p> +<p>Had Mary known what was taking place in the +front parlour it would not have jarred her from her +dreams. For Gaylord, resplendent in ice-cream +flannels, and Trudy, wearing an unpaid-for black-satin +dress with red collar and cuffs, were both busier +than the proverbial beaver planning their wedding. +It was to be an informal and unexpected little affair, +being the direct result of the Gorgeous Girl’s demands +as to settling her household.</p> +<p>“You’ve no idea how jolly easy it was, Babseley. +There was a dressing case I know Bea will keep––it +brought me a cool hundred commission––it had just +come in. I plunged and bought two altar scarfs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +she can use for her reading stand––she likes such +things, besides all the bona-fide orders. I’ve been +working for fair––and I’ve made over a thousand +dollars.”</p> +<p>Trudy kissed Bubseley between his pale little eyes. +“You Lamb! Sure you won’t have to give it back +or that they will tell?”</p> +<p>“Of course not! They’d give their own selves +away. That’s the way such things are always done, +y’know. I’ve an idea that I’ll go in seriously for the +business by and by. I don’t feel any compunction; +I’m entitled to every cent of it; in fact, I call it cheap +for Bea at a thousand.”</p> +<p>“But will they really pay you?” Trudy was skeptical. +It seemed such a prodigious amount for buying +a few trifles.</p> +<p>“The Constantine credit is like the Bank of England. +I’ll have my money and we’ll make our getaway +before Bea arrives in town.”</p> +<p>“Why?” Trudy did not approve of this. The contrast +between her marriage and the Gorgeous Girl’s +wedding rankled.</p> +<p>Gay hesitated. “I want to go to New York and +see concert managers and father’s friends,” he evaded. +“Then we’ll visit my sister in Connecticut as long +as she’ll have us. And when we come back––well, +you’ll––you’ll know the smart ways better.”</p> +<p>He was a trifle afraid of Trudy and he did not know +how best to advise her that her slips in speech and +manners would be more easily remedied by setting +her an example of the correct thing than by staying +in Hanover and leading a cat-and-dog life, getting +nowhere at all.</p> +<p>Trudy kissed him again. “Hurrah for the eternal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +frolic!” she said, adding: “But we’ll know Beatrice +and Steve socially, won’t we?”</p> +<p>“Of course!” he said, in helpless concession.</p> +<p>His one-cylinder little brain had not yet reckoned +with Trudy’s determination to conquer the social +arena. He knew he must have her to help him; his +efforts with creditors were failing sadly of late. Besides, +he admired her tremendously; he felt like a rake +and a deuce of a chap when they went out together, +and he relied on her vivacity––Pep had been his pet +name for her before he originated Babseley––to carry +him through. It really would be quite an easy matter +to live on nothing a year until something turned up. +The graft from Beatrice was the open sesame, however, +and the Gorgeous Girl would never suspect the +truth.</p> +<p>“Keep right on working hard,” Trudy said, fondly, +as they kissed each other good-night. “I’ll tell Mary +to-morrow. I want to leave my big trunk here because +we might want to stay here for a few days when +we come back.”</p> +<p>“Never!”––masterfully pointing his cane at the +moon. “My wife is going to have her own apartment. +One of father’s friends has built several +apartment houses and he’ll be sure to let me in.”</p> +<p>“Are we dreaming?” Trudy asked, thinking of +how indebted she was to Beatrice O’Valley, yet how +she envied and hated her.</p> +<p>“No, Babseley, I’ll phone you to-morrow and come +down. If you see me flying about in a machine don’t +be surprised; I’m to use their big car as much as I like. +But it would be a little thick to have us seen together––just +yet.”</p> +<p>“I’ll see that the whole social set gets a draft from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +me that will open their eyes,” Trudy promised, loath +to have him go.</p> +<p>“If old man Constantine knew I drew that money +down!” Gay chuckled with delight. “When his +favourite after-dinner story is to tell how Steve +O’Valley lay on his stomach and watched goats for +an education.”</p> +<p>“I’d hate to have my finger between his teeth when +he learns the truth,” Trudy prompted.</p> +<p>She spent half the night taking inventory of her +wardrobe, her debts, and her personal charms, practising +airs and graces before her mirror and calculating +how long the thousand would last them. All the +world was before her, to Trudy’s way of thinking. +She would be Mrs. Gaylord Vondeplosshe, and with +Gay’s name and her brain––well, to give Trudy’s +own sentiments, they would soon be able to carry +the whole show in their grip and use the baggage +cars to bring back the profits!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> +<p>Gaylord’s sudden marriage and departure +for New York caused no small comment. In +the Faithful family Mary and Luke stood +against Mrs. Faithful, who declared with meaning +emphasis that some girls had more sense than others +and it was better to marry and make a mistake the +first time than to remain an old maid. With Trudy’s +style and high spirits she was going to carry Gaylord +into the front ranks without any effort. Luke described +the event by saying that a bad pair of disturbers +had teamed for life, and relied upon Mary +to take up the burden of the proof.</p> +<p>“Don’t mourn so, mother. I’m a happy old +maid,” she insisted when the comments grew too +numerous for her peace of mind. “Trudy was not +the sort to blush unseen, and it’s a relief not to have +to cover up her mistakes at the office. Everything +will be serene once more. As for Gay’s future––I +suppose he is likely to bring home anything from +a mousetrap to a diamond tiara. I don’t pretend to +understand his ways.”</p> +<p>“Of course it isn’t like Mrs. O’Valley’s wedding,” +her mother resumed, with a resonant sniffle. “You +have been so used to hearing about her ways that poor +little Trudy seems cheap. Perhaps your mother +and brother and the little home seem so, too. But we +can’t all be Gorgeous Girls, and I think Trudy was +right to take Gaylord when he had the money for a +ring and a license.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></div> +<p>“He had more than that,” Mary ruminated. +“People don’t walk to New York.”</p> +<p>“Did he win it on a horse race?” Luke had an eye +to the future.</p> +<p>“Maybe his father’s friends helped him,” Mrs. +Faithful added.</p> +<p>“Can’t prove anything by me.” Mary shook her +head.</p> +<p>Neither Trudy nor Gaylord knew that all Beatrice’s +bills were sent to Mary to discount, and Mary, +not without a certain shrewdness, had her own ideas +on the matter. But it amused more than it annoyed +her. Gay might as well have a few hundred to spend +in getting a wife and caretaker as tradesmen whose +weakness it was to swell their profits beyond all respectability.</p> +<p>“I wonder where they will live.” Mrs. Faithful +found the subject entirely too fascinating to let alone.</p> +<p>“Not here,” her daughter assured her. “And +if you’d only say yes I could get such a sunny, pretty +flat where the work would be worlds easier.”</p> +<p>“Leave my home? Never! It would be like +uprooting an oak forest. Time for that when I am +dead and gone.” The double chin quivered with +indignation. “I don’t see why Trudy and Gay won’t +come here and take the two front rooms. They’d +be company for me.”</p> +<p>She approved of Trudy’s views of life as much as +she disapproved and was rather afraid of this young +woman who wanted to bustle her into trim house +dresses instead of the eternal wrappers.</p> +<p>“I kept Trudy only because she needed work––and +a home,” Mary said, frankly; “and because you wanted +her. But my salary does nicely for us. Besides, it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +would be a bad influence for Luke to have such a person +as Gay about. We must make a man out of Luke.”</p> +<p>“Don’t go upsetting him. He eats his three good +meals a day and always acts like a little gentleman. +You’ll nag at him until he runs away like my brother +Amos did.”</p> +<p>“Better run away from us than run over us,” +Mary argued; “but there is no need of planning for +Trudy’s return. Their home will be in a good part +of the city, if it consists in merely hanging onto a +lamp-post. You don’t realize that Gay is a bankrupt +snob and married Trudy only because he could play +off cad behind his pretty wife’s skirts. Men will +like Trudy and the women ridicule and snub her until +she finds she has a real use for her claws. Up to now +she has only halfway kept them sharpened. In a +few years you will find Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord Vondeplosshe +in Hanover society with capital letters, +hobnobbing with Beatrice O’Valley and her set and +somehow managing to exist in elegance. Don’t ask +how they will do it––but they will. However, they +would never consider starting from our house. That +would be getting off on a sprained ankle.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Faithful gulped the rest of her coffee. “No +one has any use for me because I haven’t money. Our +parlour was good enough for them to do their courting +in, and if they don’t come and see me real often I’ll +write Trudy a letter and tell her some good plain +facts!”</p> +<p>“Be sure to say we all think Gay’s mother must +have been awful fond of children to have raised +him,” Luke suggested from the offing.</p> +<p>Mary tossed a sofa pillow at him and disappeared. +She could have electrified her mother by telling her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +that Steve was to return that morning, that the office +was prepared to welcome him back, and that Mrs. +O’Valley would be anchored at the telephone to get +into communication with her dearest and best of +friends.</p> +<p>As she walked to the street car she reproached +herself for not having told the news. It was a tiny +thing to tell a woman whose horizon was bounded +by coffee pots, spotted wrappers, and inane movies.</p> +<p>“You’re mean in spots,” Mary told herself. “You +know how it would have pleased her.”</p> +<p>She sometimes felt a maternal compassion for +this helpless dear with her double chins and self-sacrificing +past, and she wondered whether her father +had not had the same attitude during the years of +nagging reproach at his lack of material prosperity. +She resolved to come home that night with a budget +of news items concerning Steve’s return, even bringing +a rose from the floral offering that was to be +placed on his desk.</p> +<p>“After all, she’s mother,” Mary thought, rounding +the corner leading to the office building, “and like +most of us she does the best she can!”</p> +<p>She tried to maintain a calm demeanour in the office +as she answered inquiries and opened the mail. But +all the time she kept glancing at her desk clock. Half-past +nine––of course he would be late––surely he +must come by ten. She wished she had flung maidenly +discretion to the winds and worn the white silk +sport blouse she had just bought. But she had made +herself dress in a crumpled waist of nondescript +type. The floral piece on Steve’s long-deserted +desk made her keep glancing up to smile at its almost +funeral magnificence.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></div> +<p>She answered a telephone call. Yes, Mr. O’Valley +was expected––undoubtedly he would wish to reserve +a plate for the Chamber of Commerce luncheon––unless +they heard to the contrary they could do so. +... Oh, it was to include the wives and so on. +Then reserve places for Mr. and Mrs. O’Valley. She +hung up the receiver abruptly and went to making +memoranda.</p> +<p>Even if she demanded and would receive a share +of Steve’s time and attention it would be the thankless, +almost bitter portion––such as reserving plates +for Mr. and Mrs. O’Valley or O.K.ing Mrs. O’Valley’s +bills. Still it was hers, awarded to her because of +keenness of brain and faithfulness of action. Steve +needed her as much as he needed to come home to his +miniature palace to watch the Gorgeous Girl display +her latest creation, to be able to take the Gorgeous +Girl fast in his arms and say: “You are mine––mine––mine!” +very likely punctuating the words with +kisses. Yet he must return each day to Mary +Faithful and say: “You are my right-hand man; I +need you.”</p> +<p>“A penny for your thoughts.” Steve O’Valley +was standing beside her. “You look as if work +agreed with you. Say something nice now––that a +long holiday has improved me!”</p> +<p>She managed to put a shaking hand into his, +wondering if she betrayed her thoughts. Being +as tall as Steve she was able to look at him, not up +at him; and there they stood––the handsome, reckless +man with just a suggestion of nervous tension in his +Irish blue eyes, and the plain young woman in a +rumpled linen blouse.</p> +<p>“Ah––so I don’t please,” he bantered. “Well, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +tell us all about it. I’ve a thousand questions––my +father-in-law says you are the only thing I have that +he covets. How about that?” He led the way into +his office, Mary following.</p> +<p>Then he fell upon his mountain of mail and memoranda, +demands for this charity and that patriotic +subscription, and Mary began a careful explanation +of affairs and they sat talking and arguing until +the general superintendent looked in to suggest +that the shop might like to have Mr. O’Valley say +hello.</p> +<p>“It’s nearly eleven,” Steve exclaimed, “and we +haven’t begun to say a tenth of all there is to discuss. +See the funeral piece, Hodges? Why didn’t you +label it ‘Rest in pieces’ and be done with it, eh? I +shall now appear to make a formal speech.” Here +he cut a rosebud from the big wreath and handed it +gravely to Mary; he cut a second one and fastened +it in his own buttonhole. “Lead me out, Hodges. +I’m a bit unsteady––been playing too long.”</p> +<p>Mary stood in the doorway, one hand caressing +the little rose. That Beatrice should have had the +flower was her first thought. Then it occurred to her +that Beatrice would have all the flowers at the formal +affairs to be given the bridal couple, besides sitting +opposite Steve at his own table. She no longer felt +that she had stolen the rose or usurped attention. +There was a clapping of hands and the usual laughter +which accompanies listening to any generous proprietor’s +speech, a trifle forced perhaps but very jolly +sounding. Then Steve returned to his office to become +engrossed in conversation with Mary until +Mark Constantine dropped in to bowl him off to the +club for luncheon.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>“She’s kept things humming, hasn’t she?” Constantine +asked, sinking into the nearest chair.</p> +<p>“A prize,” Steve said, proudly. “I don’t find a +slip-up any place. I’ll be back at two, Miss Faithful, +in case any one calls.... How is Bea?” His +voice softened noticeably.</p> +<p>Mary slipped away.</p> +<p>“Bea doesn’t like one half of her things and the +other half are so much better than the apartment +that she says they don’t show up,” her father admitted, +drolly. “She is tired to death––so you’ll find +her at home, my boy, with a box of candy and the +latest novel. Belle was talking her head off when I +left the house and the girls keep calling her on the +telephone for those little three-quarters-of-an-hour +hello talks. It seems to me that for rich girls, my +daughter and her friends are the busiest, most tired +women I ever knew––and yet do the least.” He put +on his hat and waited for Steve to open the door.</p> +<p>“I don’t pretend to understand them,” Steve +answered. “Maybe that’s why I’m so happy. Bea +fusses if the shade of draperies doesn’t match her +gown, and if Monster has a snarl in her precious hair it +is cause for a tragedy. But I just grin and go along +and presently she has forgotten all about it.”</p> +<p>“I tried to get that young woman helper of yours +to help me fix up Bea’s things,” Constantine complained. +“Let’s walk to the club––my knees are +going stiff on me.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“She looked round the apartment and plain refused +to put away another woman’s pots and pans. +It was just spunk. I don’t know that I blame her. +So Belle got that low order of animal life–––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div> +<p>“Meaning Gaylord?”</p> +<p>“Yes; and now the husband, I understand, of one of +your thinnest clad and thinnest brained former clerks. +Gay was in his element; he kept the machine working +overtime and flattered Belle until he had everything +his own way. Yet Beatrice seems quite satisfied +with his achievements.”</p> +<p>“You must have been hanging round the house this +morning.”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t get down to brass tacks,” he admitted. +“You’ve had her all summer––but you can bet your +clothes you wouldn’t have had her if I hadn’t been +willing.” He slapped Steve on the shoulder good-naturedly.</p> +<p>Steve nodded briskly. Then he suggested: “Bea +has the New York idea rather strong. Has she ever +hinted it to you?”</p> +<p>“Don’t let that flourish, Steve. Kill it at the start. +She knew better than to try to wheedle me into going. +I’m smarter than most of the men round these parts +but I’d be fleeced properly by the New York band +of highbinders if I tried to go among them. And +you’re not as good at the game as I am. Not–––” +He paused as if undecided how much would be best +to tell Steve. He evidently decided that generalities +would be the wisest arguments, so he continued: +“Don’t wince––it’s the truth, and there must be no +secrets between us from now on. Besides, you’re +in love and you can’t concentrate absolutely. My +best advice to you is to stay home and tend to your +knitting.</p> +<p>“You and Bea can go play round New York all +you like. Let the New York crowd come to see you +and be entertained, they’ll be glad to eat your dinners +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +and drink your wine if they don’t have to pay for it. +We can get away with Hanover but we’d be handcuffed +if we tried New York. When I made a hundred +thousand dollars I was tempted to try New York +instead of staying here––to make Bea the most gorgeous +girl in the metropolis. But horse sense made me +pass it by and stay on my own home diamond. So +I’ve made a good many more hundreds of thousands +and, what’s to the point, I’ve kept ’em!”</p> +<p>Here the conversation drifted into more technical +business detail with Steve expostulating and contradicting +and Constantine frowning at his son-in-law +through his bushy eyebrows, admiring him prodigiously +all the while.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Beatrice had telephoned Steve’s office, to be told +that her husband was at lunch and would not be in +until two o’clock.</p> +<p>“Have him come to our apartment,” she left word, +“just as soon as he can. I am just leaving Mr. Constantine’s +house to go there.”</p> +<p>After which she began telling Aunt Belle good-bye.</p> +<p>“Dear me, Bea, what a wonderful hat!” her aunt +sighed. “I never saw anything more becoming.”</p> +<p>It took ten minutes to admire Bea’s costume of +rosewood crape and the jewelled-cap effect, somewhat +like Juliet’s, caught over each ear by a pink satin rose.</p> +<p>“Steve doesn’t appreciate anything in the way of +costumes,” she complained. “He just says: ‘Yes, +deary, I love you, and anything you wear suits me.’ +Quite discouraging and so different from the other +boys.”</p> +<p>“I’d call it very comfortable,” suggested her aunt.</p> +<p>“I suppose so––but comfortable things are often +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +tiresome. It is tiresome, too, to see too much of the +same person. I was really bored to death in the +Yosemite––Steve is so primitive––he wanted to stay +there for days and days.”</p> +<p>“Steve comes from primitive people,” her aunt +said, soberly, not realizing her own humour.</p> +<p>“Don’t mention it. Didn’t he force me to go to +Virginia City, the most terrible little ghost world +of tumbledown shacks and funny one-eyed, one-suspendered +men, and old women smoking pipes +and wearing blue sunbonnets! He was actually +sentimental and enthusiastic about it all, trying +to hunt up old cronies of his grandfather’s––I was +cross as could be until we came back to Reno. Now +Reno is interesting.”</p> +<p>She spent the better part of an hour describing +the divorcees and their adventures.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m off for home. I think I shall entertain +the Red Cross committee first of all. It’s only right, +I believe”––the dove eyes very serious––“they’ve +been under such terrible strains. I’m going to send +a large bundle of clothes for the Armenian Relief, too. +Oh, aunty, the whole world seems under a cloud, +doesn’t it? But I met the funniest woman in Pasadena; +she actually teed her golf ball on a valuable +Swiss watch her husband had given her! She said +her only thrills in life came from making her husband +cross.”</p> +<p>“Was he––when he found it out?”</p> +<p>“No; she was dreadfully disappointed. He called +her a naughty child and bought her another!”</p> +<p>When Beatrice reached the apartment she found +Steve standing on the steps looking anxiously up and +down the street.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></div> +<p>“What’s happened?” he asked, half lifting her +out of the car.</p> +<p>“Don’t! People will see us. I was telling aunty +about Reno. Oh, it’s so good to be here!” as she +came inside her own door. “I hope people will let +me alone the rest of the day. I’m just a wreck.” +She found a box of chocolates and began to eat them.</p> +<p>“A charming-looking wreck, I’ll say.” He stooped +to kiss her.</p> +<p>The rose-coloured glasses were still attached to +Steve’s naturally keen eyes. Like many persons he +knew a multitude of facts but was quite ignorant +concerning vital issues. He had spent his honeymoon +in rapt and unreal fashion. He had realized +his boyhood dream of returning to Nevada a rich and +respected man with a fairy-princess sort of wife. The +deadly anaesthesia of unreality which these get-rich-quick +candidates of to-day indulge in at the outset +of their struggle still had Steve in its clutch. He +had not even stirred from out its influence. He had +accomplished what he had set out to accomplish––and +he was now about to realize that there is a distinct +melancholy in the fact that everyone needs an +Aladdin’s window to finish. But under the influence +of the anæsthesia he had proposed to have an +everlasting good time the rest of his life, like the closing +words of a fairy tale: “And then the beautiful +young princess and the brave young prince, having +slain the seven-headed monster, lived happily ever, +ever after!”</p> +<p>With this viewpoint, emphasized by the natural +conceit of youth, Steve had passed his holiday with +the Gorgeous Girl.</p> +<p>“What did you want, darling?” he urged.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div> +<p>“To talk to you––I want you to listen to my plan. +You are to come with me to New York for the fall +opera and all the theatres––oh, along in November. +It’s terribly dull here. Jill Briggs and her husband +and some of the others are going, and we can take +rooms at the Astor and all be together and have a +wonderful time!”</p> +<p>“I’d rather stay in our own home,” he pleaded. +“It’s such fun to have a real home. We can entertain, +you know. Besides, I’m the worker and you +are the player, and I don’t understand your sort of +life any more than you can understand mine. So +you must play and let me look on––and love me, +that’s all I’ll ever ask.”</p> +<p>“You’re a dear,” was his reward; “but we’ll go to +New York?”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to take you down and leave you––I’m +needed at the office.”</p> +<p>“But I’d be the odd one––I’d have to have a partner. +Steve, dear, you don’t have to grub. When +we were engaged you always had time for me.”</p> +<p>“Because you had so little for me! And so I always +shall have time for you,” the anæsthesia causing +his decision. “Besides, those were courtship days––and +I wasn’t quite so sure of you, which is the way +of all men.” He kissed her hair gently.</p> +<p>She drew away and rearranged a lock. “I don’t +want a husband who won’t play with me.”</p> +<p>“We’ll fix it all right, don’t worry. Now was that +all you wanted?”</p> +<p>“I want you to stay home and go driving with me. +I want you to call on some people––and look at a new +cellaret I’d like to buy. It is expensive, but no one +else would have one anywhere near as charming. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +need you this afternoon––you’re so calm and strong, +and my head aches. I’m always tired.”</p> +<p>“Yet you never work,” he said, almost unconsciously.</p> +<p>“My dear boy, society is the hardest work in the +world. I’m simply dragged to a frazzle by the end of +the season. Besides, there is all my war work and +my clubs and my charities. And I’ve just promised +to take an advanced course in domestic science.”</p> +<p>“I see,” Steve said, meekly.</p> +<p>“I think it is the duty of rich women to know all +about frying things as well as eating them,” she said, +as she took a third caramel.</p> +<p>“Quite true. Having money isn’t always keeping +it”</p> +<p>“Oh, papa has loads of money––enough for all of +us,” she remarked, easily. “It isn’t that. I’d never +cook if I were poor, anyway; that would be the last +thing I’d ever dream of doing. It’s fun to go to the +domestic-science class as long as all my set go. Well––will +you be a nice angel-man and stay home to amuse +your fractious wife?”</p> +<p>“I’ll call Miss Faithful on the phone and say I’m +going to play hooky,” he consented. “By the way, +you must come down to the office and say hello to her +when you get the time.”</p> +<p>Beatrice kissed him. “Must I? I hate offices. +Besides, Gaylord has married your prettiest clerk, +and there will be no one to play with me except my +husband.”</p> +<p>“Funny thing––that marriage,” Steve commented. +“If it was any one but Gay I’d send condolences for +loading the office nuisance onto him.”</p> +<p>“Wasn’t she any use at all?” she asked, curiously.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div> +<p>“None––always having a headache and being excused +for the day. That was the only thing I ever +questioned in Mary Faithful––why she engaged +Trudy and took her into her own home as a boarder.”</p> +<p>“Oh, so Mary isn’t perfection? Don’t be too +hard on the other girl. I’d be quite as useless if I +ever had to work. I’d do just the same––have +as many headaches as the firm would stand for, and +marry the first man who asked me.”</p> +<p>“But think of marrying Gay!”</p> +<p>“Poor old Gay––his father was a dear, and he is +terribly well behaved. Besides, see how obliging he +is. Your Miss Faithful refused to help me out, and +Gay ran his legs off to get everything I wanted. I’ll +never be rude to Gay as long as he amuses me.”</p> +<p>“That’s the thing that leads them all, isn’t it, +princess?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> +<p>After the first round of excessively formal +entertainments for Mr. and Mrs. O’Valley, +Steve found a mental hunger suddenly asserting +itself. It was as if a farm hand were asked to subsist +upon a diet of weak tea and wafers.</p> +<p>In the first place, no masculine mind can quite admit +the superiority of a feminine mind when it concerns +handling said masculine mind’s business affairs. +Though Steve insisted that Mary had done +quite as well as he would have done, he told himself +secretly that he must get down to hard work and go +over the letters and memoranda which had developed +during his absence.</p> +<p>With quiet amusement Mary had agreed to the +investigation, watching him prowl among the files +with the same tolerant attitude she would have entertained +toward Luke had he insisted that he could +run the household more efficiently than a mere sister.</p> +<p>“Poor tired boy,” she used to think when Steve +would come into the office with a fagged look on his +handsome face and new lines steadily growing across +his forehead. “You don’t realize yet––you haven’t +begun to realize.”</p> +<p>And Steve, trying to catch up with work and plan +for the future, to respond graciously to every civic +call made upon him, would find himself enmeshed in +a desperate combination of Beatrice’s dismay over the +cut of her new coat, her delight at the latest scandal, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +her headaches, the special order for glacé chestnuts +he must not forget, the demand that he come home +for luncheon just because she wanted him to talk to, +the New York trip looming ahead with Bea coaxing +him to stay the entire time and let business slide +along as it would. All the while the anæsthesia of +unreality was lessening in its effect now that he had +attained his goal.</p> +<p>The rapt adoration he felt for his wife was in a +sense a rather subtle form of egotism he felt for himself. +The Gorgeous Girl or rather any Gorgeous +Girl personified his starved dreams and frantic +ambitions. He had turned his face toward such a +goal for so many tense years, goading himself on and +breathing in the anæsthesia of indifference and unreality +to all else about him that having obtained it +he now paused exhausted and about to make many +disconcerting discoveries. Had the Gorgeous Girl +had hair as black as his own or a nose such as Mary +Faithful’s she would have still been his goal, symbol +of his aims.</p> +<p>Having finished the long battle Steve now felt an +urge to begin to battle for something else besides +wealth and social position. He felt ill at ease in +Beatrice’s salon and among her friends, who all +seemed particularly inane and ridiculous, who were +all just as busy and tired and nervous as Beatrice +was for some strange reason, and who considered it +middle class not to smoke and common to show any +natural sentiment or emotion. He soon found it +was quite the thing to display the temperament of +an oyster when any vital issue was discussed or any +play, for example, had a scene of deep and inspiring +words. A queer little smirk or titter was the proper +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +applause, but one must wax enthusiastic and superlative +over a clever burglary, a new-style dance, a +chafing-dish concoction, or, a risqué story retold in +drawing-room language.</p> +<p>Before his marriage Beatrice had always been +terribly rushed and he had had more time in which +to work and glow with pride at the nearing of his +goal. She kept him at arm’s length very cleverly +anchored with the two-carat engagement ring and +Steve had to fight for time and plead for an audience. +It fired his imagination, making him twice as keen +for the final capture.</p> +<p>But when two persons live in the same apartment, +notwithstanding the eleven rooms and so on, a monotony +of existence pervades even the grandeur of +velvet-panelled walls. There are the inevitable three +meals a day to be gone through with––five meals if +tea and a supper party are counted. There are the +same ever-rising questions as to the cook’s honesty +and the chauffeur’s graft in the matter of buying, +new tires. There are just so many persons who have +to be wined and dined and who revenge themselves +by doing likewise to their former host; the everlasting +exchanging of courtesies and pleasantries––all the +dull, decent habits of ultra living.</p> +<p>Steve found his small store of possessions huddled +into a corner, his pet slippers and gown graciously +bestowed upon a passing panhandler, and he was +obliged to don a very correct gray “shroud,” as he +named it in thankless terms, and to put his cigar +and cigar ashes into something having the earmarks +of an Etruscan coal scuttle, though Beatrice said it +was a priceless antique Gay had bought for a song! +There were many times when Steve would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +liked to roam about his house in plebeian shirt +sleeves, eat a plain steak and French-fried potatoes +with a hunk of homemade pie as a finish, and spend +the evening in that harmless, disorderly fashion known +to men of doing nothing but stroll about smoking, +playing semi-popular records, reading the papers, and +very likely having another hunk of pie at bedtime.</p> +<p>Besides all this there were the topics of the day +to discuss. During his courtship love was an all-absorbing +topic. There were many questions that +Beatrice asked that required intricate and tiring +answers. During the first six weeks of living at the +apartment Steve realized a telling difference between +men and women is that a woman demands a specific +case––you must rush special incidents to back up +any theory you may advance––whereas men, for the +most part, are content with abstract reasoning and +supply their own incidents if they feel inclined. Also +that a finely bred fragile type of woman such as +Beatrice inspires both fear and a maudlin sort of +sympathy, and that man is prevented from crossing +such a one to any great extent since men are as easily +conquered by maudlin sympathy as by fear.</p> +<p>When a yellow-haired child with dove-coloured eyes +manages to squeeze out a tear and at the same moment +depart in wrath to her room and lock the doors, +refusing to answer––the trouble being why in +heaven’s name must a pound-and-a-half spaniel +called Monster, nothing but a flea-bearing dust mop, +do nothing but sit and yap for chocolates?––what +man is going to dare do otherwise than suppress a +little profanity and then go and whisper apologies at +the keyhole?</p> +<p>After several uncomfortable weeks of this sort of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +mental chaos Steve determined to do what many +business men do––particularly the sort starting life +in an orphan asylum and ending by having residence +pipe organs and Russian wolfhounds frolicking at +their heels––to bury himself in his work and defend +his seclusion by never refusing to write a check for +his wife. When he finally reached this decision he +was conscious of a strange joy.</p> +<p>Everything was a trifle too perfect to suit Steve. +The entire effect was that of the well-set stage of a +society drama. Beatrice was too correctly gowned and +coiffured, always upstage if any one was about, her +high-pitched, thin voice saying superlative nothings +upon the slightest provocation; or else she was dissolving +into tears and tantrums if no one was about.</p> +<p>Steve could not grasp the wherefore of having such +stress laid upon the exact position of a floor cushion +or the colour scheme for a bridge luncheon––he would +have so rejoiced in really mediocre table service, in +less precision as to the various angles of the shades +or the unrumpled condition of the rugs. He had +not the oasis Mark Constantine had provided for +himself when he kept his room of old-fashioned trappings +apart from the rest of the mansion.</p> +<p>Steve needed such a room. He planned almost +guiltily upon building a shack in the woods whither +he could run when things became too impossible for +his peace of mind. If he could convince his wife that +a thing was smart or different from everything else +its success and welcome in their house were assured. +But an apple pie, a smelly pipe, a maidless dinner +table, or a disorderly den had never been considered +smart in Beatrice’s estimation, and Steve never attempted +trying to change her point of view.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></div> +<p>Beatrice wondered, during moments of seriousness, +how it was that this handsome cave man of hers rebelled +so constantly against the beauty and correctness +of the apartment and yet never really disgraced +her as her own father would have done. It gave her +added admiration for Steve though she felt it would +be a mistake to tell him so. She did not believe in +letting her husband see that she was too much in love +with him.</p> +<p>Despite his growls and protests about this and that, +and his ignorance as to the things in life Beatrice +counted paramount, Steve adapted himself to the new +environment with a certain poise that astonished +everyone. The old saying “Every Basque a noble” +rang true in this descendant of a dark-haired, romantic +young woman whom his grandfather had married. +There was blood in Steve which Beatrice might have +envied had she been aware of it. But Steve was in +ignorance, and very willingly so, regarding his ancestors. +There had merely been “my folks”––which +began and ended the matter.</p> +<p>Still it was the thoroughbred strain which the +Basque woman had given her grandson that enabled +Steve to be master of his house even if he knew very +little of what it was all about. It was fortunate for +his peace of mind––and pocketbook––that Beatrice +had accepted the general rumour of a goat-tending +ancestry and pried no further. Had she ever +glimpsed the genealogy tables of the Benefacio +family, from which Steve descended, she would have +had the best time of all; coats of arms and family +crests and mottoes would have been the vogue; a trip +to the Pyrenees would have followed; mantillas and +rebozos would have crowded her wardrobe, and Steve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +would have been forced to learn Spanish and cultivate +a troubadourish air.</p> +<p>Moreover, the Gorgeous Girl was not willing that +her husband be buried in business. She could not +have so good a time without him––besides, it was +meet that he acquired polish. Her father was a different +matter; everyone knew his ways and would +be as likely to try to change the gruff, harsh-featured +man as to try surveying Gibraltar with a penny +ruler. Now Beatrice had married Steve because +cave men were rather the mode, cave men who were +wonderfully successful and had no hampering relatives. +Besides, her father favoured Steve and he +would not have been amiable had he been forced to +accept a son-in-law of whom he did not approve. +Mark Constantine had never learned graciousness +of the heart, nor had his child.</p> +<p>So Beatrice proceeded to badger Steve whenever +he pleaded business, with the result that she kept +dropping in at his office, sometimes bringing friends, +coaxing him to close his desk and come and play for +the rest of the day. Sometimes she would peek in at +Mary Faithful’s office and baby talk––for Steve’s +edification––something like this:</p> +<p>“Ise a naughty dirl––I is––want somebody to play +wif me––want to be amoosed. Do oo care? Nice, +busy lady––big brain.”</p> +<p>Often she would bring a gift for Mary in her surface +generous fashion––a box of candy or a little silk +handkerchief. She pitied Mary as all butterflies pity +all ants, and she little knew that as soon as she had +departed Mary would open the window to let fresh air +drive out distracting perfume, and would look at the +useless trifle on her desk with scornful amusement.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></div> +<p>Before the New York trip Steve took refuge in his +first deliberate lie to his wife. He had lied to himself +throughout his courtship but was most innocent +of the offence.</p> +<p>“If Mrs. O’Valley telephones or calls please say +I have gone out to the stockyards,” he told Mary. +“And will you lend me your office for the afternoon? +I’m so rushed I must be alone where I can work without +interruption.”</p> +<p>Mary gathered up her papers. “I’ll keep you +under cover.” She was smiling.</p> +<p>“What’s the joke?”</p> +<p>“I was thinking of how very busy idle people +always are and of how much time busy people +always manage to make for the idle people’s +demands.”</p> +<p>He did not answer until he had collected his work +materials. Then he said: “I should like to know just +what these idle people do with themselves but I +shall never have the time to find out.” He vanished +into Mary’s office, banging the door.</p> +<p>Beatrice telephoned that afternoon, only to be +given her husband’s message.</p> +<p>“I’ll drive out to the stockyards and get him,” +she proposed.</p> +<p>“He went with some men and I don’t believe I’d +try it if I were you,” Mary floundered.</p> +<p>“I see. Well, have him call me up as soon as he +comes in. It is very important.”</p> +<p>When Steve reached home that night he found +Beatrice in a well-developed pout.</p> +<p>“Didn’t you get my message?” she demanded, +sharply.</p> +<p>“Just as I was leaving the office. I looked in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +there on––on my way back. I saw no use in telephoning +then. What is it, dear?”</p> +<p>“It’s too late now. You have ruined my day.”</p> +<p>“Sorry. What is too late?”</p> +<p>“I wanted you to go to Amityville with me; there +is a wonderful astrologer there who casts life horoscopes. +He predicted this whole war and the Bolsheviki +and bombs and everything, and I wanted +him to do ours. Alice Twill says he is positively +uncanny.”</p> +<p>Steve shook his head. “No long-haired cocoanut +throwers for mine,” he said, briefly, unfolding his +paper.</p> +<p>“But I wanted you to go.”</p> +<p>“Well, I do not approve of such things; they are a +waste of time and money.”</p> +<p>“I have my own money,” she informed him, curtly.</p> +<p>Steve laid aside the paper. “I have known that +for some time.”</p> +<p>“Besides, it is rude to refuse to call me when I have +asked you to do so. It makes me ridiculous in the +eyes of your employees.”</p> +<p>Recalling the shift of offices Steve suppressed a +smile. “It was nothing important, Bea, and I am +mighty busy. Your father never had time to play; +he worked a great deal harder than I have worked.”</p> +<p>“I can’t help that. You must not expect me to +be a little stay-at-home. You knew that before we +were even engaged. Besides, I’m no child–––”</p> +<p>“No, but you act like one.” He spoke almost +before he thought. “You are a woman nearly +twenty-six years old, yet you haven’t the poise of +girls eighteen that I have known. Still, they were +farm or working girls. I’ve sometimes wondered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +what it is that makes you and your friends always +seem so childish and naïve––at times. Aren’t you +ever going to grow up––any of you?”</p> +<p>“Do you want a pack of old women?” she demanded. +“How can you find fault with my friends? +You seem to forget how splendidly they have treated +you.”</p> +<p>A cave man must be muzzled, handcuffed, and +Under the anæsthetic of unreality and indifference to +be a satisfactory husband for a modern Gorgeous +Girl.</p> +<p>“Why shouldn’t they treat me splendidly? I have +never robbed or maltreated any of them. Tell me +something. It is time we talked seriously. We +can’t exist on the cream-puff kind of conversation. +What in the world has your way of going through +these finishing schools done for you?”</p> +<p>The dove-coloured eyes flickered angrily. “I had +a terribly good time,” she began. “Besides, it’s the +proper thing––girls don’t come out at twenty and +marry off and let that be the end of it. You really +have a much better time now if you wait until you are +twenty-five, and then you somehow have learned +how to be a girl for an indefinite period. As for the +finishing school in America––well, we had a wonderful +sorority.”</p> +<p>“I’ve met college women who were clear-headed +persons deserving the best and usually attaining it––but +I’ve never taken a microscope to the sort of +women playing the game from the froth end. I’m +wondering what your ideas were.”</p> +<p>“You visited me––you met my friends––my +chaperons––you wrote me each day.”</p> +<p>“I was in love and busy making my fortune. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +was as shy as a backwoods product––you know +that––and afraid you would be carried off by someone +else before I could come up to the sum your father +demanded of me. I have nothing but a hazy idea as +to a great many girls of all sorts and sizes––and +mostly you.”</p> +<p>“Well, we had wonderful lectures and things; and +I had a wonderful crush on some of the younger +teachers––that is a great deal of fun.”</p> +<p>“Crushes?”</p> +<p>“You must have crushes unless you’re a nobody––and +there’s nothing so much a lark. You select your +crush and then you rush her. I had a darling teacher, +she is doing war work in Paris now. She was a doll. +I adored her the moment I saw her and I sent her +presents and left flowers in her room, orchids on +Sundays, until she made me stop. One day a whole +lot of us who had been rushing her clipped off locks +of our hair and fastened them in little gauze bags and +we strung a doll clothes line across her room and +pinned the little bags on it and left a note for her +saying: ‘Your scalp line!’”</p> +<p>“What did that amount to?”</p> +<p>“Oh, it was fun. And I had another crush right +after that one. Then some of the classes were +interesting. I liked psychology best of all because +you could fake the answers and cram for exams more +easily. Math. and history require facts. There +was one perfectly thrilling experience with fish. You +know fish distinguish colours, one from the other, +and are guided by colour sense rather than a sense of +smell. We had red sticks and green sticks and blue +sticks in a tank of fish, and for days we put the fish +food on the green sticks and the fish would swim +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +right over to get it, and then we put it on the red +sticks and they still swam over to the green sticks and +waited round––so it was recognizing colour and not +the food. And a lot of things like that.”</p> +<p>Steve laughed. “I hope the fish wised up in +time.”</p> +<p>Beatrice looked at him disapprovingly. “If you +had gone to college it might have made a great +difference,” she said.</p> +<p>“Possibly,” he admitted; “but I’ll let the rest of +the boys wait on the fishes. Did you go to domestic +science this morning?”</p> +<p>“Yes, it was omelet. Mine was like leather. The +gas stove makes my head ache. But we are going to +have a Roman pageant to close the season––all about +a Roman matron, and that will be lots of fun.”</p> +<p>“You eat too much candy; that is what makes +your head ache,” he corrected.</p> +<p>She pretended not to hear him. “It is time to +dress.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say there’s a party to-night,” he begged.</p> +<p>“Of course there is, and you know it. The Homers +are giving a dinner for their daughter. Everyone is +to wear their costumes wrong side out. Isn’t that +clever? I laid out a white linen suit for you; it will +look so well turned inside out; and I am going to wear +an organdie that has a wonderful satin lining. +There is no reason why we must be frumps.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather stay home and play cribbage,” Steve +said, almost wistfully. “There’s a rain creeping up. +Let’s not go!”</p> +<p>“I hate staying home when it is raining.” Beatrice +went into her room to try the effect of a sash +wrong side out. “It is so dull in a big drawing room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +when there are just two people,” she added, as Steve +appeared in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Two people make a home,” he found himself +answering.</p> +<p>The Gorgeous Girl glanced at him briefly, during +which instant she seemed quite twenty-six years old +and the spoiled daughter of a rich man, the childish, +senseless part of her had vanished. “Would you +please take Monster into the kitchen for her supper?” +she asked, almost insolently.</p> +<p>So the owner of the O’Valley Leather Works found +his solace in tucking the pound-and-a-half spaniel +under his arm and trying to convince himself that he +was all wrong and a self-made man must keep a watch +on himself lest he become a boor!</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The day the O’Valleys left for New York in company +with three other couples Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord +Vondeplosshe arrived in Hanover, having visited until +their welcome was not alone worn out but impossible +ever to be replaced. A social item in the +evening paper stated that they had taken an apartment +at the Graystone and would be at home to +their friends––whoever they might be.</p> +<p>If Gay’s club and his friends had determined +merely to be polite and not welcome his wife, Trudy +had determined that they would not only welcome +her but insist upon being helpful to them; as for her +former associates––they would be treated to a curt +bow. This, however, did not include the Faithfuls. +Mary was not to be ignored, nor did Trudy wish to +ignore her. All the good that was in Trudy responded +to Mary’s goodness. She never tried to be +to Mary––no one did more than once. Nor did she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +try to flatter her. She was truly sorry for Mary’s +colourless life, truly grieved that Mary would not +consent to shape her eyebrows. But she respected +her, and it was to Mary’s house that Mrs. Vondeplosshe +repaired shortly after her arrival.</p> +<p>It was quite true that Beatrice Constantine would +have developed much as Trudy had were the pampered +person compelled to earn her living, and, like +Trudy, too, would have married a half portion, bankrupt +snob. As Trudy dashed into the Faithful +living room, kissing Mary and her mother and +shaking a finger at Luke, Mary thought what a +splendid imitation she was of Beatrice returning +from her honeymoon.</p> +<p>“As pretty as a picture,” Mrs. Faithful declared, +quite chirked up by the bridal atmosphere. “How +do you do it, Trudy? And why didn’t you write us +something besides postals? They always seem like +printed handbills to me.”</p> +<p>“Especially mine,” Luke protested. “One of +Sing Sing with the line: ‘I am thinking of you.’”</p> +<p>Trudy giggled. “I didn’t have a minute and I +bought postals in flocks. Oh, I adore New York! +I’m wild to live there. I nearly passed away in New +England, but of course we had to stay as long as they +would have us.”</p> +<p>She looked at herself in a mirror, conscious of +Mary’s amused expression. She wore a painfully +bright blue tailored suit––she had made the skirt +herself and hunted up a Harlem tailor to do the +jacket––round-toed, white leather shoes stitched +with bright blue, white silk stockings, an aviatrix cap +of blue suéde, and a white fox fur purchased at half +price at a fire sale.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span></div> +<p>“I haven’t any new jewellery except my wedding +ring,” she mourned. “I expected Gay’s sister to +give me one of her mother’s diamond earrings––I +think she might have. They are lovely stones––but +she never made a move that way––she’s horrid. As +soon as I can afford to be independent I shall cut her, +for she did her best to politely ask us to leave.”</p> +<p>“You were there several weeks, weren’t you?” +Mary ventured.</p> +<p>“Yes––I grew tame. I learned a lot from her––I +was pretty crude in some ways.” Which was true. +Trudy was quite as well-bred looking, at first glance, +as the Gorgeous Girl. “It is always better to get +your experience where the neighbours aren’t watching. +I didn’t lose a minute. If I never did an honest day’s +work for Steve O’Valley I worked like a steam +engine learning how to be a real lady, the sort Gay +tried to marry but couldn’t!”</p> +<p>“As if you weren’t a little lady at all times,” Mrs. +Faithful added.</p> +<p>“Of course we are stony broke but Gay’s brother-in-law +just had to loan us some money in order to +have us go. They gave us fifty dollars for a wedding +present. Well, it was better than nothing. Gay +has talked to a lot of concert managers and he’s going +to have some wonderful attractions next season. +People have never taken Gaylord seriously; he really +has had to discover himself, and he is–––”</p> +<p>“Are you practising small talk on me?” Mary +asked.</p> +<p>“You’ve said it,” Trudy admitted. “That last is +the way I’m going to talk about Gaylord to his +friends. I’ll make him a success if he will only mind +me. Just think––I’ll be calling on Beatrice O’Valley +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +before long! She will have to know me because +Gay helped furnish her apartment and was one of her +ushers. It will mean everything for us to know her––and +I’m never going to appear at all down and out, +either. People never take you seriously if you seem +to need money. Debt can’t frighten me. I was +raised on it. All I need is Gay’s family reputation +and my own hair and teeth and I’ll breeze in before +any of the other entries. I came to ask if you won’t +come to see where I live?” She smiled her prettiest. +“Gay is at his club and we can talk. It was quite a +bomb in the enemies’ camp when he married––people +just can’t dun a married man like they do a +bachelor.”</p> +<p>“I’ll come next week.” Mary tried putting off +the evil day.</p> +<p>“No––now. I want your advice––and to show +you my clothes.”</p> +<p>“You will have clothes, Trudy, when you don’t +have food.”</p> +<p>“You have to these days––no good time unless +you do.”</p> +<p>She kissed Mrs. Faithful and promised to have +them all up for dinner. Then she tucked her arm +in Mary’s and pranced down the street with her, +talking at top speed of how horrid it was that they +had to walk and not drive in a cab like Beatrice, +and concluding with a dissertation on Gaylord’s +mean disposition.</p> +<p>“I’m not mean, Mary, unless I want to accomplish +something––but Gaylord is mean on general principle. +He sulks and tells silly lies when you come to +really know him. Oh, I’m not madly in love––but +we can get along without throwing things. It’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +better than marrying a clod-hopper who couldn’t +show me anything better than his mother’s green-plush +parlour.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t it seem hard to have to pretend to love +him?”</p> +<p>“No, he’s so stupid,” said the debonair Mrs. Vondeplosshe +as she brought Mary up before the entrance +of the Graystone, a cheap apartment house with a +marble entrance that extended only a quarter of the +way up; from there on ordinary wood and marbleized +paper finished the deed. The Vondeplosshes had a +rear apartment. Their windows looked upon ash +cans and delivery entrances, the front apartments +with their bulging bay windows being twenty-five +dollars a month more rent. As it was, they were +paying forty-five, and very lucky to have the chance +to pay it.</p> +<p>Trudy unlocked the door with a flourish. All that +Trudy had considered as really essential to the making +of a home was a phonograph and a pier glass; +the rest was simple––rent a furnished place and wear +out someone else’s things. The bandbox of a place +with four cell-like rooms was by turns pitiful and +amusing to Mary Faithful.</p> +<p>“We are just starting from here,” Trudy reminded +her as she watched the gray eyes flicker with humour +or narrow with displeasure. “Wait and see––we’ll +soon be living neighbour to the O’Valleys. Besides, +there is such an advantage in being married. You +don’t have to worry for fear you’ll be an–––”</p> +<p>“Old maid,” finished Mary. “Out with it! You +can’t frighten me. I hope you and Gay never try +changing your minds at the same time, for it would +be a squeeze.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div> +<p>She selected a fragile gilt chair in the tiny living +room with its imitation fireplace and row of painted +imitation books in the little bookcase. This was in +case the tenants had no books of their own––which +the Vondeplosshes had not. If they possessed a +library they could easily remove the painted board +and give it to the janitor for safekeeping. There +were imitation Oriental rugs and imitation-leather +chairs and imitation-mahogany furniture, plated +silver, and imitations of china and of linen were to be +found in the small three-cornered dining room, which +resembled a penurious wedge of cake, Mary thought +as she tried saying something polite. The imitation +extended to the bedroom with its wall bed and +built-in chiffonier and dresser of gaudy walnut. +Trudy had promptly cluttered up the last-mentioned +article with smart-looking cretonne and near-ivory +toilet articles. There was even a pathetic little +wardrobe trunk they had bought for $28.75 in New +York, and Trudy had painstakingly soaked off old +European hotel labels she had found on one of Gay’s +father’s satchels and repasted them on the trunk to +give the impression of travel and money.</p> +<p>The kitchen was nothing but a dark hole with a +rusty range and nondescript pots and pans. “Being +in the kitchen gets me nothing, so why bother +about it?” Trudy explained, hardly opening the +door. “We have no halls or furnace to care for, +and an apartment house sounds so well when you +give an address. I wish we could have afforded a +front one; it will be hard to have people climbing +through the back halls. I have put in a good supply +of canned soups and vegetables and powdered puddings, +and we can save a lot on our food. We’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +be invited out, too, and when we eat at home I can +get a meal in a few minutes and I’ll make Gay wash +the dishes. Besides, I have a wonderful recipe for +vanishing cream that his sister bought in Paris, and +I’m going to have a little business myself, making it +to supply to a few select customers as a favour. I’ll +sell small jars for a dollar and large ones for three, +and I can make liquid face powder, too. Oh, we +won’t starve. And if you could wait for the money +I know I owe you–––”</p> +<p>“Call it a wedding present,” Mary said, briefly.</p> +<p>“You lamb!”</p> +<p>Trudy fell on her neck and was in the throes of +explaining how grateful she was and how she had an +evening dress modelled after one of Gay’s sister’s, +which cost seven hundred dollars before the war, +when Gay appeared––very debonair and optimistic +in his checked suit, velours hat, and toothpick-toed +tan shoes, and his pale little eyes were quite animated +as he kissed Trudy and dutifully shook hands with +Mary, explaining that the Hunters of Arcadia had just +offered him a clerical position at the club, ordering +supplies and making out bills and so on––because he +was married, very likely. It would pay forty a +month and his lunches.</p> +<p>“And only take up your mornings! You can slip +extra sandwiches in your pockets for me, deary. I’ll +give you a rubber-pocketed vest for a Christmas present,” +Trudy exclaimed. “Oh, say everything in +front of Mary––she knows what we really are!”</p> +<p>At which Mary fled, with the general after impression +of pale, wicked eyes and a checked suit and a +dashing, red-haired young matron with a can opener +always on hand, and the fact that the Vondeplosshes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +were going to lay siege to the O’Valleys as soon as +possible.</p> +<p>Mary decided that it was a great privilege to be a +profane lady concealing a heartache compared to +other alternatives. At least heartaches were quite +real.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> +<p>It was almost Christmas week before the realization +of Trudy’s ambition to have Beatrice +call upon her as the wife of Gaylord Vondeplosshe +instead of an unimportant employee of her +own husband. Trudy counted upon Beatrice to +help her far more than Gaylord dared to hope.</p> +<p>“Bea is like all her sort,” he warned Trudy when +the point of Beatrice’s having to invite the Vondeplosshes +for dinner was close at hand; “she is crazy +about herself and her money. She would cheat for +ten cents and then turn right round and buy a thousand-dollar +dress without questioning the price.”</p> +<p>Which was true. Beatrice had never had to acquire +any sense of values regarding either money or +character. By turns she was penurious and lavish, +suspecting a maid of stealing a sheet of notepaper +and then writing a handsome check for a charity in +which she had only a passing interest. She would +send her soiled finery to relief committees, and when +someone told her that satin slippers and torn chiffon +frocks were not practical she would say in injured +astonishment: “Sell them and use the money. I +never have practical clothes.”</p> +<p>If a maid pleased her Beatrice pampered her until +she became overbearing, and there would be a scene +in which the maid would be told to pack her things +and depart without any prospect of a reference; and +someone else would be rushed into her place, only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +to have the same experience. Beatrice was like most +indulged and superfluously rich women, both unreasonable +and foolishly lenient in her demands. She +had no schedule, no routine, no rules either for herself +or others. She had been denied the chance of +developing and discovering her own limitations and +abilities. She expected her maids and her friends +to be at her beck and call twenty-four hours out of +the twenty-four, she would not accept an excuse of +being unfitted by illness for some task or of not knowing +how to do any intricate, unheard-of thing which +suddenly it occurred to her must be done.</p> +<p>When a servant would plead her case Beatrice +always told her that for days at a time she left her +alone in her beautiful home with nothing to do but +keep it clean and eat up all her food and very likely +give parties and use her talking machine and piano––which +was quite true––and that she must consider +this when she was asked to stay on duty until three +or four o’clock in the morning or be up at five o’clock +with an elaborate breakfast for Beatrice and her +friends just returning from a fancy-dress ball.</p> +<p>On a sunny day she often sent the maids driving +in her car, and if a blizzard came up she was certain +to ask them to walk downtown to match yarn for her, +not even offering car fare. She would borrow small +sums and stamps from them and deliberately forget +to pay them back, at the same time giving her cook a +forty-dollar hat because it made her own self look too +old. She had never had any one but herself to rely +upon for discipline, and whenever she wanted anything +she had merely to ask for it. When anything +displeased her it was removed without question.</p> +<p>American business men do not always toil until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +they are middle-aged for the reward of being made a +fool by a chorus girl or an adventuress. That belongs +to yellow-backed penny-dreadfuls and Sunday +supplement tales of breach-of-promise suits. +More often the daughter of the business man is both +the victim and the vampire of his own shortsighted +neglectfulness. The business man expresses it as +“working like a slave to give her the best in the land.” +And sometimes, as in the case of Steve O’Valley, it +is his own wife instead of a blonde soul mate who lures +him to destruction in six installments.</p> +<p>When Beatrice first knew of Gaylord’s return she +was inclined to pay no attention to his wife, despite +her remarks to Steve. Then Gaylord telephoned, +and she had him up for afternoon tea, during which +he told her all about it. He was very diplomatic in +his undertaking. He pictured Trudy as a diamond +in the rough, and in subtle, careful fashion gave Beatrice +to understand that just as she had married a +diamond in the rough––with a Virginia City grandfather +and a Basque grandmother and the champion +record of goat tending––so he, too, had been democratic +enough to put aside precedent and marry a +charming, unspoiled little person with both beauty +and ability, and certainly he was to be congratulated +since he had been married for love alone, Truletta +knowing full well his unfortunate and straitened circumstances.... +Yes, her people lived in Michigan +but were uncongenial. Still, there was good +blood in the family only it was a long ways back, +probably as far back as the age of spear fighting, +and he relied upon Beatrice, his old playmate, to +sympathize with and uphold his course.</p> +<p>Secretly annoyed that the tables had been so skillfully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +turned, yet not willing to admit it to this bullying +morsel, Beatrice was obliged to say she would +call upon his wife and ask them for dinner the following +week.</p> +<p>Gaylord fairly floated home, to find Trudy remodelling +a dress, scraps of fur and shreds of satin on +the floor.</p> +<p>“Babseley, she’s coming to call to-morrow!” he +said, joyfully, hanging up his velours hat and straddling +a little gilt chair.</p> +<p>“Really? I wish we had a better place. I feel +at a disadvantage. If it were a man I wouldn’t +mind, I could act humble and brave––that sort of +dope. But it never goes with a woman; you have to +bully a rich woman, and I’m wondering if I can.”</p> +<p>“I did,” he said, his pale eyes twinkling with delight. +“It was easy, too. I dragged in O’Valley’s +orphan-asylum days and all, and how we both +married diamonds in the rough. Woof, how she +squirmed!” He rose and went to the absurd little buffet, +pouring out two glasses of “red ink” and gulping +down one of them. “I wish I had O’Valley’s money; +I’d put away a houseful of this stuff. I’m going to +dig up a few bottles at the club––in case of illness.” +Trudy did not want her glass, so he drank that as +well.</p> +<p>“You take too much of that stuff,” Trudy warned, +gathering up her débris; “and when you have taken +too much you talk too much.”</p> +<p>Gaylord rewarded her by consuming a third glass. +“Shall we eat out?”</p> +<p>She shook her head. “Too expensive. There’s no +need for it now. I bought some potato salad and I +have canned pineapple and sugar cookies.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div> +<p>She dumped her work into a basket and flew round +the dining room until she summoned Gaylord to join +her in a meal laid out on the corner of a dingy luncheon +table.</p> +<p>The wine dulled Gay’s appetite and Trudy’s had +been taken quite away by Beatrice’s proposed visit. +Besides, they put the latest jazz record on their little +talking machine, which helped substitute for a decent +meal. They danced a little while and then Trudy +planned what she should wear for the O’Valley dinner +party and Gaylord figured how much money he +needed before he would dare try buying an automobile, +and they finished the evening by attending the +nine-o’clock movie performance and buying fifteen +cents’ worth of lemon ice and two sponge cakes to +bring home as a pièce de resistance.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Beatrice found herself amused instead of annoyed +as she climbed the stairs to the Vondeplosshe residence. +At Trudy’s request Gay had discreetly consented +to be absent. He had pretty well picked up +the threads of his various enterprises and what with +his club duties, his second-rate concerts, his gambling, +and commissions from antique dealers, he managed +to put in what he termed a full day. So he swung out +of the house early in the afternoon to buy himself a +new winter outfit, wondering if Trudy would row +when she discovered the fact.</p> +<p>Gaylord’s theory of married life was “What’s +mine is my own, and what’s yours is mine.” He +relied on Trudy to mend his clothes and make his +neckties, keep house and manage with a laundress a +half day a week, yet always be as well dressed and +pretty as when she had slacked in the office and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +boarded without cares at Mary’s house. She must +always seem happy and proud of her husband and +have her old pep––being on the lookout for a way to +make their fortunes. She must also remain as young +looking as ever and always be at his beck and call. +Gaylord was rapidly developing into an impossible +little bully, the usual result of an impoverished snob +who manages to become a barnacle-like fixture on +someone a trifle more foolish yet better of nature than +himself.</p> +<p>Had he been less aristocratic of family and stronger +of brawn he would have beaten Trudy if she displeased +him. As it was, after the first flush of romance +passed, he began to sneer at her in private +when she made mistakes in the ways of the smart set +into which Gaylord had been born, and when she +protested he only sneered the louder. He felt Trudy +should be eternally grateful to him. Trudy found +herself bewildered, hurt––yet unable to combat his +contemptible little laughs and sneers. Trudy was +shallow and she knew not the meaning of the word +“ideal,” but for the most part she was rather amiable +and unless she had a certain goal to attain she wished +everyone about her to be happy and content. As +she had married Gaylord only as a stepping-stone she +was fair enough to remind herself of this fact when +unpleasant developments occurred. As long as +he was useful to her she was not going to seize upon +pin-pricks and try to make them into actual +wounds.</p> +<p>She decided to wear her one decent tea gown when +Beatrice called, pleading a bad headache as an excuse +for its appearance. She knew the tea gown was an +excellent French model, a hand-me-down from Gay’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +sister, and her nimble fingers had cleaned and mended +the trailing pink-silk loveliness until it would make +quite a satisfactory first impression.</p> +<p>She cleaned the apartment, recklessly bought cut +flowers, bonbons, and two fashion magazines to give +an impression of plenty. She even set old golf clubs +and motor togs in the tiny hall, and she timed Beatrice’s +arrival so as to put the one grand-opera record +on the talking machine just as she was coming up the +stairs.</p> +<p>Then she ran to the door in pretty confusion, to +say spiritedly: “Oh, Mrs. O’Valley, so good of you. +I’m ever so happy to have you. I’m afraid it isn’t +proper to be wearing this old tea gown but I had a bad +headache this morning and I stayed in bed until +nearly luncheon, then I slipped into the first thing +handy.... Oh, no. Only a nervous headache. +We took too long a motor trip yesterday, the sun was +so bright.... No, indeed; you do not make +my headache worse. It’s better right this +minute.... Now please don’t laugh at our +little place. Can’t you play you’re a doll and this is +the house you were supposed to live in? I do––I +find myself laughing every time I really take time to +stand back and look at the rooms.... Put +your coat here. Such a charming one, the skins are +so exquisitely matched. I do so want to talk to you.”</p> +<p>She had such an honest, innocent expression that +Beatrice found herself won over to the cause. Trudy +understood Beatrice at first sight; she knew how to +proceed without blundering.</p> +<p>“Sit here, Mrs. Steve, for I can’t call you Mrs. +O’Valley with Gay singing the praises of Bea and +Beatrice and the Gorgeous Girl.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div> +<p>“Then––er––call me Beatrice,” she found herself saying.</p> +<p>“How wonderful! But only on condition that I +am Trudy to you. How pleased Gay is going to be! +He adores you. You have no idea of how much he +talks about you and approves all you do and say. I +used to be a teeny weeny bit jealous of you when I +was a poor little nobody.” She passed the chocolates, +nodding graciously as Beatrice selected the +largest one in the box.</p> +<p>Trudy chattered ahead: “I was glancing through +these fashion books this afternoon to get an idea for +an afternoon dress. Of course I can’t have wonderful +things like you have”––looking with envy at the +Gorgeous Girl’s black-velvet costume––“still, I don’t +mind. When one is happy mere things do not +matter, do they––Beatrice?”</p> +<p>Beatrice hesitated. Then she fortified herself by +another bonbon. This strange girl was both interesting +and dangerous. Certainly she was not to +be snubbed or ridiculed. Vaguely Beatrice tried to +analyze her hostess, but as she had never been called +upon to judge human nature she was sluggish in even +trying to exercise her faculties.</p> +<p>In China fathers have their daughters’ feet bound +and make them sleep away from the house so their +moans will not disturb the family. In America +fathers often repress their daughters’ self-sufficiency +and intellect by bonds of self-indulgence, and when the +daughters realize that a stockade of dollars is a most +flimsy fortress in the world against the experiences +which come to every man and woman the American +girls are the mental complement of their physically tortured +Chinese cousins––hopeless and without redress.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>“You have made this place look well,” Beatrice +said, presently, “It is a perfect tinder box. Papa +knows the man who built it.”</p> +<p>Trudy flushed. “We are merely trying out love in +a cliffette,” she said, sweetly, “instead of the old-style +cottage. We can’t expect anything like your +apartment. We have that prospect to look forward +to. Besides, we have the advantage of knowing just +who our real friends are,” she added, smiling her +prettiest.</p> +<p>Beatrice disposed of another chocolate. She told +herself she was being placed in an awkward position. +She had occasion to keep thinking so every moment of +her visit, for Trudy hastened to add that she had +never liked office work and yet Mr. O’Valley had +been so good to her, and wasn’t it splendid that +America was a country where one had a chance and +could rise to whatsoever place one deserved; and +when one thought of Beatrice’s own dear papa and +handsome husband, well, it was all quite inspiring +and wonderful––until Beatrice was as uncomfortable +about Steve’s goat tending and her father’s marital +selection of a farmer’s hired girl as Trudy really was +of the apartment and her second-hand frock.</p> +<p>Trudy lost no time in introducing the magic +vanishing-cream and liquid face power, and before +the call ended Beatrice had ordered five dollars’ +worth of each and some for Aunt Belle, and she had +offered to take Trudy to her bridge club some time +soon.</p> +<p>As the door closed Trudy sank back in her chair, +informing the imitation fireplace joyously: “It was +almost too easy; I didn’t have to work as hard as I +really wanted to.” Wearily she dragged off her tea +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +gown for a bungalow apron and then prepared a +supper of delicatessen baked beans and instantaneous +pudding for her lord and master.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The dinner with the O’Valleys was equally fruitful +of results. Despite Steve’s protests that he did not +wish to know Gay and that Trudy was impossible he +was forced to listen to their inane jokes and absurd +flatteries and to look at Trudy in her taupe chiffon +with exclamatory strands of burnt ostrich, and +watch her deft fashion of handling his wife, realizing +that people with one-cylinder brains and smart-looking, +redheaded wives usually get by with things!</p> +<p>After their guests had departed Steve began +brusquely: “Do you like’em?”</p> +<p>“No; I told you before that they amused me. +She is fun, and poor Gay is a dear.”</p> +<p>“Are you going to have them round all the time? +That woman’s laugh gets on my nerves, and I want +him shot at sunrise. They can’t talk about anything +but the movies and jazz dancing and clothes.”</p> +<p>“What do you want them to talk about? Don’t +pace up and down like a wild beast.” Beatrice came +up and stood before him to prevent his turning the +corner.</p> +<p>He looked down at her without answering. She +was clad in shimmering white loveliness cut along +the same medieval lines as the gown another Beatrice +had worn when Dante first saw her walking by the +Arno; her hair was very sunshiny and fragrant and +her dove-coloured eyes most appealing.</p> +<p>He burst out laughing at his own protest. “Am I +a bear? Come and kiss me. If you like them or +they amuse you just tote ’em about, darling. Only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +can’t you manage to do it while I am out of town? +They do fleck me on the raw.”</p> +<p>“Hermit––beast,” she dimpled and shook her +finger at him.</p> +<p>“I just want you,” he said, simply; “or else people +who can do something besides spend money or sponge +round for it.”</p> +<p>“Sometimes you frighten me––you sound booky.”</p> +<p>“I’m not; I want real things, Bea. I feel hungry +for plain people.”</p> +<p>“You have them all day long in your office and +your shops; I should think when you come home +you’d welcome a good time.”</p> +<p>“Our definitions differ. Anyhow, I’m not going to +find fault with your friends. I’ve nothing against +them except that they are time wasters.”</p> +<p>“Trudy boarded at your wonderful Miss Faithful’s +house.”</p> +<p>“In spite of Mary’s common sense, and not +because of it.”</p> +<p>“You think a great deal of that girl, don’t you?” +she asked, patting his sleeve.</p> +<p>“She deserves a great deal of credit; she has +worked since she was thirteen, and she is as true-blue +as they come.”</p> +<p>“Do you think she will ever marry and leave you?” +she asked, laying the sunshiny head on his arm.</p> +<p>“I never want her to; I’d feel like buying off any +prospective bridegroom.”</p> +<p>“That’s not fair.” Her hand stole up to pat his +cheek. “She has the right to be happy––as we are, +Steve!”</p> +<p>He stared at her in all her lovely uselessness. +“You funny little wife,” he whispered––“fighting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +over losing a postage stamp one minute and buying +a new motor car the next; going to luncheon with the +washed of Hanover and spending the afternoon with +Trudy; making fun of Mary Faithful’s shirt waists +and then pleading for her woman’s happiness.... +Beatrice, you’ve never had half a chance!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The next afternoon Mary and Luke Faithful were +summoned home. Later in the day Steve received +word that their mother had succumbed to a violent +heart attack. He found himself feeling concerned +and truly sorry, wondering if Mary had any one to +see to things and relieve her of the responsibility. +Then he wondered if this death would cause a dormant +affection to become active love as often happens, +causing him to lose his right-hand man. He +reproached himself for knowing so little of her +private life. When he went into her deserted office +to find a letter it seemed distinctly lonesome. It +was hard to realize how suddenly things happen and +how easily the world at large becomes accustomed to +radical changes. Already a snub-nosed little clerk +was taking up a collection for the flowers.</p> +<p>For the first time in years Steve felt depressed and +weary. The anaesthesia was losing its power.</p> +<p>Within the coming week as vital a mental change +was to come to Steve as the death of Mrs. Faithful +was to cause in Mary’s life. And as Mary, to all +purposes, would resume her business routine with not +a hint of the change, so would Steve fail to betray the +mental revolution that was to take place in his +hitherto ambitious and obedient brain.</p> +<p>Briefly what was to happen was this––after visiting +Mary in her home and after seeing the Gorgeous Girl +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +during a test of one’s abilities, Steve was to realize that +there are two kinds of person in the world: Those +who make brittle, detailed plans, and those who have +but a steadfast purpose. His wife belonged to the +former class and Mary to the latter, which he was to +discover was his choice at all times!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> +<p>The day of Mrs. Faithful’s funeral was the day +that Beatrice O’Valley had arranged to introduce +Trudy Vondeplosshe to her bridge club, +the members of which were keen to see Gay’s wife in +order to prove whether or not Bea’s report concerning +her was correct––that she was a clever young +person quite capable of taking care of both her own +and Gay’s futures.</p> +<p>Beatrice particularly looked forward to the afternoon. +Introducing Trudy served as an attraction, +and besides the hostess had telephoned her that she +had just received a box of Russian sweetmeats made +by a refugee who was starting life anew in New York, +and two barrels of china, each barrel containing but +three plates and each plate being valued at six +hundred dollars. Furthermore, Beatrice was wearing +an afternoon costume that would demand no +small share of attention, and there was the additional +joy of dazzling Trudy by her tapestry-lined winter +car. So when Steve reminded her in a matter-of-fact +way that the funeral services for Mrs. Faithful were +to be at three she stared in amazement.</p> +<p>“My dear boy, I am very sorry your secretary’s +muzzy has died––but I cannot change my plans. I +accepted for both Trudy Vondeplosshe and myself +more than a week ago.”</p> +<p>Steve wondered if he had heard correctly. “You +don’t imagine for an instant that Trudy will not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +go? She boarded there; they did everything for +her.”</p> +<p>Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “She was phoning +me before lunch and is all agog with excitement. +Poor little thing, it means a lot for her. She will be +ready at three and I am to call for her.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think she understands the funeral is to-day. +I know she is heartless and shallow, but even +she would scarcely omit such a duty.”</p> +<p>Beatrice gave a long sigh. “Dear me, you ought +to have been an evangelist. I can’t understand why +you suddenly become punctilious and altruistic. For +years you never did anything but try to make money +and wonder if I would marry you––you never cared +who was dead or what happened as long as you were +secure.”</p> +<p>“Quite true. But I have made a fortune and +married you, and it is time for other things.”</p> +<p>“You are welcome to them,” she said, quite enjoying +the argument. “Besides, I sent my card with +the flowers.”</p> +<p>“It isn’t the same as going yourself, it is your duty +to go, Bea. The girl has taken the brunt of business +while we played and she has only the reward of a +salary. Her mother has died, which means that her +home is gone. I call it thick to choose a bridge party +instead of paying a humane debt.”</p> +<p>“Why am I dragged into it? She isn’t working +for me! Papa never asked me to go when any of his +people had relatives who died. I don’t think he ever +went himself unless there was a claim to be adjusted.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t ask it if it were any one else––but +Mary Faithful is different.”</p> +<p>“You are quite ardent in your defence of her. Be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +sensible, Steve. What does it matter whether I go +or don’t go? I think it quite enough if you appear. +Now if she were in need of actual money–––”</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly!” he said, bitterly. “That would +give you the chance to play off Lady Bountiful, drive +up in state with your check book and accept figurative +kisses on the hand! But when a plain American +business girl who has served me more loyally than +she has herself loses her mother you won’t be a few +moments late at a bridge party in order to pay her +the respect employers should pay their employees. I +don’t blame Trudy––I expect nothing of her––but I +do blame you.”</p> +<p>“So my plans are to be set aside–––?”</p> +<p>“Plans!” he interrupted. “If someone else were +to tell you that they had an East Indian yogi who was +going to give a seance this very afternoon you would +hotfoot it to the telephone to inform Trudy that you +must break your engagement with her, and send word +to your original hostess as well. That is about all +your plans amount to.”</p> +<p>Beatrice’s eyes had grown slanting, shining with +rage. “I wish you would remember you are speaking +to your wife and not to an employee. I would +not go to that funeral now if it meant––if it meant a +divorce.” She pushed her chair back from the +table––they were at luncheon––and stood up indignantly.</p> +<p>Looking at her in her gay light chiffon with its +traceries of gold Steve wondered vaguely whether or +not he had been wrong in selecting his goal, whether +he would ever be able really to understand this +Gorgeous Girl now that she belonged to him, or would +discover that there was nothing much to understand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +about her, that it could all be summed up in the +statement that her father by denying her a chance at +development had stunted the growth of her ability +and her character into raggle-taggle weeds of self-indulgence +and willful temper.</p> +<p>“I shall not ask you to go with me,” he knew he +answered. It is quite as terrifying to find that one’s +goal has been wrongly chosen and ethically unsound +as to find a boyhood dream merging into gorgeous +reality.</p> +<p>Beatrice swept out of the room. Steve made an +elaborate pretense of finishing his meal. Then he +went into the drawing room in search of a newspaper. +He came upon Beatrice sitting on a floor cushion, +feeding Monster some bonbons.</p> +<p>“Have you been at her house?” she said, curiosity +overcoming the pique.</p> +<p>“Yes. Where is that paper? I dropped it in this +chair when I came in for luncheon.”</p> +<p>“I had it taken away. I abominate newspapers in +a drawing room––or muddy shoes,” she added, +looking at his own. “What did she say? What +sort of a house is it?”</p> +<p>Steve stared at her in bewilderment. “What the +devil difference does it make to you?” he demanded, +roughly.</p> +<p>She gave a little scream. “Don’t you dare say +such things to me.” Then she began to cry very +prettily in a singsong, high-pitched voice. “Monster––nobody +loves us––nobody loves us––we can’t +have a merry Christmas after all.”</p> +<p>“I shan’t be home for dinner,” Steve added more +politely. “Miss Faithful’s absence just now makes +things quite rushed––I’ll work until late.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></div> +<p>Beatrice sprang up, letting Monster scramble unheeded +to the floor. “Oh, you are trying to punish +me!”––pretending mock horror. “Stevuns dear, +don’t mind my not going! Plans are plans, you must +learn to understand. And I’ll send her a lovely black +waist and a plum pudding for her Christmas. Tell +her I was laid up with one of my bad heads.... +No? You won’t let me fib? Horrid old thing––come +and kiss me!... Ah, you never refuse to +kiss me, nice cave man with bad manners and muddy +shoes, wanting to thump his strong dear fists on my +little Chippendale tables––and grow so good and +booky all in an instant. Forgets he was ever a bad +pirate and robbed everyone until he could buy his +Gorgeous Girl. Good-bye, story-book man, don’t let +the old funeral frazzle you!”</p> +<p>Steve left the house, undecided whether he was +taking things too seriously and ought to apologize for +being rude to Beatrice or whether his intuitive impression +was correct––that Beatrice was not the sort +of person he had imagined but that he, per se, was to +blame in the matter.</p> +<p>Steve chose to take a street car to the Faithful +house. He shrank from creating the atmosphere of a +generous and overbearing magnate whose chauffeur +opened the door of his machine and waited for him to +step majestically upon terra firma. He felt merely a +sympathetic friend, for some reason, as he walked the +three blocks from the street car through slush and ice, +and realized that Mary Faithful trudged back and +forth this same pathway twice a day.</p> +<p>Unexpectedly he met Mary at the door, rather +white faced and grayer of eyes than usual, but the +same sensible Mary who did not believe in any of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +customary agonies of grieving proper, as she afterward +told him. The old house had not assumed a +funereal air. There were flowers on the tables and +the cheery fire crackled in the grate, and even the +face of the dead woman seemed more content and +optimistic than it had ever been in life.</p> +<p>Steve was not expected to go to the cemetery so +he trudged back through the same slush to the street +car. A fish-market doorway proved a haven during +a long wait. He lounged idly against the doorway as +if he were an unemployed person casting about for +new fields of endeavour instead of the rushed young +Midas whose office phone was ringing incessantly.</p> +<p>He was thinking about Mary Faithful’s pleasant +manner, the atmosphere of the old-fashioned house, +where there was no effort to be smart or gorgeous +or to conceal its shabbiness. He hoped Mary would +return to the office within the next few days. He +wanted her more than he wanted any one else, but +he told himself this was because he was selfish and +she was a capable machine. No, that was not it, +he decided a moment later as he looked in at the +activities of the fish market with passing interest.</p> +<p>Mary no longer seemed a mere machine but a remarkable +woman, a womanly woman, too. He liked +the old house with its atrocious horsehair sofa and +chair tidies and the Rogers group in the front bay +window. The fire had been so elemental and soothing, +so were the pots of flowers, the shabby piano, +and even more shabby books. One could rest there, +distributing whole flocks of newspapers where he +would. The death awe had not been permitted +to take a paramount place. How lucky Luke was, +to have such a sister.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>Mary was about Beatrice’s age. At thirteen she +had begun to earn her own living. At thirteen +Beatrice had had a pony cart, a governess, a multitude +of frocks, her midwinter trip to New York, +where she saw all the musical comedies and gorged +on chocolates and pastry.</p> +<p>The upshot of it was that Steve decided to call on +Mary the following afternoon; it was only courtesy +he told himself by way of an excuse. He wanted to +talk to her––not of business but of life, of the shabby +old house. Outwardly he wanted to ask if he might +help her and what her plans were, but in reality he +wanted her to help him. He no longer felt displeased +that Beatrice had not come with him; he felt positive +Mary would understand, that she would dismiss +Trudy’s slight with proper scorn. Beatrice would +have insisted upon arriving in state. By this time +the bridge club with its Russian sweetmeats, its six-hundred-dollar +china plates, the new afternoon frock, +and the spoofing of Trudy must be well under way!</p> +<p>The fish market was not doing a land-office business. +Stray purchasers approached and halted before +the cashier’s cage. Steve began watching them. +Suddenly he became aware of the gorgeous young +woman presiding behind the wire cage, reluctantly +pushing out change and accepting slips, completely +preoccupied in her own thoughts, while a copy of the +<i>High Blood Pressure Weekly</i> lay at one side. What +attracted Steve was the horrible similarity between +this young person and his own wife! Both had the +same fluffed, frizzled hair and a gay light chiffon +frock with gold trimmings. Though it was December +the toothpick point of a white-kid slipper +protruded from the cage. An imitation Egyptian +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +necklace called attention to the thin, powdered +throat. The cashier was altogether a cheap copy of +Beatrice’s general appearance. She had the same +tiny, nondescript features and indolent expression +in her eyes; she was most superior in her fashion of +dealing with the customers, never deigning to speak +or be spoken to. As soon as she spied Steve, however, +she smiled an invitation to enter and become +owner of half a whitefish or so.</p> +<p>Then the car came and he leaped aboard. It +seemed unbearable that a counterpart of Beatrice +O’Valley was making change at Sullivan’s Fish +Market––but more unbearable to realize that women +in the position of Beatrice O’Valley dressed and +rouged––and acted very often––in such a fashion +that women in the position of Trudy and this cashier +queen sought industriously to imitate them.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Luke showed his grief in the normal manner of any +half-grown, true-blue lad, singularly thoughtful of his +sister’s wishes, and mentioning everyone and everything +except their mother and her death.</p> +<p>“We won’t give up having a home,” Mary told +him the night of the funeral; “we’ll move into a +smaller place so I can take care of it.”</p> +<p>“I guess I’ll work pretty hard at school,” was all he +answered.</p> +<p>“Of course you will. I’m proud of you now, and +if you work and show you deserve it I’ll help you +through college.”</p> +<p>Luke shook his head. “Takes too long before I +could get to earning real money. You ought to +have it easy pretty soon.”</p> +<p>“I love my work. Besides, you will live your own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +life, and so you must grow up and love someone and +marry her. I can’t depend on any one but myself,” +she added, a little bitterly.</p> +<p>Luke stared into the fire. Perhaps this tousle-haired, +freckle-faced boy surmised his sister’s love-story. +If so no one––least of all his sister––should +ever hear of the facts from his lips.</p> +<p>“I’m never going to get married. I want to make +a lot of money like Mr. O’Valley did––quick. Then +we’ll go and live in Europe and maybe I’ll get a +steam yacht and we’ll hunt for buried treasure,” he +could not refrain from adding.</p> +<p>“All right, dear. Just work hard for now and be +my pal; we’ll let the future take care of itself. Another +thing––we want to have as merry a Christmas +as if mother were with us. It’s the only thing to do +or else we’ll find ourselves morbid and unable to keep +going.”</p> +<p>Shamed tears were stoically refused entrance into +Luke’s blue eyes. “I guess I’ll buy you a silver-backed +comb and brush. I got some extra money.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Luke––dear!” Mary made the fatal error of +trying to hug him. He wriggled away.</p> +<p>“Trudy never came near us,” he said, sternly.</p> +<p>Mary was silent.</p> +<p>“But Mr. O’Valley came like a regular–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think you ought to get to bed?” +Mary changed the subject. “Sleep in the room next +to mine if you like.”</p> +<p>“When are you coming upstairs?”</p> +<p>“Soon. I want to look over the letters.”</p> +<p>Luke rose and pretended a nonchalant stretching.</p> +<p>“Are you going to the office right away?”</p> +<p>“Not until New Year’s.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></div> +<p>Something in the tired way she spoke evoked +Luke’s pity and sent him away to smother his boy-man’s +grief by promises of a glorious future in which +his sister should live in the lap of luxury.</p> +<p>With its customary shock death had for the time +being given Mary a false estimate of her mother and +herself, the usual neurasthenic experience people undergo +at such a time. It seemed, as she sat alone +by the fire, that she must have been a strangely +selfish and ungrateful child who misunderstood, +neglected, and underestimated her mother, and she +would be forced to live with reproachful memories +the rest of her days. Each difference of opinion––and +there had been little else––which had risen between +them was magnified into brutal injustice on Mary’s +part and righteous indignation on her mother’s. +This state of mind would find a proper readjustment +in time but that did not comfort Mary at the present +moment. Her mother was dead, and when a mother +is gone so is the home unless someone bravely slips +into the absent one’s place without delay and assumes +its responsibilities and credits. For Luke’s +sake this was what Mary had resolved to do.</p> +<p>As she could not sleep she rummaged in a cabinet +containing old letters and mementos, which added +fuel to her self-reproach and misery. She had borne +up until now. Mary had always been the sort who +could meet a crisis. Reaction had set in and she felt +weak and faulty, longing for a strong shoulder upon +which to cry and be forgiven for her imagined shortcomings. +As she read yellowed letters of bygone +days and lives, finding the record of a baby sister +who had lived only a few days and of whom she had +been in ignorance, a scrap of her mother’s wedding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +gown, old tintypes––she realized that her family was +no more and that everyone needed a family, a group +of related persons whose interests, arguments, events, +and achievements are of particular benefit and importance +each to the other and who unconsciously +challenge the world, no matter what secret disagreements +there may be, to disrupt them if they +dare! Now only Luke and Mary comprised the +family.</p> +<p>After midnight Mary battled herself into the commonsense +attitude of going to bed. Wakening after +the dreamless sleep of the exhausted she found low +spirits and self-blame had somewhat diminished and +though her state of mind was as serious as her gray +eyes yet life was not utterly bereft of compensations.</p> +<p>Luke had thoughtfully risen early, clumsily tiptoeing +about to get breakfast. Neighbours had +furnished the customary donations of cake, pie, and +doughnuts, which gave Luke the opportunity of +spreading the breakfast table with these kingly +viands and doing justice to them in no half-hearted +fashion.</p> +<p>The sun streamed through the starched window +curtains, and even the empty rocking-chair seemed +serene in the relief from its morbid burden. Christmas +was only a few days away. Mary decided that they +should have a truly Christmas dinner, and that the +words she had bravely spoken as a three-year-old +runaway, found a mile from home and offered assistance +by kindly strangers, should become quite +true: “Not anybody need take care of myself,” +Mary had declared in dauntless fashion.</p> +<p>Later in the day Luke went to the office because +Mary thought it best. So when Steve called he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +found her alone, the same cheery fire burning in the +grate, the same posies blooming in their window pots, +and the smell of homemade bread pervading the +house, Mary in a soft gray frock presiding over the +walnut secretary.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry not to be at the office,” she began, +thinking he had come to persuade her to return. +“Sit down. Well––you see,” indicating the stacks +of addressed envelopes––“I really can’t come back +until after the New Year. Do you mind? There is a +great deal to be seen to here, and I feel I’ve earned +the right to loaf for a week. I want particularly to +make the holidays happy for Luke.”</p> +<p>“Of course you do. Besides, you never had your +vacation.”</p> +<p>“We’ll call this a vacation and I’ll work extra hard +to prove to you that it was worth the granting.” +Still she did not understand that he wanted to talk +to her for the very comfort of her companionship, +to enjoy the fire, the smell of homemade bread, the +atmosphere of shabby, lovely, everyday plain living.</p> +<p>“We’ll decide that later. I came to see just––you. +Surprised? I wanted to ask if there is anything +I can do for you. I want to help if I may.”</p> +<p>“I’ve no exact plans. Just a definite idea of finding +a small apartment and making it as homey as +possible. I loathe apartments usually,” she added, +impulsively, “but we must have a home and I can’t +assume a whole house. We will take our old things +and fix them over, and the worst of them we’ll pass +on to someone needing them badly enough not to +mind what they are.” She was quite frank in admitting +the tortured walnut and the engravings.</p> +<p>“I’m glad you are not going to break up and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +board––though it’s none of my business. I brought +some fruit. Do you mind?” He had been trying +to hide behind the chair a mammoth basket of fruit.</p> +<p>“No. How lovely of you and Mrs. O’Valley!”</p> +<p>“It was not possible for Mrs. O’Valley to come +yesterday,” he forced himself to say. “She was very +sorry and is going to call on you later.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” Mary answered, briefly.</p> +<p>“You have a nice old place here. Mind if I stroll +about and stare? I have very seldom been in rooms +like this one. An orphan asylum, a ranch, a hall +bedroom, star boarder, a club, a better club, the +young palace––is my record. How different you +seem in your home, Miss Faithful. Perhaps it’s the +dress. I like soft gray–––” he caught himself in +time.</p> +<p>Mary was blushing. She called his attention to +some wood carving her father had done. Presently +Steve changed the subject back to himself.</p> +<p>“You don’t know how I’d like a slice of homemade +bread,” he pleaded. “Must I turn up my coat collar +and go stand at the side door?”</p> +<p>“I made it because Luke had eaten nothing but pie +and cake. You really don’t want just bread?”</p> +<p>“I do––two slices, thick, stepmother size, please.”</p> +<p>It seemed quite unreal to Mary as she was finally +prevailed upon to bring in the tea wagon with the +bread and jam trimmings to accompany the steaming +little kettle.</p> +<p>“Man alive,” sighed Steve, stretching out leisurely, +“I came to console you and I’m being consoled +and fed––in body and mind––made fit for +work.... I say, what do you think of letting +the Boston merger be made public at the banquet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +on–––” He began a budget of business detail +upon which Mary commented, agreeing or objecting +as she felt inclined.</p> +<p>It was so easy to become clear-headed about +work––details became adjusted with magical speed––when +one had a gray-eyed girl with a tilted freckled +nose sitting opposite. The soft gray dress played +a prominent part, too, even if the Gorgeous Girl would +have been amused at its style and material. Besides +this, there was the wood fire, the easy-chair with gay +Turkey-red cushions designed for use and not admiration, +and no yapping spaniel getting tangled up +in one’s heels.</p> +<p>Before they realized it twilight arrived, and simultaneously +they began to be self-conscious and formal, +telling themselves that this would never do, no, +indeed! Dear me, what queer things do happen all +in a day! Still, it would always be a splendid thing +to remember.</p> +<p>Certainly it was more edifying than to confront a +nervous Gorgeous Girl who had discovered that her +maid had been reading her personal notes.</p> +<p>“I sprinkled talcum powder on them and the powder +is all smudged away, so Jody has been spying. +She is packing her things now and I shall refuse any +references. But who will ever take such good care +of me, Steve? And please get dressed; we are invited +to the Marcus Baynes for dinner. They have a +wonderful poet from Greenwich Village who is spending +the holidays with them––long hair, green-velvet +jacket, cigar-box ukulele, and all. A darling! And +I am going to take Monster because he does black-and-white +sketches and I want one of my ittey, bittey +dirl.” And so on.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>Certainly it was more pleasing than to have a +shamed and confused Trudy elegantly attired come +dashing in with a jar of vanishing cream as a peace +offering, presumably to smooth out any wrinkles +of grief, and to explain hastily that it looked like a +lack of feeling not to be at the funeral but most certainly +it was not––no, indeed; it was just tending to +business. She was sure Mary realized how essential +it was not to offend the Gorgeous Girl. How dreadful +it was for poor Mary. She, Trudy, had cried her +old eyes out thinking about it. Did Mary get the +flowers she and Gay sent? She wished she could do +something nice for Mary. How would she like to have +a black-satin dress made at cost price? No? She +wasn’t going to wear mourning! Well, it was very +brave but it would certainly look queer and cause +talk.... Gay’s moustache was coming on +beautifully and no one at the bridge club had dared +to spoof her!</p> +<p>At least there was some excuse for the delivery on +Christmas Day of a parcel addressed to Miss Mary +Faithful. It contained Steve’s card, some wonderful +new books with an ivory paper knife slipped between +them. And when Mary wrote to thank him she +found herself inclosing a demure new silver dime, +explaining:</p> +<p>“I must give you a coin because you gave me a +knife, and unless I did so the old superstition might +come true––and cut our ‘business affections’ right +straight in two!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> +<p>Mary returned to the office with a premeditatedly +formal air toward Steve. She had +taken a New Year’s resolution to refrain +from letting an impulsive expression of sympathy +assume false meanings in her heart. On the other +hand, Steve felt a boor for having sent the books. He +was so used to being called cave man and told not to +do this or say that that he now pictured himself an +awkward villain who had best confine himself to writing +checks and growling at the business world.</p> +<p>He almost dreaded seeing Mary lest she show she +considered the gift improper despite her delightful +little note of thanks. This demeanour, however, was +of short duration. They became their real selves +before the morning passed, the medium being the +question of keeping John Gager, an old clerk pressed +into service during the war period and now superfluous.</p> +<p>“Are you going to let him go?” Mary reproached +Steve.</p> +<p>“I think so; he’s a doddering nuisance they tell +me.”</p> +<p>“But he’s old and he has always served so faithfully. +I don’t think it’s right to send him away now. +He does do what is expected of him.”</p> +<p>Mary’s vacation had somewhat dimmed her business +sagacity.</p> +<p>“I suppose; but we’ll be doddering idiots some day, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +too. No one will keep us. No one can expect to be +carried along indefinitely.”</p> +<p>“It’s the first time I have ever asked you to do +such a thing,” she insisted, fearlessly. “To see him +trying to act as fit as twenty-five, wearing juvenile +shirts and ties, struggling to be brisk, slangy, to oblige +everyone and step along, you know. Oh, don’t turn +him away just yet; he is honest and he tries. I can’t +tell him, and can’t you see his old face quiver when +he opens his envelope and finds the dismissal slip?”</p> +<p>Steve’s resolutions faded like mist before the sun. +He found himself saying: “You ought to be a little +sister to the poor. I guess we’ll keep Gager for a +while. He doesn’t smoke cigarettes all day and try +to lie about it. How did you like those books?” +he added, boyishly.</p> +<p>Mary laid a finger on her lips. “Sh-h-h. It’s +business. But I did like them––so would you.”</p> +<p>“I’d read them if I had an easy-chair and some +homemade bread and tea. Do you know what I +had to do for my Christmas Day?”</p> +<p>“Please––I’d rather not–––”</p> +<p>“I must tell someone, and ask if I’m all wrong +about it,” he said, half humorously, half in earnest. +“I told my father-in-law in part and it struck him +as a huge joke. He purpled with laughing and said: +‘Gad, she’ll always have her way!’” Steve was +thinking out loud. He was realizing that Constantine +was not even conscious he had raised his daughter +to be a rebel doll and he, apparently an honourable +citizen, encouraged and upheld her in her +doctrine.</p> +<p>“Well, what did you have to do?” Mary asked in +spite of herself.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div> +<p>“I had to officiate at Monster’s Christmas tree, +which was in the boudoir, laden with the treasures +of the four corners. I presented a diamond-studded +gold purse and a sable cape to my wife and received +a diamond-studded cigar knife––I have two others––and +a mink-lined coat in return. I was dragged to a +half-dozen different houses to deliver presents and +collect the same, and witness the tragedy of Bea’s +receiving a vanity case she had given someone else +two years before and which had evidently been going +the rounds. It was a bit disconcerting to have it +turn up.</p> +<p>“I had a ponderous seven-course dinner at Mr. +Constantine’s, during which I had to kiss Aunt Belle +under the mistletoe and pretend to be elated, hear +several yards of grand opera torn off on the new +talking machine in its nine-hundred-dollar Chinese +case, take my father-in-law to the club, return to +find Trudy and Gay having a Yuletide word with my +wife. Trudy brought a concoction of purple chiffon, +jet beads, and exploded hen which was entitled a +breakfast jacket, and in return she drew down a +pair of silver candlesticks.</p> +<p>“After that we dressed in all our grandeur for the +fancy-dress ball at Colonel Tatlock’s, Beatrice as +Juliet and I as the young and dashing Romeo! +Shivering in our finery we drove to the Tatlock’s +to make fools of ourselves until three A. M. and +shiver home again with aching heads and a handful +of damaged cotillion favours. About the same +sort of thing happened on New Year’s.” He +laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound, inviting +a response.</p> +<p>Beatrice dashed in, to Mary’s relief, to bestow––over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +a week late––a Christmas present of perfume +and a black-silk waist.</p> +<p>“Mr. O’Valley has explained how rushed I have +been with my classes,” she began, prettily, “but I +have thought of you in all your sorrow. I lost my +dear mother when I was too young to remember her, +still it means a bond between us.... Oh, you +are not wearing black? Dear me, that’s too bad.... +Well, you may have to go to somebody’s +funeral where you feel you want to wear it––a black +waist is always useful.”</p> +<p>She managed to carry Steve off to look at a set of +pink glass sherbet cups she was to give her father for +his birthday, and Mary was conscious of a certain +pity for the Gorgeous Girl––prompted not so much by +her present state of affairs as her inevitable future.</p> +<p>The last of January Steve was called away on a +business trip through the Middle West. Beatrice +had no desire to go with him; she said she simply +could not conceive of having a good time in Indiana +and Illinois, and what was the sense in bearing with +him in his misery? But she was quite willing Steve +should stay away as long as he was needed by business +entanglements. In fact, Beatrice now betrayed +a certain driving quality in trying to make him feel +that as their honeymoon was ended and everyone +had entertained for them it was high time Steve must +retire from social life to a degree, and outdo her own +father in the making of a vast fortune. She seldom +begged him to ride with her or come home to luncheon +to fritter away the best part of the afternoon in a +pursuit of silver-pheasant ornaments for the dinner +table. That phase of her selfishness was at an end. +It was when Steve demanded the luxury of merely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +staying at home with no chattering peacocks of +women and asinine, half-tipsy men playing with +each other until early morning that Beatrice refused +her consent.</p> +<p>She did not wish any personal domestic life, Steve +decided after several experiences along these lines. +She could not see the pleasure in a Sunday afternoon +hike; walking to see a sunset was absurd! All very +well to be whisked by at twenty miles an hour and give +a careless nod at the setting golden sphere, but to +trudge through wintry roads and up an icy hill and +stand, frozen and fagged, weighted down by sweaters, +to–––Dear me, Steve really needed to see a doctor! +Perhaps he had better start to play golf with papa!</p> +<p>Meals tête-à-tête caused her spirits to droop, and +she soon fell into the habit of waiting until Steve was +away or having her luncheon in her room. She was +seldom up for breakfast, and when he protested +against this hotel-like custom she would say: “I +don’t expect you to appreciate my viewpoint and +my wishes, but at least be well-bred enough to tolerate +them!”</p> +<p>He was on the point of reminding her that his viewpoint +and wishes were treated only with argument +and ridicule––but as usual he refrained. Silence +on the part of one who knows he is in the right yet +chooses apparently to yield the point in question is +a significant milestone on the road of separation. +An argument with Beatrice meant one of two outcomes: +A violent scene of temper and overwrought +nerves with tears as the conquering slacker’s weapon +or a long, sulky period of tenseness which made him +take refuge in his office and his club.</p> +<p>He wondered sometimes how it was he had never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +before realized the true worth of his wife, how he had +been so madly infatuated and adoring of her slightest +whim during the years of earning his fortune and the +brief period of their formal engagement. Almost +reluctantly the anæsthesia of unreality and distorted +values was disappearing, leaving Steve with but one +conclusion: That it had been his own conceited fault, +and therefore he deserved scant pity from either himself +or the world at large.</p> +<p>Mark Constantine, whose activities lessened each +month, due to ill health, began prowling about +Steve’s office at unexpected hours, cornering him +for prosy talks and conferences, under which Steve +writhed in helpless surrender. Since he realized +the true meaning of his marriage he began placing the +blame on the culprit––Beatrice’s father. As he did +so he wondered if it was possible that Constantine +did not realize the havoc he had wrought. His +wealth and Steve’s speedily accumulated fortune +via hides and government razors suddenly seemed +stupid, inane; and he no longer felt a sense of pride +at what he had accomplished. He never wanted to +hear details of Constantine’s more gradual and bitter +rise in the world; there was certain to be slimy spots +of which Steve in his new frame of mind could no +longer approve. He was weary of hearing about +money, just as his good sense caused him to be weary +of socialistic prattling and absurd pleas for Bolshevism. +It seemed to him that the dollar standard +was the paramount means both magnate and socialist +used to value inanimate and animate objects. He +longed for a new unit of measure.</p> +<p>He was keen on business trips. At least he could +have the freedom of his hotel and could roam about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +without being pointed out as the Gorgeous Girl’s +husband, the lucky young dog and so on. Neither +would he be dragged from this house to that to sit +on impossible futurist chairs while young things of +thirty-nine clad in belladonna plasters and jet sequins +gathered about to tell him what perfectly wonderful +times their class in cosmic consciousness was having.</p> +<p>Mary Faithful was keen to have him go. She +dreaded any furthering of the personal understanding +between them. When one has become master of a +heartache and thoroughly demonstrated that mastery +it is not sensible to let it verge toward a heart +throb, even if one is positive of the ability to change +it back at will into the hopeless ache. It is like unhandcuffing +a prisoner and saying: “Sprint a bit, +I can catch up to you.”</p> +<p>On the other hand, Beatrice had any number of +activities to take up her time. Her period of being +a romantic parasite––the world called it a sweet +bride––was ended. She was now bent on becoming +as mad and ruthless a butterfly as there ever was, +and to the accomplishment of her aim she did not +purpose to stint herself in any way. She still drew +her own allowance from her father and accepted +extra checks for extra things necessary for her welfare +and popularity.</p> +<p>More than once Steve counted the monthly expenditures, +with the same result––Beatrice was living +on her father’s income quite as much as on his own. +Her position was not unlike that of people who say +to their prosperous neighbours possessing a motor +car: “We’ll furnish the lunch and the gasolene, and +you take us to the picnic grounds!” Constantine +still owned the figurative motor car, or the substantial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +end of Beatrice’s expenses, while Steve furnished +the lunch and the gasolene, trying to delude himself +that he was supporting his wife. Beatrice’s clothes +were beyond his income, for he was not yet a millionaire. +Neither could he afford the affairs which she +gave, with favours of jewellery; nor the trips here and +there in private cars.</p> +<p>Furnishing the lunch and gasolene and perhaps +a possible tire or so does not give one the sense of +ownership that having the motor car gives; nor was +it Steve’s notion of being the possessor of a home. +He spoke to Beatrice about it, only to be kissed affectionately +and scolded prettily by way of answer; +or else to have those eternal omnipresent tears reproach +him for being cross “when papa wants me to +have things and he has no one else in the world to +spend all his money on.”</p> +<p>After a few attempts he gave it up but resolved +to make his fortune equal to his father-in-law’s, as +Beatrice wished. He saw no other way out of the +situation. To do so in his present interests was impossible––he +had fancied that half a million was a +fair sum to offer a Gorgeous Girl––but he saw it was +only a nibble at the line. He must outdo Constantine. +He cast about for some unsuspected fields +of effort, this time to strike out into work of which +Constantine was ignorant. He began to resent the +fact that after his lucky strike on the exchange he +had played copy cat and gone mincing into the hide-and-leather +business, using Constantine’s good will +as his stepping stone. The same was true of the +stock bought in the razor factory; he had merely +paid for the stock; he did not know the steps of progress +necessary to the business.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>This time he would prove his own merit, he would +not take Constantine into his confidence. Unknown +to any one save Mary, Steve selected a new-style +talking machine to promote. He knew as much +about talking machines as Beatrice knew about +cooking a square meal. But Steve had lost his clear-headedness +and he thought, as do most get-rich-quick +men, that, possessed of the Midas touch, he could +come in contact with nothing but gold.</p> +<p>He began backing the inventor and looking round +for a factory site. He sought it away from Hanover, +for he wanted it to be a complete surprise. He begrudged +his father-in-law’s knowing anything of it. +He went into the enterprise rather heavily––but it +did not worry him, for he was quite sure he possessed +the luck eternal, and he must support his own wife. +Side speculating was the only way he thought it +possible to do so.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Beatrice found Trudy to be both a +good foil and a dangerous enemy, one who was not +to be ridiculed or set aside. Trudy had never stopped +working since the day Beatrice climbed the rear +stairs of the Graystone and had been bullied into +buying the vanishing cream. Beatrice scarcely +knew the various steps which Trudy had climbed in +a figurative sense, dragging Gay after her, grumbling +and sneering but quite willing to be dragged.</p> +<p>“You see, aunty,” she explained one stormy +February afternoon while they were having a permanent +wave put in their hair, “Trudy is so obliging +and useful, and I’m sorry for her. She tries to do so +many nice things for me that I never have a chance +to become offended. I’ve tried! But she just won’t +break away. And I like to tease Steve by knowing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +her, Steve is such a bear when he doesn’t like people. +Rude is a mild term. He particularly hates Gay. +Now Gay is quite a dear and he always played nicely +with me. I should hate to lose him––so how can I +offend his wife; particularly when she takes so well +with older men?”</p> +<p>Aunt Belle sniffed. “Men old enough to be her +father––you’d think they would appreciate mellowed +love instead of a selfish little chicken.”</p> +<p>The beauty doctor, who had spent the greater +share of the day at the Constantine house, suppressed +a smile and stored up the remark for her next customer.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Beatrice murmured as she +consulted a hand glass. “I am beginning to wish +I had married a man about papa’s age. It would +have been much jollier in some ways. Steve is so +strenuous and rude. A cave man is fun to be engaged +to and keep a record about in your chapbook––but +when you marry him it is a different +matter. I remember how thrilled and enthusiastic +about Steve I used to be when he was working for +papa and living in a hall bedroom. I knew he adored +me yet had to keep his place, and I used to dream +about him and wonder if he really would keep his +word and make a fortune so he could marry me. But +now he has done it–––” She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t be too disappointed. Elderly men +usually have wheel chairs and diets after a little, +and you’d feel it your duty to play nurse.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s far better to be disappointed in one’s +husband than one’s friends,” Beatrice agreed. “I +know that. For you can manage to see very little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +of your husband; but your friends––deary me, they +your very existence.”</p> +<p>“Does Trudy ever mention the days she worked +in Steve’s office?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Clever little thing, she knows enough to +admit it prettily every now and then, so there is +nothing to badger her about. She has even trained +Gay to talk of it occasionally. She has done wonders +for him; one of the clubmen is backing him to go into +the interior-decorating business. Of course he will +make good because everyone will feel morally obliged +to go there. So the Vondeplosshes on the strength +of this have moved to the Touraine, a different sort +of apartment house, I assure you. They are entertaining, +if you please; everyone asks them everywhere. +Gay is painting garlands of old-fashioned flowers in +panels for Jill’s boudoir. I think I’ll have the same +thing done in mine.”</p> +<p>“Gay is painting them?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no. Some limp artist who could never get +the commission for himself. Gay stands about in a +natty blue-serge effect and takes the credit and the +check. What’s new?”––turning to the beauty doctor. +“I’m as dull as the Dead Sea.”</p> +<p>Miss Flinks informed them of a labour revolt in +the West.</p> +<p>“Horrid creatures, always wanting more! Well, +they won’t get it. I think Steve is ridiculous with +his banquets and bonuses and all, and upon my word, +Mary Faithful has as good an Oriental rug in her +office as I have in my house. Tell us something +really important, Miss Flinks.”</p> +<p>Retrieving her error the beauty doctor whispered +a scandal concerning the newly married Teddy Markhams, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +who had had such a violent quarrel the week +before that Mrs. Teddy had pushed the piano halfway +out the window and police had rushed to the +scene thinking it might be another bomb explosion.</p> +<p>“How ripping!”</p> +<p>Beatrice was all animation, and she gave Miss +Flinks no peace until she learned all the details, and +the rumour about the actress who had rented an +expensive town house for the season and a débutante +who was being rushed to a retreat to prevent her +marriage to a gypsy violinist who had already taught +her the drug habit.</p> +<p>Trudy telephoned the latter part of the afternoon, +and as it was a gray, blowy day with nothing special +to do to revive one’s spirits Beatrice urged her to +come in for tea––tea to be cocktails and buttered +toast.</p> +<p>Within a few moments she appeared––a symphony +of blonde broadcloth set in black furs, very charming +and chic, and so solicitous about Aunt Belle’s recently +removed mole and the scar left by the electric needle, +and so admiring of the two newly beautified ladies +that they were quite won in spite of themselves.</p> +<p>“Were you near here when you telephoned?” +Beatrice asked, curiously. “You weren’t ten minutes +getting here and you look as spick and span as if +you had stepped out of a bandbox.”</p> +<p>“Look outside and you’ll see that Gay and I have +had a true case of auto-intoxication!”</p> +<p>Outside the window there proved to be a smart, +selfish roadster, battleship-gray with vivid scarlet +trimmings.</p> +<p>“Well!” Beatrice said in astonishment. At this +identical moment she began to envy Trudy. She was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +really ashamed of the fact, nor did she understand +why she should envy this bankrupt yet progressive +little nobody in her homemade bargain-remnant +costume. The reason was that Beatrice’s latent +abilities longed to be doing something, achieving +something, capturing, inventing, destroying, earning +if need be––but doing something. The daughter of +Mark and Hannah Constantine could not help but +have the germ of great ability within her, sluggish +and spoiled as it might be; and it must perforce duly +manifest itself from time to time. Beatrice realized +that Trudy felt a greater joy and satisfaction in displaying +this not-paid-for cheap machine––having +sat up half the night to make the shirred curtains––than +Beatrice ever could feel in her tapestry-lined, +orchid-adorned limousine. So she began to envy +Trudy just as Trudy envied her. Trudy had done +nothing but struggle to be able to live, as she termed +it; Beatrice had never been allowed to struggle!</p> +<p>“We owe for all but the left back tire,” Trudy +said before any one had the chance to hint of the fact; +“but Gay has to have it for his new business, and it +is such a joy! I hope you approve, Beatrice. And +what a darling gown!”</p> +<p>There was nothing left for Beatrice but to order +the cocktails and toast, and for Aunt Belle to agree +smilingly with Trudy’s clever suggestions.</p> +<p>Trudy never came to see Beatrice unless she gained +some material point or had one in view, and the point +she had come to gain this afternoon was of no small +importance. In her own fashion she managed to +inform her hostess that Gay had received an order +from––well, it was a tremendous secret and he would +be terribly cross if he knew she told even her dearest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +Bea and her sweet Aunt Belle, but she just couldn’t +help it––he had an order from Alice Twill, who +thought she was going to beat everyone in town to +the greatest sensation of the year: To have the barn +of a Twill mansion remodelled, decorated and so on, +from coal bin to cupola, until it was an exact copy +of a French palace––she really forgot just which one. +... Yes, Alice’s aunt in Australia had died and +left her everything; Alice said she was not going to +wait until she was on crutches before she spent it. +Gay was simply out of his head trying to plan the +thing and Alice was to move to a hotel for several +weeks until a newly furnished wing was ready to be +inhabited.</p> +<p>There was no reason why New York persons should +have their homes like palaces and châteaux and so +on, and turn their noses up at upstate residences. +Alice was going to show them. And––this very subtly––Gay +had said that if only Beatrice could have +the authority to redecorate her father’s home into an +Italian villa Alice Twill would be the loser when +comparisons were made––since the Constantine +house had twice the possibilities and so on, and Beatrice +twice the taste. And what an achievement it +would be; a distinct civic improvement!... +Yes, Gay was working with the best firms in New +York, and there was no doubt of his success in the +enterprise.</p> +<p>Before she left, Trudy had almost secured Beatrice’s +promise that the Constantine house should be +made into an Italian villa and that, if she so decided, +Gay should have the commission. There was a +place at Frascati she had always admired, and they +could use some ideas from a show place in Florida.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div> +<p>Had Trafalgar terminated differently Napoleon +would have been no more surprised or jubilant than +Trudy, who fairly skidded home to the new and more +pretentious apartment, where she found Gay in one +of his sneering, sulky moods and quite angry to think +Trudy was carrying the day.</p> +<p>“How do I know Alice Twill will really come +across?” he began. “And I suppose you’ve got the +machine covered with mud, too. Anyway, what do +I know about decorating? I work on my reputation +and everyone’s sympathies and I’m in fear all the +time some real decorator will turn up and show my +hand or else refuse to work under me and split commissions. +You’re too damned optimistic.”</p> +<p>“If I wasn’t optimistic where would we be? +Starving,” she said with no attempt at politeness. +Common courtesies between them had long since +been dispensed with. “I’ve gotten you nearly everything +you have, and if you’ll do as I say I’ll go right +on getting things for you. But you’re lazy and jealous––that’s +what’s the matter.”</p> +<p>He gave a sneering little laugh. “Why, you poor +nobody, people only tolerate you because of me. +They roar behind your back.”</p> +<p>“Do they? They pity me because I’m married +to such a weak fish! Men are nice to you because +of me––and there isn’t a woman I’ve met that I +have not made afraid of me. Beatrice hasn’t the will +power of a slug; you can hand her flattery in chunks +as big as boulders and she swallows them without +choking. It’s her husband who sees through us.”</p> +<p>“What––the goat tender? Oh, beg pardon––treading +on someone else’s toes. Or didn’t they have +goats in Michigan?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div> +<p>“We’ll never hang together another year,” she +said, recklessly. “The first chance I have to exchange +you for a real man your day is over.”</p> +<p>“You think any one else would marry you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think. I just go ahead grabbing everything +I can, and when a person has to grab for someone +else as well as herself it keeps them moving.”</p> +<p>“You’re a crude and impossible little fool.”</p> +<p>Without warning Trudy’s hand shot out, and on +Gay’s cheek rested a red mark for the greater part +of the evening.</p> +<p>A half hour later he was trying to apologize, having +bucked himself up to it with brandy, in order to borrow +enough money to play pool with that same evening.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> +<p>After Gay left, Trudy put on her things +and trudged over to Mary’s house. Gay +had driven off in the car and she was glad +he had. Like Steve the day of the funeral, she did +not wish to drive but to have the nervous outlet of +walking.</p> +<p>Trudy was seldom angry. But when she found +Mary in the old library, the same true-blue, good-looking +thing with just a little coldness of manner +as Trudy tried to enthuse over her, Trudy felt +ashamed. And she was angry far more often than +she was ashamed.</p> +<p>“Where is Luke?” she asked, taking off her things +and lying down wearily on the sofa. “Oh, Mary +mine, you don’t know how good it is to be here again, +to be able to talk––really talk to someone.”</p> +<p>“Luke is at basketball–––” Mary began, stopping +as she discovered that Trudy was in tears. +“Why, what is it?” as Trudy sobbed the harsh, +long sobs of a tormented and frail mind.</p> +<p>“You ought to hate me––selfish, insincere hypocrite––cheat––liar. +Oh, I hate myself! I hate him, +and Bea, and all of them! They aren’t worth your +blessed little finger. Mary, Mary, please stay quite +contrary and never change. Never get to be a Gorgeous +Girl, will you? ... Nerves, I suppose; +and I haven’t had the right things to eat.” She +sat up and began smoothing her injured flounces.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></div> +<p>“You’re so thin, and there are funny lilac shadows +under your eyes. You can’t live on nerve energy +forever. And I know your delicatessen suppers or +else the rich orgies to which you are invited––not +enough sleep––and always that eternal upstage +pose!”</p> +<p>“Gay wears on me; he is growing strong, with +never an ache or pain. I never used to have them +but I’m all unnerved and weak. He hates me, Mary. +Yes, he does.” She began a detailed recital of woes.</p> +<p>“Why not leave him?” Mary asked as there came +a pause.</p> +<p>“Without any one else to marry?” Trudy’s eyes +were wide open in surprise.</p> +<p>“Must you have someone waiting to pay your +board bill?”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t go to work again.”</p> +<p>“I thought you worked rather hard right now.”</p> +<p>“That’s different. I’m working to have a good +time. And I’m a wonder; everyone says so. The +clubmen are so nice to me. Beatrice has done a +great deal, even if Steve hates us and acts as if we +were poison.... He isn’t happy.”</p> +<p>Mary knew she was flushing. “Tell me some more +about yourself.”</p> +<p>But Trudy was not to be swerved from the other +topic. “Beatrice makes fun of him and she flirts +shamefully. She has half a dozen flames all the time. +One was a common cabaret singer; she had him for +tea when Steve wasn’t there. Now she is tired of +him. You see, she had to have someone to take +Gay’s place! I don’t think Steve flirts with any one; +he isn’t that sort. He’s so intense he will break his +heart in the old-fashioned way and then go and be a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +socialist or something dreadful. They scarcely see +each other, and of course Beatrice’s father thinks +everything is lovely and they are both perfection. +He just can’t see the truth. Steve is a cave man and +Beatrice is a butterfly––I’m a fraud––and you’re +just an old dear!</p> +<p>“Yes, I am a fraud,” she said, with sudden honesty. +“I wouldn’t come to see you unless I wanted something. +I want to talk to you with all barriers down. +I wish you had ever done some terrible thing or were +unhappy. I don’t know why, Mary dear; it’s not as +horrid as it sounds. I think it’s because I want to +know the real soul of you, and if you showed me how +you met troubles and trials, you being so good, I’d be +the better woman for it in meeting my problems.”</p> +<p>It was truly a tired, oldish Trudy speaking. In +the last sentence Trudy had touched the greatest +depths of which she was capable––causing Mary to +hint of her one deep secret.</p> +<p>“You’re growing up, that’s all. And I’m not +good––not a bit good. Why, Trudy, do you know +I have had to fight hard––terribly hard about something? +I’ve never told any one before. I can’t +really tell what it is!”</p> +<p>“Over what? You saint in white blouses and +crisp ties, always smiling and working and helping +people! How have you battled? Tell me, tell me!”</p> +<p>Mary came over to the sofa and sat beside Trudy, +holding the white, cold hands laden with foolish rings. +“I loved and do love someone very much who never +did and never will love me. I must be near that +person daily, be useful to him, earn my own living +by so doing––and I’ve made myself be content of +heart in spite of it and not live on starved hopes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +and jealous dreams.... You see, I’m quite +human.”</p> +<p>Trudy drew her hands away. She had caused +Mary to confirm her suspicions, and she was sorry +she had done so. The better part of her knew that +she had been admitted into the very sanctuary of the +girl’s soul, and that the worst part of her, which +usually dominated, was not worthy to be trusted +with such a secret. She wished Mary had not said +the words––since it changed everything and made a +singularly pleasing weapon to use against Beatrice +O’Valley should occasion rise. Mary was good––and +it was safer to slander a good person than a bad +one because there was less chance of a come-back. +As she tried to make herself forget what she had just +heard she knew that in the heat of anger or to gain +some material goal she would use this effectual +weapon without thinking and without remorse.</p> +<p>“Oh, my poor girl!” was all she said; and Mary, believing +that Trudy so reverenced her secret that she +was not going to stab it with clumsy words, kissed +her and very practically set about getting a lunch.</p> +<p>Trudy went home taking some biscuit and half a +cake with her, and by the time she reached the Touraine +she was in a cheerful frame of mind once more. +The relief of confession, the home food, and the knowledge +of Mary’s secret had buoyed her up past caring +for or considering Gay.</p> +<p>To her surprise Gay was at home, jubilant and +repentant. He had won at pool and had also consumed +some 1879 Burgundy, which conspired to +make him adore his red-haired wife and tell her that +he had quite deserved and enjoyed having his face +smacked.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p>The pool money in her safe keeping, visions of a +new hat to wear at the next luncheon caused Trudy +to equal his elation. Together they ate up Mary’s +biscuits and cake and talked about Beatrice’s remodelling +the Constantine mansion at the cost of +many thousands.</p> +<p>“We could almost retire,” Trudy suggested; “but +I’m afraid Steve will never give his consent.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry. Bea would never let a little thing +like a husband stand in the way of her progress.”</p> +<p>In March, just as Steve was returning, Beatrice +and her aunt departed for a whirl in Florida, with a +laconic invitation that Steve and his father-in-law +follow them. Steve declined the invitation with +alarming curtness.</p> +<p>Though Constantine worried in his peculiar way +because Steve did not rush down to Florida to play +with the rest of the snapping turtles Beatrice had +about her heels he did not succeed in getting anything +but a logical explanation as to a business rush from +his son-in-law. More and more Steve was being +saddled with Constantine’s end of the game as well +as his own––and he did not know how to proceed with +the double responsibility. So Constantine went to +Florida alone, to find his daughter revelling in new +frocks and flirtations, both of which she temporarily +sidetracked while she made her father give his consent +to having the house done over after the manner of +a Frascati villa.</p> +<p>“Gad,” commented her father, during the heat +of the argument, “I thought you were pretty well +off as you were. Will Steve like it?”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t care what I do,” she hastened to +assure him. “Of course he will––he ought to––I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +paying for it. He’ll have as wonderful a home as +there is in the United States. Alice’s will be a caricature +by contrast. Gay says so. As soon as we go +home I’m going to signal them to begin.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t touch my room or I’ll burn down the +whole plant,” her father warned. “And if I were +you I’d tell Steve first––it’s only right.”</p> +<p>“But it’s my money,” she insisted.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, I know––but you could pretend to consult +him. Your mother and I never bought a toothpick +that we hadn’t agreed on beforehand.”</p> +<p>“Dear old papa.” She kissed him graciously by +way of dismissal.</p> +<p>So Steve received the letter announcing the plans +a few days later. It was a semi-patronizing, semi-affectionate +letter with a great many underlined +words and superlative adjectives and intended to +convey the impression that he was a mighty lucky +chap to have married a fairy princess who would +spend her ducats in rigging up an uncomfortable +moth-eaten villa of the days of kingdom come.</p> +<p>As he finished it Gay appeared, having received +a letter telling him to hurry ahead with the plans +and contracts. Gay was rather obsequious in his +manner since he did not know whether it was Steve +or Beatrice who was to pay for this transformation.</p> +<p>“If my wife insists, go ahead––but don’t move your +arts-and-crafts shop into my office. I’m not enough +interested to see designs and so on. I never had +time to be one of the leisure class, and I’m too old to be +kidded into thinking I’m one of them now. But I +did make a mistake,” he added, slowly, whether for +Gay’s benefit or not no one could tell––“I thought +the world owed me more than a living––that it owed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +me a bargain. And there never was a bargain +cheaply won that didn’t prove a white elephant in +time.”</p> +<p>Gay’s one-cylinder brain did not follow the intricacies +of the statement. He merely thought of +Steve in more than usually profane terms––and concluded +that Beatrice was paying the bill.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> +<p>It was April before Steve found himself visiting +with Mary Faithful again and admiring as heartily +as Luke had admired the new apartment Mary +had chosen for her family.</p> +<p>It had, to Steve’s mind, the same delightful air +of freedom and attractive shabbiness that he had +come to consider as essential for a true home. While +Beatrice was launched on her new object in life––making +the house into a villa, from upholstering a +gondola in sky-blue satin and expecting people to use +it as a sofa to having the walls frescoed with fat, +pouting cherubs––Mary had selected funny old +chairs and soft shades of blue cretonne found in the +remnant department, queer pottery, Indian blankets, +and a set of blue dishes which just naturally demanded +to be heaped with good things and eaten +before an open fire at Sunday-night supper.</p> +<p>The whole expense came within Mary’s economical +pocketbook, yet it seemed to Steve to have the combined +richness of a Persian palace and the geniality +of a nursery on Christmas Eve.</p> +<p>He deliberately invented an excuse to call, some +detail of work which, more easily than not, could +have waited until the next day. He was not only +using the detail of work as a means to visit Mary +but as an excuse to escape a parlour lecture on “What +astral vibrations does your given name bring you?” +by a pale-faced young woman. The pale-faced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +young woman boasted of an advanced soul and was +making a snug bank account from the rich set in +undertaking occult analyses of their names by which +to decide whether or not the accompanying astral +vibrations harmonized with their auras; and if they +did not––and were therefore detrimental and hampering +to spiritual development and material progress––she +would evolve occult names for them which +would be sort of spiritual bits of cheese in material +mousetraps baiting and capturing all the good things +of this world and the next.</p> +<p>Convinced that Beatrice was not the proper name +for her the Gorgeous Girl had ordered a chart of +cabalistic signs and mystical statements, the sum +total of which was that Radia was the name the astral +forces wished her to be called, and by using this +name she would develop into a wonderful medium. +She paid fifty dollars to discover that she ought to be +called Radia and that her aura was of smoky lavender, +denoting an advanced soul––according to the +pale-faced young woman, who had tired of teaching +nonsensical flappers, had no chance to marry, and +had hit upon this as her means of painlessly extracting +a little <i>joie de vie</i>.</p> +<p>Declining to learn his astral name Steve left Gaylord +to mop up the astral vibrations. Beatrice did +not mind his absence though he neglected to say that +the work was to be done at Miss Faithful’s apartment +and not at the office. Never having questioned +Steve in such details Beatrice merely murmured inwardly +that goat tending in one’s past strangely +enough led to pigheadedness in later life. It was a +relief to have him away, for if drawn into an argument +he still thumped his fists. For everyday living +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +Beatrice preferred her own pet robins and angel-ducks, +as she called the boys of the younger set, who +flocked to flirt with her because she was extremely +rich and pretty and they were in no danger of being +matrimonially entangled.</p> +<p>Of course Gaylord ate up this occult-name affair. +It was discovered that Gaylord’s was a most hampering +name and had his parents only consulted the +stars and named him Scintar––who knows to what +heights he might not have risen? Trudy’s astral +title should have been Urcia, which she now adopted, +blushing deeply as she recalled the vulgar Babseley +and Bubseley of former days. But when Aunt +Belle was informed that Cinil was the cognomen +needed to make her discover an Indian-summer +millionaire waiting to bestow his heart upon her Mark +Constantine had packed his bags and departed unceremoniously +for Hot Springs.</p> +<p>Meantime, Mary did not know just how to treat +this imperious lonesome young man who came +boldly into her household without apology or warning.</p> +<p>“You don’t know how often I’ve wanted to come +and see you,” he said, unashamedly, delighted that +Luke was out of the way and he could play in his +fashion the same as Beatrice did in hers. “It isn’t +business, really. I just wanted to talk to you. You +assume so much formality at the office that though +I admit it may be wise I miss the real you.”</p> +<p>“You mean you just trumped up an excuse–––”</p> +<p>Then Mary began to laugh.</p> +<p>“I do. The DeGraff muddle can wait. It’s +nice to be able just to sprawl about––sprawl in a +comfortable old chair. I like this little room. We +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +are being turned into an Italian villa, you know. I +don’t quite see how I’ll ever live up to it.” As he +spoke he took out a plebeian tobacco pouch and a +nondescript pipe. “May I?”</p> +<p>“Do! Only you ought not to be here at all”––trying +to be severe, and failing.</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Because you think only of yourself and of what +you wish,” she surprised him by answering. “Why +not think of the other chap occasionally?”</p> +<p>He paused in the lighting of his pipe. “Oh––you +mean my coming here.” He looked like an unjustly +punished child without redress. “You mean to +consign me to the gloom of the grill room or one of +those slippery leather chairs in a far corner of the +club? Come, you can’t say that. I won’t listen +if you do. I just want to be friends with someone.”</p> +<p>With unsuspected coquetry she suggested: “Why +not your wife?”</p> +<p>“We’re not friends––merely married.” He lit +his pipe and flipped the match away. “Cheap to +say, isn’t it? Don’t look at me like that; you make +me quite conscience-stricken. You seem to be aiming +at me as directly as a small boy aims his snowball. +Why?”</p> +<p>“It wouldn’t do the slightest good to tell you what +I think.”</p> +<p>“Yes, it would; someone must tell me. I’ve never +been as lonesome in my life as now––when I’m a rich +man and the husband of a very lovely woman. It +sort of chills me to the marrow at first thought. I’ve +been in a delirium, quite irresponsible. These last +few months I’ve been coming down to earth. Only +instead of getting my feet planted firmly on the sod +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +I think I’ve struck a quicksand bed. I say, lend +us a hand.”</p> +<p>“Why ask me?”</p> +<p>“I don’t just know. I don’t think I shall ever +be quite so sure of anything again. After all, a +person has just so much capacity for joy and sorrow, +and so much energy, and so much will power, allotted +at birth; and if he chooses to go burn it all up +in one fell swoop doing one thing––he is at liberty to +do so; but he is not given any second helping. Isn’t +that true? Quite a terrible thing to realize when you +know you used up your joy allotment in anticipation––and +it has been so much keener and finer than any +of the realization. And all my energy went into +making money the easiest way I could; but it does +not pay.”</p> +<p>Mary clasped her hands tightly in her lap; she +was afraid to let him see her joy at the long-awaited +confession.</p> +<p>“Yet you ask me, a reliable machine, to help you +in your perplexities?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think of you as a capable machine any +more. I used to, that is true enough. I didn’t +know or care whether your hair was red or your eyes +green––but I know now that you have gray eyes, +and–––”</p> +<p>“You really want to know my opinions?” she interrupted, +breathlessly.</p> +<p>“As much as I used to seek out the stock reports.”</p> +<p>“Well––I think people who have planned as exactly +as you and Mr. Constantine have planned always +banish real principle at the start. After a time +you are punished by having an almost fungous +growth of sickly conscience––you don’t want to face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +the truth of things, yet isolated incidents, sentimental +memories, certain sights and definite statements +annoy, haunt, heartbreak you! Still, you have lost +your principle, the backbone of the soul, and the +fungus-like growth of conscience is such a clumsy +imitation––like a paper rose stuck in the ground. +Mr. Constantine’s type––your type––is flourishing +and multiplying among us, I fear, and such are the +wishbone, or sickly conscience, and not the backbone, +or sterling principle, of the nation. After all, fortunes +alone do not make real gentility––thanks be! +But you know as well as I that all the––the Gorgeous +Girls and their kind and you and I and the next chap +we meet belong to the great majority, and of that we +have every right to be proud.</p> +<p>“Furthermore, we ought to hold to our place in +the social scheme and be the backbone of the nation, +keep our principle and not be nagged eternally by a +sickly conscience after we have gone and sold our +birthrights. Gorgeous Girls and their sort have the +sole fortification of dollars, endless dollars, endless +price tags; their whims bring whole wings of foreign +castles floating across the ocean by the wholesale +to be reassembled somewhere in good old helpless +Illinois or New Jersey. And these people try to be +everything but good old American stock––which is +quite wrong, for their example causes spendthrifts +and Bolsheviki to flourish without end.”</p> +<p>“Go on,” he said, almost sulkily, as she paused.</p> +<p>“I’ve watched it for thirteen years from the various +angles of the working girl with an average amount of +brain and disposition. When all is said and done you +really have to work before you have earned the right +to pass judgment––work––not read or patronize or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +take someone else’s statements as final. Do you +know how I used to identify the kinds of people that +rode in the street cars with me?... From +seven until eight there were the Frumps. The +majority boasted of white kid boots or someone’s discarded +near-electric-seal jacket, plumes in their +hats, and an absence of warm woollens. And everyone +yawned, between patting thin cheeks with soiled +face chamois, ‘What d’ja do las’ night?’</p> +<p>“From eight to nine came the Funnies; and the +majority had white kid boots and flimsy silk frocks +cut as low as our grandmothers’ party gowns, and +plumes in their hats and silver vanity cases. Their +main topics of conversation were: ‘He said,’ and +‘She said,’ and ‘I don’t care if I’m late. I’m going +to quit anyway!’</p> +<p>“From nine until noon came the Frills––the wives +of modest-salaried men who cannot motor, yet write +to out-of-town relatives that they do so.</p> +<p>“And every one of those Frumps, Funnies, and +Frills apes the Gorgeous-Girl kind––white kids for +shopping, low-cut pumps in January, bizarre coat, +chiffon waist disclosing a thin little neck fairly panting +for protection, rouged cheeks, and a plume in her +hat––and not a cent of savings in the bank!</p> +<p>“Now there’s something wrong when we’ve come +to this, and the wrong does not lie with these people +but with those they imitate––Gorgeous Girls, new-rich +with sickly consciences and lack of principle and +common sense; and these Gorgeous Girls in turn take +their styles, slang phrases, and modes of recreation, as +well as theories of life from the boldest dancer, the +most sensational chorus girl––and it’s wrong and not +what America should be called upon to endure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +And it all reverts back in a sense to you busy, unprincipled, +yet conscience-stricken American business +men who write checks for these Gorgeous Girls––and +the heathen in Africa––and wonder why golf +doesn’t bring your blood pressure down to normal––when +your grandfather had such a wonderful constitution +at eighty-four! Don’t you know that get-rich-quick +people always pay a usurer’s interest on +the suddenly accumulated principle?”</p> +<p>“Keep on,” he said in the same surly tone.</p> +<p>“And when I go downtown and view the weary, +unwashed females and the overly ambitious painted +ones, people in impossible bargain shoes and summer +furs; fat men in plaid suits and Alpine hats; undernourished +children being dragged along by unthinking +adults; stray dogs wistfully sniffing at passers-by +in hopes of finding a permanent friend; tired, blind +work horses standing in the sun and resignedly being +overloaded for the day’s haul; fire sales of fur coats; +candy sales of gooey hunks; a jewellery special of earrings +warranted to betray no tarnish until well after +Christmas; brokers’ ads and vaudeville billboards and +rows upon rows of awful, huddled-up, gardenless +homes with families lodged somewhere between the +first and twelfth stories––the general chasing after +nothing, saving nothing and, saddest of all, the complacent +delusion that they have achieved something +well worth while––it makes me willing to earn and +learn as I do.”</p> +<p>“Don’t leave me in the quicksand. What can +we do about it?”</p> +<p>“Make that sort of American woman realize that +she is more needed in the home and can accomplish +more with that as her goal than in any other place in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +the world. You don’t know all my dreams for the +American woman––don’t you think that this Gorgeous +Girl parasitical type is a result of the Victorian revolt? +Too late for themselves the Victorian matrons +said: ‘Our daughters shall never slave as we have +done; they shall be ladies––and have careers, too, +bless their hearts.’ The Victorian matrons were +emerging from the unfair conditions of ignorance +and drudgery and they could realize only one side +of the argument––that all work and no play made +Jill quite a stupid girl.</p> +<p>“But we must grasp the other side of the matter––that +all play and no work make her simply impossible; +that culture and self-sufficiency can go hand in +hand. The American woman really is––and must +continue to be––the all-round, regular fellow of +the feminine world. Then she will not only teach +a great and needed truth to her backward European +sisters but she will produce a great future race. +American women have tried frivolity in nearly every +form and they have worked seriously likewise; they +have intruded into men’s professions and careers +and in cases have beaten men at their own game. +They have successfully broken down the narrow prejudice +and limitations which the Victorian era tried +making immortal under the title of sentiment––but +after they have had the reward of victory and the +knowledge of the game, why not be square, as they +really are, and do the part the Great Plan meant them +to do? Be women first––let the career take the +woman if need be, but always thank the good Lord +if it needn’t be.”</p> +<p>“And to think you have been working for me,” +Steve said, softly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>“I know that culture and enjoyment of life may +be yoked with so-called drudgery. I know, too, that +women are retiring not in defeat but with honour +and victory in its truest sense when they step out +of business life back to their homes. Nor are they +empty-handed like the Victorian matrons; but with +the energy of tried and true warriors, the ballot in +one hand, the child led by the other, they are in a +position to right old wrongs, for they have won new +rights. They will be able to put into practice in +their homes all they have gleaned from the sojourn +in the world; the ill-given service of unfitted menials +will disappear, as will waste and nerve-racking detail.</p> +<p>“And love must be the leavener of it all––with all +her progress and her ability, trained talents and +clever logic, the American woman must not and will +not renounce her romance––for it is part of God’s +very promise of immortality.”</p> +<p>“How often may I come here?” he begged.</p> +<p>Mary shook her head. “You’ve got me started, +as Luke says, and I’m hard to check. But have you +never thought that out of all the world the American +woman is the only woman who cooks and serves her +dinner if it is necessary, adjourns to her parlour afterward +and discusses poetry and politics and the latest +style hat with her guests? For she has learned how +to possess true democracy, not rebellion, courage +and not hysterical threats to play the rebel, the +slacker.</p> +<p>“And now I’ll make you a cup of coffee. And +never let me catch you here again!”</p> +<p>When Luke arrived home he found Steve O’Valley +basking in the big chair he was wont to occupy, +though it was past ten o’clock and he had anticipated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +questions from Mary as to his tardiness. Instead +he found a very rosy-cheeked, almost sunrise-eyed +sister who stammered her greeting as the flustered +Mr. O’Valley found his hat and the neglected business +portfolio and took his leave.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> +<p>To keep down the rising tide of overweight +Beatrice abandoned the occult method of +having a good time and turned her interest +to new creeds containing continual bogus joy and a +denial of the vicarious theory of life. But when she +discovered that optimism was no deterrent to the +oncoming tide of flesh she began a vigorous course +in face bleaching, reducing, massage, and electrical +treatments, with Trudy playing attentive friend and +confidante and secretly chuckling over the Gorgeous +Girl’s fast-appearing double chin and her disappearing +waistline.</p> +<p>The extensive work of making the house into an +Italian villa kept Beatrice from brooding too much +over her <i>embonpoint</i>. She enjoyed the endless conferences +with the decorators, drapers, artists, and +who-nots, with Gay’s suave, flattering little self +always at her elbow, his tactful remarks about So-and-so +being altogether too thin, and the wonderful +nutritive value of chocolate.</p> +<p>“Bea will look like a fishwife when she is forty,” +he told Trudy soon after the villa was under way and +the first anniversary drew near. “She eats as much +candy in a week as an orphan asylum on Christmas +Day. Why doesn’t someone tell her to stop?”</p> +<p>Gay felt rather kindly toward Beatrice, for his commissions +from the villa transformation made him +secure for some time to come; Alice Twill’s idea of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +French château, however, had blown up unexpectedly.</p> +<p>“Well, why don’t people tell you that you look an +utter fool with that extra-intelligent edition of tortoise-shell +glasses that you wear?” Trudy retorted. +Gay was her husband and her property as long as +she saw fit to stay his wife, and she did not approve +of his constant attendance on the Gorgeous Girl. +Even her deliberate retaliation by flirting with the +gouty-toe brigade did not make amends. She had +moments of depression similar to the time she had +learned Mary’s secret. But she did not go back to +Mary in the same abandoned spirit. It would never +do. If she were not careful she would begin to think +for herself and want to take to sensible shoes and a +real job, hating herself so utterly that she could never +have any more good times. So she saw Mary only +at intervals and tried to do nice trifles for her. Trudy +was thinner than ever and she had an annoying +cough. She still used a can opener as an aide-de-camp +in housekeeping and laughed at snow flurries +in her low shoes and gauze-like draperies.</p> +<p>It delighted her to have Beatrice become heavy +of figure––it almost gave her a hold on her, she +fancied––for Beatrice sighed with envy at Trudy’s +one hundred and ten pounds and used Trudy as an +argument for eating candy.</p> +<p>“Trudy eats candy, lots of it, and she stays thin,” +she told Steve.</p> +<p>“Yes; but she works and you don’t. You don’t +even pay a gymnasium instructor for daily perseverance, +for you could do exercises yourself if you +wanted. You sleep late and keep the house like the +equator,” he continued.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></div> +<p>Beatrice looked at him in scorn. “Do I ever +please you?”</p> +<p>“You married me,” he said, gallantly.</p> +<p>“When I did that I was thinking about pleasing +only you, I’m afraid,” was his reward. “I wish you +would study French––you have such a queer education +you can’t help having queer ideas. And you +can’t always go along with such funny views and be +like papa. There isn’t room for two in the same +family.”</p> +<p>“Do you know the Bible?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Beatrice giggled.</p> +<p>“There you are! You think I haven’t studied +in my own fashion. Well, if you did know the Bible +intellectually, and Milton–––”</p> +<p>“It sounds like a correspondence-school course. +Don’t, Stevuns! Do you know the latest dance from +Spain––the <i>paso-doble</i>? Of course you don’t. You +don’t know any of the romance of the Ming Dynasty +or how to tell a Tanagra figurine from a plaster-of-paris +shepherdess. You haven’t read a single Russian +novel; you just glare and stare when they’re mentioned. +You won’t play bridge, you can’t sing or +make shadow pictures or imitate any one. Good +gracious, now that you’ve made a fortune––enjoy +it!”</p> +<p>Steve was silent. It was not only futile to argue––it +was nerve-racking. Besides, he had found someone +else with whom argument was a rare joy and a +personal gain––Mary Faithful. At frequent intervals +he had won a welcome at the doorway of the +little apartment. He almost wished that Beatrice +would find it out and row about it, leaving him in +peace. He had not yet assumed unselfish views as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +to the matter. He was no longer in love with his +wife but he was not yet in love with Mary. Instead +he was passing through that interlude, whose brevity +has made the world doubt its existence, known as +platonic friendship. Platonic friendship does exist +but it is like tropical twilight––the one whirlwind second +in which brilliant sunshine and blue skies dip +down and the stars and the moon dash up––and then +the trick is done!</p> +<p>But like the thief who audaciously walks by the +house of his victim, Steve was never accused of anything +worse than using his leisure time to frequent +those low restaurants where they serve everything +on a two-inch-thick platter. Which, he had retorted, +was a relief from eating turtle steak off green-glass +dinner plates.</p> +<p>The first wedding anniversary was a rather disappointing +affair since Beatrice had to remodel her +wedding gown in order to wear it. That fact alone +was distressing. And at the eleventh hour Steve was +called out of town, which left Beatrice in the hands +of her angel-duck brigade, who all felt it their duty +to paint Steve in terms of reproach.</p> +<p>“Now Steve felt just as badly about going as you +do to have him away,” her father said by way of +clumsy consolation. “And he bought you a mighty +handsome gift.”</p> +<p>“But I have one quite as lovely,” Beatrice objected. +“It was unpardonable of him to go, even +if there was a strike and a fire. Let the police arrest +everybody.”</p> +<p>She laid aside the gift, a glittering head-dress in +the form of platinum Mercury wings set with diamonds, +fitting close to the head and giving a decided +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +Brunnhilde effect. “I hate duplicates; I always want +something different and novel.”</p> +<p>“It’s a good thing I gave you a check,” said her +father.</p> +<p>“Yes, because Gay can always find me something”––brightening. +“And tell me, how is the salon fresco +coming on?”</p> +<p>Her father held up his hands in protest. “Ask +something easy. A mob of workmen and sleek +gentlemen that tiptoe about like undertakers’ assistants––that’s +all I know. But not one of them +touches my room!”</p> +<p>“All right, papa.” She kissed him prettily. “And +as I’m dead for sleep and aunty is snoring in her chair, +suppose you wake her up and run along?”</p> +<p>Summoning Aunt Belle, who was approaching the +Mrs. Skewton stage of wanting a continuous rose-curtain +effect, Beatrice stood at the window with +unusual affection to wave the last of her guests a +good-bye.</p> +<p>She sat up until daylight, to her maid’s dismay, still +in her remodelled wedding gown. She was thinking +chaotic, rebellious, ridiculous nothings, punctuated +with uneven ragged thoughts about matching gloves +to gowns or getting potted goose livers at the East-Side +store Trudy had just recommended. The general +trend of her reverie was the dissatisfaction not over +this first year of married life but at the twenty-seven +years as a Gorgeous Girl, the disappointment at not +having some vital impelling thing to do, which should +of course supply a good time as well as a desirable +achievement. The inherited energy was demanding +an outlet. She recalled the evening’s entertainment––a +paper chase with every room left littered and disordered, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +her lace flounce badly torn, her head thumping +with pain, the latest dances, the inane music, the +scandal whispered between numbers, the elaborate +supper and favours, the elaborate farewells––and +the elaborate lies about the charm of the hostess and +the good time.</p> +<p>She began to envy Steve as well as Trudy, Steve +in his hotel busy with Labour delegates, wrangling, +demanding, threatening, winning or losing as the +case might be. She, too, must do something. She +had finished with another series of adventures––that +of being a mad butterfly. It was shelved with the +months of a romantic, parasitical existence misnaming +jealous monopoly as love, an existence which +all at once seemed as long ago as another lifetime.</p> +<p>She would now be an advanced woman, intellectual, +daring; she would allow her stunted abilities to have +definite expression. Either she would find a new +circle of friends or else swerve the course of the present +circle into an atmosphere of Ibsen, Pater, advanced +feminine thought, and so on––with Egyptology +as a special side line. She would even become +an advocate of parlour socialism, perhaps. She +would encourage languid poets and sarcastic sex +novelists with matted hair and puff satin ties. She +would seek out short-haired mannish women with +theories and oodles of unpublished short stories, +and feed them well, opening her house for their +drawing-room talks. She would be a lion tamer! +She was done with sighing and tears, belonging to +the first stage of Glorious Girlism; and with pouting +and flirting, which belonged to the second––she would +now make them roar, herself included!</p> +<p>At noon the next day she sought Mary Faithful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +in her office, to everyone’s surprise. To her own +astonishment she discovered her husband busily +engaged in conversation with some members of the +Board of Trade, his travelling bag on a side table.</p> +<p>“I didn’t bother to telephone you or wire––I got +in at eight this morning and came right up here. I +knew you’d not be up,” he added, curtly. “Would +you mind waiting in Miss Faithful’s office until I’m +at liberty?”</p> +<p>Beatrice was forced to consent graciously and pass +into the other room, where Mary was giving dictation.</p> +<p>When Mary finished she offered Beatrice a magazine +but the Gorgeous Girl declined it and began in +petulant fashion:</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking about you, Miss Faithful, and +I do envy you. Do you know why? You have +more of my husband than I have; that was what I +came to tell you. For business is his very life and +you are his business partner. I only have the tired +remnant that occasionally wanders homeward.”</p> +<p>Mary wondered what Beatrice would say if she +knew of the supper talks she had had with the tired +remnant, who flung discretion to the winds and +clamoured for invitations as keenly as he had once +begged for the Gorgeous Girl’s kisses.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, that’s not true. You see–––” she began, +but she simply could not finish the lie.</p> +<p>“I’ve decided that if business is more important to +my husband than his wedding anniversary I shall be +of importance to him in his business,” she continued. +“Be careful––you’ve a rival looming ahead.”</p> +<p>Steve opened the door and nodded for his wife to +come in. Mary was left with rather unsteady nerves +and a pessimistic attitude to round out her day. Beatrice’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +hint had had an unpleasant petty sound that +she did not quite understand. She wished she had +never allowed Steve to draw her out of her businesslike +attitude. However, when she learned that he +had very unexpectedly called off work for the rest of +the day to do his wife’s bidding she told herself she +was needlessly alarmed, though it was always a rash +thing to try exchanging her heartache for a temporary +joyful mirage!</p> +<p>The next evening, when Mary was in the throes of +explaining this thing in guarded fashion to Steve and +Steve was arguing angrily and begging for his welcome, +Trudy Vondeplosshe happened in unexpectedly +and very much rejoiced inwardly at finding this +delightful little tête-à-tête in full progress.</p> +<p>Of course the couple gave business and the recent +strike as an alarming necessity for a private conference, +and then Steve scuttled away, leaving Mary +to try to look unconscious and change the subject to +Trudy’s new hat. But ever mindful of Mary’s +confession Trudy was not to be swerved from the +topic.</p> +<p>“I’m glad Beatrice was not with me,” she said, +sweetly, “for like all heartless flirts she is jealous––ashamed +of Steve half of the time and mad about him +the other half. I’d try to have the business all +transacted at the office. You used to. And Beatrice +says business isn’t half as brisk as it was then.”</p> +<p>The upshot of the matter resulted in Mary’s applying +for a two-months’ leave of absence. Spent in +the Far North woods with Luke it would make common +sense win over starved dreams.</p> +<p>“I think I’ve earned it,” was all she said to Steve.</p> +<p>“A year ago I went away and you stayed. Of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +course you have earned it. But I am going to miss +you.”</p> +<p>The day before she left––it was well into July before +she could conscientiously see her way clear to go––she +received a plaid steamer rug. There was no +card attached to the gift, and when she was summoned +to Steve’s apartment to inform him about +some matters, Steve having a slight attack of grippe, +she was so formal to both Steve and Beatrice, who +stayed in the room, making them very conscious of +her apricot satin and cream-lace presence, that Beatrice +remarked later:</p> +<p>“It’s a fortunate thing that she isn’t going to visit +the North Pole; she’d be so chilly when she returned +you’d have to wrap the entire office in a warming pad. +I was thinking this morning that with the way she +lives and manages she must have saved some money. +Do you know if she has––and how much? I hope +you won’t pay her her salary while she is gone. It’s +no wonder she can afford nervous prostration if +you do!”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know she had it,” Steve said, dully.</p> +<p>“Whatever it is, then, that makes her take all this +time. The way employees act, walking roughshod +in their rights! And now, deary, hurry and get well, +for I’ve a wonderful surprise for you.” She knelt +beside the couch and patted his cheek. “I’m going +to be your private secretary during her absence––yes, +I am. As soon as I finish making the mannikins for +the knitting bags at the kermis. Then I’m going to +try to take her place––well, a tiny part of her place to +start with, and work into the position gradually. +Yes, I am. I’m determined to try it. I’ve worried +and worried to decide what to do with myself.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></div> +<p>Worry was Beatrice’s sole form of prayer. Steve +wondered if what Mary had recently said to him +could be true, at least in his own case. She had said +that defeat at thirty should be an incentive––only +after fifty could it be counted a definite disaster.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> +<p>“You don’t know how I’ve missed you,” Steve +told Mary upon her return. “Don’t I look +it?” he added, wistfully.</p> +<p>Mary had appeared at the office late one September +afternoon rather than appear the following +morning as a model of exact punctuality. She had +had to force herself to remain away until her leave of +absence expired. It was Luke who rejoiced in the +freedom of the woods and the green growing things in +which his sister had tried to take consolation, telling +herself they would revive her common sense and banish +absurd notions concerning Steve O’Valley. It was +Luke who rejoiced at catching the largest trout of the +season, who never wearied of hayrack rides and corn +roasts and bonfires with circles of ghostlike figures +enduring the smoke and the damp and the rapid-fire +gossiping and giggling. Luke had returned with a +healthy coat of tan and a large correspondence list, +pledging himself to revisit the spot every season.</p> +<p>But Mary felt defeated in the very purpose of her +holiday. The atmosphere of weary school-teachers +trying to appear as golden-haired flappers foot-loose +for a romance; the white shoes always drying outside +tents or along window sills; the college professors +eternally talking about their one three-months’ +tour of Europe; the mosquitoes; the professional +invalid, the inevitable divorcee; the woman with +literary ambitions and a typewriter set in action on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +the greenest, most secluded spot for miles about; the +constant snapshotting of everything from an angleworm +to a group of arm-entwined bathers about to +play splash-me; the cheap talk and aping of such +Gorgeous Girls as Beatrice Constantine––all this on +one side, and a great and eternal loneliness for Steve +on the other.</p> +<p>It was small wonder that defeat was the result. +And yet in her heart of hearts Mary was glad that it +was so. There is something splendid and breathless +in trying to shut away a forbidden rapture, and being +unable to do so; in telling oneself one will never try +repression again but will shamelessly acknowledge +the forbidden rapture and register a desire to thrill +to it whenever possible.</p> +<p>Besides the irritations of the summer camp Mary +had been forced to leave Hanover remembering +Steve as ill, worried over business; of Beatrice’s +hinting that she would usurp her place. There had +been so many womanly trifles she would have done +for Steve had she been in Beatrice’s position––a +linen cover for the water glass; a soft shade on the +window instead of the glaring white-and-gold-striped +affair; exile for that ubiquitous spaniel; home +cooking, with old-fashioned milk toast and real +coffee of a forefather’s day.</p> +<p>Strange how such homey trifles persist in the mind +of a commercial nun through two months of supposed +enjoyment and liberty. In the same way +incongruous associations of ideas spring into the +brain with no apparent reason at all causing fossilized +professors to write essays-under-glass that elucidate +matters not in the slightest.</p> +<p>So Mary returned to the office two days ahead of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +time, her heart thumping so loudly that she thought +Miss Lunk would surely detect the sound. She +deliberately dressed herself in a demure new suit and +a becoming black-winged hat which made her seem +as if delightfully arrayed for afternoon tea. And it +was with a charming timidity that she tiptoed into +the office.</p> +<p>Before Steve had asked her opinion she had given +one swift look about the two offices, and she was glad +that they looked as they did. It would have been +disappointing to have found them spick and span +and quite self-sufficient, without a hint that Mary +Faithful was missed or irreplaceable.</p> +<p>Evidences of Beatrice’s brief sojourn in the business +world still remained––an elaborate easy-chair +with rose pillows, a thermos bottle and cut-glass +tumbler, a curlicue French mirror slightly awry and, +on her desk, a gay-bordered silk handkerchief, a +silver-mesh bag, and a great amount of cluttered +notations; all of which proved that the understudy +secretary had not yet mastered the law of efficiency.</p> +<p>It seemed amusing to Mary. She thought: “How +stupid! How can she––when the wicker basket is +the one logical place for–––”</p> +<p>Then she spied Steve’s desk, bearing a suggestion of +the same disorder about it. When she spoke his name +and he started up, holding out both hands, she saw a +queer, bright look in his eyes, as if he, too, were trying +to convince himself that everything was all right.</p> +<p>“So you really missed me?”</p> +<p>“Missed you! Heaven alone can record the +unselfish struggle I endured to let you play. I give +you my word.”</p> +<p>He wheeled up a chair for her, just as he used to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +wheel up a chair for Beatrice, and sitting opposite +him Mary heard an almost womanish enumeration +of petty troubles and disturbances, a pathetic threat +as to the avalanche of work which would await her in +the morning.</p> +<p>“And now I will be polite enough to ask if you had +a good time?”</p> +<p>“Very! And Mrs. O’Valley?”</p> +<p>It was so horrid to have to pretend when each +knew the other was pretending; and as they pretended +to the world in general, what a relief and +blessed lightening of tension it would have been to +have said merely an honest: “We don’t care about +Mrs. Gorgeous Girl or any one else. We are quite +content with each other. True, this is still platonic +friendship––with one of us––but all tropical twilight +is of short duration. It won’t be platonic much +longer. So let’s talk about ourselves all we like!”</p> +<p>But being thoroughbred young persons they felt it +was not the thing even to think frankly.</p> +<p>“She is well,” Steve said, briefly.</p> +<p>“She came down here, she wrote me, when she +wanted to find out about something or other. I’ve +forgotten just what.”</p> +<p>Steve smiled. “Yes, for nearly a week Mrs. O’Valley +managed to create a furore among her own set. +Before she came here she ordered an entire new +outfit of clothes––business togs. There were queer +hats and shirt waists and things.” He laughed at +the remembrance. “Then she had to practise +getting up early; that took a lot of time. Meanwhile, +Miss Sartwell did your work just as we planned. +It was found necessary to postpone her business +career still further because of an out-of-door pageant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +that required her services as a nymph. She caught +cold at rehearsal and enjoyed a week of indoors.</p> +<p>“Then Gay turned up with a whole flock of new +decorators for the d–––for the villa thing, and I was +left without aid from the <i>ennuied</i> for another ten +days. Jill Briggs had a wedding anniversary and +relied on Beatrice’s aid. Of course she could not refuse, +and Trudy, who, by the way, has come on very +rapidly, persuaded Beatrice to take a booth at a +charity kettledrum.</p> +<p>“So after several weeks my wife appeared on my +business horizon and hung that mirror up and had +those other things moved in and then she discovered +that the impudent girls were all copying her coats +and hats and stuff and even used her sort of perfume, +and she decided that her duty lay not in making me a +competent secretary but in reforming these extravagant +young persons so that she could wear a model +gown in comfort and not see it copied within a month. +It was quite an experience for her; she was here about +five days. Miss Sartwell just moved her desk out +there and we managed nicely. Beatrice also had a +private teacher for typewriting and so on, but she +gave it all up because she felt the confinement and +long hours made her head ache and she gained +weight. She fled in haste. Sorry she had to do so, +but under the circumstances it was better to jeopardize +my business career than her own figure!”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you a little unfair?” Mary said, seriously.</p> +<p>“Am I? I never thought so. Wait––I must +finish the tale. For a whole week after being my +business partner she tried what she called holiness as +a cosmetic, and became high-church and quite trying. +At the end of that time she felt a veritable dynamo of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +nerves and scandal and proceeded to become a +liberated and advanced woman. You’ll soon enough +see what I mean. She doesn’t run to short-haired +ladies with theories so much as to hollow-eyed gentlemen +embroidering cantos in the drawing room and +trying to make the world safe for poetry. De-luxe +adventuresses strike her as harmonious just now. +You’ll hear about one Sezanne del Monte who is +staying in town and living off of Bea and her set.”</p> +<p>“The woman who is divorced every season––and +stars in musical comedy?”</p> +<p>“The same. Sezanne is now writing the intimate +story of her life; sort of heart throbs instead of +punctuation marks––lots of asterisks, you know, +separating the paragraphs. Beatrice is going to +finance the publication of it and Gay is going to be +the sales manager. Yes, it’s funny, but a blamed +nuisance when you come home and you find yourself +wandering through a crowd of Sezanne del Montes +and Gays and Trudys, all bent on playing parlour +steeplechase, and you can’t find a plain chair to sit +down or eat a plain meal or read a newspaper. It’s +more than a blamed nuisance––it’s cause for a trial +by jury,” he added, whimsically. “Now what’s +wrong?”––watching Mary’s face.</p> +<p>“It isn’t cricket to tell all this.”</p> +<p>Somehow the old struggle began with renewed +energy in Mary’s heart, the puritanical part saying: +“Forget you ever thought twice of this man”; and +the dreamer part urging: “You have earned the right +to love him. She has not. Just be fair––merely +fair. You have the right; don’t let your opportunity +slip by.”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-188.jpg' alt='' title='' width='356' height='564' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>It was with a charming timidity that she tip-toed into the office</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></div> +<p>“Why can’t I tell you? I have no one else to +whom I can tell things––and I’m so everlastingly +tired. Goat tending and living off dried buffalo +meat never fagged me like trying to dance with +Trudy and living on truffles and champagne. First +you are mentally bewildered and physically fagged, +then you become defiant; then you realize that that +is no use, you’ve brought this on your own self––it is +quite the common fate of men like myself––and so you +keep on with the steady grind; and by and by you +find yourself longing to play in your own way with +your own sort. The other sort have no use for you +so long as you pay their bills; you are hardly missed, +if the truth were told.</p> +<p>“Well, you must keep on with the grind. And +you want your sort of playmates and fun, and +it’s such decent, upright fun in comparison––oh, +pshaw!” He stood up, kicking the edge of the rug +with his foot in almost boyish, shamed fashion.</p> +<p>“Business isn’t quite so good,” he began anew in +an impersonal, even voice. “Mr. Constantine thinks +that the abnormal prosperity is on the wane for +keeps––we must prepare for it––but Mr. Constantine +has practically retired since you have been away. +He’s not well. To-morrow morning, if you don’t +mind, I’ll take you over there and we can straighten +out some things for him. He is selling the greater +share of stock to men from the West. And he’s saved +out some pretty nice sugar plums to hand over to me. +I haven’t been asked whether or not I want them.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry.”</p> +<p>“I knew you would be, Miss Iconoclast.”</p> +<p>“Why do you accept them?”</p> +<p>“How can I refuse?”</p> +<p>“By saying you are not prepared to be a mental +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +wreck at forty––which you will be if you try such a +gigantic scheme with so little preparation. I’ve an +idea that when Mr. Constantine is known to have +withdrawn from the business world there will be a +change in many things. And when you are known +to be alone in the fort––” She paused.</p> +<p>“Go on,” he demanded, irritably. “Can I never +make you understand how much I want your advice, +your opinions, your scoldings?”</p> +<p>“I think you will have new enemies with whom to +deal––enemies you never thought existed. I don’t +believe you can deal with them because you have +always been so cotton-woolled, so to speak, by being +Constantine’s special project–––”</p> +<p>“I’ve done what I’ve done myself,” he interrupted, +“and I’m afraid of no one.”</p> +<p>“You think you have,” she corrected. “You have +done what you have because Constantine was back of +you––and now he is an old, tired man, and very soon +he will think more of his days with Hannah than +of the present. Which is perfectly safe for him to do. +Because Mr. Constantine reckoned on his enemies he +knew to a man who hated him and who was afraid of +him, who admired him and who would be indifferent; +and that is just as essential to success as to reckon on +your friends. You never did that––you hadn’t the +time––it was all so dazzling and sudden with the war +helping things along at breakneck speed. You will +find that if you have an Achilles’ heel it will be +because you did not reckon on your enemies and are +somewhat like a blindfolded man with money in your +purse set down in a strange locality.... There. +How does that sound for a welcome?”</p> +<p>Steve was pacing up and down the floor. “I’d like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +enemies,” he said. “I’d like to see them try jumping +at my throat. I’d make them cry quits. You don’t +frighten me; you stimulate me.”</p> +<p>“That was my intention”––picking up her purse.</p> +<p>“Don’t go––or let me come to supper,” he begged.</p> +<p>She shook her head. Someone came in just then +to whom she spoke of the pleasure it was to be back +at the office; the word spread that Miss Faithful was +back and girls came in groups to smile and say some +pretty thing, and the men nodded with a pleased +expression. Watching the procedure Steve realized +that Mary was as dominant a personality in his +office as he was himself, and instead of feeling a vague +disapproval of the fact he was genuinely elated that +it was so.</p> +<p>After the last of the visitors had gone and the clock +pointed to five he said: “Of course I’m going to be +dragged some place this evening, so I wouldn’t have +much time––but may I come to supper? I’m going +out of town next week. There, isn’t that a good +reason to come to-night?”</p> +<p>“Suppose the world knew this––our little business +world?”</p> +<p>“Hang the world!”</p> +<p>“You never did. You flattered it, and were +delighted when the world patted you on the head and +said, ‘Nice Stevens, come in and bring your bags of +gold––the living’s fine.’”</p> +<p>“Are you starting in to tell me that people would +misunderstand my motives? Sezanne del Monte +has chapters along those lines. And Beatrice has +quite a fad of slumming and taking a notebook along +to write down new slang phrases or oaths or bits of +heart-broken philosophy spilled in a drunken moment.... +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +I’ve grown careless to everything +presumably orderly and conventional. I’m ready +to walk the plank for my indifference if need be––but +I do want to come home with you for supper!”</p> +<p>Mary did not answer for a moment. Then she +said, in a quick breathless tone, as if she did not want +to hear her own words: “I wonder if it would do any +good to try explaining––really explaining and not +fibbing or pretending–––”</p> +<p>“It has always done me good when you have explained––and +I can’t imagine you telling cheap untruths.”</p> +<p>“Then I will try it.” The gray eyes grew stormy. +“For if we are to continue as employer and secretary––and +you must have such a person and I must +earn my living––it would be much easier if you really +understood and it was all settled. You’ve talked +about early hardships, misunderstood childhood, +goat tending, and what not; and the world gives you +credit for your achievements. Then surely you +must understand the woman’s end of the game––the +American woman’s part in business, for it’s not easy +to be errand girl or to fill endless underpaid clerical +positions. It’s not easy to pile out every morning at +such and such an hour and stand at a desk and work +as if you had neither heart nor eye for the other things +in life until gradually the woman part of yourself is +changed and it is often too late to enjoy anything +but desk drudgery––and a bonus!</p> +<p>“Now the man in the business game forgoes nothing; +he has the world’s applause if he succeeds and +the kisses of the woman he loves for his recreation, +and all is complete and as it should be. But we +commercial women of to-day do a man’s work and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +earn a man’s wage. We do stay starved women, +even if that fact doesn’t appear on the surface. We +cannot have the things of romance as well as our +livelihood. And by the very nature of the average +business woman’s life she is often in love with someone +in her office––from propinquity if for no other +reason. She must. Don’t you see? They’re practically +the only men she really comes to know or +who come to know her, and she just can’t stab her +heart into sudden death.</p> +<p>“So she wears her prettiest frock for this man––a +wooden-faced bookkeeper perhaps; or a preoccupied +president––and she dreams of him and is +jealous of him and very likely gossips about him. +And the years pass and she stays just as shut away +and misunderstood and starved. And sometimes a +woman, originally the most honest in the world, +under these circumstances will deliberately steal +another woman’s husband if she has the chance. +Yes, she will––she does.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, Mary?” He was almost +unconscious of using the name.</p> +<p>“That I am no different from the others. I came +here with the same starved heart and woman’s hopes, +and I put into your career the devotion and service +and very prayers that I should have put into a home +and a family––your joys were my joys, your problems +mine. It has not been my clever brain that has +made me worth so much to you. That is what the +superficial public says, but I know better. It’s been +the love––yes, the love for you that has made me indispensable! +The unreturned and unsuspected and +I presume wicked love I felt for you. And now I’ve +told you––broken precedent and told the truth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +And as you don’t love me you’ll feel very uncomfortable +with me about. And you won’t want to play +off pal; you’ll fight shy of me except for everyday +work. So it has been the only square thing to do––humiliate +myself into telling.</p> +<p>“I love you, I always have, and I always will––but +I’m no home-wrecking, emotional being and I expect +that you will resume our old relationships and I shall +go on serving you and knowing my recompense will +be a handsome farewell gift and a pension.</p> +<p>“Oh, the business woman’s life isn’t all beer and +skittles. We’re expected to lie about our hearts, +yet be as reliable as an adding machine about our +columns of figures; to be shut away from the social +world, thrown with men more hours a day than their +wives see them and yet remain immovable, aloof, +disinterested! Just good fellows, you know. Isn’t +it hideous to think I’ve really told the truth?”</p> +<p>At this identical moment their platonic friendship, +alias tropical twilight, ended, and Mary’s evening +star of romance rose to stay. But such being the +case Steve was the last person in the world to try to +convince her that it was so.</p> +<p>All he said was: “I never appreciated you before. +Please don’t feel that telling me this will make any +difference save that I’ll stay aloof––as you suggest. +I can forget it, somewhat, if that will make you feel +any better about it. It is all quite true and equally +hopeless––true things usually are––and if you like +I’ll send you home in the car, because you must be a +trifle tired.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” she remembered answering as she +told Steve’s chauffeur where to drive.</p> +<p>“You look as tired as before we went away,” Luke +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +complained that same night when Mary sat at her +desk adding up expenses and making out checks.</p> +<p>“Oh, no. This shade makes everyone look +ghastly,” she said.</p> +<p>“I’ll have to get a hump on and make my pile,” +he consoled. “I don’t want my sister being all tired +out before she’s too old to have a good time.”</p> +<p>“A good time?” Mary repeated. “Are you inoculated, +too?”</p> +<p>“What’s wrong with a good time? I guess Steve +O’Valley plays all he likes!”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, I guess he does,” Mary forced herself +to answer.</p> +<p>When Steve returned home that evening he found +one of those impromptu dinner parties on hand instead +of a formal engagement. They had become +quite the fad in Bea’s set. The idea was this––young +matrons convened in the afternoon at one of +their homes for cocktails and confidences; very likely +Sezanne del Monte would drop in to read her last +chapter or Gay Vondeplosshe would arrive brandishing +his cane and telling everyone how beautiful the +Italian villa was to be; and by and by they would +gather round the piano to sing the latest songs; then +when the clock struck six there would be a wild +flutter and a suggestion:</p> +<p>“Let’s phone cook to bring over our dinner. Then +our husbands can come along or not just as they +like. We’ll have a parlour picnic; and no one will +bother about being dressed. And we’ll go to the +nickel dance hall later.”</p> +<p>This was followed by a procession of cooks arriving +in state in various motor cars and carrying covered +trays and vacuum bottles and departing in high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +spirits at the early close of their day’s work. Then +the procession of subdued husbands would follow, +and conglomerate menus would be spread on a +series of tea tables throughout the rooms, with +Sezanne smoking her small amber-stemmed pipe and +describing her sojourn in a Turkish harem while Gay +picked minor chords on his ukulele. After a later +diversion of nickel dance halls and slumming the +young matrons would say good-bye, preparing to sleep +until noon, quite convinced that any one would have +called it a day.</p> +<p>Such a party greeted Steve, with Gay showing +plans for Beatrice’s secret room with a sliding panel––clever +idea, splendid when they would be playing +hide and seek––and the cooks en route with the kettles +and bottles of wine and the husbands meekly +arriving in sulky silence.</p> +<p>A little before two in the morning Steve escorted +Aunt Belle back to the Constantine house.</p> +<p>Beatrice had started to go to bed, but thinking of +something she wished to ask Steve she stationed +herself in his room, some candy near at hand and +Sezanne’s manuscript as solace until he should arrive.</p> +<p>“I wanted to ask you if Mary Faithful has returned,” +she said, throwing down the manuscript +as he came in. “Heavens, don’t look like a thundercloud! +You used to complain about getting into +evening dress for dinner; and now when they are as +informal as a church supper you row even more. +How was papa? Did you go in to see him? Does +the house look terrible?”</p> +<p>“Of course I didn’t see your father at two in the +morning; he was asleep. Your aunt fell into a bucket +of plaster.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“Plaster! Why did the men leave it where she +could fall into it? Did it hurt her dress?”</p> +<p>“No, just her bones.” Steve laughed in spite of +himself. “The dress hadn’t started to begin where +the bones hit the bucket.”</p> +<p>Beatrice giggled. “Aunt Belle will try to look +like a Kate Greenaway creation. And isn’t Jill +stout? I’d eat stones before I’d get like her. Well, +what about the Faithful woman?”</p> +<p>“Why such a title? It was always Mary Faithful, +and even Mary.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know––but ever since I worked with you +this summer I’ve realized what an easy time she has. +She isn’t burdened with friends and social duties. +It’s all so clearcut and straight-ahead sailing for her. +I suppose she laughs at her day’s work.”</p> +<p>“She has returned.”</p> +<p>“Then we can go to the Berkshires. Sezanne +knows an artist and some people from Chicago who +are ripping company and they are going to visit her +cousin at Great Barrington and we are all invited +there–––”</p> +<p>“Once and for all,” Steve said, shortly, to his own +surprise, “I am not in on this! Just count yourself +a fair young widow for the time being. I cannot +run my business, help close up your father’s affairs, +be a social puppet, and go chasing off with bob-haired +freaks to the Berkshires, and expect to survive. +I’m going to work and keep on the job––it will be +bad enough when I have to live in an Italian villa. +Who knows what new tortures that will bring? But +for a few months I am certain of my whereabouts, so +plan on going alone.”</p> +<p>“So you won’t come with me! Oh, Steve, sometimes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +I can just see the whole mistake––you should +never have made a fortune. Rather you should have +been a nice foreman with a meek little wife in four-dollar +hats and a large portion of offspring. You +should have lived in a model bungalow with even a +broom closet in the kitchen and leaded windows at +one side. You would have been a socialist and headed +labour-union picnics. But as my husband and my +father’s assistant and all that––you are as impossible +as that Faithful woman would be if she tried to be +a lady!”</p> +<p>For a moment Steve hesitated. But the average +day does not include losing ten thousand on the stock +exchange from sheer folly, finding out that your blood +pressure is too high, that your faithful secretary +loves you and is truer blue than ever, and discovering +at the same moment that you love her yet may not +tell her so. Nor is a day so hectic usually concluded +by finding an impromptu parlour picnic in full swing +at home where rest was sought––finding, too, the full +realization that you not only do not love your +wife but you do not even approve of her.</p> +<p>So he said, quietly: “If you wish to make some +radical change regarding your husband would you +mind waiting until he has had a chance at a shower +bath and some breakfast?”</p> +<p>For the first time in her life the Gorgeous Girl +found herself gathering up Monster, the candy, and +the novel manuscript in her lace-draped arms and +standing outside her husband’s firmly closed door.</p> +<p>The shock was so great that she could not squeeze +out a single tear.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> +<p>Mary Faithful felt no regrets at having +told the truth about her love for Steve +O’Valley. The regrets were all on Steve’s +side of the ledger. Contrary to customary procedure +it was he who practised nonchalance and indifference, +and the office force saw no whit of difference in the +attitude of the president toward his private secretary +or vice versa.</p> +<p>Long ago the force had accepted the attitude of +these two persons as strictly businesslike and their +conception of Mary Faithful was tinged with awe +and a bit of envy at her success. To imagine her +desperately in love with her employer, working for +and with him each day, and finally in extreme desperation +telling the truth as brutally as women sometimes +tell it to women over clandestine cups of tea––was +farthest from their comprehension.</p> +<p>Nor would they have thought it credible that +Steve, married to his coveted fairy princess, should +first become attached to Mary Faithful by friendship +and then find that friendship replaced by a deep +and never-to-be-changed love. It was an impossible +situation, they would have said.</p> +<p>The morning following Beatrice’s parlour picnic +and Mary’s hard-wrung confession Steve made it a +point to be at his desk when Mary came in, despite +the few hours’ sleep and the fact that Beatrice had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +willfully chosen to take breakfast with him in sulky, +tearful reproach. When Mary was taking off her +hat and coat he came to the door of her office and +made a formal little bow.</p> +<p>He found himself more in love with her than the +night previous. There was something so pathetic +and lonely about her, successful business woman that +she was; the very fact of people’s not suspecting it, +labelling her as self-sufficient and carefree, only +emphasized this loneliness now that he looked at her +with a lover’s eyes. He realized that whereas he +had had to win a fortune to marry the Gorgeous Girl +it would be as necessary to lose a fortune to marry +Mary––if such a thing were possible; that she was a +woman not easy to win, one who would find her happiness +not in taking hastily accumulated wealth but +in making a man by slow processes and honourable +methods until he was fitted to obtain a fortune and +then enjoy it with her.</p> +<p>“Good morning”––wondering if he looked confused––“I +wanted to say that I am on the country-club +committee to welcome English golfers, and I’ll +be away this week off and on. And––and whenever +you want me to I’ll try to keep under cover for a +bit.... I think I do appreciate your telling +me the truth last night more than anything else that +has ever happened to me; there was something so +stoically splendid about it––and I don’t want to +abuse the confidence. Please don’t mind my just +mentioning it, I’ll promise not to do so again; and +we’ll go on as before. I was a cad to play about +your fireplace––quite wrong––and you had to make +me realize it. Do you know, I was half afraid you’d +send in your resignation this morning? Women always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +do those things in books. Please say something +and help a chap out.”</p> +<p>Mary was at her desk opening mail with slow, +steady fingers.</p> +<p>“I have my living and Luke’s living to make, and +I could not resign unless you asked me to do so,” +she told him. “I wondered whether or not you +would feel it the thing for me to do. It is a unique +situation,” she said in a slightly more animated +tone––“not the situation, but my calm betrayal of it. +Usually my sort go along in silence and take our +bursts of truthful rebellion on our mothers’ shoulders +or in sanitariums. I really feel a great deal better +now that I have told you.” Her gray eyes were +quite fearless in their honesty as she glanced up. +“I feel that I can settle down in an even routine and +be of more service to everyone.”</p> +<p>“We’ll be friends,” he urged, impulsively. It +seemed hard not to say foolish, loverish little things, +try to make her believe in miracles, make wild and +impossible rainbow plans, precluding any Gorgeous +Girls and newly remodelled Italian villas.</p> +<p>“I wanted to add a postscript,” she interrupted. +“That’s only running true to form, isn’t it? Here +it is: If you ever at any time, because you are emotional +and in many ways untried, find yourself unhappy +and at cross purposes, and try to lean on a +sentimental crutch which inclines in my direction––I +shall leave this office just as they do in novels. And +I shall not come back, which they always do in novels. +This would deprive you of a good employee and myself +of a good position and be foolish all round. You +men are no different from us women; once a woman +knows a man loves her she cannot quite hate him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +even if her heart is another’s. Instinctively she +labels him as a rainy-day proposition and during some +wild thunderstorm––well, idiotic things happen! +Whereas if she never knew he cared she might go +about finding a mild mission in life. A man is the +same; and since I have trusted you with my secret, +and that secret happens to concern yourself, the +logical consequence is that you will never quite hate +me because I care. In some moods you might even +try telling yourself that you cared, too. Then I +should not only leave your employ but I should stop +caring.”</p> +<p>She went on with the morning’s mail. Outside, the +office force was stirring. Raps at the door and +phone calls would soon begin.</p> +<p>“Would you really?” he asked, so soberly that +Mary’s hands trembled and she blotted ink on her +clean desk pad as she tried to make a memorandum.</p> +<p>“Really. I never can bring myself to believe in +warmed-over magic.”</p> +<p>“Then I shall never have any such moods.”</p> +<p>He answered a phone call and there fell upon the +office an atmosphere of strange peace which had been +missing for many months.</p> +<p>During the winter the rift between Steve and +Beatrice became noticeable even to the Gorgeous +Girl’s friends, to Trudy’s infinite delight; and by the +time spring came it was an accepted thing that +Steve’s share in the scheme of things was to write +checks and occupy as little space as possible in the +apartment, whereas Beatrice’s part in the scheme of +things was to badger and nag at her husband eternally +or be frigidly polite and civil, which was far harder +to endure than her temper.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></div> +<p>The Gorgeous Girl’s endeavours to become an advanced +woman, an intellectual patroness and so on, +were amusing and ineffectual. She soon found +neither pleasure nor satisfaction in any of her near-lions. +Nor did she succeed in making them roar. +Whether it was a parlour lecture on Did a Chinese +Monk Visit America a Thousand Years before Columbus? +or a Baby Party at which Beatrice and Gay +dressed as twins and were wheeled about in a white +pram by Trudy, dressed as a French <i>bonne</i>––the reaction +was one of depression and defeat. Though +Beatrice still had her name printed on the reports +of charity committees she no longer took what was +termed an active part. She shrugged her shoulders +carelessly and gave the reason that it was all so hopeless––and +no fun at all.</p> +<p>Inanimate things afforded the most satisfaction; +at least she could buy an individual breakfast service +costing a thousand dollars and have the item recorded +in all the fashion journals, with her photograph, and +she could have the most unique dinner favours and +the smartest frocks, and they never disappointed her.</p> +<p>Besides, the Italian villa was to be finished shortly +and that would necessitate a new round of entertainments +and minor adjustments and no end of +enviable publicity and comment. This diversion +would take her through the late spring and summer, +and in the fall she fully intended to take up dress +reform and become a feminist. She had an idea of +wearing nothing but draped Grecian robes––which +could be made to look quite fetching if one had +enough jewellery to punctuate the drapes––and of +going in for barefoot dancing on the lawn. It +would be more convenient if she could persuade her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +father and aunt not to stay on at the Villa Rosa, as +it was to be called. And certainly it would have +been more æsthetic to look across the street and see +something besides another expensive and hopelessly +mediocre brick house which another rich man somewhat +after Constantine’s own heart had built with +pride and joy. She wished she had bought a site +back from the town and created a real estate. The +fact that she had not done so made her miserable for +over a week, during which Gay consoled her in most +flattering fashion, neglecting his own wife to do so.</p> +<p>Well, after the Villa Rosa––what then? Life +seemed very empty. With a certain natural squareness +of nature Beatrice was not the sort of woman to +indulge in unwise affairs beyond a certain discreet +point. She had never learned how to study, so she +could not become a devotee of some fascinating and +exacting subject. Her really keen mind had merely +skimmed through her studies.</p> +<p>Nor was she over fond of children. As she told +Trudy, children were absorbing things and goodness +knew if she ever had any of her own she would have +a wonderful enough nursery and sun parlour with +panels designed by a child psychologist; there was +everything in first impressions. But take care of +one of them? The actual responsibility? Heavens, +what a fate! She would engage a trained baby +nurse––and then drop in at the nursery for a few +moments each day to see that everything was going +well.</p> +<p>Later, after the trying first years, she would be very +proud of her children. Besides, planning children’s +clothes was a great deal of fun; and if she had a +daughter she would see that the daughter married +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +properly. Whether or not she was thinking of Steve, +Trudy did not dare to ask; but she evidently was, as +she added that one might better marry an impoverished +nobleman and live in an atmosphere of culture +and smart society than marry someone who never +attempted to be anything.</p> +<p>A child demanded of one intelligence up to a certain +point, and faithful service, but it did not require +keen intellect. A primitive knowledge of what their +hurt or hunger or plain-temper cry meant––and a +primitive tender fashion of coping with whichever it +might be––were all that young babies demanded; +and hence the Gorgeous Girl, like all finely bred and +thoroughly selfish women of to-day who are bent +on psychological nursery panels, refused to be tied +down to the narrow routine of a nursemaid, as she +called it. Love-gardening is the title old-fashioned +gentlewomen originated.</p> +<p>Then Beatrice cited how carefree Jill Briggs was +with her four children. Goodness knew that Jill +was always within hailing distance of the big time; +and except for a few little illnesses and the fact that +the oldest boy had died of croup the children were a +complete success and perfect darlings, and Jill dressed +them like old-style portraits. Besides, Jill had +tried out a new system of education on the oldest +boy; he had been taught to develop his individuality +to the highest possible degree. At eight, just before +the croup attack––though he did not know his alphabet +or how to tell time and had never been cuddled or +rocked to sleep with nursery jingles as soothing +mental food––he could play quite a shrewd game of +poker and drive a bug roadster. Beatrice, in talking +over the child problem with Trudy, decided that if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +she ever had a son she, too, would develop the poker +shark in him rather than the admirer of Santa Claus +and the student of Mother Goose.</p> +<p>“Of course Steve thinks a woman should drudge +and slave over those crying mites as if the nation +depended upon it,” she concluded, “but I should +never pay any attention to him. He said, in front +of Jill, that he always felt well acquainted with rich +children, for he had passed a similar childhood––meaning +that living in an orphan asylum and being +brought up by a nursemaid were much the same +thing. Quite lovely of him, wasn’t it?”</p> +<p>Trudy could not suppress her giggle.</p> +<p>“I’m sure the children get on well enough. Just +think, if you had to plan all the meals and dress and +undress them and all the baths––ugh, I never could! +And when Steve begins his eloquent stories about +these nursemaids who neglect children or dope them +or do something dreadful I simply leave the room. +He actually told Mrs. Ostrander that he saw her +nurse slap her child across the face, and proceeded to +add: ‘It is never fair to strike a child that way. It +breeds bad things in him. And he wasn’t doing anything; +it was just nurse’s day for nerves.’ Of course +the Ostranders will never forget it. Now, Mrs. +Ostrander is a member of the Mothers’ Council, and a +dear. She just slaved over her children’s nursery and +she reads all their books before she allows the nurse +to read them aloud. I’m sure no children were ever +brought up as scientifically; they have a wonderful +schedule. She told me she had never held them except +when they were having their pictures made––never!––and +that crying strengthens the lungs. Of +course Steve says we feed our lap dogs when they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +whine but close the door on the baby when he tries it. +So what can you do with such a person?”</p> +<p>To which Trudy agreed. Trudy agreed to anything +Beatrice might say until the bills for the villa +were settled and the O’Valleys established in the +gondola-endowed home. Trudy sometimes pinched +herself to realize that in such a short space of time +she was living in the Touraine apartment house and +that her husband, whom she loathed more each day, +had actually scrambled into the position of being the +best decorator in Hanover and was busy splitting +commissions and wheedling orders from New York +art dealers and Hanover’s social set.</p> +<p>Sometimes Nature takes her own methods of +revenge, and to Mark Constantine’s child she saw +fit to send no son or daughter. Constantine never +mentioned his hunger for grandchildren. He had a +strange shyness about admitting the desire and the +plans he had made for them. But when he saw the +completion of this villa and realized the thousands +of dollars squandered upon it and the impossible +existence his daughter would lead living therein he +went to his untouched plain room, looking out on +sunken gardens, to try to figure out how this had all +come about.</p> +<p>He fumbled in mental chaos as to the meaning of +all this nonsense and longed more than ever for a +grandchild, someone who should be quite unspoiled +and who would not approach him with light, begrudged +kisses and a request for money.</p> +<p>The formal Venetian ball which Beatrice gave to +open her new home merely amused Steve, who had +really dreaded it with the hysteria of a schoolgirl. +He hated the whole scheme of the house and the man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +who was reaping a rich harvest by engaging the army +of persons who had done the work therein. He rejoiced +openly at each delay on the part of the plumber, +the tinsmith, the decorator; and openly gave a +thanksgiving when the illustrated wall paper for the +halls, which told the legend of Psyche and Cupid, +had been sent to Davy Jones’s locker en route from +Florence. Steve’s name for the Villa Rosa was the +Fuller Gloom.</p> +<p>But when they did move into the new-old home +and Steve was led through each room of gammon +and spinach, as he had faintly whispered to Mary +Faithful, he found himself only amused. Now that +he considered it, it was a relief to know Beatrice had +such a new and absorbing plaything to take up her +time and keep her aloof from his personal affairs. +He sought out his father-in-law in his plain room +with its walnut set and stand of detective stories, +and sat down in relief, though the two men honourably +refrained from criticizing a certain person +openly.</p> +<p>At the ball Beatrice appeared in a wonderful black +gown, so wonderful and expensive that its creator +had given it a distinct title––The Plume. Steve did +his duty as a handsome figurehead, as someone called +him; after which he was free to stroll in the gardens +and smoke and wonder what manner of folks inhabited +the stars.</p> +<p>An inspection of the house had taken place with +Beatrice and Gay leading the procession, and Aunt +Belle bringing up the rear. The oh’s and ah’s and +exclamations of approval, resultant of fairy cocktails, +rewarded Beatrice for her expenditure. When she +brought them into her own apartment she stood back, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +while Gay lisped out the story of the greatest achievement +and novelty of the entire house, watching the +faces of her guests so as to catch the first expression +of envy which should reveal itself.</p> +<p>The novelty consisted in the set of bedroom furniture, +which, though the rest of the house was Italian, +as Gay hastily explained, was of Chinese workmanship, +carved and inlaid in intricate design––two +dragons fighting over pearls, with the various stages of +the struggle represented on the bed legs, the bureau +drawers, the easy-chair, the dressing table, and so on. +The set had been made for the Emperor of China, but +when his private council inspected it, it was found +that one of the carved dragons on top of the four-poster +bed had captured the pearl for which they +had been fighting in sixty-seven or so other carvings. +This signified bad luck for the emperor; misfortune +and rebellion would be his lot if he slept in the bed. +Though regretting the loss of the furniture the +emperor felt the loss of his kingdom would be even +greater, and the furniture was placed on the market. +To Mrs. Stephen O’Valley was awarded the ownership +as well as the privilege of writing the check that +made the purchase possible. On the bed was a pillow +of the material woven for emperors only, thrown +in on account of the ill luck that would attend him +who slept in the bed beneath the conquering dragon; +and on a carved bone platter was an antique Maltese +shawl which gave a rare note to the entire room.</p> +<p>Steve, who had regarded the emperor’s rejected +furniture as a cross between a joke and an outrage, +gave way to his feelings by pacing up and down the +hall and capturing a tray of sandwiches being carried +to the supper room. But Beatrice, after Gay’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +speech, felt a rare joy––for every guest in the room +hated her for having won the prize. What more +could she ask by way of reward?</p> +<p>When they were alone in the new-old home Steve +felt it only decent to congratulate her. Somehow +he had come to feel that keeping up sham courtesies +made everything easier.</p> +<p>“You have worked very hard, haven’t you?” he +asked. “But you have wonderful results.”</p> +<p>“Do you think so? Everyone hates me now, for +there will never be another royal bedroom set like +mine on the market––when you think that Gay +skirmished about and won it for me, it is quite remarkable. +And it shows what Gay can do when he +has a little encouragement. Alice Twill was almost +cross-eyed and crying; her husband nipped the château +idea in the bud. New York men are coming +here to take photographs next week. I wish the +garden were in better shape. They are going to run +feature stories about it.... Oh, Steve, do you +think of any new place to go this summer?”</p> +<p>“I thought we had just moved to Venice,” he said, +still dazed at the amount of carved fire screens, +tapestries, dim, impractical candlelights, and soft-eyed +Madonnas which smiled at him on all sides.</p> +<p>“I must have all the office force come and see +this––it would be such a treat. And we can serve +tea on the lawn.”</p> +<p>“Do. They don’t often take time to go to museums.”</p> +<p>Steve’s bad nature was getting the better of polite +resolves. He was thinking of Mary’s clear, witty +eyes as she would view the remains of a plain American +house.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></div> +<p>The next thing of interest to keep Beatrice at home +was the advent of a real lion cub, following Monster’s +departure to canine heaven. Being too impossible +of shape and disposition for any one’s pride or comfort, +Monster was disposed of and buried in a satin-lined +coffin with a neat white headstone telling salient +facts of her short existence.</p> +<p>While Steve was giving devout thanks for the +event Beatrice was realizing that the gardens needed +a dominating note, as Gay said. During her reading +of old fables and romantic legends about superwomen +or extremely wicked matrons she had discovered that +they nearly all possessed a lion or a bear or a brace +of elephants to gambol on the green. Such a pet +symbolized its owner’s power and fearlessness, and +any young woman who could have the Emperor of +China’s bedroom suite brought post haste into Hanover, +U. S. A., was surely entitled to something in the +jungle line for her front yard!</p> +<p>For the first time in his daughter’s life Mark Constantine +made a faint protest, suggesting that she +have a taxidermist mount several lion cubs and group +them about the hall––while Steve sat back in cynical +amusement and asked if she were going to request +the goldfish to step aside in favour of a few Alaska +seals?</p> +<p>“If she gets a live lion––and she will, because I’m +writing to a circus man now,” Gay told Trudy––“I’m +going to sprain my ankle and be laid up from +the day the beast arrives until he goes––he won’t +tarry long, the police won’t have it. But I’m not +going to take any chances. Still, it would never do +to make a fat commission on the deal and then act +as if I were afraid to come over and play cannibal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +with him. I guess you can go,” he added, insolently.</p> +<p>Trudy looked at him in scorn. “You are cheap,” +she said. “Well, I will go! I’d just as soon be eaten +by a lion as to have to live with a shrimp.”</p> +<p>The lion arrived in due time and was named Tawny +Adonis. Beatrice considered him a perfect love. He +was a gay young cub and quite effective in the new +background, well intentioned but lonesome for his +old atmosphere of circus life and his mother and +brothers. He was given a large run in the Constantine +grounds, and while Aunt Belle stayed locked in +her room the greater share of the time and Gay immediately +sprained his ankle and was forced to send +Trudy as his messenger, Mark Constantine and Steve +found their time well occupied in convincing the +authorities that the town infantry would not be +devoured piecemeal. Hanover had never really approved +of having an Italian villa crammed down its +throat, and it was certainly not agreeable, to say +the least, to have a lion cub at large as a dominating +garden note.</p> +<p>“You cannot keep him, even if you pulled all his +teeth and taught him to be a dope fiend,” Steve said +in desperation after the roars of Tawny Adonis had +been reported to the police as annoying. “He is +growing bigger every day and all he has done is demolish +flowers and shrubs and chew up fence posts. +I’m sorry for him, and I’m not particularly afraid of +him, but if there was an accident with a child even +the owner of a dominating garden note could not expect +to go scot-free.”</p> +<p>Her father and her friends championed Steve’s +stand in the matter and after a little rebelling and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +pouting and having the pleasure of seeing her name +in all the papers as the owner of the lion cub and so +on, Beatrice consented to part with him on the condition +that she be allowed to give him a farewell birthday +party, he being nearly a year old. She was +going to ask the children of all her friends. But +getting a hint of the event her friends hastily arranged +a Tom Thumb wedding for charity, and then assured +Beatrice it was merely a coincidence that the +two things interfered with each other, wasn’t it a +shame? Realizing that this dominating note was not +a social asset Beatrice hastily sided in with her father +and the authorities.</p> +<p>Besides, she was tired of Tawny Adonis; he was +destructive, and a secret source of worry if she could +have been made to admit it. So she prepared for a +birthday fête and determined to have the public-school +children as the guests. But these refused +her invitation as well; so she went into the slums and +collected thirty harmless waifs who felt that a lion’s +birthday party was not to be despised, and brought +them triumphantly into the Italian gardens.</p> +<p>The waifs gathered round an outdoor table, too +busy swallowing food to bother about their possible +and likely fate. In the centre of the table was a +huge birthday cake for Tawny Adonis. It was made +of raw hamburger steak, generously iced with bone +marrow, and the single anniversary candle took the +form of a balanced soup bone. After the children +had eaten their fill Tawny Adonis was let loose upon +the scene and at the birthday cake, and during the +wild smashing of glass and china and the excited +shrieks of the waifs Tawny went to the birthday +cake and devoured it, soup bone and all.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></div> +<p>Gay was out of town the day of the party but +Trudy bravely assisted, as did one or two others, +Mark Constantine and his sister sitting in the windows +to watch the procedure while Beatrice in a +gown of turquoise velvet with a coronet of frosted +leaves played Lady Bountiful and dismissed the +slum brigade as soon as possible, sending them home +with the confused knowledge that a beautiful lady in +angel clothes and a wild animal sometimes meant +plenty of ham sandwiches and ice cream, as well as +the opportunity to slip a fork into one’s pocket.</p> +<p>Steve declined to take any part in the celebration, +but at the conclusion of the event he appeared with +policemen and a patrol wagon containing a cage, and +amid gay farewells and grim coaxings Tawny Adonis +was escorted to the railway station and shipped back +to the circus man, at a loss of five hundred dollars––not +counting the damage done––to the Gorgeous +Girl!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></div> +<p>CHAPTER XV</p> +<p>Trudy was keen as a brier whenever her own +realm was threatened. With the shrewdness +which caused her to refrain from ever speaking +ill of a woman when talking to a man and never +speaking aught but ill of women when talking to +their own kind, she foresaw in Gay’s constant attendance +on the Gorgeous Girl the possibility of an +unpleasant situation.</p> +<p>For the Gorgeous Girl had said not only to her +husband but to her friends that she must find some +other kind of a good time now the novelty of the Villa +Rosa was exhausted. Even inky people bored her, +she added; poets were no longer permitted in her +drawing room, and the circle of pet robins and angel +ducks had somehow wandered out of her safe keeping. +An unusually pretty flock of sweetsome débutantes +had thinned the bachelor ranks, and Jill Briggs’s +youngest boy died of some childish ailment, disturbing +Beatrice more than she admitted, for some reason, +and making her own thoughts poor company.</p> +<p>It was while she was talking of this child’s death +with Trudy that the latter glimpsed the handwriting +on the wall, and with scantily concealed enmity determined +to beat Beatrice at her own game.</p> +<p>“Jill is going away for the winter, poor thing,” +Beatrice said. “I don’t blame her; it would be too +horrible to have to stay and see all his things about. +And it’s the second child she’s lost. Goodness me, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +she has spent hundreds on baby specialists and +nurses! Well, you know yourself, Trudy––you’ve +seen how wonderful she has been. This boy’s death +has so distressed her that she has decided to have two +nurses stay with the children instead of one. Mighty +sweet of her, as it all comes out of Jill’s pocketbook +and not her husband’s. She says she cannot think of +leaving them with one person, and she must go away +because her nerves are frazzled.</p> +<p>“She is going to the West Indies with an artist +friend, and they are going to make a marvellous collection +of water-colour paintings of birds and flowers, +a sort of memorial to the boy. Jill says she will sell +them and give the proceeds for the <i>crèche</i> charity. +Well, that is all very well for Jill to do; she has a real +heartache to live down. But when you have no +earthly reason to go and paint wild birds and flowers +and you are bored to distraction with everything––” +She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>“Meaning yourself?” asked Trudy. “Really?”––delighted +that this was so.</p> +<p>“Are you ever bored?”</p> +<p>“Only enough to be fashionable. You see I have +to live Gay’s life and career and my own at the same +time.” Instinctively Trudy knew this caused envy +in her hostess’s heart for a multitude of reasons. +“Gay never amounted to anything until we were +married”––she paused for this to take full effect––“and +I enjoy playing the game. I have grown fond +of makeshifts and make-believes and hedging, bluffing, +stalling, jumping mental hurdles––it’s fun––it +keeps you alive and never weighing more than a +hundred and ten pounds.”</p> +<p>Trudy rose to go. She was a <i>chic</i> little vixen in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +fantastic costume of black velvet with a jacket of +blush pink. No one but Trudy could have worn +such a thing––a semi-Dick-Whittington effect––and +have gotten away with it. Though she was physically +very tired from sewing late the night before, +and mal-nourished because she was too indolent to +bother to cook, Trudy looked quite fit for a long +stretch of hard running.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you diet seriously?” she purred. +“It’s only right for your true friends to tell you. The +double chin is permanent, I’m afraid.” She shook +her shapely little head, to Beatrice’s inward rage.</p> +<p>As Beatrice sat looking up at this impertinent +little person she suddenly became angered to think +she had ever bothered with an ex-office girl or permitted +Gaylord to coax her into being nice to his +wife. And if this impossible person could bring +Gaylord into the ranks of prosperity in a short time, +making everyone accept her, what couldn’t she, +Beatrice O’Valley, do with Gay if she tried––seriously +tried? He would not linger beside Trudy if +Beatrice gave him to understand there was a place for +him at her own hearth. She knew Gaylord too +well; he suddenly assumed the figurative form of a +goal, as she had once assumed to Steve––a play pastime––in +the true sense. A real man would not play +off property doll in the hands of any woman, not excepting +his own wife; which Beatrice realized. Living +with a cave man had taught her many things. +Yet it would be rare fun to have a property doll all +one’s own, different from the impersonal, harmless +herd of boys and poets, a really innocent pastime if +you considered it in the eyes of man-written law. +What a lark––to switch Gay from this cheap, red-haired +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +little woman, dominate his life, suddenly assert +her starved abilities, and make him become far +greater than anything Trudy had ever been able to +do! It would cause such a jolly row and excitement +and pep everyone up. Pet and flatter him and +show Trudy that after all she had only been an +incompetent clerk in Steve’s office!</p> +<p>“Perhaps I will diet,” was all she said, smiling +sweetly. “And tell Gay he must come see me to-morrow. +I have a plan that I want to tell him––and +no one else. Besides, there is a flaw in the last pair +of candlesticks he bought for me.”</p> +<p>Trudy realized perfectly well that sweetness from +the lips of an obese lady, after one has assured her +of the arrival of a double chin, always augurs ill for +everyone.</p> +<p>Originally Trudy had determined to use Gaylord +as a stepping-stone, a rather satisfactory first husband. +But since Beatrice’s commission to do the +villa and the stream of like orders from the new-rich +who were trying to unload their war fortunes before +they were caught at it, Trudy had grown content +and even keen about Gaylord in an impersonal sense. +She felt that she could not better herself if he continued +to do as well as he had the last few months, +and that she would continue to do her share of hill-climbing +indefinitely. In other words, having won +Gaylord in the remnant department, Trudy decided +to keep him and make him answer the purpose of +paying her board bill.</p> +<p>Besides, though she admitted it only to Mary, +she felt anything but well. The more money Gaylord +made the more he spent on himself, and he +seemed to expect Trudy to manage out of the ozone, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +yet to appear as the indulged wife of her enterprising +young husband. It never ended––the eternal +searching for bargains; dyeing clothes and mending, +cleaning, and pressing; living on delicatessen food; +sitting up nights to help out with the work, often +doing odds and ends of sewing, and appearing the +next afternoon in the customer’s house to admire +the effect of the new drapery and tell of the bright-eyed +Italian woman who had done the work.</p> +<p>Trudy saw little of Mary. Her better self made +her stay aloof lest she win from her friend other details +to add to her already safeguarded secret. And +she never attempted to amuse Steve. She fought +shy of him when he was about, wisely limiting herself +to shy nods and smiles and occasionally a very +meek compliment, which he usually pretended not +to hear.</p> +<p>As she walked home from the villa––Gay had the +roadster––she told herself that she must watch out or +Beatrice would attempt to spoil Gay to the extent +of making him wish to be rid of his wife. She realized +that Gay was extremely scornful and careless +of her. Having married her and satisfied his one-cylinder +brain that he was a deuce of a chap and +a democratic rake in marrying this dashing nobody +Gaylord turned bully and permitted Trudy to take +the cares of the family on her shoulders. He was +now enjoying the fruits of her industry with a +fair credit rating, very different from formerly, a +bank account of which Trudy knew nothing, and +the congenial work of pussyfooting about boudoirs +and guzzling tea while perched on Beatrice’s blue-satin +gondolas.</p> +<p>He no longer needed Trudy. He could see now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +that to be single-handed once more, but with his new +standing and profession, would be a most satisfactory +state of affairs. In fact, if Trudy would only fall in +love with a travelling man and decamp––what a chap +he would soon rise to be! For a broken heart is +often a man’s strongest asset and a woman’s gravest +suspicion. Trudy, however, gave him no hope in +this direction. She hung about her fireplace contrary +to her former plans concerning it. She really +put in an eighteen-hour day as both slavey and +sylph, and seemed filled with everlasting patience +and jazz.</p> +<p>Coming into the Touraine apartment Trudy +found Gaylord showing old prints to some woman +customers and advising as to the smartness of having +them framed and used in sun parlours or any intriguing +little nook. Trudy was <i>de trop</i>––she was +prettier than the prospective customers, but in their +eyes she had only a Winter-Garden personality––and +Gay frowned his welcome.</p> +<p>Had Trudy not come in Gay would have served +cocktails of his own making, which would cause them +to order the prints at fabulous prices; and then sat +in the dusk talking about the occult and the popularity +of Persian pussy cats and how to make pear-and-cottage-cheese +salad and serve it on cabbage leaves, +which was quite the mode. It never does for an +interior decorator, particularly if specializing in boudoirs, +to have a wife, Gaylord decided as his customers +patronized Trudy and departed, Gaylord +seeing them to their car and standing bareheaded +to wave his bejewelled hand as they whirled round +the corner.</p> +<p>He then returned to give Trudy his unbiassed opinion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +“I thought you were going to stay away until +evening,” he said. “You spoiled the sale.”</p> +<p>“Did I? What were you about to do––play soul +mate if they’d take the old things? I’m the one who +found those prints in a second-hand store and had +sense enough to buy the lot. I’m the one who found +the remnants of cretonne you paste them on––and +told you to charge ten dollars each––and I’m the one +who sits out in the little back room and pastes them +on, too!”</p> +<p>She threw her purse down with an angry gesture.</p> +<p>“You are the crudest thing,” he said.</p> +<p>“I slapped you once for calling me a crude little +fool––and the next time you try it I’ll do better than +that!” She was unable to control her temper. “If +you think being a bachelor and languishing in this +place would keep you afloat you’re mistaken. It’s +me––I’m the one that buys the bargains and runs +the sewing machine half the night, sends out the bills +and wheedles the salesmen into looking at you––to +say nothing of doing the housekeeping, and keeping +every good-looking woman afraid of me, yet polite. +Why, if you were alone any real business man could +come in here and start a shop and put you behind +the bench overnight. You’re nothing! You never +were. You lived on a dead man’s reputation until +you married me, and now you’re living on a redheaded +girl’s nerve. I’ll scold as shrilly as I like. +If the neighbours hear, all the better!”</p> +<p>Trudy had lost control of herself. Besides, she +was very tired. “Who told you to wear gray-velvet +smocks in your drawing-room shop and to have +soft ties poured down softer collars? You look a +hundred per cent, better than when you hopped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +round in a check suit that gave you a gameboard appearance. +I did that. If I’d ever worked for +O’Valley as I have for you, thinking I’d get a good +time out of it somehow, I’d have had Mary Faithful +on the run.”</p> +<p>She did not add the rest of her ideas––that Beatrice +O’Valley, not contented with her store of possessions +and avenues of interests, contemplated playing +property doll with this half-portion little snob who +stood before her in his ridiculous smock costume, half +afraid and half sneering.</p> +<p>The interview concluded with Trudy’s going to +the kitchen for some kind of a supper and Gay’s +driving off post haste to see Beatrice.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>When Steve returned from his hurried two-day +trip he asked Beatrice if she realized the amount of +money she was spending.</p> +<p>“Why should I?” she answered, aggrievedly. +Steve looked unusually handsome this afternoon, +and seemed to fit into the antique chair; and, in contrast +to her contemplated property doll, Beatrice felt +amiable and willing to play for favour. “I haven’t +asked you for one quarter of it.”</p> +<p>“That’s the trouble––your father has gone on +paying your bills, and you don’t seem to realize I +am not an enormously rich man––and never +will be, abnormal business conditions having ceased. +We are back where we started, so to speak, and I +don’t look for a time of unheralded prosperity for +some days to come. I was figuring up while I was +away, in detail; and here are the results.” He +handed her a memorandum. “You see? I earn a +splendid living and I have a neat nest egg not to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +despised. But I have no Italian-villa income. Your +father has, so you came back to your father to take +his money and I am merely a necessary accessory to +the entire ensemble.” His voice was bitter.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, Stevuns!” She was quite the romantic +parasite as she came and knelt beside him in coaxing +attitude. “Why, papa wishes me to have everything +I want. He would be terribly worried if he thought +I had to do without a single shoe button!”</p> +<p>“But must all the shoe buttons be of gold?” +Steve interpolated.</p> +<p>She paid no attention to him. “I’m papa’s only +heir––the money is all mine, anyway, and it always +has been. You know how simple papa’s tastes are.”</p> +<p>“Like my own––like those of all busy people who +are doing things. We haven’t time to pamper ourselves.”</p> +<p>“Someone has to buy up the trash! And you +ought to thank us rich darlings of the gods for existing +at all––we make you look so respectable by contrast.” +She waited for his answer.</p> +<p>He rose and went over to the carved mantel, standing +so he could look down the long room crowded with +luxuries.</p> +<p>“But this place isn’t the home of an American +man and his wife. It’s a show place––bought with +your father’s money! And I’ve failed. I’m not +supporting my wife. Good heavens, if I were I’d +have to be cracking safes every week-end to do it. +I can’t make any more money than I am making––and +stay at large––and you cannot go on living off +your father and being my wife. I won’t have it! +I won’t be that kind of a failure!”</p> +<p>“What shall I do with the money, throw it to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +birds?” Her head began to ache, as it always did +when a serious conversation was at hand.</p> +<p>“Wait until it is yours and then spend it on something +for the good––not the delight––of someone +else, or of a great many other people. Be my wife––let +me take care of you,” he begged, earnestly.</p> +<p>Beatrice hesitated. “I couldn’t,” was her final +answer. “I couldn’t manage with the allowance +you give me––don’t worry, dearest, there’s no reason +at all that we shouldn’t have as good a time as there +is. Papa wants us to.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you see what I’m trying to get at?” he +insisted. “Won’t you try to see? Just try––put +yourself in my place, make yourself think with my +viewpoint as a starting place. Suppose you had been +a dreamer of a boy with a pirate’s daring and a poet’s +unreal delusions, and you combined the two to +produce a fortune, a fortune everyone marvelled at, +the lucky turn of the wheel. Suppose you used that +fortune with the same daring and fancy, loving someone +with all your heart, to make money in a regular +business and under the guidance of a well-trained +merchant like your father––and then you married +the person you loved and saw her deliberately belittle +your manhood by going to her father’s house +to live, spending her father’s money, and leaving you +quite alone and without the joyous and needed responsibility +of supporting your wife. Now what would you do?”</p> +<p>“I’d start right in spending my own money for +things I wanted,” she decided, glibly.</p> +<p>“But suppose you did not want things––cluttery, +everlasting things, glaring, upholstered, painted, +carved, what not––lugged from the four corners of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +the earth, not harmonizing with your own aims or +interests? Suppose you wanted to create an individual +and representative home and take care of +it and the guardian angel who presided therein––then +what would you do?”</p> +<p>“Oh––you mean you want another style of house? +Then let’s buy a country tract––and I promise to let +you build and furnish just as you wish. That’s a +bully idea, dear, to have an abrupt contrast to this +house––old-English manor type would be wonderful!”</p> +<p>The dinner gong brought a merciful release. Beatrice +danced through the archway throwing him a +kiss as the rest of her decision.</p> +<p>It was at this identical moment that Steve concluded +it was too late for his wife ever to develop +anything more than a double chin or so.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> +<p>During Beatrice’s house party, at which +twenty or so equally Gorgeous Girls and +their husbands were quartered in the Villa +Rosa, while a string orchestra danced them further +along the road toward nervous prostration each +night, a fire ignited in the offices of the O’Valley +Leather Company.</p> +<p>Steve’s office and Mary’s adjoining room were +damaged by water rather than by the slight blaze +itself and during an enforced recess from work both +Mary and Steve found that a fire in an office building +may cause a loss of time from routine yet be a great +personal boon.</p> +<p>The day following the accident, Steve having been +summoned at midnight to view the flames, Mary +came to the office to try to rescue the files and sweep +aside the débris.</p> +<p>“Nothing is really hurt, but they always mess +things up,” Steve said, coming to the doorway to +hold up a precious record book. “See this? I +wonder why they always leave such a lot of stuff +to clear away. Now the whole extent of damage is +the destroying of that rickety side stairway that is +never used and could have been done away with +long ago. Some boys, playing craps and smoking, left +the makings of the fire and before it touched these +rooms there was water poured into the whole plant. +As a consequence, we have a three-day vacation and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +instead of having the side stairs torn down I’m in line +for a chunk of insurance.”</p> +<p>“Even the tea isn’t spilled from my caddy,” Mary +answered; “Look.”</p> +<p>“Wonder what they used this side stairway for? +It was rickety when I bought the place.” He looked +at the blackened remains of steps.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” Mary answered, absent-mindedly. +She could have added that whenever she looked at +those stairs or their closed door she saw but one +thing––Steve on his wedding day as he came stealing +up to ask about the long-distance telephone call, +aglow with happiness and dreams. For her own +reasons, therefore, Mary did not regret the destruction +of the side stairs.</p> +<p>“They’ve shoved this cabinet over as if they had a +special antagonism to it,” he was saying, righting a +small piece of furniture containing mostly Mary’s +papers. “There––not hurt, is it? Do the drawers +open?” He began pulling them out, one after another. +The last refused to open.</p> +<p>“What’s in this one––it blocks the spring?”</p> +<p>Mary tried her hand at it. “Something wedged +right at the edge. I’m sure I don’t see what it can +be. I never used that drawer for anything but–––”</p> +<p>At their combined jerk the drawer came flying +into space, and with it the remains of a white cardboard +box with the monograms of B. C. and S. O. +entwined by means of a cupid and a tiny wreath of +flowers. Dried cake crumbs lay in the bottom of the +drawer. It was the Gorgeous Girl’s box of wedding +cake which Mary Faithful had found on her desk.</p> +<p>Neither spoke immediately. Finally Mary said: +“I suppose that’s as bad an omen as to break a mirror +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +under a ladder on Friday the thirteenth. Now shall +I have the men sweep the office out? There is no +reason we cannot get to work to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Wait a moment about sweeping out offices and +going to work,” Steve insisted. “If you want to +break the hoodoo you have just brought on yourself +by smashing up wedding cake––let me talk and act +as high priest.”</p> +<p>She shook her head. “You promised, and you’ve +been true-blue––don’t spoil it. Besides, it can do no +good.”</p> +<p>“I want to ask a question,” he insisted. “I’m +not going to break faith with you or take advantage +of knowing what you told me. I shall always try to +appreciate the honour done me, no matter if I am +unworthy. I want to ask a question in as impersonal +a way as if I wrote in to a woman’s column.” He +tried to laugh.</p> +<p>“Ask away.” Mary sat down in the nearest +chair, the broken cardboard box at her feet.</p> +<p>“Why is it that a man can honestly be in love +with the woman he marries and yet in an amazingly +short time find himself playing the cad in feeling disappointed, +discontented, utterly lacking affection? +It’s a ghastly happening. Why is it he saw no handwriting +on the wall? I am not stupid, Mary, neither +am I given to inconstancy––I’ve had to struggle too +much not to have my mind made up once and for all +time. Why didn’t I see through this veneer of a +good time that these Gorgeous Girls manage to have +painted over their real selves? Why did I never +suspect? And what is a man to do when he discovers +the disillusionment? You see it all, there’s no +sense in not admitting it––why do I find myself ill +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +at ease, now tense, now irritable over trifles, now +sulky, despondent––as plainly sulky and despondent +as a wild animal successfully caged and labelled, which +must perforce stay put yet which will not afford its +spectators the satisfaction of walking wistfully from +cage corner to cage corner and yowling in unanswered +anguish!”</p> +<p>“Is it as bad as that?” she asked, softly.</p> +<p>He nodded as he continued: “I sometimes feel +the way the monkish fraternity did at Oxford when +they claimed ‘they banished God and admitted +women.’ I want a man-made world, womanless, +without a single trace of romance or a good time. +Not right, is it? Sometimes I think I’ll crack under +the pretense, go raving mad and scream out the +whole miserable sham under which I live––and every +time I indulge myself in such a reverie I find myself +writing Beatrice an extra check and going with her +to this thing or that, steel-hammer pulses beating at +my forehead and a languor about even the attempt +at breathing.”</p> +<p>Mary would have spoken but he rushed ahead: +“I like this fire, this debris. Most people would +curse at it––it’s real and rather common, sort of plain +boiled-dinner variety. It gives me an excuse to take +time off from the eternal frolic. I’m glad when +there’s a strike or a row and I dig out of town to stay +in a commercial hotel. I have to get away from the +whole tinsel show. And yet it was what I wanted, +was willing to play modern Faust to any Wall Street +Mephistopheles–––”</p> +<p>“And you are sure it wasn’t a Mephistopheles?”</p> +<p>“Of course not––for that much I can draw a deep +breath and give thanks––it was my own luck.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></div> +<p>“Other times, other titles,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“One time you told me what you thought of the +future of American women, the all-round good fellows +of the world––do you remember? I wish you had +not told me. It’s just another thing to irritate. I’m +driven mad by trifles––I’m starved for a big tragedy; +that’s the way this craving for a fortune and a good +time is playing boomerang. I’m so infernally weary +of hearing about the cut-glass slipper heels of some +chorus girl and so hungry to hear about a shipwreck, +a new creed, a daring crime that–––”</p> +<p>“You foolish, funny boy,” she said, taking pity on +his involved analysis, “don’t you see what you have +done? It’s quite the common fate of get-rich-quick +dreamers; you merely symbolized your goal by +Beatrice Constantine, she stood for the combined +relationships of wife, comrade, lady luxury––and you +captured your goal, and the greater effort ceased. +You have had time to examine your prize in microscopic +fashion. It isn’t at all what you intended––but +it is quite what you deserve. No one can make +a lie serve for the truth––at all times and for an +indefinite period. There is bound to come a cropper +somewhere––usually where you least expect it. And +you lied to yourself in the beginning, a passive sort of +falsehood, in merely refusing to see the truth and +groping for the unreal. You had to justify your race +for wealth, so you said, ‘Oho, I’ll love a story-book +princess and let that be my incentive. Story-book +princesses are expensive lovelies and you have to have +money bags to jingle before their fair selves!’ So +you became more and more infatuated with the +fairy-book princess who happened to be in your +pathway––and it was Beatrice. She made you feel +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +that anything your slightly mad and quite unrealizing +young self might do was proper. Just as the boy +with a new air rifle deliberately sets up a target to +shoot away at because the savage in him must justify +hitting something besides the ozone, so you have +merely wooed and won your own falsehood and +disillusionment.”</p> +<p>“You say it rather neatly; but that isn’t all. The +thing is that I’m not game enough to go on and take +the punishment. Are you surprised?”</p> +<p>“No. But are you prepared to give up the thing +which won her?”</p> +<p>“My money? I’ve thought of it.” He folded +his arms and began walking up and down the littered, +water-soaked office. “Would you like me any +better?” he asked, tenderly.</p> +<p>Mary’s eyes grew stormy. “If the men go to +work at once we can have the rugs sent to the +cleaner’s and put down old matting for a temporary +covering––and I can go ahead taking inventory,” +was her answer.</p> +<p>“I see,” Steve made himself respond. “Well––I +didn’t trespass very much,” he whispered as he +passed her to leave the building.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Beatrice regarded the fire as an amusing happening +and before Steve realized what was being done she +had proposed that Gaylord refurnish the office in an +arts-and-crafts fashion. It had long seemed to her +a most inartistic and clumsy place and when Steve +refused her offer and told her that a splint-bottomed +chair and a kitchen chair were his office equipment +some years ago she sent for Gaylord on her own +initiative and told him to beard the lion in the den to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +see if he could win Steve to the cause of painted wall +panels typifying commerce, industry, and such, and +crippled beer steins and so on as artistic wastebaskets.</p> +<p>There had never been an active feud between Gaylord +and Steve; it was always that hidden enmity of a +weak culprit toward a strong man. Neither had +Trudy been able to win Steve by her Titian curls, +baby-blue eyes, and obese compliments. In fact, +Gaylord had avoided Steve the last year. He was +the one Beatrice called upon to play with her, he +accompanied her shopping, even unto the milliner’s, +and had been in New York one time when Beatrice +had gone down to see about buying a moleskin wrap. +Not even Trudy knew that he had actually adopted +a monocle and squired Beatrice round in state.</p> +<p>So he approached Steve with the attitude of “I hate +you and am only waiting to prove it but meanwhile +I’ll play off the friend lizard no matter how painful.”</p> +<p>But after a few “my dear fellows” and “old +dears” and gibes about the disordered office with its +prosaic chairs and Mary Faithful, quite flushed and +plain looking as she dashed round giving orders, +Gaylord found himself being neatly set outside on +the curbstone and told to remain in that exact +position.</p> +<p>“I hate this decorating business,” Steve said in +final condemnation. “I agree with my father-in-law +that when a man approaches me with a book of +sample braids and cretonnes under his arm I feel it +only righteous that he be shot at sunrise––and now +you know how strong you stand with me. I don’t +mind Beatrice having her whirl at the thing. A new +colour scheme as often as she has a manicure; that’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +different. But my office stays as I wish it and +you can’t rush in any globes of goldfish and inkstands +composed of reclining young females with +their little hands forming the ink cup, while a single +spray of cherry blossoms flourishes over the hook I +hang my hat and coat upon. Oh, no, trot back to +your boudoirs and purr your prettiest, but stop trying +to tackle real men.”</p> +<p>Gaylord’s one-cylinder brain had become more +efficient by dint of daily sparring with his wife. So +he retorted: “She is going to make you a present of +it––your birthday gift, I understand. Does that alter +the case?”</p> +<p>Steve looked at him with an even wilder frown. +“Tell her to build a bomb-proof pergola for herself +and mark it for me just the same. When we redecorate +round here it takes Miss Faithful about a half +hour to plan the show. Good-bye, Gay, I’m awfully +rushed. Thanks just as much.”</p> +<p>Gaylord sauntered outside, smiling, apparently as +if he accepted the entire universe. But his one-cylinder +brain harboured an unpleasant secret which +concerned Steve. Gaylord knew that Steve had not +reckoned with his enemies and that he was in no +condition to begin doing so now. Constantine was +no longer at the helm, fearless, respected, and dominating. +Steve was quite the reckless egotist, out of +love with his wife, mentally jaded, and weary of the +game––and his enemies surmised all this in rough +fashion and were making their plans accordingly. +How wonderful it would be if certain catastrophes +did happen. How lucky Beatrice had her own income! +She would never cease ordering bomb-proof +pergolas or bird cages carved from rare woods.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></div> +<p>The next day––before Beatrice and Steve had a +chance to argue the matter out to a fine point––Mark +Constantine had a stroke. It was like the sudden +crashing down of a great oak tree which within had +been hollow and decayed for some time but to all +exterior appearances quite the sturdy monarch. +Without warning he became first a mighty thing +lying day after day on a bed, fussed over and exclaimed +over and prayed over by a multitude of +people. Then he assumed the new and final proportions +of a childish invalid––his fierce, true grasp +of things, his wide-sweeping and ambitious viewpoint +narrowed hastily to the four walls of the sick room. +Instead of the stock-market fluctuation bringing +forth his “Gad, that’s good!” or oaths of disapproval, +the taste of an especially good custard or the way the +masseuse neglected his left forearm were cause for +joy or grief.</p> +<p>Life had suddenly changed into the monotonous +and wearing routine of a broken, lonesome old man +who had plenty of time to think of the past with his +wife Hannah, recalling incidents he had not recalled +until this dull, long day arrived. And after reaching +many conclusions about many things Constantine +was forced to realize that no one particularly cared +for or sought out his opinions. He was placed in the +category of all fallen oaks––someone who would have +one of the largest funerals ever held in the city. And +friends murmured that for Bea’s sake they hoped it +would not be long.</p> +<p>But it was to be long––for with the tenacity of +purpose he had always exhibited Constantine readjusted +himself to the narrow realm of four walls. His +former tyranny toward the business world was now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +exercised toward his daughter and son-in-law, his +sister and his attendants. He resolved to live––or +exist––just as long as life was possible, to vampire-borrow +from those about him all the vitality that he +could, to have every care and comfort and every new +doctor ever heard of called in to attend him; he now +said he wished to live as many years as God willed. +There was a God, now that he was partially paralyzed, +a very real God, to whom he prayed in orthodox +fashion. He wanted to keep remembering the past +with Hannah, to shed the tears for her death which +he had never taken the time to shed, to decide what it +was that had been so wrong in his life in order that +his death and hereafter might be very properly right.</p> +<p>Aunt Belle had taken this new affliction after +the fashion of a Mrs. Gummidge. It affected her +worse than any one else, first because the ridicule and +fault-finding to which her brother had always treated +her were tripled in their amount and quality, and yet +as she was dependent upon this childishly weak +brother she must endure the treatment. Secondly, +she was reminded that her age was somewhat near +Mark Constantine’s age and perhaps a similar fate +lay in store for her. Lastly, it tied her down––propriety +demanded that someone be in the sick room a +share of the time and certainly Beatrice had no +intention of undertaking the responsibility.</p> +<p>Steve had acted as Aunt Belle fancied he would +act, genuinely concerned over the catastrophe and +seeking refuge with this tired old child a greater share +of the time. By degrees Aunt Belle left Steve to play +the role of comforter and companion, since no nurse +ever stayed at the Constantine bedside for longer +than a fortnight. So she was allowed to gambol +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +about in her pinafore frocks and high-heeled shoes, +wondering if her brother had made a fair will, taking +into account the fact that a woman is only as old as +she looks––and with a tidy fortune who knows what +might happen after the proper mourning period?</p> +<p>Beatrice had been prostrated at the news. For +two days she stayed in bed and sobbed hysterically. +Then she was prevailed upon to see her father and to +take the sensible attitude of preparing for a long +siege, as Steve suggested.</p> +<p>“How cold-hearted it sounds––a long siege!” she +reproached.</p> +<p>“But it is true. He will not die––he will live until +that splendid vitality of his has been snuffed out by +a careless law of rhythm, so you may as well buck up +and run in to see him every day and then go about +as usual.”</p> +<p>“A sick room drives me wild. I wish I had taken +a course in practical nursing instead of the domestic-science +things.”</p> +<p>Steve did not answer.</p> +<p>“I can’t bear to think of it. It’s like having life-in-death +in the very house. Oh, Steve, can’t you +talk him into going to a sanitarium? They’d have +so many interesting kinds of baths to try!”</p> +<p>“He won’t mind your parties, if that is what is +bothering you. The only thing he asks is to be left +in peace in his room with plenty of detective stories +and plenty of medical attention, and he won’t know if +you dance the roof off. But if you really want to +hasten the end send Gay up there with plans for +remodelling his room––it will either kill or cure,” he +laughed.</p> +<p>“I must do something to help me forget and make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +it easier for him,” she said, soberly. “I’m going to +try a faith healer––not because I believe in them but +because I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. I +think a new interest would help papa. Would you +try adopting a child or my taking up classical dancing +in deadly earnest?” She was quite sincere and emotionally +wrought up as she came up to him and laid +her head on his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’d take up classical dancing,” he advised.</p> +<p>She gave a sigh of relief. “Yes, it’s what I really +think would be the best. I will dance on the lawn so +papa can watch me.”</p> +<p>He gave vent to his father-in-law’s favourite +expletive, “Gad!” under his breath.</p> +<p>He did not add what was an unpleasant probability: +that, having to assume full responsibility of affairs, +there were likely to be astonishing complications. +Crashed-down oak trees are quite helpless concerning +their enemies, reckoned upon or otherwise, and +Steve, who had never taken count of his foes, would +be called upon to meet them all single-handed.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> +<p>In a jewellery store Trudy Vondeplosshe, wrapped +in wine-coloured velours, was coquetting with +diamond rings under glass and trying to affect +an air of indifference concerning them. With all her +husband’s rise in the world he did not see fit to bestow +upon his wife any substantial token of his +regard. The vague and transitory idea he once entertained +of playing off fairy godfather to her and placing +a fortune at her feet had become past history. +Now that Gay did run a motor and wear monogrammed +silk shirts he saw to it that Trudy had as +little as the law allowed. She still continued remaking +her dresses and haunting remnant counters, +sewing on Gay’s work, playing off the same overstrained, +underfed Trudy as in the first days at the +Graystone apartment. But as it was for a good +time she never thought of faltering.</p> +<p>She had decided, however, that it was time now to +adopt other and more forceful methods of obtaining +the things she craved and felt she had earned. Foremost, +as with many women, was a diamond ring. +After obtaining this she would turn in her wedding +ring for old gold, the price to apply on a platinum circlet +studded with brilliants. For months Trudy’s +eyes had glittered greedily as she observed Gay’s +clientele with their jewelled bags, rings, brooches, +watches, and what not––yet she possessed not a single +gem.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>She had often enough asked Gay for one, to which +he would sneer: “What do you want with a diamond? +You know I’m always on the ragged edge of failing!”</p> +<p>“Because you gamble and drink and are a born +fool,” she protested. “You could make real money +if you would listen to me and keep quiet.”</p> +<p>“I can’t see what that has to do with your wanting +a diamond ring! If I ever make real money you can +have one but not when auto tires are as high as they +are–––”</p> +<p>“And when husbands grow tipsy and drive into +ditches and have to be brought home by horses and +wagons. Oh, no. But you’ll go shopping with +Beatrice and pick out her jewellery and tell her jewels +have souls and a lot more bunk, and then get a +commission as soon as her back is turned! Why +don’t you get me a diamond instead, and omit the +bunk? I’ll take one with a flaw––I’m used to +seconds. You must believe me when I say that, because +I married you.”</p> +<p>Gay no longer feared Trudy; in fact, he felt he had +little use for her. She was an obstacle to his making +an excellent marriage. Through Trudy and all the +rest of the complicated ladder climbing he was now +recognized, and real men were extremely busy these +days getting the tag ends of war-debris business in +shape. It was quite a different situation––he could +have had his choice of several widows. Take it all +in all, he preferred a matron, his days at playing with +debutantes were in the discard. The business of +buying and selling antiques and interior decorating +had so inflated his one-cylinder brain that he really +fancied he needed a mature companionship and +understanding.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></div> +<p>“I’ll buy you a diamond ring, old dear,” he said, +lightly, “when you have me in a corner, hands +up––so set your wits to work and see what you can +do about it.”</p> +<p>It was over their hurried breakfast that the discussion +took place, with Trudy, quite a fright in a +tousled boudoir cap and négligé, scuttling about the +dining room with the breakfast tray and planning +to send out bills, reorder some draperies, and call up +her friends until one of them should offer to take her +to a fashionable morning musical in the near future. +After which she would go down town and make good +at her star act––window wishing.</p> +<p>“You make me so tired I wonder why I don’t clear +out,” she retorted. “You think I’m afraid to buy a +diamond ring and charge it to you? Watch me!”</p> +<p>“Just try it and see what will happen.”</p> +<p>“I will, kind sir.” Dropping him a curtsy, Trudy +repaired to do the dishes and swiggle an oil mop about +the floor briefly. Then she burnt some scented powder +and pulled down the window shades. This constituted +getting the establishment in order, the slavey +having gone tootling off on a party some days +before.</p> +<p>Trudy did not refer to the breakfast-table discussion +before she left the apartment. She was dangerously +sweet, and even went into Gay’s room, where +he was donning his gray-velvet studio blouse for the +morning’s labours. She told him she was quite sure +of securing a fairly good-sized order for some window +shades. Gay did not think it necessary to answer. +He did not glance at her; instead he yawned and +sprinkled toilet water profusely on his pink lawn +handkerchief.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></div> +<p>After a moment’s hesitation she went her own way. +When she had lingered about the jewellery counter +like a wilful yet not quite wicked child––peering down +at the wonderful, enchanting things which mocked +her empty purse; recalling Gay’s first flush of romance +and devotion; her own clever, untiring methods of +pushing him into the front ranks; Mary and Mary’s +little secret, so unsafe in Trudy’s keeping; Beatrice, +who did not know quite how many rings she possessed; +the whole maddening and really uninteresting +tangle––she wondered if she could force Gay to +buy her a ring. Should she boldly order such-and-such +a stone and pick out a setting and present him +with the bill? Why she hesitated she did not know; +she was like all her wilful sisters who gaze and sigh, +pity themselves, and then steal away to Oriental +shops to appease the hunger by a near-silver ring with +a bulging near-precious stone set in Hoboken style.</p> +<p>This Trudy did not do. For some reason or other +she let her errands go by and took a car to Mary’s +office, stopping at the corner to buy her a flower. +Instinctively one connected Mary and flowers as +one associated Beatrice and jewellery.</p> +<p>She found Mary had gone into the old office building +to see about something and that Steve, who +was always as restless as a polar bear when forced +into a tête-à-tête with Trudy, was alone in his office. +He was obliged to ask her to sit down and wait for +Mary. Trudy peered curiously about the rooms. +She had never lost that rare sense of triumph––returning +as a fine lady to the very place where she had +once worked for fifteen per. Smiling graciously at +former associates she imagined that she created as +much excitement as Beatrice’s visits themselves.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></div> +<p>“It seems so good to come back here,” she began +without mercy.</p> +<p>Steve had to lay aside his work and wonder why +Miss Lunk ever let this creature into his private +domain. He would see that it did not happen twice.</p> +<p>“Ah––I suppose,” he knew he answered.</p> +<p>“You are such a busy man; you don’t know how +I admire you.” Trudy tried fresh tactics.</p> +<p>“Um––have you seen the morning papers?”</p> +<p>“Thank you but Gay read them to me at breakfast.... +You never come to our little home, do +you? Too busy, I presume. Or are you one of +those who can forgive everyone but the interior +decorator?” This with an arch expression and a +slight twinkle of the blue eyes––it could not quite +be called a wink.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Vondeplosshe. I leave such +things to Beatrice.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I understand.” Trudy took her cue quickly. +“It is out of your province. You can’t do big, gigantic +things if you bother with doll-house notions. Now +I really prefer––oh, far prefer––men like yourself, +who–––”</p> +<p>Steve started the electric fan whirring.</p> +<p>“Don’t you ever long for camping trips or long +horseback rides––something away from the everlasting +fuss and feathers? I do. Would you believe it?” +she fibbed glibly.</p> +<p>Had Steve been seventy-five he might have believed +her. But he merely nodded and said that if +there was a draft from the fan she could sit outside.</p> +<p>Piqued, Trudy turned to Mary Faithful.</p> +<p>“Mary is a wonderful girl, isn’t she? Of course +you have a Gorgeous Girl, too––but she is for playtime. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +I should think it would mean a great deal to +have Mary for your chief confidante––she is so good, +and yet human and–––”</p> +<p>Steve stood up abruptly and wondered why no +kind friend saw fit to enter at this moment. He +would have really welcomed Trudy’s husband. He +looked at Trudy briefly, it did not take Steve long +these days to look at Gorgeous Girls and Gorgeous +Girl seconds and realize the whole story of their purpose +and struggle––things, to have more gayly coloured +or delicate coloured, gold, silver, velvet, carved, +perfumed or whatever-the-mode-dictated things, +flaunting these priceless sticks and stones in each +other’s faces with pretended friendship.</p> +<p>He did not answer this last lead at conversation, +but, not discouraged, Trudy went on down the list of +her resources.</p> +<p>“How is dear old Mr. Constantine?”</p> +<p>“The same.” Steve thanked fortune his father-in-law +was paralyzed and could furnish a neutral topic +of debate.</p> +<p>“Poor dear. So hard for Bea, too. She says she +will not do much this season. She feels if––if it +should not be much longer, you understand”––a +lowered tone of voice and a sigh––“that she wants +to have nothing on her conscience. Still, a sick room +is wearing, but of course love makes any task easy.”</p> +<p>Steve suppressed a smile. It was surprising how +well this funny little person managed to ape the +jargon and chatter of Bea’s set as well as their mode +of appearance. She did it mightily well, everything +considered, and when she proceeded to offer to go and +sit with the old dear or bring her game board and play +with him Steve released a broad grin as he pictured +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +Constantine in his helpless captive state welcoming +Trudy as an entertainer about as much as he would +have begged for a tête-à-tête with a lady major bent +on conquest.</p> +<p>“She would even marry him if she could dispose of +Gay,” he thought, and rightly, as he watched her.</p> +<p>As she was telling him of the head-dress party she +intended to give for Gay’s birthday and how he must +come because she wanted him to wear a pirate turban, +in came Mary, much flurried over a mistake +made in a shipment, and her nose guilty of a slight +but unmistakable shine.</p> +<p>“Oh, Trudy! Run home––your house is on fire! +Your cretonnes will burn!” she said, half in earnest. +“My dear child, I’m mighty busy. It is so stupid of +Parker!” She turned to Steve. “He made the +original error and I have to keep cross-examining +everyone else to prove to him that I know he is at +fault and that he must ’fess up. But he won’t––people +never want to say: ‘Yes, it is my fault and I’m +sorry,’ do they?”</p> +<p>“Sort of habit since the Garden of Eden, I guess––you +can’t expect it to change now.” Steve had lost +his listless air. All unconsciously he had the same +animated, interested attitude that he had had during +the days of being engaged to the Gorgeous Girl. Trudy +saw at a glance that Mary had not only realized +her starved hopes but that she was quite ignorant +of the fact that she had done so. To Trudy’s mind +it was a most stupid situation; also an inexcusable one. +Here was Mary, the good-looking thing who deserved +a love such as Steve O’Valley’s yet never dared to +hope he would ever think of her twice except if she +asked for a raise in salary. This Trudy knew, also. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +And since it is inevitable that a cave man cannot +exist on truffles, chiffon frocks that must not be +rumpled, and an interior decorator with a ukulele at +his beck and call, Steve had been forced into realizing +Mary’s worth and loving her for it, giving to her the +mature and steady love of a strong man who, like +Parker, had made a mistake and not yet ’fessed up. +Why Mary did not realize that happiness was within +her reach, and why Steve did not realize that Mary +adored him, and why they were not in the throes of +talking over her lawyer and my lawyer and alimony +but we love each other and let the whole world go +hang––was not within Trudy’s jurisdiction to determine. +She only knew what she would have done +and be doing were she Mary––and Steve O’Valley +loved her.</p> +<p>She felt the situation was as unforgivable and +stupid as to have Gay offer her a two-carat diamond +ring and to have her say: “No, Bubseley; sell it and +let us use the money to start a fund for heating the +huts of aged and infirm Eskimos. The Salvation +Army has never dropped up that way.”</p> +<p>The great miracle had happened. And, envying +Mary a trifle and pitying Steve for not having won +his cause, Trudy justified a hidden resolve of long +ago: To use Mary’s secret in case Beatrice became +overbearing or impossible. It was mighty fine +plunder, upon which she flattered herself she had a +single-handed option.</p> +<p>So she released Steve from the agony of conversation, +and watching the tender, happy look as he talked +to Mary over some other detail of the cropper, she +went inside to Mary’s office to powder her own little +nose and realize that she was no nearer to obtaining a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +diamond ring than when she first began to crave for +one.</p> +<p>“I’m going to bundle you off,” Mary informed her. +“I really must––or was it anything special?”</p> +<p>It was all Trudy could do not to offer to play the +confidential bosom friend and urge Mary to show +Beatrice where she stood. But somehow the brisk +business atmosphere, which was very real and +brusque, prevented her from saying anything except +that she had wanted to talk to her. She was lonesome––she +was going to come some evening and +have a good, old-time visit.</p> +<p>“Of course––just let me know when.”</p> +<p>“Oh”––archly––“are you busy on certain evenings?”</p> +<p>“Sometimes. French lessons; theatre; general +odd jobs.”</p> +<p>“No particular caller?”</p> +<p>“No,” Mary laughed.</p> +<p>“I thought perhaps––you know, one time I came +in and–––”</p> +<p>“You came one time and found Mr. O’Valley,” +Mary hastened to add. “Yes, I remember, but that +was an unusual occurrence. He came in on business +and when he discovered I did not object to a pipe––he +stayed.”</p> +<p>Trudy was disappointed. “Did Beatrice ever +know?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know myself.” Mary was determined to +win out. “I can’t see why she should––it would not +interest her. She never listens to things that do not +interest her.... You won’t know Luke. He +grows like a weed.”</p> +<p>Trudy found herself dismissed. She did not know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +just how it had come about but Mary was smiling +her into the elevator and Trudy was sinking to the +ground floor feeling that though it was none of her +business unless she got a diamond ring she was just +going to make other people unhappy, too.</p> +<p>Why this conclusion was reached was not at all +clear to Trudy any more than to the rest of the world. +But after all, it is only fair to leave something for the +psychologists to debate about. At all events, it was +the definite conclusion at which she arrived.</p> +<p>She could not resist paying a fleeting return visit +to the largest of the jewellery stores. After which she +told herself that it was little short of going without +shoes or stockings through the streets to have been +married the length of time she had been married and +to possess not a single diamond.</p> +<p>Returning home for a canned luncheon she discovered +Gaylord humming a love song and strumming +on his ukulele.</p> +<p>“I say, old dear,” he began, “I have had the greatest +luck! I call it nothing short of a fairy tale.” +He pointed at his neckscarf. Coming near, Trudy +bent over and gave way to a shrill scream. A handsome +diamond pin reposed in the old-rose silk.</p> +<p>“Where––where did you get it?” she managed to +articulate.</p> +<p>“Beatrice really––the result of the raffle for the +children’s charity. You remember we took tickets? +She donated this scarfpin, and this morning Jill +Briggs came in and presented the trophy. My +number was the winning one: 56.”</p> +<p>“She made you win it. You know she did, you +toadying little abomination! You fairly lick her +boots––and she has to tip you occasionally. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +you sit there wearing that pin and never offering to +have it set in a pin for me. You dare to keep it––you +dare?” She lost her self-control.</p> +<p>Gay sprang up in alarm, the ukulele being the only +weapon handy, holding her off at arm’s length. “How +low!” he chattered. “How d-disgustingly low–––”</p> +<p>“Is it? I’ll show you––I’ll show you whether or +not you can wear diamond stickpins while I have to +endure a wedding ring like a washwoman’s!”</p> +<p>Before Gay knew what was happening Trudy had +left the house. A half hour later a suave clerk’s +voice from the jewellery store was asking him to step +down at once, his wife had requested it, she had +decided on a ring for herself but wished his seal of +approval––so did the store––and a small deposit––would +he be able to be with them shortly?</p> +<p>He would, struggling with a man-size rage. After +all, the little five-eighths-carat stone he had so proudly +adorned his bosom with would be dearly paid for in +the end. That was what came of marrying beneath +him, he reproached himself as he locked up the apartment +and went down to the store. To make a scene +in a fifty-cent café was not worth the effort, Trudy +had once proclaimed, but to run the gauntlet of real +rough-house emotion in a jewellery store frequented +by his clientele would be social suicide. The only +thing was to make Beatrice pay a larger commission +on the things for her new tea house so that he could +pay for this red-haired vixen’s ring. But this would +not in the least dim the red-haired vixen’s triumph, +which was the issue at stake. From that moment +he began really to hate Trudy.</p> +<p>To her amazement he greeted her in honeyed tones, +approved the ring, and suggested that the wedding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +ring be turned in for old gold and replaced by a +modern creation and so on, produced a deposit, and +walked out with Trudy, who wore the new symbol +of triumph on her finger, proposing that they lunch +downtown. He was determined to carry it through +without a moment’s faltering.</p> +<p>Even Trudy was nonplussed. Once the treasure +was secure in her possession she told herself it had +been so easy that she was a fool not to have tried it +before––she even complimented Gay on his scarfpin. +But she began hating him also. No one would have +suspected it, to watch these diamond-adorned young +people guzzling crab-meat cocktails and planning +fiercer raids on Beatrice O’Valley’s pocketbook.</p> +<p>Moreover, Trudy did not change in her decision to +make someone unhappy. She found that possessing +a diamond ring did not remove her discontent––and a +shamed feeling stole over her, causing her to wonder +how loudly she had screamed at Gay and how she +must have looked when she started to strike him in her +blind rage; how horrible it was to go off on tangents +just because you wanted rings on your fingers and +bells on your toes when all the time the world did +contain such persons as Mary Faithful, who did +not choose to claim a paradise which longed to be +claimed.</p> +<p>Trudy was unable to keep her fingers out of the +pie. She found herself naturally gravitating over to +see Beatrice. Ostensibly she wanted to display her +new ring and talk about Gay’s luck and the daring +gypsy embroideries he had just received from New +York but really to tell her Steve O’Valley, supposedly +enslaved cave man, loved another and a plainer +woman than her own gorgeous self.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></div> +<p>She found Beatrice in a négligé of delicately embroidered +chiffon with luxurious black-satin flowers +as a corsage. She had seldom seen her look as lovely; +even the too-abundant curves of flesh were concealed +behind the lace draperies. She seemed this day of +days to fit into the background of the villa, as if some +old master had let his most adored brain child come +tripping from a tarnished frame––a little lady in old +lace, as it were.</p> +<p>Beatrice had taken up a new activity since her +father’s stroke. At first the stroke had frightened, +then bored, then amused her. She really liked +having what she termed a “comfortable calamity” in +the family. It was something so new to plan for and +talk about, such a valid excuse if she did not wish to +accept invitations, and an excellent reason for runaway +trips to Atlantic City or New York “to get +away from it all for a little––poor, dear papa.”</p> +<p>So she sat with her father rather more than one +would have expected, made him listen to opera +records which drove him to distraction, talked to +him of nothing, and tried to be a little sister to the +afflicted in a pink-satin and cream-lace setting.</p> +<p>She had lost her interest in Trudy––Trudy no +longer amused or frightened her. And Gay had +become so useful and attentive that had the truth +about the raffle been known it would be the astonishing +information that as Beatrice donated the tie +pin she decided she should pick the future owner––and +Gay was the logical candidate to her way of +thinking.</p> +<p>Also she was quite contented with Steve. He let +her alone and he adored her––she never doubted that. +He wanted her to have everything she wished––and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +that was the biggest, finest way to show one’s love +for another. It was the only way that she had ever +known existed. Of course all brides have silly notions +of perpetual adoration, that sort of thing, and +Steve was a cave man first and last, bless his old +heart, but they had passed any mid-channel which +might exist and were happy for all time to come. +They seldom quarrelled, and she no longer tried to +make Steve over to her liking in small ways, and he +seldom offered her suggestions. Moreover, he was so +good to her father––and of course everything was as +it should be. It was simply the rather drab fashion +in which most lives are lived, and Beatrice was quite +contented. She had never gotten another toy dog, +not even as a contrast to Tawny Adonis. Really, +Gay answered a multitude of needs!</p> +<p>But Trudy was a real person––and a constant reminder +of what Beatrice herself might have been, and +therefore Beatrice never ceased to envy her or to +picture how much better she could do were she in +Trudy’s place. She preferred not having her about. +Besides, Trudy was impossible in Italian villas––she +belonged in a near-mahogany atmosphere with +cerise-silk drapes and gaudy vases. Age-old elegancies +did not harmonize with her vivid self.</p> +<p>So she was not overly cordial in greeting Trudy. +But Trudy with an eye to mischief managed to draw +her little lady-in-old-lace hostess into a heart-to-heart +talk. And before the afternoon ended Beatrice +had experienced the first real shock of her life. Her +husband smoked a pipe in Mary Faithful’s living +room and never told her; and Mary Faithful admitted +she loved someone very much and was with +him each day in business and so on; and Trudy had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +seen the smile pass between them which signifies the +perfect understanding! And oh, she did not know a +tenth of it, deary; not a tenth of it! It was one of +those subtle, hidden things, nothing tangible or +dreadful––like a purgatorial state of mind which may +result in brimstone or lovely angels with harps. +Neither could she do anything about it since they +were both perfect dears and always would be. Not +for worlds, in Trudy’s estimation, would they ever +take it upon themselves to prove the brittleness of +vows.</p> +<p>After which Beatrice thanked Trudy, wishing her +a speedy death by way of gratitude, going to her +room to decide what her attitude should be.</p> +<p>To accuse Steve was crude; besides, she must be +positive that it was true. To get up an affair herself +would be no heart balm since she had never ceased +having affairs––well-bred episodes, rather, perfectly +harmless when all is said and done, quite like Steve’s, +for that matter! She could not find a new interest in +life until she had reduced at least twenty pounds, +since her dieting and exercises required all surplus +will power and thought. She would go away only +her plans were made for months ahead. She could +not tell her father––the shock might kill him.... +There was really nothing left to do but suffer––be +wretched and wonder if it was true. A horrid state +of uncertainty––to ask herself how it could ever have +happened and what would be the end, and terrible +things––just terrible things! No matter how large a +check she might write to buy herself a new toy it +would have no bearing whatsoever upon the matter. +She wished to heaven Trudy had confined her gossip +to the funny little manicure with champagne eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +who flirted with someone else’s husband! This was +her reward for having taken up with a shopgirl +person!</p> +<p>The final conclusion she reached was that she did +not believe a word Trudy had told her.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Beatrice took occasion to go to see Mary +within the next few days. In a particularly +fetching costume of green satin with fly-away +sleeves steadied by silver tassels and a black hat +aglow with iridescent plumes she surprised Mary at +an hour when Steve would be absent. On this occasion +Beatrice dressed to dazzle and intimidate one of +her own sex. But the result was unsatisfactory. +She found Mary quite passable in cloud-blue organdie, +a contented look in her gray eyes.</p> +<p>Her own satin costume and plumed bonnet +seemed a trifle theatrical. She wished she had worn +her trimmest tailored effect to impress upon this tall +young woman that no one else could wear tailor +things so well as Mrs. Beatrice O’Valley if she chose +to do so.</p> +<p>“What can I do for Mrs. O’Valley?” Mary said, +almost patronizingly, Beatrice fancied.</p> +<p>“I came in to say hello. I’ve neglected you lately. +But you have been so horrid about not coming to +see my gardens that you deserve to be neglected.” +Her dove-coloured eyes watched Mary closely. “Besides, +I want to get something for Mr. O’Valley’s +desk––as a surprise. You must help me because, as +I have realized, you know so much more about him +than I do.... There, am I not generous?”</p> +<p>“Very.” Mary surmised that something of +greater importance lay behind the call than showing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +off the satin costume or selecting a surprise for +Steve.</p> +<p>“What do you suggest? I’m such a frivolous +person my husband never tells me his affairs or +wishes. The rugs might be in rags and he would +never ask me to replenish. I understand now so +much more clearly than ever before why business +men and women are prone to fall in love with each +other; they see each other so constantly under tests +of each one’s abilities. They have to ask each other +favours and grant them. Sometimes it is a loan of a +pencil sharpener, more often it must be the aid of the +other fellow’s brain to help solve a problem. And +they are so shut away from my world. I’m just the +pretty mischief-maker who squanders the dollars, +and by and by, when self-pity sets in, they find there +is a mutual bond of admiration and sympathy. +Quite a step toward love, isn’t it? As I came in here +to-day I could not help thinking of how beautifully +you keep business house for my husband. Why, +Mary Faithful, aren’t you afraid I am going to be +jealous?” She was laughing, but the intention was +to have the laugh blow away and the sting of the +truth remain.</p> +<p>Mary knew this––and Beatrice knew that she did. +So trying to make herself as formidable as a bunch of +nettles Mary took heed to answer:</p> +<p>“I’m afraid you have been reading novels––the +ones where the business woman grows paler and more +interesting looking each day and somehow happens to +be wearing a tempting little chiffon frock when the +firm fails and the young and handsome junior partner +takes refuge in her office and proceeds to brandish +a gun and say farewell to the world. You see, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +don’t come down to play with us enough to know +what prosaic rows there are over pencil sharpeners +or who has spirited away the drinking cup or why the +window must be six inches from the top because So-and-so +has muscular rheumatism. I don’t think +you are fair, Mrs. O’Valley, and I’m going to risk +being quite unpopular by telling you that you have +no right to say such things even in jest.”</p> +<p>Mary’s eyes were very honest and her face seemed +even firmer of chin as she leaned her elbows on her +desk, looking up at this pretty figurine in satin and +plumes.</p> +<p>“Do you fancy it is any fun to go to work at thirteen +or fourteen? To rush through breakfast to +stand in a crowded car, to have to make your heart +very small as the Chinese say, in order to appreciate +the pennies and keep them until they become dollars––when +all of you longs to play Lady Bountiful? To +rub elbows with untruthful mischief-makers, coarse-mouthed +foremen, impossible young fools who wish +to flirt with you and whom you do not dare to rebuke +too sharply; to take your hurried noon hour with little +food and less fresh air and come back to the daily +grind; to walk home or hang on to the tag end of a +street-car strap and finally get to your room or your +home so tired in body and mind that you wish you +had no soul, protesting faintly against girls and +women having to be in business?</p> +<p>“No, I don’t think you do realize. Or to run errands +icy-cold days, down slushy streets or slippery +hills? To carry great bundles of such daintiness as +you are wearing and leave them at the doors of big +houses such as your own, numbed, hungry, envious––and +not understanding the wherefore of it? To +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +catch glimpses of warm halls, the sound of a piano +playing in a flower-scented salon, to see girls your +own age in dainty silk dresses sitting in the window +and looking at you curiously as you go down the +steps? Oh, I could tell you a great deal more, Mrs. +O’Valley.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“Eventually some of us survive and some do not––which +is another story! Those of us who do, who +endure such days that we may go to night school, and +who wear mended gloves and queer hats, forgoing +the cheap joys of our associates––we do forge ahead +and grow grimmer of heart and graver of soul. We +realize that we are earning everything we are getting––perhaps +more––only we cannot get the recognition +we deserve. We are quite different from what you +stay-at-home women fancy. Tempting chiffon +frocks and love affairs de luxe with handsome junior +partners are farthest from our thoughts. We plan +for lonely old age––a home and an annuity, a trip +to Europe or some other Carcassonne of our thwarted +selves. We revel in things as you women do––but +we revel in them because people are shut away from +us. You women shut away people that you may +revel in things.</p> +<p>“All this time the handsome junior partners and +so on for whom we keep business house and through +propinquity are supposed to love––they have fallen +in love with sheltered girls such as your own self, and +everything is quite as it ought to be. Now do you +really think the capable business women of to-day +are letting their abilities be spent in useless rebellion +against their fate and loving the members of the +firm in Victorian fashion or doing their work intelligently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +and earning their wage? I hardly think +there is room for an argument. You must understand +that the years of errand girl, night school, +underpaid clerk have taken out of us a certain capacity +for enjoyment which you women have had +emphasized. But thank God it has also taken from +us a capacity for hysterical suffering, for going on +the rocks when we see some joy we crave yet know +can never be ours!”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Beatrice murmured, wishing Steve would +come in or else Mary be called to the telephone. +“Oh–––”</p> +<p>“But I do think there is a certain justice developed +among modern business women which home women +do not comprehend as a rule. Oh, not that I underestimate +the home women or the sheltered women. +There is a distinction between the two––but I say +that the business woman who earns a man’s wage +and does his work has a certain squareness, for want +of a better term, which makes her say, ‘If I earn +something it is mine and I shall not hesitate thus +to label it. Look out––any one who tries to take it +from me!’ Do you see?”</p> +<p>Mary paused, annoyed at what she had been prevailed +upon to say, and wondering if by good fortune +her opinions had been delivered to empty ears.</p> +<p>“So you think you would fight for something to +which you felt entitled?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps.” The gray eyes had a warrior’s +strength in them. “Fight, win it, and then spend +no time in sentimental regrets. We learn one thing +that all women should learn in this great age of selection: +That you must earn the things you win, and +that if you do so you will most likely keep them.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div> +<p>“And if you felt that you had earned something––and +another woman had not––you would play off +the conqueror and take the spoils?”</p> +<p>“If I felt it the right thing to do.”</p> +<p>Feeling as confused as a bank cashier when caught +studying a railroad map Mary hastened to suggest +a picture of Beatrice handsomely framed as a surprise +for Steve. She was sure he would like nothing any +better.</p> +<p>Beatrice felt chirked up upon hearing this. She +told herself that Trudy was an inveterate gossip and +this queer young person must be thinking aloud +about revolutions in Russia or something like that; +anything else was too absurd. So she repeated her +invitation to come to see the gardens with their jewel-like +pools and riotous masses of colour, and went +on her way to select a most gorgeous frame for a +most gorgeous portrait of herself.</p> +<p>Steve expressed his thanks for the surprise picture +quite properly, and after giving it a few days of prominence +on his desk he relegated it to a shelf beside a +weather-beaten map of the Great Lakes which had +always been in the office.</p> +<p>And here another phase of the Gorgeous Girl’s +effort to do something and exercise her faculties occurred. +Though she regarded Trudy’s gossip as absurd +she did not forget it. No woman would. It +lay in waiting until the right moment.</p> +<p>Her father’s illness and Steve’s worried look as he +came home each night caused Beatrice to cast about +for something noble and remarkable to do. The +conclusion she reached was that it was her duty to +retrench; she was not going to have floor-scrubbing +duchesses corner all the economy feats. She would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +make it the mode to live simply, even be penurious +in some ways––now that she had the Villa Rosa and a +season’s budget of frocks. She began looking over +the monthly bills in deadly earnest. The result was +a blinding headache which prevented her going in to +see her father. She retired to her room in cream lace +with endless strings of coral, and left word for Steve +to drop in on his way to his own room.</p> +<p>“Deary, I’ve been too extravagant,” she began +faintly as he opened the door. She reached out her +hand to find his.</p> +<p>He brought a chair over beside the chaise-longue +and sat down obediently, holding the small, fragrant +fingers in his own. “I’d be mighty glad if you felt +you could live more simply.”</p> +<p>“You duck! Just what I’m about to do. I’m +going to be the loveliest Queen Calico you ever did +see––I’ve no doubt but what I’ll be making you a +beefsteak pudding before long.”</p> +<p>Steve smiled. “Who will take this castle of gloom +from under us?”</p> +<p>“Oh! We may as well stay here––I don’t mean +that sort of retrenching––I mean in other ways. I’m +not going to give expensive bridge parties or keep +three motors and a saddle horse––I can’t ride any +more, anyway––and I’m not going to have a professional +reader for papa. Aunt Belle, you, and I can +manage that––that will take fifteen dollars a week +from the expenses. Besides, I am going to have +three-course dinners from now on––no game, fish, +or extra sweet. That will make a difference––in +time. I shall not buy the new dinner set I had halfway +ordered––it was wonderful, of course, but I have +no right to use money for nonsense. Papa can give +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +it to me for my birthday if he wants to. Gifts don’t +count, do they, Stevuns?</p> +<p>“Then there is the servant question. Now cook +is seventy-five dollars a month; the three maids are +fifty each, besides all they steal and waste; the laundress +and her helper, the chauffeur and all the garden +men; the food, light, heat––to say nothing of extra +expenses; my parties and trips and the enormous +bills for taxes and upkeep that papa pays––I’m +afraid to say how much it comes to each month. But +it is going to stop! Then my clothes––I’m just +ashamed to think––while you, poor dear, exist on +nothing–––Oh, thank you, Elsie.” A maid had +brought in a supper tray.</p> +<p>“I didn’t want to come downstairs, so I sent for +some lunch.” She watched Steve’s amused expression. +“Aunt Belle gets on my nerves and unless we +are having people in, the room is too big to have a +family meal.”</p> +<p>On the tray was a dish heaped with tartlettes aux +fruits, cornets à la crème, babas au rhum, petits +fours, madeleines, and Napoléons. There was another +dish filled with marrons glacés and malaga +grapes preserved in sugar. A few faint wedges of +bread and butter pointed the way to the pot of iced +chocolate and the pitcher of whipped cream.</p> +<p>“Well,” Steve ventured, looking at the tray, “I’m +afraid I don’t agree–––”</p> +<p>“I know your ideas. You think I ought to be +frying chops for you and giving praise because I have +a nineteen-dollar near-taffeta dress. I can just see +you walking round a two-by-four back yard measuring +the corn and putting the watermelons into eiderdown +sleeping bags so they won’t freeze; then telling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +everyone at the shop what an ideal home life you +lead! No, deary, I’m retrenching because it’s a +novelty, and you would like to retrench–––”</p> +<p>“Because I may be forced to do so. I hate +to worry you––I never mean to unless there is no +other way out––but I must warn you that the abnormal +war conditions are no longer inflating business +and everyone is watching his step. I cannot take +your father’s place; he carved it out step by step. I +fairly aeroplaned to the top and found that while +I was sitting there in fancied security other people +were busy chopping down the steps and I should find +myself having a great old fall down to earth. +Now–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t tell any more things,” she murmured, deep +in a fruit tart. “I can’t understand. You are a big, +strong man. Go keep your fortune; let me play. +I’ll retrench for fun, and you must love me for it.”</p> +<p>“But you are not sincere,” he protested. “You +don’t earn anything. You don’t save anything–––”</p> +<p>Beatrice sat upright, laying aside her plate and +fork. “So you believe that, too,” she half whispered.</p> +<p>“See here,” Steve added, in desperation. “I +wish we were back in the apartment––or a simple +house. I wish we kept a cook and a maid and you +had a simple outfit of clothes and a simple routine. +I wish we were just folks––you know the sort––you +don’t find them any place else but America––it’s +a tremendous chance to be just folks if you would +only realize. I feel as if this were a soap-bubble +castle, as if we were deliberately playing a wrong +game all round.”</p> +<p>“You tell papa,” she begged; “and if he thinks I’m +unhappy he will write me another check.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></div> +<p>“Then the retrenching is to be the elimination of +the fifteen-dollar-a-week professional reader, who +needs the work and earns the money, and two courses +from our already aldermanic meals? What else?”</p> +<p>“I shall send the silver to the bank and use plate. +The smartest people do that. I shall make aunty +embroider my monograms; she can as well as not––the +last were frightfully expensive. I’m going to +bargain sales after this, and take cook and drive out +to the Polish market. Why, things are two and +three cents a pound cheaper–––”</p> +<p>Steve rose abruptly, tipping over the dainty chair +as he did so. He tried to straighten out the pinky +rug and set the chair properly upon it. Then he +squared off his shoulders and dutifully stooped to +kiss his economical little helpmate.</p> +<p>“All right, darling,” he said, glibly, feeling that +Gorgeous Girls were get-rich-quick men’s albatrosses, +“that will be very amusing for you. It will tide +you over until the horse-show season. Now if you +don’t mind I’m going below to ask what the chances +are for some roast beef!”</p> +<p>Toward Christmas, when Beatrice had gone to +New York with friends and Mark Constantine discovered +that dying is ever so much harder than death, +Mary told Steve that she was considering a new position, +with a firm dealing in fabrics, a firm of old and +honourable reputation.</p> +<p>She laid the letter from her prospective employers +on his desk, in almost naïve fashion. It was as if +she wanted to show this was no woman’s threat but +a bona-fide and businesslike proposition. And if she +blushed from sheer foolish joy at the disappointed +and protesting expression that came into his face it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +was small solace after the struggle she had undergone +before she made herself take this step.</p> +<p>“You are not going,” he began, angrily. “I’m +damned if you do!”</p> +<p>“Oh, my dear, my own dear,” she murmured +within. Outwardly she shook her head briskly and +added, “Yes, I am. The hours––the salary–––”</p> +<p>“The deuce take that stuff! How much more +money do you want me to pay you? How few hours +a day will you consent to work? You know so well +it has been you who have done your own slave driving. +Besides, I can’t get on without you.”</p> +<p>“You must; I haven’t the right to stay.”</p> +<p>Steve stood up, crumpling the letter in his hand. +“You mean because of what I said––that time?”</p> +<p>“Partly; partly because I find myself disapproving +of your transactions.”</p> +<p>“They are a safe gamble,” he began, vehemently.</p> +<p>“Are they? I doubt it. Don’t ask me to stay. +I want to remain poised and content. If I cannot be +radiantly happy I can be content, the sort of old-lavender-and-star-dust +peace that used to be mine.”</p> +<p>“Have I ever said things, made you feel or do–––”</p> +<p>“Oh, no.” As she looked at him the gray eyes +turned wistful purple. “But it is what we may say +or do, Mister Penny Wise.”</p> +<p>Steve looked at the crumpled letter. “So you +are going over to staid graybeards who deal in cotton +and woollens, and play commercial nun to the end––is +that it?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And you do care?” he persisted, brutally.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered, defiantly.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t care about fool laws––they are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +mighty thin stuff. I love you,” he told her with +quiet emphasis.</p> +<p>Mary did not answer but the purple of the eyes +changed back to stormy gray.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you say something? Abuse me, claim +me–––”</p> +<p>“I haven’t the courage even if I have the right,” +she said, presently. “Besides, the last year I have +been loving an ideal––the Steve O’Valley who existed +one time and might still exist if other things +were equal. But in reality you are a prematurely +nerve-shattered, blundering pirate; not my Steve.” +She spoke his name softly. “The failure of my ideal––and +it’s a little hard to live with and work with +such a failure. My hands are tied, yet my eyes see. +Besides, there is Luke to think about and care for +until some other woman does it. I cannot endure +this tangle; neither can I get you out of it. So I +am going away. And I’ll keep on loving my ideal +and find the old-lavender-and-star-dust sort of +peace.”</p> +<p>“You are not going!” he repeated, sharply, taking +her hand. “Do you hear? I love you. I have +loved you enough to keep silent about it ever since +that day. Does it mean nothing to you?”</p> +<p>“Don’t say it again––it is so hopeless, part of the +tangle. You haven’t the faintest idea how hopeless +it is; you are so involved you cannot judge. My boy, +don’t you see that the whole trouble lies in getting +things you have never earned? The sort of joy you +people indulge in and try to hold as your own is a +state of mind and emotion from which no lessons +may be learned––calm, stagnant pools of superlative +surface pleasure. No one learns things worth while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +when he is too happy or too successful. That is +why success is a wiser and more enduring thing when +it comes at middle age. The young man or woman +has not been tried out, has not had to struggle and +discover personal limitations. It’s the struggle that +brings the wisdom.</p> +<p>“But when you have a ready-made stock-market +fortune handed to you, and a Gorgeous Girl wife, +and the world comes to fawn upon you––you soon +become intoxicated with a false sense of your own +achievements and values. It does not last––nor +does it pay. Such joy periods are merely recuperative +periods. By and by something comes along +and bumps into you and you are shoved out into the +struggling seas––the learning and conquering game. +It is not a sad state of affairs––but a mighty wise one. +Then how can you, who have never earned, expect +a joy to be yours forever?”</p> +<p>“You have struggled and earned. You have the +right to love me!”</p> +<p>“Perhaps––but you cannot hide behind my skirts +and claim the same right. I shall give you up. +Why, this is no tragedy––it is the way many commercial +nuns find their lives are cast. Commercial +nuns, like their religious sisters, serve a novitiate––their +vocation being tested out. We who find that +the things of our fancy are husks leave them behind +and go on in our abilities. We are needed women +to-day; we must have recognition and respect. We +possess a certain unwomanly honesty according to +old standards, which makes us say such things as I +have said to you. I love you, the ideal of you; yet +I am hopeless to realize it. I refuse to keep on making +my petty moan for sympathy when all the time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +the bigger part of me demands work and contentment––and +things just like Gorgeous Girls.”</p> +<p>“But there must be a way out. I can’t lose you. +Do you know what it will mean?”</p> +<p>“I fancy I do.” The gray eyes were so maternal +that Steve felt comforted.</p> +<p>“Are you pushing me out of a stagnant joy pool?” +he tried saying lightly.</p> +<p>“Perhaps I’m heading that way when I stop serving +you before all else.”</p> +<p>“Mary, Mary, quite contrary”––he gave her a +gentle little shake––“say it all again. Then tell +me if this is a mood and you’ll change your mind +and stay. You must stay––or else you don’t love +me.”</p> +<p>“Eternal masculine! That we love to be beaten, +cry loudly, tell our neighbours, but we must prove +our affections by crawling back to have you kiss the +bruises.” She shook her head. “You cannot believe +that the world recognizes a difference between +women with sentiments and sentimental women! +Why, my boy, do you know that convictions, real +convictions, do make a convict of a man, put a +mental ball and chain on him which he can never +deny? I have told you my convictions––I am convinced +I should be doing wrong to both of us to +stay. I shall go––and love my ideal and spend my +salary in soothing things.”</p> +<p>“I’m not afraid of a divorce,” he found himself +insisting.</p> +<p>“Nor I. But should you get one I would not +marry you.”</p> +<p>“Not ever?” he asked.</p> +<p>Unconsciously they both looked at the photograph +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +of the Gorgeous Girl smiling down on them in serene +and frivolous fashion.</p> +<p>“Not ever,” she told him, turning away.</p> +<p>There was a directors’ meeting, which Steve was +obliged to attend. He knew he sat about a table +smoking innumerable cigars without a coherent idea +in his head as to what was being said or considered. +When he rushed back to the office Mary had gone +home and left a note tucked in his blotter. He did +not know that Beatrice had dropped in and discovered +it, reading it with great satisfaction and carefully +replacing it so as to have the appearance of +never having been disturbed. All it said was:</p> +<p>“I shall go to the Meldrum Brothers on the +fifteenth.––M. F.”</p> +<p>He tore the note up in a despairing kind of rage +and wrote Mary as impetuous a love letter as the +Gorgeous Girl had ever received. Five minutes +after writing it he tore that up, too. Then he called +himself several kinds of a fool and dashed out to order +an armful of flowers sent to her apartment. He +had his supper in a grill room, to give him a necessary +interlude before he went home. He walked round +and round a city square watching the queer, shuffling +old men with their trays of needles and pins, wrinkled-faced +women with fortune-telling parrots, and silly +young things prancing up and down, bent on mischief. +Something about human beings bored him; he regretted +exceedingly that he was one himself; and at +the same tune he wished he might countermand the +florist’s order. He took a taxi home and wondered +what apology he should make for being late. He had +forgotten that there was a dinner party!</p> +<p>In silver gauze with an impressive square train +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +Beatrice greeted him, to say he might as well remain +invisible the rest of the evening, it would look too +absurd to have him appear an hour late with some +clumsy excuse––and as there was an interesting +Englishman who made an acceptable partner for +her everything was taken care of. Papa, minus the +professional reader, was lonesome. He had discovered +an intricate complaint of his circulation and +would welcome an audience.</p> +<p>With relief Steve stole away to Constantine’s room +and amid medicine bottles and boxes, air cushions, +hot-water bags, and detective stories, he listened with +half an ear to the reasons why his blood count must +be taken again and what horse thieves the best of +doctors were anyhow!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> +<p>The fifteenth of December Mary Faithful left +the office of the O’Valley Leather Company, +carrying the thing off as successfully as +Beatrice O’Valley carried off her wildest flirtation. +As Mary had often said: “When you can fool the +letter man and the charwoman you have nothing to +fear from the secret service.”</p> +<p>And no employee of the office suspected that anything +lay beneath the surface reasons given for +changing firms. She accepted the handsome farewell +gift with as much apparent pleasure as if she +were to be married and it were a start toward her +silver chest. Mary, too, had learned how to pretend. +Nor did she permit Steve to come snarling––masculine +fashion of sobbing––at her in vain protests +trying to shake her from her resolve.</p> +<p>During the last days of rushed work to help her +successor find the way comparatively easy Mary +kept Steve at arm’s length. The same strange joy +at having told him her secret and released the tension +was being relived again in knowing that she was +to leave the tangle with the Gorgeous Girl in command +of it, and go live her commercial nun’s existence +in the offices of unromantic old graybeards who +merely thought of her as a mighty clever woman who +would not demand an assistant.</p> +<p>Mary felt that she had truly passed her commercial +novitiate; she made herself admit that a commercial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +life was hers for all time. She would leave a forbidden +world of romance, watching Luke become a +six-footer and an embryo inventor as her special +pride and pleasure. It was good to have it settled, +to have it a scar, pale and calm, throbbing only under +extreme pressure. She even welcomed Beatrice’s +hurried visit to the office and met with gentle patience +her half-veiled reproaches for leaving her husband’s +employ.</p> +<p>“I can’t see why you go,” Beatrice protested, undecided +whether it was because Steve and Mary had +come to some understanding, as Trudy hinted, and it +would be wiser for Mary to be removed from the +everyday scene of action; or whether Mary had never +thought of Steve except as a man who would not pay +her such and such a salary and therefore, being +tailor-made of heart as well as dress, she coolly +picked up her pad and pencil and was walking off the +lot. With the complacent conceit of all Gorgeous +Girls who fancy that clothes can always conquer, +Beatrice really inclined toward the latter theory. But +being a woman she could not resist having a few +pangs of unrest and trying out her fancied detective +ability upon Mary.</p> +<p>She brought her a farewell gift also––a veil case +which had been given to Beatrice two summers ago. A +fresh ribbon had made it quite all right, so she acted +the Lady Bountiful as she presented her offering and +listened carefully to Mary’s sensible reply.</p> +<p>“I can’t go running off to Bermuda and Florida +like you people can. I am forced to find my recreation +in my work––and hides and razors are a queer +combination for a woman who really likes gardens +and sea bathing.” She laughed so genuinely that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +Beatrice told herself that Trudy was an unpardonable +little fool. “I have stayed at the post for some time, +and now that I’ve the chance to change my recreation +to fabrics––I’m tempted to try it. I’m sure you do +understand––and it is with great regret that I leave +the office.”</p> +<p>“It will make it hard for Mr. O’Valley,” Beatrice +continued, blandly. “Of course I have realized +what an unusual man my husband is––his phenomenal +rise and all that; and papa has always said he +never met any one who was so keen as Steve. I have +always tried to be diplomatic in whatever I said to +Mr. O’Valley about his business; I never encourage +his discussing it at home since it is not fair to ask him +to drag it into his playtime. So I can’t talk over +actual details with you. But I know it will be hard +for him and he will have quite a time getting readjusted. +He says this Miss Coulson is a nice girl but +temperamentally a Jersey cow.”</p> +<p>Beatrice smiled at this; she had viewed Miss +Coulson immediately upon the news concerning +Mary’s resignation, and had felt more than satisfied. +Even Beatrice realized that Miss Coulson was a nice +pink-and-white thing who undoubtedly had a cedar +chest half filled with hope treasures and would at the +first opportunity exchange her desk for a kitchen +cabinet and be happy ever after.</p> +<p>When Beatrice tried discussing the matter with +Steve he responded so listlessly and seemed so apathetic +about either Miss Coulson or Mary that +Beatrice became vastly interested in fall projects of +her own, telling Aunt Belle that her theory was +correct: It was easier to be disappointed in one’s +husband than in one’s friends, and that Steve was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +the sort who was never going to be concerned about +his wife’s disappointment; in fact, he would never +realize it had occurred.</p> +<p>The night Mary left the office for good and all, +leaving clean and empty desk room for Miss Coulson +and the little tea appointments as a token of good +will, Luke met her at the corner and they walked +home together.</p> +<p>“Are you sorry?” Luke asked, curiously. He had +been too busy in technical high school to be office boy +for some time past.</p> +<p>“No; only you grow accustomed to things. You +remember how mother felt about the old house.” +Somehow the thing was harder to discuss with Luke +as a questioner than with any one else.</p> +<p>“I guess they’ll miss you a lot.”</p> +<p>“Everyone’s place can be filled, we must never +forget that. And I think the change is wise. The +new firm seems agreeable.”</p> +<p>“Did Mr. O’Valley give you anything?”</p> +<p>Mary flushed. It had been Luke who received the +armful of flowers sent anonymously.</p> +<p>“The firm gave me the wonderful desk set; you +saw it before it was sent to be monogrammed.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I mean Mr. O’Valley himself.” Luke +was quite manly and threatening as he strode along. +“Something for a keepsake because you’ve worked +so hard for him.”</p> +<p>They paused at a corner to wait for the traffic to +abate. Mary felt faint and queer, as if she had lost +her good right hand and was trying to tell herself it +wasn’t such a bad thing after all because she would +only have to buy one glove from now on. Never to +go into Steve’s office, never to talk with him, listen to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +him, advise and influence him! She wanted to +forget the sudden burst of affection, the protests of +love, for she could not believe them true. What she +wanted was to return to the old days of guarded +control.</p> +<p>Beatrice’s cab whirled by just then and Mary +caught a glimpse of the Gorgeous Girl in a gray cloak +with a wonderful jewelled collar, and Steve beside her. +As the cab passed and Mary and Luke struck out +across the street Mary experienced a sense of defeat. +As she talked to Luke of this and that to turn his +mind from the too-fascinating question of who sent +the flowers, she began to wonder if she, too, would not +wish to be a Gorgeous Girl should the opportunity +present itself? What would her brave platitudes +count if she could wear bright gold tulle with slim +shoulder straps of jet supporting it? Away with +sport attire and untrimmed hats! To have absurdly +frivolous little shoes of blue brocade; to wear the +brown hair in puffs and curls and adorned with jade +and pearls; to have a lace scarf thrown over her +shoulders and a greatcoat of white fur covering the +tulle frock; to go riding, riding, riding, at dusk +through the crowded streets filled with envying shop-girls +and clerks, hard-working men and women. To +ride in an elegant little car with fresh flowers in a gold-banded +vase, a tiny clock saying it was nearly half +after six, outside a gray fog and a rain creeping up to +make the crowds jostle wearily that they might reach +shelter before the storm broke. To have Steve, +handsome and adoring, beside her, laughing at her +indulgently, excusing her frivolous little self, adoring +the fragile, foolish soul of her. At least it would be +worth while trying.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span></div> +<p>“I can get a construction set for six dollars,” +Luke was saying. “That will make the bridge +models I told you about last week. I’m going to +get one.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear, I would,” she punctuated the conversation +recklessly, and then another crowd swept +about them and more elegant little cabs with more +Gorgeous Girls and their cavaliers whirled by. Mary +hated her stupid sophistry about commercial nuns, +novitiates and all, her plain gray-eyed spinster self +doomed to a Persian cat and a bonus at sixty. +Empty, colourless––damnable!</p> +<p>She realized that she had merely given herself an +anæsthetic, just as Steve had done, one of unreality +and indifference, and that no one stays dormant under +its power for all time. That all so-called commercial +nuns try hard to convince themselves that +watching the procession pass by is quite the best way +of all. Yet there is scant truth or satisfaction in the +statement. At some time or other the hunger for +being loved crashes through the spinster’s brave little +platform, the hunger for becoming necessary to someone +in other ways than writing letters or adding +figures––to be home, beside the hearth, keeping the +fires burning, with woes and cares and monotonous +incidents of such a narrowed horizon. It was for +this we were created, Mary Faithful told herself––to +be the dreamers and the ballast and the inspiration +of the race. And if commercial nuns have managed +to tell themselves otherwise––well, who shall be brutal +enough to cry “I spy” on their little secret? She +understood now the abnormal restlessness that she +had seen in others of her friends––the marriages with +men beneath them in class who earned but half what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +they did; unwise flirtations, even the sordid things +that occasionally creep into the horizon. And she +blamed none of them for any of it.</p> +<p>She knew now that should the chance come she +would want to be a Gorgeous Girl. Gorgeous Girls +have the faculty of being loved, even if they do not +merit the emotion. Tailor-made nuns only love, and +finally set their consciences to work to convince +themselves that a new firm and more severe collars +will be the best way to forget.</p> +<p>Luke was still talking about the construction set +and the new invention and patent rights and heavy +wool sweater with a bean cap for the summer vacation. +Mary was saying: “Yes, of course,” and +“How interesting!” at intervals; and so they reached +home, where Mary could plead a headache and go to +her room to battle it out alone.</p> +<p>She felt, too, that the town crier could truthfully +announce that milady was returning to tea gowns for +an indefinite period. And she felt a passionate +hunger to be one of them. That women were going +to rejoice, the majority of them, to take off their lady-major +uniforms, stop driving tractors and wearing +overalls, and with the precious knowledge of the +experience they would evolve quite a new-old standard, +as charming as lavender and lace and as old as +Time––the gentlewoman! They would no longer +accentuate their ugliness with that unlovely honesty +of the feminist which has been quite as distressing as +the impossible Victorian lack of honesty and everlasting +concealment of vital things. They would no +longer be feminists or ladies, but gentlewomen who +sew their own seam, who neither struggle unseen nor +flaunt their emotions in the face of sex psychologists.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></div> +<p>And that both commercial nuns and Gorgeous Girls +must be on the wane. Yet it was too late for Mary +Faithful.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>For many reasons Steve stayed away from Mary. +At intervals he sent her flowers without a card, such a +schoolboyish trick to do and yet so harmless that +Mary sent him no word of thanks or blame. She +merely dreamed her gentlewoman’s dreams and did +her work in the new office with the same systematic +ability as she had employed for Steve’s benefit, +causing the new firm to beam with delight. She had +an even more imposing office than formerly, spread +generously with fur rugs, traps for the weak ankles of +innocent callers. She was treated with great respect. +One time Steve came to see about some civic banquet +in which the head of Mary’s new firm was concerned, +and Mary made herself close her door and begin +dictating so as to appear to be occupied. The next +day he slipped a love letter into the bouquet of old-fashioned +flowers he selected for her benefit, and +Mary forced herself to write a card and forbid his +continuing the attentions.</p> +<p>In March Gaylord Vondeplosshe telephoned Mary, +about nine o’clock one evening, that Trudy was quite +ill and wanted to see her. Would Mary mind coming +over if he called in the roadster? There was a fearsome +tone in his voice which made Mary consent +despite Luke’s protests.</p> +<p>Gay was even more pale and weaker eyed than +ever when he came into the apartment, his motor +coat seeming to hang on his knock-kneed, narrow-chested +self.</p> +<p>It seemed Trudy had not been really well for some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +time. She was such an ambitious little girl, he +explained, excusing himself in the matter at the outset. +He had begged her to rest, to go away, even +commanding it, but she was so ambitious, and there +was so much work on hand that she stayed. It all +began with a cold. Those low-cut waists and pumps +in zero weather. She would not take care of herself +and she dragged round, and refused medicine, and he, +Gay, had done everything possible under the circumstances; +he wanted Mary to be quite clear as to this +point.</p> +<p>They finally reached the apartment house, where +Gay clambered out and offered Mary his left little +finger as a means of support on the icy walk. When +she came into the front bedroom of the apartment––a +shabby room when one looked at it closely––and +looked at Trudy she saw death written in the thin +white face bereft of rouge, the red curls lying in limp +confusion on the silly little head.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mary,” Trudy began, coughing and trying to +sit up, “I thought you’d never come. Why, I’m not +so sick–––Gay, go outside and wait for the doctor +and the nurse. Just think, I’m going to afford a +nurse. Oh, the pain in the chest is something fierce.” +She had lapsed into her old-time vernacular. +“Every bone of me aches and my heart thumps as if +it was awful mad at me. I guess it ought to be, +Mary. How good it is to have you. Take off your +things. Gee, that pain is some pain! Um––I +wonder if the doctor can help.”</p> +<p>“Do you want me to stay all night?”</p> +<p>Mary was doing some trifle to make her more +comfortable. Trudy seemed too weak to answer but +she smiled like a delighted child. She pointed a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +finger, the one wearing the diamond ring, to a chair +beside the bed. Mary drew it up closer and sat +down.</p> +<p>“Now, my dear, you must put on a warm dressing +gown and something to pad your chest––this +nightgown is a farce,” she said, sternly, rising. +“Where shall I find something? Oh, Trudy––don’t!”</p> +<p>Trudy had halfway lifted herself in bed with +sudden pain, moaning and laughing in terrible +fashion. Mary caught her in her arms. Trudy lay +back, quite contented.</p> +<p>“My, but I’ve been a bluff,” she said, tears on the +white, shiny cheeks. “Gee, but that doctor takes his +time, too. I had to beg something great before husband +would go for you. He’s awful mean, but I +always told you he was, and he would have a fine +time if I should die, wouldn’t he?” More terrible +little laughs as Trudy still nestled in the warm curve +of Mary’s arm.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t talk,” Mary said. “That’s an +order.”</p> +<p>Gay tiptoed in to say that the doctor had returned +but no nurse was available. They might get one in +a few days.</p> +<p>“I’ll stay,” Mary offered.</p> +<p>Trudy smiled again. “Rather––have––Mary,” +she managed to gasp.</p> +<p>The doctor was a preoccupied man who did not +fancy late calls on foolish little creatures wearing +silk nightgowns when they were nearing death. He +gave some drastic orders and Gay was dispatched +with a list of articles to be bought while Mary +hunted high and low in the disorderly apartment, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +finally wrapping Trudy in thick draperies, the only +sensible things she could discover.</p> +<p>Trudy lay very still for a few minutes. Mary +thought she was dozing until she said in an animated +voice: “Did you see the ring? It’s a wonderful +stone.” Wilfully she thrust her skeleton-like fingers +out from the bed covers.</p> +<p>Mary nodded. But Trudy was not to be discouraged.</p> +<p>“Gee, but that ring made a lot of trouble. Mary, +come here, deary. Will you forgive me? They say +you forgive the dead anything. Listen, I was awfully +discouraged and Gay was so mean and I was all +wrong, anyway––you know––foolish––see? Beatrice +was mean, too.... I want you to marry Steve +because he loves you, and a divorce won’t break her +heart––you just see if it does. I always knew he was +the one you liked––and he does care now. Sure, he +does. You can tell. Even I can tell, Mary.... +I just told her so––and my, she is wild but won’t admit +it. She never asked me to her house after that +if she could get out of it. And now I’m sorry––and I +want you to have the ring. That will help some, +won’t it? You tell Gay what I said. You must have +it. Your fingers are thin and long and can carry it +off well. And so you do forgive me, don’t you? I +shouldn’t have told her, but I couldn’t help it, she was +so mean. And now he cares––and you can be +happy–––”</p> +<p>“You told Mrs. O’Valley?”</p> +<p>Trudy was panting. Perspiration stood on the +white forehead as she managed to finish: “I said you +always loved her husband and now he loves you––and +I am sorry. But I was mad at them all; you can’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +understand because you’re not my sort.... +But you can be happy now. Marry him and make +him happy.”</p> +<p>She dozed into a contented sleep. A little later it +was all over.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> +<p>Gay’s course of action was exactly what his +wife had prophesied. He displayed all the +proper symptoms of mourning and grief as +far as his clothing and stationery went. After a +brief period of retirement from the world, during +which he chattered with fear when he wrapped +Trudy’s gay little possessions in bundles and gave +them away, he emerged in the satisfactory role of a +young widower on the loose who feels that “Perhaps +it was all for the best; an idyl of youth, y’know; +someone quite out of my sphere,” and was welcomed +by the old set enthusiastically.</p> +<p>Beatrice particularly saw to it that he was petted +and properly cared for regarding invitations and +dainties to eat and drink. In this new rôle, with a +well-established business and no shrewd red-haired +wife to point out his meannesses and try to make +him go fifty-fifty with the profits, Gay felt at peace +with all the world.</p> +<p>He did not even miss Trudy’s work after a little. +The only thing that bothered him was an occasional +memory of the white, thin face and those limp, red +curls, the hacking cough and the way her big eyes +had stared at him that last night. He hated anything +connected with suffering of any kind, let alone +death itself.</p> +<p>Before long Gay found himself back at the club +and running a neat shop on a prominent corner with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +deaf mutes from charity institutions ensconced in the +back rooms to do the work. Memories of Trudy and +of their life together became as remote as the menu +of a dinner eaten twelve months past.</p> +<p>He had her ring set over for himself, Mary never +having mentioned the matter. In fact, he avoided +Mary as he avoided Steve, for it was Mary who had +spent the last moments with Trudy, and whatever +was said remained a most uncomfortable mystery, to +Gay’s way of thinking. She had remained at the +apartment to help Gay through his sorrow, looking at +him with brief scorn as he stammered inane thanks, +scantily concealing his impatience to sample a basket +of wine just sent in.</p> +<p>As Easter Sunday came slipping into the calendar, +with Mary and Luke sightseeing in New York in +plebeian fashion and not ashamed of it, there came a +great though not unexpected crash in Steve O’Valley’s +fortunes. Steve’s unreckoned-with enemies +were about to have their innings; they succeeded in +bringing Steve down to the level of being forced to +ask his father-in-law for aid and admit that he could +not handle Constantine’s affairs or what remained of +them.</p> +<p>This was exactly what the enemies desired. A +number of things combined to make the crash a +mighty one. Steve still speculated, secure, he +fancied, in his surplus savings; his speculations all +ended disastrously and his factories were no longer +hustling places of commerce. It was a case of keen +competition for orders, and closing round Steve +relentlessly was a circle of enemies forming a gigantic +trust which played the big-fish-swallow-the-little-fish +game. Knowing of Steve’s disaster on the stock +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +exchange, as well as the thin ice on which his industries +were managing to survive, the trust now invited +him to become one of them––at a ridiculous figure––or +else be squeezed out of the game overnight.</p> +<p>Steve’s first emotion upon receiving the offer was +nonchalance and determination to appear unconcerned +and weather it through––so he held out as +long as he could, plunging in the stock market, with +the result that he was beaten as if he had been a street +vendor whose wares were confiscated by the police +authorities.</p> +<p>It was not a time to do some new devil-may-care +thing. Fortunes were not achieved as they had +been from 1914 to 1919, and Steve told himself in +vain that since it was luck that had made him it must +be luck that should again bring him out on top of the +heap. All at once luck seemed no jaunty chap with +endless pockets of gold but rather a disgruntled, +threadbare old chap who said: “None of you ever +treats me rightly when I do smile on you; now go take +care of yourselves any way you like, for you have +ruined me, too.”</p> +<p>With this pleasant state of affairs Steve came +home to the Villa Rosa one April day, half of him +wondering if Mary would let him come and tell +his story and the other half trying to hope that the +news of his failure would prove the saving grace +between the Gorgeous Girl and himself, that she +would accept his plea of becoming “just folks” and +starting anew, her father’s wealth in the background, +entirely removed from Steve’s new field of endeavours.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-284.jpg' alt='' title='' width='359' height='570' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>A get-rich-quick man always pays for his own speed</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>It did not take long to disillusion Steve as to this. +Beatrice accepted the news of the stock failure and +the new trust so easily that he saw she was incapable +of changing her viewpoint.</p> +<p>“Why gamble so, my dear Stevuns?” she began, +almost petulantly. “And do you know that every +time I make engagements for you you are late? You +are nearly a half hour late to-night.”</p> +<p>“I am losing the factory as well. I’ll have to sell +out for a song. I can’t compete with cutthroats–––”</p> +<p>“Are you going to hurry and dress so we can go?” +She smiled her prettiest.</p> +<p>At one time Steve would have noted only that +white tulle and pearls spun witchery, and her skirt +possessed the charm of a Hawaiian girl’s dancing +costume. Even at this juncture he recalled and +smiled at past blindness.</p> +<p>“You don’t seem to understand what I am saying, +and all that is happening. First I played Arizona copper +until they taught me not to monkey with the band +wagon; then I played Cobalt until the same thing +took place.” He sank impolitely into an easy-chair. +“Then I got the chance to come in with the gang––an +insulting proposition any way you want to figure––a +paltry sum for everything I have and the statement +in veiled terms that I need not expect to have that +unless I did as they dictate.”</p> +<p>“Well––sell your business to someone else before +this happens!”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t even if I wished to cheat; it is quite the +talk of the town.”</p> +<p>“Well––manage. Papa will tell you how. Why +do you come running to me? Goodness, don’t stare +like that. It’s nothing unusual to manage! I don’t +know about business––you made a lot of money once +and I should think you could do it again.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></div> +<p>“It doesn’t bother me as much as you think,” he +said, almost breathlessly, eager to know the worst. +“It means I am a poor man in your estimation. I +can sell out to these people, who have thrown a steel +ring round their game, so to speak, and had to do it +until your father was out of the running. I can never +buck them––I’m not fool enough to be goaded on to +try. Your father could not win out the way things +are now––but he could have prevented their ever +getting the upper hand––because he knows every +last turn of the wheel. They could not have fooled +him. I didn’t know what was coming until it was +too late. A get-rich-quick man always pays for his +own speed!”</p> +<p>“Stevuns, you’ll make me so nervous I can’t go to-night. +It’s a lovely party. You stay home and tell +papa all about it, but leave me in peace.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, I will. And is this the sympathy +and the understanding you give me when I say we are +being ruined?”</p> +<p>“Don’t keep saying it.” She stamped her little +foot. “Papa has lots of money in English and +Chinese securities and I don’t know what-all. Why, +that factory of his was the least of his fortune.”</p> +<p>“That is why your father deliberately lifted three +fourths of his money from the business just before he +was taken ill. He was not going to risk cutthroats +getting together. He overestimated my ability to +keep clear of disaster. But after all, I’m not sorry––I +don’t want anything more than I have earned. For +you always pay for it in some way. The world may +not know but these snap-judgment profiteers, these +get-rich-quick phenomena, always have to pay. But +you don’t understand,” he added, gently, “do you? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +You must not be blamed for not understanding anything +unless it comprises a good time!”</p> +<p>“I shall not try,” she said, petulantly, “and if you +love me you will hurry to change your things and tell +papa briefly. To-morrow will be time enough to go +into detail and have him start you into something +new.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t take your father’s money to marry you +with, and even if I stole it in a sense it was my own +efforts that brought it to pass. I took no help from +him until I was established. And I shall not sneak +back to let my wife’s father support me now. I’m +going to drop out of this game, Beatrice. It is for +you to decide whether you go with me or stay at the +Villa Rosa.” He stood up suddenly and came close +to her, looking down at her, in all her fragile loveliness, +wondering, half hoping, halfway expecting +that a miracle might happen even as he had hoped +for the miracle of his fortune––that at this late hour +she might cease to be a mere Gorgeous Girl and understand.</p> +<p>Beatrice frowned, playing with her fan. “You +look shabby and tired,” she complained; “not my +handsome Steve. You don’t mean such things, +because you do love me and you know I could never +be happy living any other way. I’m all papa has +and he wants me to have everything I want. Of +course I want this dear house and you and all that +both of you mean, so be a lamb and get dressed and +papa will help you into some nice safe business that +can never fail.”</p> +<p>She stood on her tiptoes, about to kiss him. But +he pushed her away.</p> +<p>“You mean you won’t begin with me, you won’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +take our one chance for happiness? Just to begin +together to learn and earn, be real? Do you think +for one instant I will be like Gay Vondeplosshe, +subsisting on a woman’s bounty? No. I shall +support my wife; it was never my wish that we come +here to live, and you insisted upon luxuries my purse +could not afford. In the main, to the outsider, I +have supported you. But we both know it is not +true; I have merely been a needful accessory. From +now on I shall either support you or else not live with +you. I ask you to stop having a good time long +enough to give me your decision.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Stevuns––you funny old brutish dear!”</p> +<p>“If it were a direct loan of money from your father +it would be a different matter––but it is one of those +intricate, involved deals that mean more than you or +I choose to admit. It means that I have learned the +hollow satisfaction in being a rich man and husband +of a Gorgeous Girl. I want to be a plain American +with a wife who is content with something else save +a Villa Rosa and pound-and-a-half lap dogs. I am +going to be a mediocre failure in the eyes of your set, +since it is the only way in which I can start to be a +true success in other than dollar standards. The +two elements that collect a crowd and breed newspaper +headlines are mystery and struggle; remove +them and you find yourself serene and secure. That +is what I propose to do. I ask if it is too late for +you to come with me or are you going to linger in +the Villa Rosa? Answer me––I want something real, +common, definite––can’t you understand?”</p> +<p>“If you ever dare treat me like this again–––” +she began, whimpering.</p> +<p>Steve brushed by her and up the stairs. He went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +into Constantine’s room, where the old man lay +in helpless discontent, his dulling eyes looking +at the sunken gardens and the chattering peacocks +and his heart longing for Hannah and the early days +together.</p> +<p>“Why, Steve,” he said in a pleased tone, “you +look as if they were after you. Thought you’d forgotten +me. That nurse Bea engaged has a voice like +a scissors grinder in action.”</p> +<p>Briefly Steve told him what had taken place, not +mentioning Beatrice’s name. It had an astonishing +effect; as a mental tonic it was not to be surpassed, +for the fallen oak of a man throbbed anew with life, +as much as was possible, his hands twitching with +rage, his teeth grinding, and the dulled eyes bright +with interest.</p> +<p>“The dogs! I knew it! Why didn’t you tell me +long before? Blocked ’em off––snuffed ’em out. +Meddling with wildcat stocks––asinine any way you +figure it! Well, I don’t know that I blame you. The +first success was too sweet to leave untried again, +eh?” He chuckled as if something amused him. +“We’ll close out to ’em. We’ll start again–––”</p> +<p>“I don’t want another fortune handed me,” Steve +interrupted. “I want to earn it, if you please. I’m +not a pauper in the true sense of the word; I am +merely trained down to the proper financial weight +for a man of my age and experience to carry, and I +can now enter the ring with good chances. The other +way was as absurd as the four-year-old prodigy who +typewrites and is rather fond of Greek. But I loved +your daughter and I thought it quite the right thing +to do. I asked your daughter just now if she was +willing to live with a poor man, according to her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +standards, as your wife lived with you––to give me +her help and her faith in me.</p> +<p>“Do you know what she answered? She told me +to come to you and truckle for another big loan, +which I am not capable of handling, to cheat legally +and never hint to the world the truth of the affair. +She hadn’t the most remote idea that I was in earnest +when I told her I was going to be a failure in the +eyes of the world––but I was not going to have my +wife’s father support me. I’m not sorry this has +happened––feel as if the Old Man of the Sea had +dropped off me. But this is the thing: either my +wife and I will live in a home of our own, and such +a home as I can provide, being an independent and +proper family and keeping our problems and responsibilities +within our gates; or else your daughter is +going to stay with you and lose her one chance of +freedom while I leave town.”</p> +<p>The Basque grandmother and the Celtic grandfather +lent Steve all their passionate determination +and keenness of insight, as they once lent him chivalry, +humour, and charm. He stood before the old +man taut with excitement and flushed with sudden +fury.</p> +<p>“It is you I blame,” he added before Constantine +could make answer. “You kept her as useless as a +china shepherdess; it is not her fault if she fails to +rise to the occasion now.”</p> +<p>Constantine’s face quivered; what the emotion +was none but himself knew.</p> +<p>“You poor fool boy!” he said, thickly. “Don’t +you know I made you a rich man all along the line? +You never did anything at all. It wasn’t luck on +the stock exchange––it was Mark Constantine back +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +of you. Gad, to have made what you did in the +time you did you’d have had to do worse than dabble +your hands in the mud. You’d have had to roll in +it––like I did.” He gave a coarse laugh. “That +was what I figured out when you said you wanted +Beatrice and what you were going to do to try to get +her. I liked you, I wanted you for her husband. I +hated the other puppies. So I wasn’t going to have +Beatrice’s husband a cutthroat and a highbinder as he +would have to be if he had turned the whole trick.</p> +<p>“You young fool, don’t you suppose I made the +stock exchange yield you the sugarplums? Gad, +I knew every cent you spent and made. It was for +my girl, my Gorgeous Girl, so why wouldn’t I do it? +I saved your ideals and kept your hands white so +that you would be good enough for her; that was +what I figured out the hour after you had told me +your intentions. I followed you like the fairy books +tell of; I brought you your fortune and your factory +and scotched all the enemies about you––and gave +you the girl. And you thought you killed the seven-headed +dragon yourself.... I don’t blame you +for the foozle, Steve; I cotton-woolled you all along––it +was bound to come. But, damme, you’ll come +down to brass tacks and take more of my money +now and keep her from being unhappy and stop this +snivel about earning what you get and needing responsibilities––or +you’ll find you’ve put your foot +into hell and you can’t pull it out!”</p> +<p>White-heat anger enveloped Steve’s very soul, yet +strangely enough he felt not like sinning but rather +like Laertes crying out in mental anguish: “Do you +see this, O God?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> +<p>Steve knew he brushed by Aunt Belle, who +was coming in to see what her brother was +roaring about, and down those detestable +gilded curlicue stairs to seek out his wife and try +again to make her realize that for once he was determined +on what should come to pass as regarded +their future together, to force her to realize even if he +created a cheap scene.</p> +<p>Whatever blame fell upon Constantine’s shoulders +was not within his province to judge––Constantine +was a dying man and Steve was not quite thirty-five. +So that ended the matter from Steve’s viewpoint. +It was his intention not to try to evade his personal +blame in the matter but to make reparation to his +own self and to his wife if he were permitted. If he +could once convince his wife that their sole chance +of future happiness and sanity lay in beginning as +medium-incomed young persons with all the sane +world before them it would have been worth it all––excepting +for Mary Faithful.</p> +<p>Even as Steve tried in a quick, tense fashion to dismiss +Mary from his mind and say that Beatrice was +his wife and that love must come as the leavener once +this hideous wealth was removed, he knew the thing +was impossible. The best solution of which he was +capable was to say that he owed it to both Mary +Faithful and Beatrice to play the game from the right +angle and that in causing Beatrice to disclaim her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +title of Gorgeous Girl and all it implied he at least +would find contentment––the same sort of uninteresting +contentment of which Mary boasted.</p> +<p>He found Beatrice in a furore of tears and protests, +angered at missing the dinner engagement and not +understanding why any of it was necessary. She +felt her own territory had been infringed upon, since +making a scene was her peculiar form of mental intoxication.</p> +<p>But Steve was composed, even smiling, and as he +came up to her she fancied her father had made everything +all right as his check book had seen fit to do +upon so many occasions. The slight worry over +Steve’s possible folly vanished, and she felt it safe to +proceed to reproach him for having been so horrid.</p> +<p>“Now, my dear Stevuns, why did you get me all +upset? And yourself and poor papa, to say nothing +of my having to send word at the last moment that +we could not attend the dinner. Oh, Steve, Steve, +will you ever be really tamed?”</p> +<p>“Come and sit beside me.” He drew out a notebook +and pencil. “I must tell you some things.”</p> +<p>Rather curious, she obeyed, but keeping a discreet +distance so her frock would not be ruffled. “I’m +still cross,” she warned.</p> +<p>Steve was writing down figures, adding them and +making notations.</p> +<p>“Look here, dear,” he began, patiently; “this is +just where I shall stand––a poor man to your way +of thinking, almost as poor as when I set out to win +you. I’m going into a salaried job for a few years––a +real hope-to-die job––and we can have a house–––”</p> +<p>“I thought we talked that all out before,” she interrupted, +half petulantly, half wistfully. “Why +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +do you keep repeating yourself? You’ll be thumping +your fists the first thing we know!”</p> +<p>“Do you fancy I am not going to do this? Are +you not sufficiently concerned to listen, to realize +that I have been a blind, conceited fool? But I +have learned my lesson. I shall support my wife +from now on and live in my own house or else I +shall no longer be your husband.”</p> +<p>“Steve!”</p> +<p>She opened and shut her fan quickly, then it fell +to the floor. But he did not pick it up.</p> +<p>“You were never keen for details, so I shall not +irritate you now by introducing them. But the +fact remains that I have been made and backed by +your father merely because he wished me to be your +husband. You picked me out––and I was keen to +be picked out––and he decided to make me as proper +a companion for you as possible. I am in some ways +as untried to-day as any youngster starting out; as +I was when I fancied I made the grand and initial +stride by myself. Your father feels that I ought to be +eternally grateful––but then, what else could the +father of the Gorgeous Girl think? He has harmed +me––but he has ruined you. I hardly thought you +would meet me halfway, still it was worth the try.”</p> +<p>Forgetful of her flounces Beatrice crumpled them +in her hands, saying sharply: “Are you taking this +way of getting out of it?”</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” Steve murmured, half inaudibly, +“I keep forgetting you have never been taught values +or sincerity! There is no way I can prove to you +how in earnest I am, is there?”</p> +<p>“You mean to say that I am a failure?” she +preened herself unconsciously.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span></div> +<p>“The most gorgeous failure we have with us to-day! +And the worst of it is it is growing to be a +common type of failure since gorgeousness is becoming +prevalent. There are many like you––not many +more gorgeous, and thousands less so. You are +a type that has developed in the last twenty years +and is developing these days at breakneck speed! +And you can’t understand and you don’t want to and +I’m damned if I’ll try to explain again.”</p> +<p>“Well,” she asked, shrewdly, quite the woman +of the world, “what is it you are about to do? Wear +corduroy trousers and a red bandanna and start a +butcher-paper-covered East-Side magazine filled +with ravings?”</p> +<p>“No; that is another type we plain Americans +have on our hands.”</p> +<p>“Don’t spar for time.”</p> +<p>“I’m not. I’m through sparring; I want to go to +work. I want–––”</p> +<p>What was the use? He stopped before adding +another spark to her wrath.</p> +<p>“I suppose you want to marry that woman––Mary +Faithful, who has loved you so long and made +herself so useful! She was clever enough to pretend +to efface herself and go to work for someone else, +but I dare say you have seen her as often as before. +Oh, are you surprised I know? I gave you the credit +of being above such a thing, but Trudy told me that +this woman had told her the truth––so you see even +your Mary Faithful cannot be trusted. You had better +turn monk, Steve, be done with the whole annoying +pack of us! Anyway, Trudy came running to me, +but I never lost sleep over the rumour. I felt you +were above such things, as I said, but presently little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +indications––straws, you know––told me she cared; +and if a woman cares for a man and is able to pass +several hours each day in his employ, unless she is +cross-eyed or a blithering idiot she cannot fail to win +the game! Now can she, Stevuns?”</p> +<p>Steve raised his hand in protest. “Please leave +her out of it.”</p> +<p>“So––we must talk about my being a failure, my +father clipping your wings of industry and all that––yet +we must not mention a woman who has loved +you––and gossiped about it.”</p> +<p>“She did not! You know Trudy––you know her +nature,” he interrupted.</p> +<p>“Taking up her defence! Noble Stevuns! Then +you do reciprocate––and you are planning one of +those ready-to-be-served bungalows with even a +broom closet and lovely glass doorknobs, where Mary +may gambol about in organdie and boast of the prize +pie she has baked for your supper. Oh, Stevuns, +you are too funny for words!”</p> +<p>She laughed, but there was a malicious sparkle +in her eyes. She was carrying off the situation as +best she knew how, for she did not comprehend its +true significance, its highest motive. Underneath +her veneer of sarcasm and ridicule she was hurt, +stabbed––quite helpless.</p> +<p>With her father’s spirit she resolved to take the +death gamely––and make Steve as ridiculous as possible, +to have as good a time as she could out of such +a sorry ending. But she knew as she stood facing +him, so tired and heavy-eyed, the rejected sheet of +figures fallen on the brocaded sofa between them, +that it was she who met and experienced lasting defeat.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></div> +<p>By turns she had been the spoiled child of fortune, +the romantic parasite, the mad butterfly, the advanced +woman, the Bolshevik de luxe; and finally +and for all time to come she was confronted with the +last possibility––there was no forked road for her––that +of a shrewd, cold flirt. She realized too late the +injustice done her under the name of a father’s loving +protection. Moreover, she determined never to let +herself realize to any great extent the awfulness of +the injustice. It was, as Steve said, a common fate +these days––there was solace in the fact of never +being alone in her defeat. But at five minutes after +twelve she had glimpsed the situation and regretted +briefly all she was denied. Still it was an impossibility +to cease being a Gorgeous Girl.</p> +<p>She felt cheated, stunted, revengeful because of +this common fate. Steve was setting out for new +worlds to conquer––he very likely would have a good +time in so doing. She must continue to be fearfully +rushed and terribly popular, having a good time, +too. How dull everything was! Strangely, she +did not give Mary Faithful or her part in Steve’s +future a thought––just then. She was thinking that +Ibsen merely showed the awakened Nora’s going out +the door––as have Victorian matrons shown their +daughters, urging them to do likewise. But it +really begins to be interesting at this very point +since it is not the dramatic closing of the door that +is so vital, but the pitfalls and adventures on the long +road that Nora and her sisters have seen fit to travel.</p> +<p>Beatrice was deprived of even this chance, even +the falling by the wayside and admitting a new sort +of defeat, or travelling the road in cold, supreme +fashion and ending with selfish victory and impersonal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +theories warranted to upset the most domestic and +content of her stay-at-home sisters. But she, like +all Gorgeous Girls, must be content to stand peering +through the luxurious gates of her father’s house, +watching Steve go down the long road, then glancing +back at her lovely habitation, where no one except +tradesmen really took her seriously, and where all +that was expected of her, or really permitted, was +to have a good time.</p> +<p>Steve shrugged his shoulders. He felt a great +weariness concerning the situation, nonchalant scorn +of what happened in the future of this woman. As +for Mary Faithful––that was a different matter, but +he could not think about Mary Faithful while standing +in the salon of the Villa Rosa with the Gorgeous +Girl as mentor.</p> +<p>“Suppose we do not try to talk any more just +now?” he suggested. “We are neither one fit to do +so. Wait until morning and then come to an agreement.” +He spoke as impersonally as if a stranger +asking aid interrupted his busiest time.</p> +<p>Beatrice recognized the tone and what it implied. +“I am agreed,” she said, after a second’s hesitation. +“Do not fancy my father and I will come on our +knees to you.”</p> +<p>She swept from the room in a dignified manner. +Steve waited until he heard the door of Constantine’s +room bang. He knew his wife had rushed to tell her +father her side of the matter––to receive the eternal +heart’s ease in the form of a check so she could go +and play and forget all about Stevuns the brute.</p> +<p>He walked unsteadily through the rooms of the lower +floor, out on to the main balcony, and back again. +He could not think in these rooms; he could not think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +in any corner of the whole tinsel house. It seemed +a consolation prize to those who have been forbidden +to think.</p> +<p>He went to his own ornate and impossible room, +which should have belonged to an actor desiring +publicity, or some such puppet as Gay. He tried +to sleep, but that too was impossible. He kept pacing +back and forth and back and forth, playing the +white bear as Beatrice had so often said, wondering +if it would be too much the act of a cad to go to Mary +Faithful and merely tell her. He could think at +Mary’s house––he must have a chance to think, to +realize that Beatrice refused to come with him and to +tell himself that nothing should force him to remain +in the Villa Rosa and be the husband of the Gorgeous +Girl, set right by her father’s checks, the laughingstock +of the business world that had called his hand.</p> +<p>The humiliation, the failure, the loss––were good +to have; stimulating.</p> +<p>Wonderfully alive and keen, he did not know how +to express the new sensation that took possession +of his jaded brain. He was like a gourmand dyspeptic +who has long hesitated before trying the diet of a +workingman and when someone has whisked him +off to a sanitarium and fed him bran and milk until +he has forgotten nerves, headaches, and logginess he +vows eternal thankfulness to bran and milk, and is +humbly setting out to adopt the workingman’s diet +instead of the old-time menus.</p> +<p>Steve could begin to work simply, to find his permanent +place in the commercial world. He had +enough money––or would have––to start a home in +simple yet pleasant fashion; he had knowledge and +ability that would place him favourably and furnish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +him the chance to work normally toward the top. +That was all very well, he told himself toward early +morning––but must it be done alone? He had had +the Gorgeous Girl as the incentive to make his fortune, +and now he had Mary Faithful as the incentive +to lose it––and if the Gorgeous Girl stayed on at the +villa and became that pitied, dangerous object, a +divorcee; and if Mary did care–––-Strange things, +both wonderful and fearsome, happen in the United +States of America.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> +<p>Beatrice, never having gone to her father +for anything save money, did not know how +to broach the subject in heartfelt and deep-water +fashion. When she went into his room she +found him with scarlet spots burning in his grayish +cheeks, his dark eyes harsher and more formidable +than ever. He tried twisting himself on the bed, +resulting in awkward, halfway muscular contortions +and gruff moans punctuating the failure. He held +out his arms to her and she went flying into them, +not the dignified woman of the world putting a cave +man in his proper place.</p> +<p>“He is impossible!” was all she said, giving way to +hysterical sobs. “Don’t even try talking to him +again–––”</p> +<p>More gruff moans before Constantine began coherently: +“He’ll do what I say or he’ll not stay in this +house. I expected this–––”</p> +<p>“Oh, you don’t understand, papa. He doesn’t +want to stay here, not at all! He does not want me. +There, now you know it! He must have said something +of this to you––perhaps you didn’t believe him. +Neither did I––at first. Oh, my head aches terribly +and I know I shall be ill. He wants me to be a poor +man’s wife––starting again, he calls it––while he +earns a salary and we live in a poky house and I do +the cooking. I’d think it awfully funny if it was +happening to any of my friends––but this is terrible! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +Well, goat-tending tells, doesn’t it? And after all +we have done for him––to babble on about honesty +and earning and all those socialistic ideas. He is a +dangerous man, papa; really. I don’t care.”</p> +<p>Constantine stopped moaning. “Look up at me.” +He made her lift her face from the tangle of silk +bed quilts. “Do you love him?”</p> +<p>“Why, papa, I always adored Stevuns––but of +course I can’t give up the things to which I’ve been +accustomed! It’s so silly that I think he is queer +even to suggest it––don’t you?”</p> +<p>“You won’t love him if he goes out of here and +you stay,” the old man said, slowly; “but if he +will stay and do as I tell him––then you’ll love +him?”</p> +<p>“Yes”––with great relief that she was not called +upon to keep on explaining and analyzing her own +feelings and Steve’s motives; it was entirely too much +of a strain––“that is it. If Steve will stay here and +do what you tell him––I think he’d better retire from +business and just look after our interests––I shall forgive +him. But if he keeps up this low anarchistic +talk about dragging me to a washtub––oh, it’s too +absurd!––I’m going to Reno and be done with all of +it.” She drew away from her father and the same +cold, shrewd look of the mature flirt replaced her +confusion. “Don’t you think that is sensible?”</p> +<p>Her father closed his eyes for a moment. Then +he whispered: “So you don’t love him.”</p> +<p>Beatrice had to stoop to catch the words. “You +can’t be expected to love people that make you unhappy.”</p> +<p>“Oh, can’t you?” he asked. “Can’t you? Did +you never think that loving someone is the bravest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +thing in the world? It takes courage to keep on +loving the dead, for instance; the dead that keep +stabbing away at your heart all through the years. +Loving doesn’t always make you happy, it makes you +brave––real love!”</p> +<p>He opened his eyes to look at her closely. Beatrice +whimpered.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it time for your drops? You’re too excited, +papa dear.”</p> +<p>“Then you don’t love him,” he repeated. “Well, +then, it’s best for you both that he go––that’s all +I’ve got to say. I thought you cared.”</p> +<p>Beatrice’s eyebrows lifted. “Really, I can’t find +any one who can talk about this thing sensibly,” she +began.</p> +<p>Suddenly she thought of Gay. There was always +Gay; at least she could never disappoint him, which +was what she meant by having him talk sensibly. +Gay knew everyone, how to laugh at the most foolish +whims, pick up fans, exercise lap dogs, and wear a +fancy ball costume. What a blessed thing it was +there was Gay.</p> +<p>“It has been quite too strenuous an evening,” +she said, in conclusion, “so I’m off for bed. Steve +and I will talk more to-morrow. Good-night, papa. +I’m terribly distressed that this has come up to annoy +you.” She bent and kissed him prettily.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen you make more fuss when your lap +dog had a goitre operation,” her father surprised her +by way of an answer. “It’s all different in my mind +now.” The thick fingers picked at the bed quilt. “I +thought it would break your heart, but it’s just that +you want to break his spirit; so it’s better he should +go.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></div> +<p>Left alone, Constantine lay staring into darkness, +his harsh eyes winking and blinking, and the gnarled +thick fingers, which had robbed so cleverly by way +of mahogany-trimmed offices and which had written +so many checks for his Gorgeous Girl, kept on +their childish picking at the quilt. Yet his love for +Beatrice, monument to his folly, never dimmed. +He merely was beginning to realize the truth––too +late to change it. And as the pain of loving his dead +wife had never ceased throughout the years, so the +new and more poignant pain of loving his daughter +and knowing that she was in the wrong began tugging +at his heartstrings. Well, he was the original +culprit; he must see her through the game with flying +colours. As for Steve––he envied him!</p> +<p>In the morning Steve was accosted by Aunt Belle, +who felt she must say her conventional, marcelled, +gray-satin, and violet-perfumed reproaches. All +Beatrice had told her was that Steve was now an impossible +pauper, that he loved Mary Faithful and had +loved her for years, that it was quite awful, and she +was going to divorce him. Her aunt, with the proper +emotions of a Gorgeous Girl’s aunt, and uncomfortable +memories of love in a cottage with the late Mr. +Todd, began to upbraid Steve. She began in a cold, +stereotyped fashion, calling his attention to the +broken-hearted wife, the sick man who lay upstairs +and who had befriended him, and of the social ostracism +that was to result should he take such a +drastic step.</p> +<p>She felt it indelicate to mention Mary but she did +say there were “other vicious deceits of which we are +well aware, my young man,” warning him that in +years to come old age would bring nothing but remorse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +and terror, asking him what he would be forced +to think when his marriage was recalled?</p> +<p>“My marriage?” Steve answered, too pleasantly +to be safe. “I dare say in time I’ll come to realize +it is always the open season for salamanders.” Which +left Aunt Belle with the wild thought that she must +accompany Beatrice to Reno to sit out in the sagebrush +for the best part of a year.</p> +<p>Steve found his wife in her dressing room; she had +waited as eagerly for his coming as she had done during +the first days of their engagement. She, too, during +a sleepless night had resolved that the only +solution was a divorce, but she was going to have just +as gay a time out of the event as was possible, which +included making Steve as wretched as could be. +Even with the rumours concerning Mary she believed, +in the conceited fashion of all persons so cowardly +that they merely consent to be loved, that Steve still +adored her and that she was dealing with the deluded +man of a few years ago.</p> +<p>She wore a sapphire-coloured negligé with slippers +to match, and lay in her chaise-longue gondola, her +prayer books with their silver covers and a new Pom +as touching details to the farewell tableau. Then +Steve was permitted to come into the room.</p> +<p>She gazed at him in a sorrowful, forgiving fashion, +quite enjoying the situation. Then she held out her +hand, wondering if he would kiss it; but he took it as +meaning that he might sit down or try to sit down on +a perilous little hassock which he had always named +the Rocky Road to Dublin despite its Florentine +appearance.</p> +<p>“I hope you agree with me,” he began, in businesslike +fashion as he noted the prayer books, the untouched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +breakfast tray, the snapping Pom, which +never tolerated his presence without protest. “I +am going to see your father, out of courtesy, and +explain more in detail how things stand. It won’t +interest you so I sha’n’t bore you. I have enough +money and securities to cover the loss of any of his +money. I shall apply for a position in another city. +I am reasonably sure of obtaining it. It seems to +me it would be better that I go away.”</p> +<p>“I forgive you, Steve,” she said, sadly, shaking her +golden head.</p> +<p>“I presume you will want to do something about +a legal separation––and if you do not I shall.”</p> +<p>The prayer books fell to the floor in collision with +the slipping Pom but Beatrice did not notice.</p> +<p>“So you do love her!” There was a hint of a snarl +in her high-pitched voice. “So you want to marry +her after all!”</p> +<p>“I think,” Steve continued, in the same even voice, +“that as you are going to tire of being a divorcee +playing about, and will want a second husband to +help with the ennui that is bound to occur, you had +best select your form of a divorce and let me do what +I can to aid in the matter. You are very lovely this +morning, as you usually are. There is no doubt but +what many men far better suited to you than I will +try to have you marry them––they will wisely never +expect to marry you. That was our great mistake, +Beatrice. I thought I was marrying you––but you +were really marrying me.”</p> +<p>“So you do love her,” she repeated, paying no +heed to what else he said.</p> +<p>“Yes, I do,” Steve said, with sudden honesty. +It was a relief to be as brutal and uncomplimentary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +as possible; it offset the silver-covered prayer books, +the breakfast tray, the bejewelled Pom, the whole +studied, inane effect of a discontented woman trying +to play coquette up to the last moment.</p> +<p>“I have loved her a long time. I could no more +have refrained from it than you can refrain from +feeling a pique at the fact, though you have nothing +but contempt for us both and only a passing interest +if the truth were known. I am glad you have persisted +in asking me until I told you. I think one +of the most promising signs that women will survive +is the fact that they are never afraid to ask questions, +no matter how delicate the situation. Men keep +silence and often bring disaster on their sulky heads +as a result.”</p> +<p>“So––and you dare tell me this?”</p> +<p>“Of course I do. I dare to tell you the truth, +which no one else has ever taken the pains to tell you. +If you do not get a divorce I intend to. Not that I +champion the custom as a particularly healthy institution, +but it is sometimes a necessary one. If it is +any satisfaction to you I do not think Miss Faithful +has the slightest idea of marrying me. She has put +that part of her aside for business and taking care of +Luke. The time has passed when she would have +married me. Still, I shall try to make her change her +mind,” he added with the same spirit he had once +displayed toward winning the Gorgeous Girl. “Only +this time I shall not bargain for her.”</p> +<p>Beatrice gave an affected laugh. “Quite a satisfactory +arrangement all round. I hope you do not +bother me again. Tell my father what you like, +and then take yourself off to the new position and do +as you please. When I decide what course I shall +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +pursue you will be informed. Would you please pick +up my prayer book?” she added, languidly.</p> +<p>Steve bent over to grasp the intricate nothing in +his hand and lay it gently in the sapphire-velvet lap.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Beatrice,” he said, a trifle sadly––for +the day the child discovers there are no fairies is one +of sadness.</p> +<p>It was something of this Steve felt as he looked +at his wife for the last time. How thrilled and adoring +he would have one time been. Just such visions, +a trifle cruder no doubt, had stirred his young soul +in the bleak orphanage days––the boo’ful princess +and the valiant young hero chaining the seven-headed +dragon. And in America it was just bound to have +come true!</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Stevuns,” she answered, in the same +gay voice––but a trifle forced if one knew her well. +“I hope you have a wonderful time leading a mob +somewhere and your wife selling your photographs +on the next corner curbstone!”</p> +<p>She pretended to become interested in the prayer +book; and, with the Pom shooing him out by sharp, +ear-piercing barks, Steve left the room.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Not an hour later Mrs. Stephen O’Valley’s +card was taken in to Mary Faithful as she +sat trying to work in the new office––it never +ceased to be new to her. She had heard the swift +rumours of Steve’s failure. Understanding that the +visitor’s card had a deeper significance than the messenger +who delivered it realized, Mary closed the +outer doors of her office and waited for her guest.</p> +<p>It was a very Gorgeous Girl who swept serenely +into the room and lost no time in introducing the +nature of her errand.</p> +<p>“I don’t know how well informed you are in business +reports,” she began in her high-pitched voice, +“but perhaps you have heard–––”</p> +<p>“The report of the new leather trust––without +including your husband’s factory? Yes––but it was +bound to come. I always told him so.”</p> +<p>Beatrice lost sight of the business introduction +she had so carefully planned while dressing and then +driving downtown.</p> +<p>“You have told my husband a great many things, +haven’t you?” she insisted. “Don’t seem to be surprised. +I am quite well informed.”</p> +<p>She was scrutinizing Mary as she talked. Within +her mind was the undeniable thought that there was +something about this thin, tall woman with gray eyes +which was real and comforting. She even wished +that Steve had fallen in love with someone else, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +that she, Beatrice, might have come to Mary for +comfort and advice. If any one could have set her +right with herself it would be just such a good-looking +thing, as Trudy used to say, a commercial nun who +had kept her ideals and was not bereft of ideas. Faith +and intellect had been properly introduced in Mary’s +mind.</p> +<p>Mary blushed. “I have always wished to speak +to you about something Mrs. Vondeplosshe told you +shortly before her death. Won’t you sit down? I +am sure we have much to say to each other.”</p> +<p>Beatrice found herself obeying like a docile child. +As she took a chair facing Mary’s desk she realized +that in just such a kind, practical fashion would Mary +proceed to manage Steve, that the years of experience +in the business world as an independent woman would +give Mary quite a new-fashioned charm in his eyes. +Whether she was dealing with gigantic business interests +in deft fashion or showing tenderness for the +little girl who puts away her dolls for the last time, +Mary possessed a flexibility of comprehension and +power. One could not be cheap in dealings with +her. And as the eternal sex barrier was not present +in Beatrice’s behalf she realized that her jargon so +impulsively planned would never be said. Nor could +she dismiss Mary patronizingly and say the halfway +melodramatic things she had said to Steve. It occurred +to her as Mary began to talk that Mary had +been brave enough to love, not merely be loved, the +truth of this causing her to wince within.</p> +<p>“In a malicious moment Trudy told you of my––my +affection for your husband. It is true, if that is +what you have come to ask me about. I told myself +months ago that if you did come to ask me this thing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +I should answer you truthfully, and we must remain +at least polite acquaintances over a hard situation. I +think I have played fairly.” Mary’s face had a tired +look that bore proof to the statement. “I even left +his employ. As I once told you from an impersonal +statement, I have a theory that many business +women of to-day are in love with someone in their +office. Propinquity perhaps and the shut-in existence +that they lead account for much of it. Yet no +woman is a true woman who forgets her employer is a +married or engaged man.</p> +<p>“You and I know, however, that love does not +stop to ask if this is the case, and I sometimes feel––impersonally, +remember––that the business women +earn the love of their employers and associates more +than said employers’ and associates’ wives. Does +it sound strange? Of course you need not agree––I +hardly expect it. Yet the fact remains that we +watch and save that you Gorgeous Girls may spend +and play. In time the man, tense and non-understanding +of it all, discovers that his trust and confidence +may be placed in the business woman while +romantic love is not enduring in his home. Not +always, of course; but many times in these days of +overnight prosperity and endless good times. So I +have neither shame nor remorse––I have as much +right to love your husband as you have––and because +of that I shall be as fair to you as I would ask +any woman to be toward me in similar circumstances.”</p> +<p>“I think I understand,” the Gorgeous Girl said, +swiftly. “I see something of the light.” She +laughed nervously. It was easier to laugh than to +cry, and one or the other was necessary at this moment. +“I wanted to tell you that my husband is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +going away to take a rather mediocre position. I +shall divorce him.”</p> +<p>“He’s won out,” Mary said, in spite of herself.</p> +<p>“Has he? So you have been the urge behind him +and his poverty talk?”</p> +<p>“I’d like to claim the credit,” Mary retorted.</p> +<p>“Really?”</p> +<p>Beatrice found herself in another mental box, +undecided how to cope with the situation. She had +fancied she could make Mary cry and beg for silence, +be afraid and unpoised. Instead she felt as ornate as +a circus rider in her costume, and as stupid regarding +the truth as the snapping Pom under her arm. Her +head began to ache. She wondered why all these +people delighted in accepting sacrifice and seeking +self-denial––and she thought of Gay again and of +what a consolation he was. And through it all ran +a curious mental pain which informed her that she +had not the power to hurt or to please either of these +persons, and she was being politely labelled and put +in her own groove by Mary Faithful. This stung +her on to action, just as any poorly prepared enemy +loses his head when he sees the tide is turning.</p> +<p>In desperation she said, coldly: “After all, I shall +play square with you because you have played square +with him. I’ll give you the best advice a retiring wife +can give her advancing rival. Don’t copy me––no +matter how Steve may prosper in years to come, +do you understand? Oh, I’m not so terrible or abnormal +as you people think. I’d have done quite +well if my father had never earned more than three +thousand a year and I had had to put my shoulder +to the wheel. But don’t ever start to be a Gorgeous +Girl––stay thrifty and be not too discerning of handmade +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +lace or lap dogs. You know, there’s no need +to enumerate. Stay the woman who won my husband +away from me––and you’ll keep him. What +is more, I think you will make him a success––in +time for your golden-wedding anniversary! There, +that’s as fair as I can be.”</p> +<p>“Quite,” Mary said, softly.</p> +<p>“Once you admit to him there is a craving in your +sensible heart to be as useless as I am––then someone +else will come along to play Mary Faithful to your +Gorgeous Girl.” There was a catch in the light, gay +voice. “I don’t want him,” she added, vigorously. +“Heavens, no, we never could patch it up! I shall +always think of this last twelve months as <i>l’année +terrible!</i> My Tawny Adonis was a far more soothing +companion than Steve. Nor do I envy you and your +future. I don’t really want Steve––and you deserve +him. Besides, we women never feel so secure as +novelists like to paint us as being in their last chapters! +So I’m giving you the best hint concerning +our mutual cave man that a defeated Gorgeous Girl +ever gave a Mary Faithful. As far as I am concerned +the thing is painless. I shall have a ripping time out +West, and some day perhaps marry someone nice +and mild, someone who will stand for my moods +and not spend too much of my money in ways I don’t +know about––a society coward out of a job! The +thing that does hurt,” she finished, suddenly, “is +the fact that I’d honestly like to feel broken-hearted––but +I don’t know how. I’ve been brought up +in such a gorgeous fashion that it would take a +jewel robbery or an unbecoming hat to wring my +soul.”</p> +<p>“Thanks,” Mary said, lightly. “I may as well +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +tell you I’ve determined never to marry Steve, for all +your good advice.”</p> +<p>“Why?” All the tenseness of her nature rushed +to the occasion. This was decidedly interesting, +since it resembled her own whims. She felt almost +friendly toward the other woman.</p> +<p>“Because,” Mary answered, handing the psychologists +another problem for a rainy afternoon.</p> +<p>Beatrice nodded, satisfied at the answer and the +eternal damnable woman’s notion inspiring it, for +it was just what she would have replied in like circumstances. +She felt there was nothing more to be +said about the matter and that Gorgeous Girls and +commercial nuns had much in common. As usual, +Steve was appointed the official blackguard of the +inevitable triangle!</p> +<p>Going home that night Mary felt that truly the +“day was a bitter almond.” It even began to be +dramatically muggy and threatening, in keeping +with her state of mind––the sort of forced weather +that issues offstage in roars of thunder the moment +the villain begins his plotting. She took a street +car, having meant to walk and give herself time to +pull together and adopt the fat smile of a professional +optimist.</p> +<p>A tired-faced woman, heavily rouged, was talking +to another tired-faced woman, also rouged. Mary +listened because it was a relief to listen to someone +else besides herself, to realize there were other persons +in this world occupied with other problems besides a +commercial nun with a heartache, a tired cave man +about to start again, and a Gorgeous Girl defeated +in no uncertain terms. The whole thing was beyond +Mary’s comprehension just now; as much as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +graybeards’ lack of understanding when they try to +Freud the schoolboy’s mind.</p> +<p>“That’s me, too, Mame, all over––and when she +tried telling me she was a natural blonde, never using +lemon juice in even the last rinse water––well, when +you’ve been handing out doll dope and baby bluster +over the counter of a beauty department as long as I +have you know there ain’t no such animal! Good-bye, +Mame. I hope you get home safe.”</p> +<p>“There ain’t no such animal,” Mary found herself +repeating. “No, there sure ain’t!”</p> +<p>There were no real commercial nuns; it was a +premeditated affair entirely, merely a comfortable +phrase borrowed by the lonesome ones unwilling to be +called old maids; a big, brave bluff that women have +adopted during these times of commercial necessity +and economic stress. Commercial nuns! As foolish +as the tales told children of the wunks living in the +coalbins––as if there ever could be such creatures! +The reason Mary would not marry Steve was because +she, Mary, did not want to disappoint him even +as the Gorgeous Girl had done. She did not want +to be all helpmate, practical comrade; she had fed herself +with this delusion during the years of loneliness. +She had adopted the veneer, convinced herself that it +was true, but she knew now that it was false. It had +taken a Gorgeous Girl to scratch beneath the veneer +in true feminine fashion. Mary did wish to be +dependent, helpless––to have Gorgeous Girl propensities. +The cheap phrases of the shopwomen +kept interrupting her attempts to think of practical +detail. “There ain’t no such animal.”</p> +<p>She found Luke wild-eyed and excited, brandishing +an evening paper.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span></div> +<p>“Look what’s happened––the O’Valley Leather +Company has gone under! Won’t Constantine help +him out? I always said you were the mascot–––”</p> +<p>“I’d rather not talk about it.”</p> +<p>“Why? I always tell you everything.”</p> +<p>Mary smiled. Luke was so boyish and square. +She felt that particularly toward Luke must she keep +up the delusion of being a commercial nun, content +with her part in things.</p> +<p>“It’s such a horrid day. I rode on a car that was +as crowded as a cattle shipment. My head aches. +The stenographer has left to be married.”</p> +<p>“You mean you are not interested about Steve +O’Valley?” Luke was not to be trifled with regarding +the affair.</p> +<p>Mary sank down into the nearest chair. “Of +course I am. But what right have I to be?” she +asked, almost bitterly. “It never pays to be too +keenly interested.”</p> +<p>Luke laid the paper aside. “Mary,” he began, +his voice very basso profondo, “do you like this +man?”</p> +<p>Mary gave a little cry. “Stop––all of you––all +of you!” Then she began sobbing quite as helplessly +as the Gorgeous Girl could have done.</p> +<p>Luke stood before her in helpless posture. He +might have coped with her temper but his reliable +tailor-made sister in tears?––Never. As she cried +he experienced a new sympathy, a delightful sense of +protectorship. He decided that his wife should cry +occasionally––it became women.</p> +<p>“See here,” he began, shyly, “you mustn’t cry +about him; it won’t do any good. If he has failed +it isn’t your fault. And if you do like him––well, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +like him. He likes you,” he finished with emphasis. +“I know it. I’ve known it all along.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Luke!” Mary said, helplessly. “Luke!”</p> +<p>He put his arm round her, clumsily. “There––now +I wouldn’t––please don’t, it makes me feel awful +bad––there’s no sense worrying about it––you have +a lot of good things ahead of you. There, that’s +the girl.”</p> +<p>At that moment Luke grew up and became far +more manly and self-sufficient than all Mary’s +practical naggings and deeply laid plans could have +achieved. He felt he must protect his sister; hitherto +it had been his sister who had protected him. And he +watched with pride the way she smiled up through +her tears in rainbow fashion and patted his cheek, +calling him a dear. She was a new kind of Mary. +Both of them felt the better for the happening.</p> +<p>But when Steve came unceremoniously to Mary’s +apartment that same evening, and Luke, very amusing +and pathetic in his dignity, met him, innocent of +the tornado of emotion sweeping about his nice boyish +self––Mary almost wished the happening had not +taken place. For a moment she feared that Luke +would try to take command of the situation. There +was something maternal in Mary’s wishing Luke to +be ignorant of the hard things until the ripe time +should come. And Luke, quite willing to be released, +since it was a trifle beyond his powers of comprehension, +retired to read a magazine and resolve to be +ready for action at the first sound of a sister’s sob!</p> +<p>“I had to come,” Steve said, simply. “I’ve been +like the man who never took time to walk because he +had always been so busy running. I want to walk +but I don’t know how.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span></div> +<p>Mary shook her head, really shaking it at herself. +“Go away, Steve.”</p> +<p>“I shall, after a little. But I had to come now. +Her aunt said she saw you and made quite a time +of it. I’m sorry.”</p> +<p>“I’m not. We are good friends, in a sense; far +better than we have ever been before. We found we +were in accord––after all.”</p> +<p>He looked at her in the same helpless fashion Luke +had adopted.</p> +<p>“She will divorce you and marry someone else and +continue to be a Gorgeous Girl,” Mary finished, +quietly. “No terrible fate will overtake her, nothing +occur to rouse or develop her abilities. She will remain +young and apparently childish until she suddenly +reaches the stately dowager age overnight. +Gorgeous Girls are like gypsies––they should either +be very young and lissom or old, crinkled, and vested +with powers of fortune-telling––the middle stage is +impossible. I realized this morning that I’ve been +fooling myself, all the heart in me trying to be +100 per cent efficient, when I really want to be a +Gorgeous Girl––fluffy, helpless––a blooming little +idiot. And I’m glad you have come so I can tell you.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean that,” he corrected.</p> +<p>“Being incurably honest I am bound to tell tales +on myself. Yes, I do mean it. I’d probably be +rushing round for freckle lotion and patent nose pins, +to give me a Greek-boy effect. I’d take to swathing +myself in chiffons and have my hair a different tint +each season. I think every business woman would +do the same, too––if she had the chance. We have to +fool ourselves to keep on going down the broad highway; +or else we would be sanitarium devotees, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +neurasthenic muddles. So we strike our brave pose +and call ourselves superwomen, advanced feminists, +and all the rest of the feeble rubbish until the right +man comes along. Sometimes he never comes––so +we keep right ahead, growing dry as dust at heart +and even fooling ourselves. I did. But it took +your wife to show me my smug conceit, my fancy that +I was a bulwark of commerce, so proper, so perfect! +She showed me that I was just plain woman making +the best of having been born into the twentieth +century! There is a Gorgeous Girl in all of us, Steve. +So I can’t advise or comfort or do any of the things I +used to––a bag of tricks we women in business have +adopted to make the heart loneliness the less. Go +away and make good! That is just what she told +you––isn’t it? You will never believe in any of us +again. And I don’t know that you should, after all. +For cave men need Gorgeous Girls.”</p> +<p>Steve was laughing down at her. “True––but +they need the right Gorgeous Girl. I’m glad you +have finally told the truth; I always suspected it. +You have over-emphasized it somewhat––and the +woman I married was unfairly over-emphasized as +well. But in the main, what you have said is the +truth. I assure you I am twice as glad to have an +incentive instead of a lady directress. And I want +you to be helpless––if you can; and fluffy––if you +will! Don’t you see that you are the right Gorgeous +Girl––and she was the wrong one––and I’m the culprit? +Why, Mary, the worst thing you could do +would be to descend upon me in curl papers under a +pink net cap. Even that prospect does not frighten +me!”</p> +<p>“Are you going away?” she asked, shyly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span></div> +<p>“Not far––nothing spectacular or romantic. I’m +done with that. Beatrice goes West, I believe. +She is quite happy. She is going to New York first +to get her divorce wardrobe. It is her father I pity––he +has to face another son-in-law,” Steve laughed. +“I am merely going to work for an old and reliable +firm––use my nest egg for a house. A brown-shingled +house, I think, with plain yard and a few +ambitious shrubs blooming along the walks. I don’t +know what they will be; I leave that to you!”</p> +<p>Luke wondered why he was not called upon for +action, but he wondered still more as Mary came +presently to ask that he tell Steve good-night. Her +gray eyes were like captured sunrise.</p> +<p>“Luke, dear,” she said in as feminine a manner as +Beatrice might have done, “don’t worry about me +any more. I’m a queer old sister––but it’s all +coming out all right,” kissing him before Steve, to +his utter confusion.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +</div> +<p>Beatrice sent for Gay before she decided +to run down to New York to gather up some +good-looking things to wear while West. +More and more the novelty of the situation was +appealing to her. She would ship her car out and +take with her a maid, the Pom, and her aunt, besides +three trunks of clothes. She also had learned of +hot springs that were extremely reducing; and of a +wonderful lawyer whom several of her friends recommended. +It had grown very distressing to have a +cave man prowl about the villa, the eternal disapproval +of whatsoever she did, then her father’s presence +got on her nerves. Considering everything she +was glad to escape, and she welcomed the sympathy +and peculiar publicity that would be hers. The rôle +of an injured woman is almost as attractive as that of +a romantic parasite. All in all, she was just bound to +have a good time.</p> +<p>To be sure she thought of Steve working for someone +else, making one twentieth of his former income, +marrying Mary and starting housekeeping in eight +rooms and a pocket handkerchief of a lawn––and she +envied them. This was only natural; it would be +fun to be in Mary’s place for a fortnight or so, so she +could tell about it afterward. And she thought of +Mary and of all she had admitted in the tenseness +of their conversation.</p> +<p>When she returned from New York Gay met her at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +the train. He carried a single long-stemmed white +rose, which, he lisped, stood for friendship. And +Beatrice––three pounds heavier if the truth were +told––quite languid and easily pleased, looked +affectionately upon Gay, who was trying to smile +his sweetest.</p> +<p>“Of course this is very hard”––feeling it the thing +to say––“but inevitable.”</p> +<p>“I always knew it,” he supplemented, feeling that +the gates of paradise were slowly opening for him. +Within a year or so he would not even have the pretense +at a business. “I understand only too well. +May I say to my old friend, one whose opinions have +swayed me far more than she has imagined, that I, +too, have experienced a similar disillusionment which +terminated more tragically?”</p> +<p>“Really?” Beatrice roused from her cushions. +“Tell me, Gay, just when did you begin to regret +having married Trudy?”</p> +<p>The barriers down, Gay began a rapid fire of incidents +concerning Trudy’s gross nature and lack of +comprehension, and the patience it had required to +bear with her. He twirled her diamond ring on his +finger. Beatrice spied it.</p> +<p>“Why, that setting is just a little different from +any I have,” she said, almost crossly. “I never saw +it before.”</p> +<p>She held out her hand, and the minor question of a +dead wife and a discarded husband was put aside +until further ennui should overtake them.</p> +<p>Aunt Belle opposed the divorce trip more vigorously +than any one else concerned. It seemed to her +naught but a wild panorama of rattlesnakes and +Indians, with no opportunity for her daily massage. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span> +Besides, she knew Beatrice’s moods, and as time +went on, between Constantine’s ridicule and his +daughter’s tempers, Aunt Belle was forced to work +hard to maintain a look of joyous contentment.</p> +<p>But there was nothing else for her to do unless she +wished to be taken to an old ladies’ home. Her +brother had said he would be delighted to have her +away, her pretenses and simpering nothings drove +him to distraction; and he had at last secured a man +attendant who knew how to dodge small articles +skilfully for the compensation of a hundred dollars a +month and all he could pilfer. Like Beatrice, Aunt +Belle regretted that the actual divorce must lack a +gorgeous setting; it was quite commonplace. But +one cannot have everything, and Beatrice had as +much as hinted that for her second wedding she +would use the sunken gardens at the Villa Rosa and +wear a cloth-of-gold gown without a veil but a smart +aigrette of gilded feathers.</p> +<p>Beatrice shrank from saying good-bye to her father. +It was more than her usual dislike of entering the +sick room. She had come to realize that though her +father caused her to be the sort of person she was, he +himself had remained both real and simple, succeeding +by force of this fact, and her contact with both Steve +and Mary convinced her that she did not wish to +know real, everyday persons––they had nothing in +common with her and caused her to be restless and +distressed. Gay was as wild a mental tonic as she +desired.</p> +<p>However, she bent solicitously over him and +murmured the usual things: “Take best care of +yourself––miss you worlds––do be careful––will +write every day.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span></div> +<p>Constantine looked up at her, tears in the harsh +eyes, which had lost their black sparkle. “I’m +sorry,” he said, in childish fashion, as she waited +for an equally conventional reply. “Your mother +would have liked Steve.”</p> +<p>“Papa!”––shocked at his lack of fairness––“how +horrid!”</p> +<p>“Maybe I was wrong––maybe if your mother had +lived it would have been different. She would have +liked Steve.”</p> +<p>Beatrice played her final weapon against Steve’s +reputation in her father’s eyes.</p> +<p>“He is going to marry Miss Faithful. He has +loved her for a long time. Now you see what I have +endured.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure?”</p> +<p>“Oh, quite. He admitted it. So did she.” +Beatrice knew that Mary’s declaration against ever +marrying Steve would have as much effect as to +attempt to keep the sun from shining if it so inclined. +“I’ve no doubt they will be the model couple of a +model village, for if ever there was a reformer it is +Steve. He never should have been a rich man.”</p> +<p>“Not at thirty,” his father-in-law championed. +“So––it’s the woman who worked for him that +won.... I guess it’s the way of things, Bea.”</p> +<p>“You uphold him?” Her temper was rising.</p> +<p>Constantine shook his head, closing the dull eyes. +“I’m out of it all,” he excused himself. “There’s +a check for you on the table.”</p> +<p>Either pretended or real, he seemed to go to sleep +without delay.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Some months later Gaylord, very suave in white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +flannels, came in to tell Constantino that he was to +meet Beatrice in Chicago, en route from the West, and +that they were planning to announce their engagement +shortly after their arrival in Hanover. At which +Constantine managed to curse Gay in as horrid +fashion as he knew how. But Gay was quite too +happy and secure to mind the reception. Besides, +there was nothing Constantine could do about it. It +was a rather neat form of revenge since his daughter +would bring into his family the son of one of the men +he had ruthlessly ruined in his own ascent of the +ladder.</p> +<p>Gay had done nothing but write letters to Beatrice, +in which he copied all the smart sayings and +quips of everyone else, purporting them as original, +impoverishing himself for florists’ orders and gifts, +and even taking a desperate run out to see Beatrice +ensconced in state in a Western town with her tortured +aunt and lady’s maid and a stout squaw to do +the housekeeping. Gay knew that all this work +would not count in vain. So when he proposed to +Beatrice, having taken three days in which to write +the love missive, he knew that he would be accepted, +and therefore counted Constantine’s wrath +as a passing annoyance.</p> +<p>Everything considered, Beatrice could do no better. +She had inclined toward a minister as a second husband, +she one time said, but her chances there were +small since she was not a bona-fide widow. Gay +would endure anything at her hands; he knew no +pride, he had no purpose in existing save to have a +good time, neither did he possess annoying theories +about life. He was an adept at flattery, and he +understood Beatrice’s sensitiveness about being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span> +called stout. With a suitor at hand well trained for +the part, why waste time looking further, she argued.</p> +<p>So the wedding in the sunken gardens with the +cloth-of-gold-garbed bride was planned for the next +season’s calendar and there would be all the pleasure +of talking it over, the entertainments, the new clothes, +and so on. His father-in-law was paralyzed and his +aunt-in-law was senile. Gay was bound to be master +of all he surveyed before long.</p> +<p>Perhaps during the breaking up of his establishment +he might be unpleasantly reminded of a red-haired +girl who had died unmourned and whose very +ring Beatrice now wore––in exchange for one of hers +which Gay wore. But he could take an extra cordial +if that was the case and soon forget. After all, Trudy, +like Steve, had been impossible; and Gay felt positive +that impossible people would not count at judgment +day.</p> +<p>Likewise Beatrice, who regarded the whole thing +as a lark, thought sometimes of Steve, who, she understood, +was superintendent of a large plant some two +hundred miles removed from Hanover, and of the +time when the slightest flicker of her eyes made him +glad for all the day, or the suggestion of a pout +brought him to the level of despair. Perhaps she +thought, too, of the very few moments as his wife during +which she had wished things might have been as +he wanted. No, not really wished––but wondered +how it would have been. And of Mary she thought +a great deal––that was to be expected. No one +wrote her about Mary, no one seemed to think it +would be interesting. The dozen dear friends who +deluged her with weekly items of local scandal never +once told her of her wife-in-law, as Gay dubbed her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span> +Therefore she thought of her more than she did of +any one else––even Gay.</p> +<p>She wondered if Mary was making simple hemstitched +things for her trousseau; if she would shamelessly +marry this divorced man, superintendent of a +cement works; if she would go live in a brown-shingled +house and belong to the town social centre +and all the rest of the woman’s-column, bargain-day, +sewing-society things. And Beatrice knew that +Mary would. Moreover, that she would make a +complete success of so doing. Whereas even now +Beatrice merely regarded Gay as essential to complete +her defeat.</p> +<p>When she reached home, in company with Gay, +her aunt, the maid, and an armful of flowers, the +attendant told them her father was dead. He had +had a bad turn in the early morning––no pain––just +drifted off. Well, the only intelligible things he had +said were––should he repeat them now? Well, the +two words he had said over and over again were +“Steve––Hannah––Hannah––Steve.”</p> +<p>So the cloth-of-gold wedding with the sunken-garden +setting was changed for a wedding at twilight +in the conservatory, Beatrice dressed in shimmery +mauve out of memory to dear papa!</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“You have renounced your economic independence +and you are now approaching the legal-vassal +stage,” Steve warned Mary as they viewed the rooms +of the new brown house. “Do you know what it all +means?”</p> +<p>“No; probably that is why we women do so,” she +retorted. “Luke says you are bully and everything +is fino––and I set quite a store by Luke’s opinions.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span></div> +<p>“You’ll have green-plush and golden-oak people +call on you, I’m afraid, and a few who run to Sheraton +and crystal goblets. There will be funny entertainments +and dinner parties where the hostess fries the +steak and then removes her apron to display her best +silk gown.”</p> +<p>“I am prepared. And the maid will leave us before +the month is over and I shall be her understudy. +Well, I can. That is something.”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to ask permission to smoke––I’m +going to sprawl in all the chairs and puff away at my +leisure.”</p> +<p>“Do. I’ll try to remember it is good for moths.”</p> +<p>“Mary, are you satisfied?” he asked, wistfully.</p> +<p>“Of course. It never does to have it all perfect––to +the last detail of the wallpaper designs. That +never lasts.”</p> +<p>She went to lay her head on his shoulder for a brief +second, almost boyishly darting away and running +upstairs to see to some detail in which Steve was not +concerned.</p> +<p>He went to the side doorway of the house to +look out at the other houses and yards––pleasant, +livable dwellings without romantic construction or +extravagant details––the homes of the people who +keep the world moving and mostly turning to the +right.</p> +<p>He felt he had earned this brown house––and the +woman who was upstairs examining the linen-closet +capacity. He had neither stolen nor bargained for +either. It was true there was a tinge of regret, like a +calm stretch of road without the suggestion of a +stirring breeze. One cannot chain youth, romance, +and Irish-Basque ancestry together and let them go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span> +breakneck speed without glorious and eternal memories +of the feat.</p> +<p>Mary realized this––even though she might pretend +ignorance of the fact. She had reckoned with +it before she gave Steve her word. Perhaps it, too, +had been a factor in stripping off the mask of commercial +nun and showing him the Gorgeous-Girl propensities. +Nothing would content him so much as +to think of someone dependent upon him, make him +shoulder responsibility, surround him in a halo of +hero worship. Even if they both knew this to be a +lovely rosy joke––aide-de-camp of romance, which +even the most practical American woman will not +forgo––Mary had been wise in telling him the truth. +The only time women do at all well in fibbing is +to each other. Besides, there is a vast difference +between fibs and rosy jokes!</p> +<p>Steve had earned this, therefore it would be his +for all time. And though he felt youth had gone from +him––the optimistic swashbuckling youth which +conquered all in his pathway––approaching middle +age was good to have, and he rejoiced that this mad +noonday was over. As he looked out at the simple +grounds and thought of how sensible Mary was, and +how sensible was the colour of their modest car, and a +hundred similar facts––there crossed his mind a +vision of the Gorgeous Girl like a frail, exotic jungle +flower, clad in copper-coloured tulle with tiny rusty +satin slippers and surrounded by a bodyguard of the +season’s best dancers.</p> +<p>“Why, Stevuns,” he almost fancied her light, gay +voice saying, “aren’t you funny!” Then the tiny +rusty satin slippers tripped away to the latest of +waltz tunes.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span></div> +<p>Well, that was at an end. Perhaps even to Mary, +who had come downstairs, delighted at finding extra +shelf room, Steve would never confide these fleeting +visions that would cross his mind from time to time; +also his banished boy heart. Mary would grow a +trifle matronly of figure, become addicted to severe +striped silks, perhaps insist on meatless days––and +smokeless rooms, for all she said not just now. She +would dominate a trifle and be on committees, raise +a great hue and cry as to the right schools for the +children. But she would always be his Mary Faithful, +gray-eyed and incurably honest and loving him +without pause and without thought of her own +splendid self. Truly he was a fortunate man, for +though there is an abundance of Gorgeous Girls +these days there are seldom enough Mary Faithfuls +to go round.</p> +<p>But he would never tell even his nearest and dearest +of the visions. This would be Steve’s one secret.</p> +<p>And as Steve thought sometimes of the Gorgeous +Girl in copper-coloured tulle and with a dancing +bodyguard, or in white fur coats being halfway +carried into her motor car, so would the Gorgeous +Girl sometimes find Gay and his simpering servility +quite beside her own thoughts. Once more she would +see Steve, young and flushed with a lover’s dream!</p> +<p>The same germ of greatness in these Gorgeous +Girls as in their fathers frequently causes them to +produce good results in the lives of those they +apparently harm. As in Steve’s case––he found his +ultimate salvation not so much by Mary Faithful’s +love and service as by realizing the Gorgeous Girl’s +shallow tragedy. With iron wills concealed behind +childish faces and misdirected energy searching for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span> +novelty, so the Gorgeous Girls stand to-day a deluxe +monument to the failure of their adoring, check-bestowing, +shortsighted parents. They are neither +salamanders nor vampires. Steve had not spoken +truly. They are more chaste and generous of heart +than the former, more aloof from sordid things than +the latter. Wonderful, curious little creatures with +frail, tempting physiques and virile endurance, playing +whatever game is handy without remorse and +without vicious intent just as long as it interests +them––in the same careless fashion their fathers +stoked an engine or became a baker’s assistant as +long as it proved advantageous.</p> +<p>Moreover, they are so apart from the workaday +world that it is impossible to refrain from thinking of +them in unwise fashion––even after life has fallen +into pleasant channels and the dearly beloved of all +the world is by one’s side. So strong yet so weak, so +tantalizing yet generous, they have the power to +haunt at strange intervals and in strange fashion. +So it was with Steve. He could not experience a +storm of definite reproach at the thought of Beatrice––nor +bitter hatred. Only a vague, lonesome +urge, which soon dulled beside the sharp commands of +common sense.</p> +<p>It was only Mary who was done with visions and +could give herself unreservedly to the making of her +home, the rearing of her family. But Mary had +realized her vision––not relinquished it.</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='margin:10px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS<br />GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GORGEOUS GIRL***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29753-h.txt or 29753-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/7/5/29753">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/5/29753</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** 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 +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +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.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +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. 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://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +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://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +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://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/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. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +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. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-012.jpg b/29753-h/images/illus-012.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a59498 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-012.jpg diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-188.jpg b/29753-h/images/illus-188.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4002cc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-188.jpg diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-284.jpg b/29753-h/images/illus-284.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2a7498 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-284.jpg diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-emb.png b/29753-h/images/illus-emb.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..965b7c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-emb.png diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/29753-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..494387f --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg diff --git a/29753-h/images/illus-tpg.png b/29753-h/images/illus-tpg.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d8bae3 --- /dev/null +++ b/29753-h/images/illus-tpg.png |
