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diff --git a/30483-h/30483-h.htm b/30483-h/30483-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d652e1b --- /dev/null +++ b/30483-h/30483-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8274 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Outside Inn, by Ethel M. Kelley.</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p {margin-top: 0.1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.1em;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + p.caption {font-size:smaller;} + div.text {} + div.text p {text-indent: 1.0em;} + div.text p.ni {text-indent: 0em;} + h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.6em;} + h2 {font-size:1.4em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + div.figcenter p {text-align: center;} + div.chsp {} + + div.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + div.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em;} + div.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + 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 ;} + span.rindent2 {text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent8 {text-indent:0; width: 3.2em; display: block; float: right;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} + span.smallcap {font-variant:small-caps;} + + /* defaults for epub and print */ + hr.pb {border: none; page-break-after: always; margin-top: 4em;} + .pagenum {display: none;} + .pncolor {color: inherit;} + + /* override for browser */ + @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;} + } +</style> + +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30483 ***</div> + +<h1>OUTSIDE INN</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='392' height='560' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“If—if you’ve made a woman really care”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.2em;margin-bottom:10px;'>OUTSIDE INN</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em;margin-bottom:10px;'><i>By</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:10px;'>ETHEL M. KELLEY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em;margin-bottom:10px;'><i>Author of</i><br />Over Here, Turn About Eleanor, Etc.</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em;'><i>With Frontispiece by</i><br />W. B. KING</p> + +<div style='margin:80px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='tp' >INDIANAPOLIS<br />THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br />PUBLISHERS</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em;'>C<span style='font-size:0.7em'>OPYRIGHT</span> 1920</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em; margin-bottom:30px;'>T<span style='font-size:0.7em'>HE</span> B<span style='font-size:0.7em'>OBBS</span>-M<span style='font-size:0.7em'>ERRILL</span> C<span style='font-size:0.7em'>OMPANY</span></p> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em; margin-bottom:30px;'><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> + +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.9em;'>PRESS OF<br />BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br />BOOK MANUFACTURERS<br />BROOKLYN, N. Y.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>CONTENTS</p> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Good Little Dream</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_A_GOOD_LITTLE_DREAM'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Applicants for Blue Chambray</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_APPLICANTS_FOR_BLUE_CHAMBRAY'>19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Inauguration</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_INAUGURATION'>33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Cinderella</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_CINDERELLA'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Science</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_SCIENCE'>69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>An Eleemosynary Institution</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_AN_ELEEMOSYNARY_INSTITUTION'>84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Cave-man Stuff</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_CAVEMAN_STUFF'>93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Science Applied</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_SCIENCE_APPLIED'>113</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Sheila</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_SHEILA'>134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Portrait</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_THE_PORTRAIT'>151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Billy and Caroline</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_BILLY_AND_CAROLINE'>166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>More Cave-Man Stuff</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_MORE_CAVEMAN_STUFF'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Happiest Day</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_THE_HAPPIEST_DAY'>198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Betty</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_BETTY'>209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Clouds of Glory</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_CLOUDS_OF_GLORY'>220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Christmas Shopping</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_CHRISTMAS_SHOPPING'>236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Good-By</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_GOODBY'>248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Tame Skeletons</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_TAME_SKELETONS'>259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Other People’s Troubles</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_OTHER_PEOPLES_TROUBLES'>271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Hitty</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XX_HITTY'>288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Lohengrin and White Satin</span></td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXI_LOHENGRIN_AND_WHITE_SATIN'>299</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>OUTSIDE INN</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' ></a>1</span></div> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a id='CHAPTER_I_A_GOOD_LITTLE_DREAM'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>A Good Little Dream</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>“I Elijah Peebles Martin, of the +city and county of Harrison, in the +state of Rhode Island, being of sound and disposing +mind and memory, do make and declare +the following, as and for, my last will and testament.’ ... I +wish you’d take your head +out of that barrel, Nancy, and listen to the document +that is going to make you rich beyond +the dreams of avarice.”</p> +<p>“I was beyond them anyway.” The young +woman in blue serge made one last effectual +dive into the depths of excelsior, the topmost +billows of which were surging untidily over the +edge of a big crate in the middle of the basement +floor, and secured a nest of blue and rose +colored teacups, which she proceeded to unwrap +lovingly and display on a convenient packing +box. “Not one single thing broken in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' ></a>2</span> +whole lot, Billy.... What is a disposing +mind and memory, anyhow?”</p> +<p>“You don’t deserve to know,” the blond young +man in the Norfolk jacket assured her, adjusting +himself more firmly to the idiosyncrasies of +the rackety step-ladder he was striding. +“You’re not human about this. Here you are +suddenly in possession of a fortune. Money +enough to make you independently wealthy for +the rest of your life—money you didn’t know +the existence of, two weeks ago—fed to you by +a gratuitous providence. A legacy is a legacy, +and deserves to be treated as such, and I propose +to see that it gets what it deserves, without +any more shilly-shallying.”</p> +<p>“I’m a busy woman,” Nancy groaned, “and +I’ve hammered my finger to a pulp, trying to +open this crate, while you perch on a broken +step-ladder and prate to me of legacies. The +saucers to these cups may be in here, and I +can’t wait to find out. I’m perfectly crazy +about this ware. It’s English—Wedgewood, +you know.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know.” Billy resignedly let himself +to the floor, and appropriated the screwdriver. +“I thought Wedgewood was dove color, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' ></a>3</span> +and consisted chiefly of ladies in deshabille, doing +the tango on a parlor ornament. I smashed +one in my youth, so I know. There, it’s open +now. I may as well unpack what’s here. These +seem to be demi-tasses.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>‘You may tempt your upper classes,</p> +<p>With your villainous demi-tasses.</p> +<p>But Heaven will protect the working girl,’”</p> +</div></div> +<p class='ni'>he finished lugubriously, in a wailing baritone, +taking an imaginary encore by bowing a head +picturesquely adorned with a crop of excelsior +curls, accumulated during his activities in and +about the barrel.</p> +<p>“The trouble with the average tea-room, or +Arts and Crafts table d’hôte,” Nancy said, sinking +into the depths of a broken armchair in the +corner of the dim, overcrowded interior, “is +that when the pinch comes, quantity is sacrificed +to quality. Smaller portions of food, and +chipped chinaware. People who can’t keep a +place up, let it run down genteelly. They won’t +compromise on quality. I should never be like +that. I should go to the ten-cent stores and +replenish my whole establishment, if I couldn’t +make it pay with imported ware and Colonial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' ></a>4</span> +silver. I’d never go to the other extreme. I’d +never be so perceptibly second-rate, but in the +matter of furnishings as well as food values, +I’d find my perfect balance between quality +and quantity, and keep it.”</p> +<p>“I believe you would. You are a thorough +child, when you set about a thing. I’ll bet you +know the restaurant business from A to Z.”</p> +<p>“I do. You know, I studied the organization +of every well-run restaurant in New York, +when I was doing field work from Teachers’ +College. I’ve read every book on the subject +of Diet and Nutrition and Domestic Economy +that I could get my hands on. I’m just ready +now for the practical application of all my +theories.”</p> +<p>“Nancy Calory Martin is your real name. I +don’t blame you for hating to give up this tea-room +idea. You’ve dug so deep into the possibilities +of it, that you want to go through. I +get that.”</p> +<p>Nancy’s eyes widened in satiric admiration.</p> +<p>“You could understand almost anything, +couldn’t you, Billy?” she mocked.</p> +<p>“All I want now,” Billy continued imperturbably, +“is a chance to make <i>you</i> understand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' ></a>5</span> +something.” He smote the document in his left +hand. “Of course, your uncle’s lawyer has explained +all the details in his letters to you, but +if you won’t read the letters or familiarize yourself +with the contents of this will, somebody +has got to explain it to you in words of one syllable. +My legal training, slight as it is—”</p> +<p>“Sketchy is the better word, don’t you think +so, Billy?”</p> +<p>“Slight as it is”—except for a prodigious +frown, Billy ignored the interruption, though +he took advantage of her suddenly upright position +to encircle her neatly with a barrel hoop, +as if she were the iron peg in a game of quoits—“enables +me to put the fact before you in a +few short, sharp, well-chosen sentences. I +won’t again attempt to read the document—”</p> +<p>“You’d better not,” Nancy interrupted witheringly, +“your delivery is poor. Besides, I don’t +want to know what is in that will. If I had, it +stands to reason that I would have found out +long before this. I’ve had it three days.”</p> +<p>“You’ve had it three days and never once +looked into it?” Billy groaned. “Who started +all this scandal about the curiosity of women, +anyway?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' ></a>6</span></div> +<p>“I don’t want to know what’s in it,” Nancy +insisted. “As long as I’m not in possession of +any definite facts, I can ignore it. I’ve got the +kind of mind that must deal with concrete facts +concretely.”</p> +<p>Billy grinned. “I’d hate the job of trying to +subpœna you,” he said, “but you’d make a corking +good witness, on the stand. Of course, you +can proceed for a certain length of time on the +theory that what you don’t know can’t hurt +you, but take it from me, little girl, what you +ought to know and don’t know is the thing that’s +bound to hurt you most tremendously in the +long run. What are you afraid of, anyway, +Nancy?”</p> +<p>“I’m not <i>afraid</i> of anything,” Nancy corrected +him, with some heat. “I just plain don’t +want to be interrupted at this stage of my +career. I consider it an impertinence of Uncle +Elijah, to make me his heir. I never saw him +but once, and I had no desire to see him that +time. It was about ten years ago, and I caught +a grippe germ from him. He told me between +sneezes that I was too big a girl to wear a +mess of hair streaming down my back like a +baby. I stuck out my tongue at him, but he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' ></a>7</span> +too near-sighted to see it. Why couldn’t he +have left his money to an eye and ear infirmary? +Or the Sailors’ Snug Retreat? Or—or—”</p> +<p>“If you really don’t want the money,” Billy +said, “it’s your privilege to endow some institution—”</p> +<p>“You know very well that I can’t get rid of +money that way,” Nancy cried hotly. “I am at +least a responsible person. I don’t believe in +these promiscuous, eleemosynary institutions. +It would be against all my principles to contribute +money to any such philanthropy. I +know too much about them—but he didn’t. He +could have disposed of his money to any one of +a dozen of these mid-Victorian charities, but +no—he was just one of those old parties that +want to shift their responsibilities on to young +shoulders, and so he chose mine.”</p> +<p>“You don’t speak very kindly of your dear +dead relative.”</p> +<p>“I don’t feel very kindly toward him. He +was a meddling old creature. He never gave +any member of the family a cent when they +wanted it and needed it. Now that I’ve just +got my life in shape, and know what I want to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' ></a>8</span> +do with it without being beholden to anybody +on earth, he leaves me a whole lot of superfluous +money.”</p> +<p>“If I weren’t engaged to Caroline, who is a +jealous woman, though I say it as shouldn’t, +I’d be tempted to undertake the management of +your fortune myself,” Billy said reflectively; +“as it is—honor—”</p> +<p>“I know what I want to do with my life,” +Nancy continued, as if he had not spoken. “I +want to run an efficiency tea-room and serve +dinner and breakfast and tea to my fellow men +and women. I want the perfectly balanced ration, +perfectly served, to be my contribution to +the cause of humanity.”</p> +<p>She looked about her ruefully. The sun, +through the barred dusty windows, struck in +long slant rays, athwart the confusion of the +cellar, illuminating piles upon piles of gay, blue +latticed chinaware,—cups set out methodically +in rows on the lids and bottoms of packing +boxes; assorted sizes of plates and saucers, +graded pyramidically, rising from the floor. +There were also individual copper casseroles +and serving dishes, and a heterogeneous assortment +of Japanese basketry tangled in excelsior +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' ></a>9</span> +and tissue. A wandering sunbeam took her +hair, displaying its amber, translucent quality.</p> +<p>“I’ve just got capital enough to get it going +right; to swing it for the first year, even if I +don’t make a cent on it. It’s my one big chance +to do my share in the world, and to work out +my own salvation. This legacy is a menace to +all my dreams and plans.”</p> +<p>“I see that,” Billy said. “What I don’t see is +what you gain by refusing to let it catch up +with you.”</p> +<p>“You’re not it till you’re tagged. That’s all. +If I don’t know whether my income is going to +be five thousand dollars or twenty-five thousand +a year, I can go on unpacking teacups with—”</p> +<p>Billy whistled.</p> +<p>“Five thousand or twenty-five—my darling +Nancy! You’ll have fifty thousand a year at +the very lowest estimate. The actual money is +more than five hundred thousand dollars. The +stock in the Union Rubber Company will +amount to as much again, maybe twice as much. +You’re a real heiress, my dear, with wads of +real money to show for it. That’s what I’m +trying to tell you.”</p> +<p>“Fifty thousand a year!” Nancy turned a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' ></a>10</span> +shocked face, from which the color slowly +drained, leaving it blue-white. “Fifty thousand +a year! You’re mad. It can’t be!”</p> +<p>“Yes’um. Fifty thousand at least.”</p> +<p>Nancy’s pallor increased. She closed her +eyes.</p> +<p>“Don’t do that,” Billy said sharply. “No +woman can faint on me just because she’s had +money left her. You make me feel like the +ghost of Hamlet’s father.”</p> +<p>Nancy clutched at his sleeve.</p> +<p>“Don’t, Billy!” she besought. “I’m past joking +now. Fifty thousand a year! Why, Uncle +Elijah bought fifteen-dollar suits and fifteen-cent +lunches. How could a retired sea captain +get all that money by investing in a little rubber, +and getting to be president of a little rubber +company?”</p> +<p>“That’s how. Be a good sensible girl, and +face the music.”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to give up the tea-room.”</p> +<p>Billy laid a consolatory arm over her shoulder, +and patted her awkwardly.</p> +<p>“Cheer up,” he said, “there’s worse things in +this world than money. The time may come +when you’ll be grateful to your poor little old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' ></a>11</span> +uncle, for his nifty little fifty thousand per +annum.”</p> +<p>Nancy turned a tragic face to him.</p> +<p>“I tell you I’m not grateful to him,” she said, +“and I doubt if I ever will be. I don’t want the +stupid money. I want to work life out in my +own way. I know I’ve got it in me, and I want +my chance to prove it. I want to give myself, +my own brain and strength, to the job I’ve selected +as mine. Now, it’s all spoiled for me. +I’m subsidized. I’m done for, and I can’t see +any way out of it.”</p> +<p>“You can give the money away.”</p> +<p>“I can’t. Giving money away is a special +science of itself. If I devote my life to doing +that as it should be done, I won’t have time or +energy for anything else. I’m not a philanthropist +in that sense. I wanted my restaurant to +be philanthropic only incidentally. I wanted +to cram my patrons with the full value of +their money’s worth of good nourishing food; +to increase the efficiency of hundreds of +people who never suspected I was doing it, by +scientific methods of feeding. That’s my dream.”</p> +<p>“A good little dream, all right.”</p> +<p>“To make people eat the right food; to help +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' ></a>12</span> +them to a fuller and more effective use of +themselves by supplying them with the proper +fuel for their functions.”</p> +<p>“You could buy a chain of restaurants with +the money you’ve got.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want a chain of restaurants.”</p> +<p>“You can endow a perpetual diet squad. +You can buy out the whole Life Extension +Institute. If you would only stop to think of +the advantages of having all the money you +wanted to spend on anything you wanted, +you’d—”</p> +<p>“Billy,” Nancy said solemnly, “I’ve been +through all that. If I had thought I would +have been a better person with a great deal of +money at my disposal, I—I might have—”</p> +<p>“Married Dick,” Billy finished for her. “I +forgot that interesting possibility. I suppose +to a girl who has just turned down a cold five +millions, this meager little proposition”—he +flourished the crumpled document in his hand—“has +no real allure. Lord! What a world this +is. You’ll marry Dick yet. Them as has—<i>gits</i>. +It never rains but it pours. To the victor +belong the spoils, <i>et cetera, et cetera</i>—”</p> +<p>“Money simply does not interest me.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' ></a>13</span></div> +<p>“Dick interests you. I don’t know to what +extent, but he interests you.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be sentimental, Billy. Just because +you’re in love with Caroline, you can’t make +all your other friends marry each other. Tell +me what to do about this legacy. What is customary +when you get a lump of money like that? +I suppose I’ll have to begin to get rid of all +<i>this</i> immediately.” There was more than a +hint of tears in her voice, but she smiled at +Billy bravely. “I’m so perfectly crazy about +these—these cups and saucers, Billy. See the +lovely way that rose is split to fit into the +design. Oh, when do I come into possession, +anyway?”</p> +<p>“You don’t come into possession right away, +you know. You don’t inherit for a couple of +years, under the Rhode Island law. The formalities +will take—”</p> +<p>“Billy Boynton, do you mean to say that +I won’t have to do a blessed thing about this +money for two years?” Nancy shrieked.</p> +<p>“Why, no. It takes a certain amount of red +tape to settle an estate, to probate a will, etc., +and the law allows a period of time, varying +in different states—”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' ></a>14</span></div> +<p>“Oho! Is there anything in all this universe +so stupid as a man?” Nancy interrupted fervently. +“Why didn’t you tell me that before? +Do you suppose I care how much money I have +two years from now? Two years of freedom, +why, that’s all I want, Billy. There you’ve +been sitting up winking and blinking at me +like a sympathetic old owl, when all I needed +to know was that I had two years of grace. +Of course, I’ll go on with my tea-room, and +not a soul shall know the difference.”</p> +<p>“While the feminine temperament has my +hearty admiration and my most cordial endorsement,” +Billy murmured, “there are things +about it—”</p> +<p>“I won’t have to tell anybody, will I?”</p> +<p>“There’s no law to that effect. If your +friends don’t know it from you, they’re not +likely to hear it.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t mentioned it,” Nancy said. “I +only told you, because it seemed rather in your +line of work, and I was getting so much mail +about it, I thought it would be wise to have +some one look it over.”</p> +<p>“I’ve given up my law practice and Caroline +for three days in your service.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' ></a>15</span></div> +<p>“You’ve done more than well, Billy, and I’m +grateful to you. Of course, you would have +saved me days of nervous wear and tear if it +had only occurred to you to tell me the one +simple little thing that was the essential point +of the whole matter. If I had known that I +didn’t inherit for two years, I wouldn’t have +cared <i>what</i> was in that will.”</p> +<p>Billy stared at her feelingly.</p> +<p>“A peculiar sensation always comes over +me,” he said musingly, “after I spend several +hours uninterruptedly in the society of a +woman who is using her mind in any way. I +couldn’t explain it to you exactly. It’s a kind +of impression that my own brain has begun to +disintegrate, and to—”</p> +<p>“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Billy.” +Nancy soothed him sweetly,—Billy was not one +of the people to whom she habitually allowed +full conversational leeway: “Swear you won’t +tell Caroline or Betty—or Dick.”</p> +<p>“I swear.”</p> +<p>Nancy held out her hand to him.</p> +<p>“You’re a good boy,” she said, “and I appreciate +you, which is more than Caroline does, +I’m afraid. Run along and see her now—I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' ></a>16</span> +don’t need you any more, and you’re probably +dying to.”</p> +<p>Billy bowed over her hand, lingeringly and +politely, but once releasing it, he shook his +big frame, and straightening up, drew a long +deep breath of something very like relief.</p> +<p>“With all deference to your delightful sex,” +he said, “the only society that I’m dying for at +the present moment is that of the old family +bar-keep.”</p> +<p>As Billy left her, Nancy turned to her basement +window, and stood looking out at the +quaint stone court he had to cross in order to +reach the high gate that guarded the entrance +to the marble worker’s establishment, under +the shadow of which it was her intention to +open her out-of-door tea-room. She watched +him dreamily is he made his way among the +cinerary urns, the busts and statues and bas-reliefs +that were a part of the stock in trade +of her incongruous business associate.</p> +<p>In her investigation of the various sorts and +conditions of restaurants in New York, she +characteristically hit upon the garden restaurant, +a commonplace in the down-town table +d’hôte district, as the ideal setting for her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' ></a>17</span> +adventure in practical philanthropy, while the +ubiquitous tea-room and antique-shop combination +gave her the inspiration to stage her +own undertaking even more spectacularly. +Her enterprise was destined to flourish picturesquely +in the open court during the fair +months of the year, and in the winter months, +or in the event of a bad storm, to be housed +under the eaves in the rambling garret of the +old brick building, the lower floor of which +was given over to traffic in marbles.</p> +<p>She sighed happily. Billy, extricating himself +from the grasp of an outstretched marble +hand, which bad seemed to clutch desperately +at his elbow, and narrowly escaping a plunge +into a too convenient bird’s bath, turned to see +her eyes following him, and waved gaily, but +she scarcely realized that he had done so. It +was rather with the eye of her mind that she +was contemplating the dark, quadrangular +area outstretched before her. In spirit she +was moving to and fro among the statuary, +bringing a housewifely order out of the chaos +that prevailed,—placing stone ladies draped in +stone or otherwise; cherubic babies, destined to +perpetual cold water bathing; strange mortuary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' ></a>18</span> +furniture, in the juxtaposition that would +make the most effective background for her +enterprise.</p> +<p>She saw the gritty, gray paving stones of +the court cleared of their litter, and scoured +free from discoloration and grime, set with +dozens of little tables immaculate in snowy +napery and shiny silver, and arranged with +careful irregularity at the most alluring angle. +She saw a staff of Hebe-like waitresses in blue +chambray and pink ribbons, to match the chinaware, +and all bearing a marked resemblance to +herself in her last flattering photograph, moving +among a crowd of well brought up but +palpably impoverished young people,—mostly +social workers and artists. They were <i>all</i> +young, and most of them very beautiful. In +all her twenty-five years, she had never before +been so close to a vision realized, as she was +at that moment.</p> +<p>“Outside Inn,” she said to herself, still smiling. +“It’s a perfect name for it, really. Outside +Inn!”</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' ></a>19</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_II_APPLICANTS_FOR_BLUE_CHAMBRAY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Applicants for Blue Chambray</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Ann Martin was an orphan of New +England extraction. Her father, the +eldest child of a simple unpretentious country +family in Western Massachusetts, had been a +brilliant but erratic throw-back to Mayflower +traditions and Puritan intellectualism. He had +married a girl with much the same ancestry as +his own, but herself born and brought up in +New York, and of a generation to which the +assumption of prerogative was a natural +rather than an acquired characteristic. The +possession of a comfortable degree of fortune +and culture was a matter of course with Ann +Winslow, while to poor David Martin education +in the finer things of life, and the opportunity +to indulge his taste in the choice of surroundings +and associates, were hard-won privileges.</p> +<p>Both parents had been killed in a railroad +accident when Ann, or Nancy as her mother had +insisted on calling her from the day of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' ></a>20</span> +christening, was about seven years old. She +had been placed in the care of a maternal aunt, +and had flourished in the heart of a well +ordered establishment of the mid-Victorian +type, run by a vigorous, rather worldly old +lady.</p> +<p>From her lovely mother—Ann Winslow had +been more than a merely attractive or pretty +woman; she had the real grace and distinction, +and purity of profile that placed her in the +actual category of beauty,—Nancy had inherited +a healthy and equitable outlook on life, +while her father, irresistible and impracticable +being that he was, had endowed her with a +certain eccentric and adventurous spirit in the +investigation of it.</p> +<p>She had been educated in a boarding-school, +forty minutes’ run from New York, and had +specialized in the domestic sciences and basket +ball; and on attaining her majority had taken +up a course or two at Columbia, rather more +to put off the evil day of assuming the responsibility +of the stuffy, stately old house in Washington +Square than because she ever expected +to make any use of her superfluous education. +She was conceded by every one to be her aunt’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' ></a>21</span> +heir, but old Miss Winslow died intestate, very +suddenly in Nancy’s twenty-third year; and the +beneficiaries of this accident, most of them extremely +well-to-do themselves, combined to +make Nancy a regular allowance until she was +twenty-five. On her twenty-fifth birthday fifteen +thousand dollars was deposited to her account +in the Trust Company which conserved +the family fortunes of the Winslows, and +Nancy understood that they considered their +duty by her to be done. It was with this fifteen +thousand dollars that she was to inaugurate +her darling enterprise,—Outside Inn.</p> +<p>Money, as she had truthfully told Billy, +meant nothing to her. Her aunt, living and +giving generously, had furnished her with a +background of comfortable, unostentatious well +being, against which the rather vivid elements +that went to make up her intimate social circle—she +was a creature of intimates—stood out +in alluring relief. She had literally never +wanted for anything. Her tastes, to be sure, +were modest, but the wherewithal to gratify +them had always been almost stultifyingly near +at hand. The excitement and adventure of an +income to which there was attached some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' ></a>22</span> +uncertainty had never been hers, and she was +too much her father’s daughter to be interested +in the playing of any game in which she could +not lose. With all she possessed staked against +her untried business acumen she was for the +first time in her life concerned with her financial +situation, and quite honestly resentful of +any interruption of her experiment. Her life +was closely associated with her mother’s family. +Her father’s people had at no time entered +into her scheme of living,—her uncle Elijah +less than any member of it, and she found his +post-obit intervention in her affairs embarrassing +in a dozen different connections.</p> +<p>The best friend she had in the world, before +he had made the tactical error of asking her +to marry him, was Richard Thorndyke. He +was still, thanks to his immediate skill in trying +to retrieve that error, a very good friend +indeed. Nancy would normally have told him +everything that happened to her in the exact +order of its occurrence; but partly because she +did not wish to exaggerate her eccentricity in +eyes that looked upon her so kindly, and partly +because she had the instinct to spare him the +realization that there was no way in which he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' ></a>23</span> +might come to her rescue in the event of disaster,—she +did not inform him of her legacy. +She knew that he was shrewdly calculating to +stand behind her venture, morally and practically, +and that the chief incentive of his +encouragement and helpfulness was the hidden +hope that through her experiment and its probable +unfortunate termination she would learn +to depend on <i>him</i>. Nancy was so sure of herself +that this attitude of Dick’s roused her +tenderness instead of her ire.</p> +<p>The two girls who were closest to her, Caroline +Eustace and Betty Pope, had been actively +enlisted in the service of Outside Inn and the +ideals that it represented. Betty, a dimpling, +dynamic little being, who took a sporting interest +in any project that interested her, irrespective +of its merits, was to be associated with +Nancy in the actual management of the restaurant. +Caroline, who took herself more seriously, +and was busy with a dozen enterprises +that had to do with the welfare of the race, was +concerned chiefly with the humanitarian side +of the undertaking and willing to deflect to it +only such energy as she felt to be essential to +its scientific betterment. She was tentatively +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' ></a>24</span> +engaged to Billy Boynton,—for what reason no +one—not even Billy—had been able to determine; +since she systematically disregarded him +in relation to all the interests and activities +that went to make up her life.</p> +<p>The affairs of the Inn progressed rapidly. It +was in the first week of May that Nancy and +Billy had their memorable discussion of her +situation. By the latter part of June, when she +could be reasonably sure of a succession of +propitious days and nights, for she had set her +heart on balmy weather conditions, Nancy +expected to have her formal opening,—a dinner +which not only initiated her establishment, but +submitted it to the approval of her own group +of intimate friends, who were to be her guests +on that occasion.</p> +<p>Meantime, the most extensive and discriminating +preparations were going forward. Billy +and Dick were present one afternoon by special +request when Betty and Nancy were interviewing +a contingent of waitresses.</p> +<p>“We’ve got three perfectly charming girls +already,” Nancy said, “that is, girls that look +perfectly charming to me, but a man’s point +of view on a woman’s looks is so different that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' ></a>25</span> +I thought it would be a good plan to have you +boys look over this lot. They are all very +high-class and competent girls. The Manning +Agency doesn’t send any other kind.”</p> +<p>“Trot ’em along,” Billy said; “where are they +anyway?”</p> +<p>“In the room in front.” They were in the +smallest of the nest of attic rooms that Nancy +planned to make her winter quarters. “Michael +receives them, and shows them in here one by +one.”</p> +<p>“You like Michael then?” Dick asked. “I +always said his talents were hidden at our +place. He has a soul above the job of handy +man on a Long Island farm.”</p> +<p>“He’s certainly a handy man here,” Nancy +said; “I couldn’t live without him.”</p> +<p>“The lucky dog,” Billy said, with a side +glance at Dick.</p> +<p>“You see,” Betty explained, “the girl comes +in, and we ask her questions. Then if I don’t +like her I take my pencil from behind my ear, +and rap against my palm with it. If Nancy +doesn’t like her she says, ‘You’re losing a hairpin, +Betty.’ If we like her we rub our hands +together.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' ></a>26</span></div> +<p>“It’s a good system,” Billy said, “but I don’t +see why Nancy doesn’t take her pencil from +behind her ear, or why you don’t say to her—”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t put a pencil behind my ear,” +Nancy said scathingly.</p> +<p>“And she never loses a hairpin,” Betty cut +in. “If I approve this system of signals I don’t +see what you have to complain of. Nancy +couldn’t get a pencil behind her ear even if +she wanted to. It’s only a criminal ear like +mine that accommodates a pencil.”</p> +<p>“Speaking of ears,” Dick said, looking at +his watch, “let’s get on with the beauty show. +I have to take my mother to see <i>Boris</i> to-night, +and she has an odd notion of being on time.”</p> +<p>“Aw right,” Betty said. “Here’s Michael. +Bring in the first one immediately, Michael.”</p> +<p>“Sure an’ I will that, Miss Pope.” The old +family servitor of the Thorndykes pulled a +deliberate lid over a twinkling left eye by way +of acknowledging the presence of his young +master. “There’s quite a display of thim this +time.”</p> +<p>The first applicant, guided thus by Michael, +appeared on the threshold and stood for a +moment framed in the low doorway. Seeing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' ></a>27</span> +two gentlemen present she carefully arranged +her expression to meet that contingency. She +was a blonde girl with masses of doubtfully +tinted hair and no chin, but her eyes were +very blue and matched a chain of turquoise +beads about her throat, and she radiated a +peculiar vitality.</p> +<p>Betty took her pencil from behind her ear.</p> +<p>“You’re losing a hair—” Nancy began, but +Dick and Billy exchanged glances and began +rubbing their hands together energetically and +enthusiastically.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” Nancy said crisply, “but you’re +a little too tall for our purpose.”</p> +<p>“And too blonde,” Betty added with a bland +dismissing smile. “We’re looking for a special +type of girl.”</p> +<p>“I understood you were looking for a waitress,” +the girl said pertly, with her eyes on +Billy.</p> +<p>“I was,” Billy answered, “but I’m not now. +My—my wife won’t let me.” He waved an +inclusive hand in the direction of Nancy and +Betty.</p> +<p>“If you don’t behave,” Nancy said, while they +waited for Michael to bring in the next +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' ></a>28</span> +girl, “you can’t stay. If that is the kind of +girl you men find attractive then my restaurant +is doomed from the beginning. I wouldn’t +have that girl in my employ for—”</p> +<p>Before she could begin again, applicant number +two stood before them,—a comfortable, +kind-eyed girl, no longer very young but with +efficiency written all over her, despite the shyness +that beset her.</p> +<p>Nancy rubbed her hands with satisfaction +and looked at Betty, who beamed back at her. +The girl, encouraged by Nancy’s kindly smile +took a step forward, and began to recite her +qualifications for the position. Dick fumbled +with a fountain-pen which he placed elaborately +behind his ear for an instant, and then +as ostentatiously removed.</p> +<p>“I think you’re losing a hairpin, Dick,” +Billy suggested solicitously, as Nancy, ignoring +their existence entirely, proceeded to make +terms with the newcomer.</p> +<p>The next girl created a diversion—being +palpably an adventuress out of a job and +impressing none of the quartette as being interesting +enough to deserve one,—but the two girls +who followed her were bright and sprightly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' ></a>29</span> +creatures, disarmingly graceful and ingenuous, +of whom the entire quartette approved. +They were twin sisters, they said, Dolly and +Molly, and they had always had places together +ever since they had begun working out.</p> +<p>“Tell me, pretty maiden, <i>are</i> there any more +at home <i>like</i>—” Billy was addressing Molly +gravely when Dick slipped a friendly but firm +hand over his jugular region, and cut off his +utterance.</p> +<p>“He’s not feeling quite himself,” he explained +suavely to Dolly, “but we’ll bring him around +soon.—I think you’ll find Miss Martin an ideal +person to work for, and the salary and the +hours unusually satisfactory.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Molly and Dolly +together, in the English manner which showed +the excellence of their training.</p> +<p>There were several other dubby creatures so +much out of the picture that they were not +even considered, and then Michael brought in +what he called “a grand girl,” and left her +standing statuesquely in their midst.</p> +<p>“With large lovely arms and a neck like a +tower,” Dick quoted in his throat.</p> +<p>Nancy engaged her without enthusiasm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' ></a>30</span></div> +<p>“She’ll draw,” she said briefly. “Personally, +I dislike these Alma Tadema girls.”</p> +<p>“What the men see,” Betty said, curling +around the better part of two straight dining +chairs, in the moment of relaxation that followed +the final disposition of the business of +the day, “in a girl like that first one is one of +the mysteries of existence.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” Nancy agreed, with New England +colloquialism. “You feel reasonably allied +to them as a sex, and then suddenly they show +some vulgar preference for a woman like that, +and it’s all off.”</p> +<p>“This from the woman who thinks my chauffeur +is an ideal of manly beauty,” Dick scoffed, +“a dimpled man with a little finger ring.”</p> +<p>“He can run a car, though,” Nancy retorted.</p> +<p>“I’ll bet little blue eyes could run a restaurant.”</p> +<p>“That was just the trouble,—she would have +been running mine in twenty-four hours. Oh! +I think what you men really like is a bossy +woman.”</p> +<p>“Now, what a woman really likes in a man—” +Betty began, “is—is—”</p> +<p>“Quality,” Nancy finished for her succinctly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' ></a>31</span></div> +<p>“I wonder—” Dick mused. “I should have +said finish.”</p> +<p>“Almost any kind of finish so long as it is +smooth enough,” Billy supplemented. “Look at +the way they eat up this artistic and poetic +veneer.”</p> +<p>“Look at the way they mangle their metaphors,” +Nancy complained to Betty.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“I know what I really like in a woman,” Dick +whispered to Nancy, as he helped her into her +coat just before they started out together, “and +you know what I like, too. That’s one of the +subjects that needs no discussion between us.”</p> +<p>Betty and Billy walking up the avenue ahead +of them,—Outside Inn was located in one of +the cross-streets in the thirties,—were discussing +their relation to one another.</p> +<p>“I wonder sometimes if Nancy’s got it in her +really to care for a man,” Betty argued; “she’s +as fond as she can be of Dick, but she’d sacrifice +him heart, soul and body for that restaurant +of hers. She’s a perfect darling, I don’t +mean that; she’s the very essence of sweetness +and kindness, but she doesn’t seem to +understand or appreciate the possibilities of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' ></a>32</span> +devotion like Dick’s. Do you think she’s really +capable of loving anybody—of putting any man +in the world before all her ideas and notions +and experiments?”</p> +<p>“Lord, yes,” said Billy, accelerating his pace, +suggestively in the hope of getting Betty home +in good time for him to dress to keep his +engagement with Caroline.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' ></a>33</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_III_INAUGURATION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Inauguration</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nancy’s heart was beating heavily when +she woke on the memorable morning of +the day that was to inaugurate the activities of +Outside Inn. A confused dream of her Uncle +Elijah in tatters on a park bench, which was +instantly metamorphosed into one of the rustic +seats she had arranged against the wall along +the side of some of the bigger tables in the +marble worker’s court, was ostensibly the cause +of the disturbance in her cardiac region. She +had, it seemed, in the interminable tangle of +nightmare, given Molly and Dolly and the +Alma Tadema girl instructions to throw out +the unwelcome guest, and she was standing by +with Michael, who was assuring her that the +big blonde was “certain a grand bouncer,” when +she was smitten with a sickening dream-panic +at her own ingratitude. “He has given me +everything he had in the world, poor old man,” +she said to herself, and approached him remorsefully; +but when she looked at him again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' ></a>34</span> +she saw that he had the face and figure of a +young stranger, and that the garments that had +seemed to her to be streaming and unsightly +rags, were merely the picturesque habiliments +of a young artist, apparently newly translated +from the Boulevard Montparnasse. At the +sight of the stranger a heart-sinking terror +seemed to take possession of her, and so, quaking +and quavering in mortal intimidation,—she +woke up.</p> +<p>She laughed at herself as she brushed the +sleep out of her eyes, and drew the gradual +long breaths that soothed the physical agitation +that still beset her.</p> +<p>“I’m scared,” she said, “I’m as excited and +nervous as a youngster on circus day.—Oh! I’m +glad the sun shines.”</p> +<p>Nancy lived in a little apartment of her own +in that hinterland of what is now down-town +New York, between the Rialto and its more conventional +prototype, Society,—that is, she lived +east of Broadway on a cross-street in the +forties. The maid who took care of her had +been in her aunt’s employ for years, and had +seen Nancy grow from her rather spoiled babyhood +to a hoydenish childhood, and so on to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' ></a>35</span> +soft-eyed, vibrant maturity. She was the only +person who tyrannized over Nancy. She +brought her a cup of steaming hot water with +a pinch of soda in it, now.</p> +<p>“You were moaning and groaning in your +sleep,” she said, in the strident accents of her +New England birthplace, “so you’ll have to +drink this before I give you a living thing for +your breakfast.”</p> +<p>“I will, Hitty,” Nancy said, “and thank you +kindly. Now I know you’ve been making pop-overs, +and are afraid they will disagree with +me. I’m glad—for I need the moral effect of +them.”</p> +<p>“I dunno whether pop-overs is so moral, or +so immoral if it comes to that. I notice it’s +always the folks that ain’t had much to do with +morals one way or the other that’s so almighty +glib about them.”</p> +<p>“There’s a good deal in what you say, Hitty. +If I had time I would go into the matter with +you, but this is my busy day.” Nancy sat up +in bed, and began sipping her hot water obediently. +She looked very childlike in her +straight cut, embroidered night-gown, with a +long chestnut pig-tail over either shoulder. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' ></a>36</span> +feel as if I were going to be married, or—or +something. I’m so excited.”</p> +<p>“I guess you’d be a good sight more excited +if you was going to be married”—Hitty was +a widow of twenty-five years’ standing—“and +according to my way of thinking ’twould be +a good deal more suitable,” she added darkly. +“I don’t take much stock in this hotel business. +In my day there warn’t no such newfangled +foolishness for a girl to take up with instead +o’ getting married and settled down. When I +was your age I was working on my second set +o’ baby clothes.”</p> +<p>“Don’t scold, Hitty,” Nancy coaxed. “I could +make perfectly good baby clothes if I needed +to. Don’t you think I’ll be of more use in the +world serving nourishing food to hordes of +hungry men and women than making baby +clothes for one hypothetical baby?”</p> +<p>“I dunno about the hypothetical part,” Hitty +said, folding back the counterpane, inexorably. +“What I do know is that a girl that’s getting to +be an old girl—like you—past twenty-five—ought +to be bestirring herself to look for a life +pardner if she don’t see any hanging around +that suits her, instead of opening up a hotel for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' ></a>37</span> +a passel of perfect strangers. If ever I saw a +woman spoiling for something of her own to +fuss over—”</p> +<p>“If ever there was a woman who <i>had</i> something +of her own to fuss over,” Nancy cried +ecstatically, “I’m that woman to-day, Hitty. +You’re a professional Puritan, and you don’t +understand the broader aspects of the maternal +instinct.” She sprang out of bed, and tucked +her bare pink toes into the fur bordered blue +mules that peeped from under the bed, and +slipped into the wadded blue silk bathrobe that +lay on the chair beside her. “Is my bath drawn, +Hitty?”</p> +<p>“Your bath is drawed,” Hitty acknowledged +sourly, “and your breakfast will be on the table +in half an hour by the clock.”</p> +<p>“I suppose I must require that corrective +New England influence,” Nancy said to herself, +as she tried the temperature of her bath and +found it frigid, “just as some people need +acid in their diet. If my mother were alive, I +wonder what she would have said to me this +morning.”</p> +<p>Nancy spent a long day directing, planning, +and arranging for the great event of the evening, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' ></a>38</span> +the first dinner served to the public at +Outside Inn.</p> +<p>From the basement kitchen to the ground-floor +serving-room in the rear, space cunningly +coaxed from the reluctant marble worker, the +mechanism of Nancy’s equipment was as perfect +as lavish expenditure and scientific management +could make it. The kitchen gleamed with +copper and granite ware; huge pots for soup +and vegetables, mammoth double boilers of +white enamel,—Nancy was firm in her conviction +that rice and cereal could be cooked in +nothing but white enamel,—rows upon rows of +shelves methodically set with containers and +casseroles and odd-shaped metal serving-dishes, +as well as the ubiquitous blue and rose-color +chinaware presenting its gay surface from +every available bit of space.</p> +<p>Presiding over the hooded ranges, two of gas +and one coal for toasting and broiling, there +was to be a huge Franco-American man-cook, +discovered in one of the Fifth Avenue pastry +shops in the course of Nancy’s indefatigable +tours of exploration, who was the son of a +French <i>chef</i> and a Virginian mother, and could +express himself in the culinary art of either +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' ></a>39</span> +his father’s or his mother’s nativity. His staff +of helpers and dishwashers had been chosen by +himself, with what Nancy considered most +felicitous results, while her own galaxy of waitresses, +who operated the service kitchen up-stairs, +proved themselves to a woman almost +unbelievably superior and efficient.</p> +<p>The courtyard itself was a brave spectacle in +its final aspect of background for the detail +and paraphernalia of polite dining. The more +unself-conscious of the statues, the nymphs and +nereids and Venuses, she managed either to +relegate to the storehouse within, or to add a +few cunningly draped vines to the nonchalance +of their effect, while the gargoyles and Roman +columns and some of the least ambitious of the +fountain-models she was able to adapt delightfully +to her outrageous ideal of arrangement. +Dick had denuded several smart florist shops +to furnish her with field flowers enough to +develop her decorative scheme, which included +strangely the stringing of half a dozen huge +Chinese lanterns that even in the daylight took +on a meteoric light and glow.</p> +<p>The night was clear and soft, and Fifth +Avenue, ingratiatingly swept and garnished, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' ></a>40</span> +stretched its wake of summer allure before the +never unappreciative eyes of Billy and Caroline, +and Betty and Dick respectively, who had met +at the Waldorf by appointment, and were now +making their way, thus ceremoniously and in +company, to the formal opening dinner of +Nancy’s Inn.</p> +<p>Two nondescript Pagan gentlemen of Titanesque +proportions had joined the watch of the +conventional leonine twins, and the big gate +now stood hospitably open, over it swinging +the new sign in gallant crimson and white, +that announced to all the world that Outside +Inn was even at that moment, at its most punctilious +service.</p> +<p>Molly and Dolly, in the prescribed blue +chambray, their cheeks several shades pinker +than their embellishment of pink ribbon, and +panting with ill-suppressed excitement, rushed +forward to greet the four and ushered them +solemnly to their places,—the gala table in the +center of the court, set with a profusion of +fleur de lis, with pink ribbon trainers. +Thanks to Dick’s carefully manipulated advertising +campaign and personal efforts among +his friends and business associates, they were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' ></a>41</span> +not by any means the first arrivals. Half a +dozen laughing groups were distributed about +the round tables in the center space, while +several tête-à-tête couples were confidentially +ensconced in corners and at cozy tables for +two, craftily sheltered by some of the most +imposing of the marble figures and columns.</p> +<p>“It seems like a real restaurant,” Caroline +said wonderingly.</p> +<p>“What did you think it would seem like?” +Betty asked argumentatively. “Just because +Nancy is the best friend you have in the world, +and you’re familiar with her in pig-tails and a +dressing-gown doesn’t argue that she is incapable +of managing an undertaking like this as +well as if she were a perfect stranger.”</p> +<p>“I don’t suppose it does,” Caroline mused, +“but someway I’d feel easier about a perfect +stranger investing her last cent in such a venture. +I don’t see how she can possibly make +it pay, and I don’t feel as if I could ever have +a comfortable moment again until I knew +whether she could or not.—What are you looking +so guilty about, Billy?”</p> +<p>“I was regretting your uncomfortable moments, +Caroline,” Billy said, “and wishing it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' ></a>42</span> +were in my power to do away with them, but +it isn’t. I was also musing sadly, but quite +irrelevantly, on the tangled web we weave when +first we practise to deceive.”</p> +<p>“Are you deceiving Caroline in some way?” +Dick inquired.</p> +<p>“No, he isn’t,” Caroline answered for him, +“though he has full permission to if he wants.”</p> +<p>“The time may come when he will avail +himself of that permission,” Betty said; “you +ought to be careful how you tempt Fate, Caroline.”</p> +<p>“She ought to be,” Billy groaned, “but the +fact is that I am not one of the things she is +superstitious about. Pipe the dame at the +corner table with the lorgnette. Classy, isn’t +she?”</p> +<p>“Friend of my aunt’s,” Dick said, acknowledging +the lady’s salute.</p> +<p>“And the Belasco adventuress in the corner.”</p> +<p>“My stenographer,” Dick explained, bowing +again.</p> +<p>“I’ve got a bunch of men coming,” Billy +said; “if they put the place on the bum you’ve +got to help me bounce them, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Up-stairs in the service kitchen,” Betty was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' ></a>43</span> +explaining to Caroline, “they keep all the dishes +that don’t have to be heated for serving, also +the silver and daily linen supply. When we +seat ourselves at a table like this, the waitress +to whom it is assigned goes in and gets a +basket of bread—I think it’s a pretty idea to +serve the bread in baskets, don’t you?—and +whatever silver is necessary, and a bottle of +water. When she places those things she asks +us what our choice of a meat course is,—there +is a choice except on chicken night—and gives +that order in the kitchen when she goes to get +our soup.”</p> +<p>“Who serves the things,—puts the meat on +the plates, and dishes up the vegetables?”</p> +<p>“The cook—Nancy won’t let me call him the +<i>chef</i>—because she is going to make a specialty +of the southern element of his education. He +has a serving-table by his range and he cuts +up the meat and fowl, and dishes up the vegetables. +In a bigger establishment he would +have a helper to do that.”</p> +<p>“Why can’t Michael help him?” Dick asked.</p> +<p>“Michael calls him the Haythan Shinee. He +is rather a <i>glossy</i> man, you know, and he says +when the time comes for him, Michael, to dress +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' ></a>44</span> +like a street cleaner and pilot a gravy boat, +he’ll let us know.”</p> +<p>“Respect for his superiors is not one of Michael’s +most salient characteristics,” Dick twinkled. +“Nancy and I have a scheme for making +a match between him and Hitty.”</p> +<p>“Here’s the soup,” Betty announced. +“Nancy’s idea is to have everything perfectly +simple, and—and—”</p> +<p>“Simply perfect,” Billy assisted her.</p> +<p>“Isn’t she going to eat with us?” Dick asked.</p> +<p>“She can’t. She’s busy getting it going just +at present. She may appear later.”</p> +<p>“Somebody’s got to direct this pageant, old +top,” Billy reminded him.</p> +<p>“The soup is perfect,” Caroline said seriously. +“It is simple—with that deceptive simplicity of +a Paris morning frock.”</p> +<p>“French home cooking is all like that,” Dick +said. “I like purée of forget-me-nots!”</p> +<p>“Molly or Dolly, I can’t tell the difference between +you,” Billy said, “extend our compliments +to Miss Martin, and tell her that this course is +a triumph.”</p> +<p>“Wait till you see the roast, sir.”</p> +<p>“It’s the very <i>best</i> sirloin,” Dick announced +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' ></a>45</span> +at the first mouthful, “and these assorted vegetables +all cut down to the same size are as pretty +as they are good, as one says of virtuous innocence.”</p> +<p>“This variety of asparagus is expensive,” +Caroline said; “she can’t do things like this at +seventy-five cents a head. She’ll ruin herself.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see how she can,” Dick said thoughtfully, +“with the price of foodstuffs soaring sky-high.”</p> +<p>“I never for a moment expected it to pay,” +Betty said, “but think of the run she will have +for her money, and the experience we’ll get out +of it.”</p> +<p>“You’re in it for the romance there is in it, +Betty. I must confess it isn’t altogether my +idea of a good time,” Caroline said.</p> +<p>“I know, you would go in for military training +for women, and that sort of thing. There’s +a woman over there asking for more olives, and +she’s eaten a plate full of them already.”</p> +<p>“They’re as big as hen’s eggs anyhow,” Caroline +groaned, “and almost as extravagant. I +don’t see how Nancy’ll go through the first +month at this rate. There she comes now. +Doesn’t she look nice in that color of green?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' ></a>46</span></div> +<p>“How do you like my party?” Nancy asked, +slipping into the empty chair between Dick and +Billy; “isn’t the food good and nourishing, and +aren’t there a lot of nice-looking people here?”</p> +<p>“Very much, and it is, and there are,” Dick +answered with affectionate eyes on her.</p> +<p>“The salad is alligator pear served in half +sections, with French dressing,” she said +dreamily. “I’m too happy to eat, but I’ll have +some with you. Look at them all, don’t they +look relaxed and soothed and refreshed? Every +individual has a perfectly balanced ration of +the most superlatively good quality, slowly beginning +to assimilate within him.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see many respectable working girls,” +Billy said.</p> +<p>“There are though,—from the different shops +and offices on the avenue. There is a contingent +from the Columbia summer school coming to-morrow +evening. This group coming in now +is newspaper people.”</p> +<p>“Who’s the fellow sitting over in the corner +with that Vie de Bohême hat? He looks familiar, +but I can’t seem to place him.”</p> +<p>“The man in black with the mustache?” Dick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' ></a>47</span> +asked. “He’s an artist, pretty well known. +That impressionistic chap—I can’t think of his +name—that had that exhibition at the Palsifer +galleries.”</p> +<p>“Does he sell?” Caroline asked.</p> +<p>“No, they say he’s awfully poor, refuses to +paint down to the public taste. What the deuce +is his name—oh! I know, Collier Pratt—do +you know him, Nancy? Lived in Paris always +till the war. He’ll appreciate Ritz cooking at +Riggs’ prices if anybody will.”</p> +<p>Nancy looked fixedly at the small side-table +where the stranger had just placed himself as +if he were etched upon the whiteness of the wall +behind him. He sat erect and brooding,—his +dark, rather melancholy eyes staring straight +ahead, and a slight frown wrinkling his really +fine forehead. He wore an Inverness cape slung +over one shoulder.</p> +<p>“Looks like one of Rembrandt’s portraits of +himself,” Caroline suggested.</p> +<p>“He looks like a brigand,” Betty said. +“Nancy’s struck dumb with the privilege of +adding fuel to a flame of genius like that. Wake +up and eat your peach Melba, Nancy.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' ></a>48</span></div> +<p>Nancy started, and took perfunctorily the +spoon that Molly was holding out to her, which +she forgot to lift to her lips even after it was +freighted with its first delicious mouthful.</p> +<p>“I dreamed about that man,” she said.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' ></a>49</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_IV_CINDERELLA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Cinderella</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nancy shut the door of her apartment behind +her, and slipped out into the dimly +lit corridor. From her sitting-room came a +burst of concerted laughter, the sound of +Betty’s sweet, high pitched voice raised in sudden +protest, and then the echo of some sort of +a physical struggle; and Caroline took the piano +and began to improvise.</p> +<p>“They won’t miss me,” Nancy said to herself, +“I must have air.” She drew a long breath +with a hand against her breast, apparently to +relieve the pressure there. “I can’t stay shut +up in a <i>room</i>,” she kept repeating as if she were +stating the most reasonable of premises, and +turning, fled down the two flights of stairs that +led to the outside door of the building.</p> +<p>The breath of the night was refreshingly cool +upon her hot cheeks, and she smiled into the +darkness gratefully. Across the way a row of +brownstone houses, implacably boarded up for +the summer, presented dull and dimly defined +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' ></a>50</span> +surfaces that reflected nothing, not even the +lights of the street, or the shadow of a passing +straggler. Nancy turned her face toward the +avenue. The nostalgia that was her inheritance +from her father, and through him from a long +line of ancestors that followed the sea whither +it might lead them, was upon her this night, although +she did not understand it as such. She +only thought vaguely of a strip of white beach +with a whiter moon hung high above it, and the +long silver line of the tide,—drawing out.</p> +<p>“I wish I had a hat on,” she said. There was +a night light in the chemist’s shop at the corner, +and the panel of mirror obligingly placed +for the convenience of the passing crowd, at the +left of the big window, showed her reflection +quite plainly. She was suddenly inspired to +take the soft taffeta girdle from the waist of +her dark blue muslin gown, and bind it turban-wise +about her head. The effect was pleasingly +modish and conventional, and she quickened her +steps—satisfied. There was a tingle in the air +that set her blood pleasantly in motion, and +she established a rhythm of pace that made her +feel almost as if she were walking to music. +Insensibly her mind took up its responsibilities +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' ></a>51</span> +again as the blood, stimulated from its temporary +inactivity, began to course naturally +through her veins.</p> +<p>“There is plenty of beer and ginger ale in +the ice-box,” she thought, “and I’ve done this +before, so they won’t be unnaturally disturbed +about me. Billy wanted to take Caroline home +early, and Dick can go on up-town with Betty, +without making her feel that she ought to leave +him alone with me for a last tête-à-tête. It will +hurt Dick’s feelings, but he understands really. +He has a most blessed understandingness, Dick +has.”</p> +<p>She had the avenue almost entirely to herself, +a silent gleaming thoroughfare with the +gracious emptiness that a much lived in street +sometimes acquires, of a Sunday at the end of +an adventurous season. It was early July, the +beginning of the actual summer season in New +York. Nancy had never before been in town so +late in the year, nor for that matter had Caroline +or Betty, but Betty’s interest in the affairs +of the Inn was keeping her at Nancy’s side, +while Caroline had just accepted a secretarial +position in one of the big Industrial Leagues +recently organized by women for women, that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' ></a>52</span> +would keep her in town all summer. Billy and +Dick, by virtue of their respective occupations, +were never away from New York for longer +than the customary two weeks’ vacation.</p> +<p>“My soul smoothed itself out, a long cramped +scroll,”—her conscience placated on the score of +her deserted guests, Nancy was quoting Browning +to herself, as she widened the distance between +herself and them. “I wonder why I +have this irresistible tendency to shake the people +I love best in the world at intervals. I am +such a really well-balanced and rational individual, +I don’t understand it in myself. I +thought the Inn was going to take all the nonsense +out of me, but it hasn’t, it appears,” she +sighed; “but then, I think it is going to take the +nonsense out of a lot of people that are only +erratic because they have never been properly +fed. I guess I’ll go and have a look at the old +place in its Sunday evening calm. Already it +seems queer not to be there at nine o’clock in +the evening, but I don’t really think there are +people enough in New York now on Sundays to +make it an object.”</p> +<p>Nancy’s feet turned mechanically toward the +arena of her most serious activities. Like most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' ></a>53</span> +of us who run away, she was following by instinct +the logical periphery of her responsibilities.</p> +<p>The big green latticed gate was closed against +all intruders. Nancy had the key to its padlock +in her hand-bag, but she had no intention of +using it. The white and crimson sign flapped +in the soft breeze companionably responsive to +the modest announcement, “Marble Workshop, +Reproductions and Antiques, Garden Furniture,” +which so inadequately invited those +whom it might concern to a view of the petrified +vaudeville within. Through the interstices +of the gate the courtyard looked littered and +unalluring;—the wicker tables without their +fine white covers; the chairs pushed back in a +heterogeneous assemblage; the segregated columns +of a garden peristyle gaunt against the +dark, gleamed a more ghostly white than the +weather-stained busts and figures less recently +added to the collection. It seemed to Nancy +incredible that the place would ever bloom again +with lights and bouquets and eager patrons, +with her group of pretty flower-like waitresses +moving deftly among them. She stared at the +spot with the cold eye of the creator whose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' ></a>54</span> +handiwork is out of the range of his vision, and +the inspiration of it for the moment, gone.</p> +<p>“I feel like Cinderella and her godmother +rolled into one,” she thought disconsolately. “I +waved my wand, and made so many things +happen, and now that the clock has struck, +again here I am outside in the cold and dark,”—the +wind was taking on a keener edge, and +she shivered slightly in her muslins—“with +nothing but a pumpkin shell to show for it. +Hitty says that getting what you want is apt +to be unlikely business, and I’m inclined to +think she’s right.”</p> +<p>It seemed to her suddenly that the thing she +had wanted,—a picturesque, cleverly executed +restaurant where people could be fed according +to the academic ideals of an untried young +woman like herself was an unthinkable thing. +The power of illusion failed for the moment. +Just what was it that she had hoped to accomplish +with this fling at executive altruism? +What was she doing with a French cook in +white uniform, a competent staff of professional +dishwashers and waitresses and kitchen +helpers? How had it come about that she +owned so many mounds and heaps and pyramids +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' ></a>55</span> +of silver and metal and linen? What was +this Inn that she had conceived as a project so +unimaginably fine? Who were these shadow +people that came and went there? Who was +she? Why with all her vitality and all her +hungry yearning for life and adventure +couldn’t she even believe in her own substantiality +and focus? Wasn’t life even real enough +for a creature such as she to grasp it,—if it +wasn’t—</p> +<p>She saw a figure that was familiar to her +turn in from the avenue, a tall man in an Inverness +with a wide black hat pulled down +over his eyes. For the moment she could not +remember who he was, but by the time he had +stopped in front of the big gate, giving utterance +to a well delivered expletive, she knew +him perfectly, and stood waiting, motionless, +for him to turn and speak to her. She was sure +that he would have no recollection of her. He +turned, but it was some seconds before he addressed +her.</p> +<p>“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” he said at +last, with a shrug that admitted her to the companionship +of his discomfiture. “Doubt thou +the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' ></a>56</span> +never doubt that your favorite New York restaurant +will be closed on a Sunday night.”</p> +<p>“Oh! <i>is</i> it your favorite New York restaurant?” +Nancy cried, her heart in her throat. +“It’s mine, you know, my—my favorite.”</p> +<p>“So I judged, or you wouldn’t be beating +against the gate so disconsolately.” It was too +dark to see his face clearly, but Nancy realized +that he was looking down at her quizzically +through the darkness.</p> +<p>“Do you really like this restaurant?” she persisted.</p> +<p>“In some ways I like it very much. The food +is quite possible as you know, very American in +character, but very good American, and it has +the advantage of being served out-of-doors. I +am a Frenchman by adoption, and I like the +outdoor café. In fact, I am never happy eating +inside.”</p> +<p>“The surroundings are picturesque?” Nancy +hazarded.</p> +<p>The stranger laughed. “According to the +American ideal,” he said, “they are—but I do +admit that they show a rather extraordinary +imagination. I’ve often thought that I should +like to make the acquaintance of the woman,—of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' ></a>57</span> +course, it’s a woman—who conceived the notion +of this mortuary tea-room.”</p> +<p>“Why, of course, is it a woman?”</p> +<p>“A man wouldn’t set up housekeeping in—in +<i>Père Lachaise</i>.”</p> +<p>“Why not, if he found a really domestic-looking +corner?”</p> +<p>“He <i>wouldn’t</i> in the first place, it wouldn’t +occur to him, that’s all, and if he did he couldn’t +get away with it. The only real drawback to +this hostelry is, as you know, that they don’t +serve spirits of any kind. I’m accustomed to a +glass or two of wine with my dinner, and my +food sticks in my throat when I can’t have it, +but I’ve found a way around that, now.”</p> +<p>“Oh! have you?” said Nancy.</p> +<p>“Don’t give me away, but there’s a man +about the place here whose name is Michael, +and he possesses that blend of Gallic facility +with Celtic canniness that makes the Irish so +wonderful as a race. I told my trouble to Michael,—with +the result that I get a teapot full +of Chianti with my dinner every night, and no +questions asked.”</p> +<p>“Oh! you do?” gasped Nancy.</p> +<p>“You see Michael is serving the best interests +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' ></a>58</span> +of his employer, who wants to keep her patrons, +because if I couldn’t have it I wouldn’t be there. +He couldn’t trouble the lady about it, naturally, +because it is technically an offense against the +law. Come, let’s go and find a quiet corner +where we can continue our conversation comfortably. +There’s a painfully respectable little +hotel around the corner here that looks like the +Café L’avenue when you first go in, but is a +place where the most bourgeoise of one’s aunts +might put up.”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know that I can go,” said Nancy.</p> +<p>“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t, you +know. My name is Collier Pratt. I’m an artist. +The more bourgeoise of my aunts would introduce +me if she were here. She’s a New Englander +like so many of your own charming relatives.”</p> +<p>“How did you know that?” Nancy asked, as +she followed him with a docility quite new to +her, past the big green gate, and the row of +nondescript shops between it and the corner +of Broadway.</p> +<p>“I was <i>born</i> in Boston,” Collier Pratt said a +trifle absently. “I know a Massachusetts product +when I see one. Ah! here we are.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' ></a>59</span></div> +<p>He led her triumphantly to a table in the far +corner of the practically empty restaurant, +waved away the civilities of a swarthy and +somewhat badly coordinated waiter, and pulled +out her chair for her himself.</p> +<p>“Now, let me have a look at you,” he said; +“why, you’ve nothing on but muslin, and you’re +wearing your belt for a turban.”</p> +<p>“A sop to the conventions,” Nancy said, +blushing burningly. She was not quite able yet +to get her bearings with this extraordinary +man, who had assumed charge of her so cavalierly, +but she was eager to find her poise in +the situation. “I ran away, and I thought it +would look better to have something like a +hat on.”</p> +<p>“Looks,” said Collier Pratt, “looks! That’s +New England, always the looks of a thing, never +the feel of it. Mind you I don’t mean the <i>look</i> +of a thing, that’s something different again.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know, the conventional slant as opposed +to the artistic perspective.”</p> +<p>“Good! It isn’t necessary to have my remarks +followed intelligently, but it always adds +piquancy to the situation when they are. +Speaking of artistic perspective, you have a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' ></a>60</span> +very nice coloring. I like a ruddy chestnut hair +with a skin as delicately white and pink as +yours.” He spoke impersonally with the narrowing +eye of the artist. “I can see you either +in white,—not quite a cream white, but almost,—against +a pearly kind of Quakerish background, +or flaming out in the most crude, +barbaric assemblage of colors. That’s the advantage +of your type and the environment you +connote—you can be the whole show, or the +veriest little mouse that ever sought the protective +coloring of the shadows.”</p> +<p>“You aren’t exactly taking the quickest way +of putting me at my ease,” Nancy said. “I’m +very much embarrassed, you know. I’d stand +being looked over for a few minutes longer if +I could,—but I can’t. I’m not having one of my +most equable evenings.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon,” Collier Pratt said.</p> +<p>For the first time since she had seen his face +with the light upon it, he smiled, and the smile +relieved the rather empiric quality of his habitual +expression. Nancy noticed the straight +line of the heavy brows scarcely interrupted by +the indication of the beginning of the nose, and +wondering to herself if it were not possible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' ></a>61</span> +for a person with that eyebrow formation to +escape the venality of disposition that is popularly +supposed to be its adjunct,—decided affirmatively.</p> +<p>“I’m not used to talking to American girls +very much. I forget how daintily they’re accustomed +to being handled. I’m extremely anxious +to put you at your ease,” he added quietly. +“I appreciate the privilege of your company on +what promised to be the dullest of dull evenings. +I should appreciate still more,” he bowed, +as he handed her a bill of fare of the journalistic +proportions of the usual hotel menu, +“if you would make a choice of refreshment, +that we may dispense with the somewhat pathological +presence of our young friend here,” he +indicated the waiter afflicted with the jerking +and titubation of a badly strung puppet. “I advise +Rhine wine and seltzer. I offer you anything +from green chartreuse to Scotch and soda. +Personally I’m going to drink Perrier water.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather have an ice-cream,” Nancy said, +“than anything else in the world,—coffee ice-cream, +and a glass of water.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if you would, or if you only think +it’s—safer. At any rate I’m going to put my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' ></a>62</span> +coat over your shoulders while you eat it. I +never leave my rooms at this hour of the night +without this cape. If I can find a place to sit +out in I always do, and I’m naturally rather +cold-blooded.”</p> +<p>“I’m not,” said Nancy, but she meekly allowed +him to drape her in the folds of the light +cape, and found it grateful to her.</p> +<p>“Bring the lady a big cup of coffee, and mind +you have it hot,” Collier Pratt ordered peremptorily, +as her ice-cream was served by the +shaking waiter. “Coffee may be the worst +thing in the world for you, nervously. I don’t +know,—it isn’t for me, I rather thrive on it, but +at any rate I’m going to save you from the combination +of organdie and ice-cream on a night +like this. What is your name?” he inquired +abruptly.</p> +<p>“Ann Martin.”</p> +<p>“Not at my service?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, yet.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know,—but I hope and trust +so. I like you. You’ve got something they +don’t have—these American girls,—softness +and strength, too. I imagine you’ve never been +out of America.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' ></a>63</span></div> +<p>“I—I have.”</p> +<p>“With two other girls and a chaperon, doing +Europe, and staying at all the hotels doped up +for tourist consumption.”</p> +<p>Nancy was constrained to answer with a +smile.</p> +<p>“You don’t like America very much,” she +said presently.</p> +<p>“I like it for itself, but I loathe it—for +myself. My way of living here is all wrong. I +can’t get to bed in this confounded city. I can’t +get enough to eat.”</p> +<p>“Oh! can’t you?” Nancy cried.</p> +<p>“In Paris, or any town where there is a café +life one naturally gets fed. The technique of +living is taken care of much better over there. +Your <i>concierge</i> serves you a nourishing breakfast +as a matter of course. When you’ve done +your morning’s work you go to your favorite +café—not with the one object in life—to cram +a <i>Châteaubriand</i> down your dry and resisting +throat because he who labors must live,—but to +see your friends, to read your daily journals, +to write your letters, and do it incidentally in +the open air while some diplomat of a waiter +serves you with food that assuages the palate, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' ></a>64</span> +without insulting your mood. That’s what I +like about the little restaurant in the court +there. It’s out-of-doors, and you may stay +there without feeling your table is in requisition +for the next man. It’s a very polite little +place.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t expect to get in there to-night.”</p> +<p>“I had hopes of it. I’ve not dined, you see.”</p> +<p>“Not dined?” Nancy’s eyes widened in dismay.</p> +<p>“There’s no use for me to dine unless I can +eat my food tranquilly, in some accustomed corner. +Getting nourished with me is a spiritual, +as well as a physical matter. It is with all +sensitive people. Don’t you think so?”</p> +<p>“I suppose so. I—I hadn’t thought of it +that way. Couldn’t you eat something now—an +oyster stew, or something like that?”</p> +<p>“Nothing in any way remotely connected with +that. An oyster stew is to me the most barbarous +of concoctions. I loathe hot milk,—an +oyster is an adjunct to a fish sauce, or a +preface to a good dinner.”</p> +<p>“You ought to have something,” Nancy +urged, “even ice-cream is more nourishing than +mineral water, or coffee with cream in it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' ></a>65</span></div> +<p>“I like coffee after dinner, not before.”</p> +<p>“If you only eat when it’s convenient, or the +mood takes you,” Nancy cried out in real distress, +“how can you ever be sure that you have +calories enough? The requirement of an average +man at active labor is estimated at over +three thousand calories. You must have something +like a balanced ration in order to do your +work.”</p> +<p>“Must I?” Collier Pratt smiled his rare +smile. “Well, at any rate, it is good to hear you +say so.”</p> +<p>She finished her ice-cream, and Collier Pratt +drank his mineral water slowly, and smoked innumerable +cigarettes of Virginia tobacco. The +conversation which had proceeded so expeditiously +to this point seemed for no apparent +reason, suddenly to become gratuitous. Nancy +had never before begun on the subject of the +balanced ration without being respectfully allowed +to go through to the end. She had not +been allowed to feel snubbed, but she was a little +bewildered that any conversation in which +she was participating, could be so gracefully +stopped before it was ended by her expressed +desire.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' ></a>66</span></div> +<p>Collier Pratt took his watch out of his pocket, +and looked at it hastily.</p> +<p>“By jove,” he said, “I had entirely forgotten. +I have a child in my charge. I must be +about looking after her.”</p> +<p>“A child?” Nancy cried, astonished.</p> +<p>“Yes, a little girl. She’s probably sitting up +for me, poor baby. Can you get home alone, +if I put you on a bus or a street-car?”</p> +<p>“If you’ll call a taxi for me—” Nancy said.</p> +<p>She noticed that the check was paid with +change instead of a bill. In fact, her host +seemed not to have a bill of any denomination +in his pocket, but to be undisturbed by the fact. +He parted from her casually.</p> +<p>“Good-by, child,” he said with his head in the +door after he had given the chauffeur her street +number; “with the permission of <i>le bon Dieu</i>, +we shall see each other again. I feel that He is +going to give it to us.”</p> +<p>“Good-by,” Nancy said to his retreating +shoulder.</p> +<p>At her own front door was Dick’s big Rolls-Royce, +and Dick sitting inside of it, with his +feet comfortably up, feigning sleep.</p> +<p>“You didn’t think I’d go home until I saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' ></a>67</span> +you safe inside your own door, did you?” he +demanded.</p> +<p>“Where’s Betty?” Nancy asked mechanically.</p> +<p>“I sent Williams home with her. Then he +came back here, and left the car with me.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t have waited,” Nancy said, “I’m +sorry, Dick, I—I had to have air. I had to get +out. I couldn’t stay inside a minute longer.”</p> +<p>“You need never explain anything to me.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”</p> +<p>Dick looked at her carefully before he made +his answer. Then he said firmly.</p> +<p>“No, dear.”</p> +<p>“I might have told you,” she said, “if you had +wanted to know.” She felt her knees sagging +with fatigue, and drooped against the door-frame.</p> +<p>“Come and sit in the car, and talk to me for +a minute,” he suggested. “Do you good, before +you climb the stairs.”</p> +<p>He opened the car door for her ingratiatingly, +but she shook her head.</p> +<p>“I’ve done unconventional things enough for +one evening,” she said. “Unlock the door for +me. Hitty’ll be waiting up to take care of me.”</p> +<p>“What’s that queer thing you’re wearing?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' ></a>68</span> +he asked her, as he held the door for her to pass +through, “I never remember seeing you wear +that before.”</p> +<p>Nancy looked down wonderingly at the folds +of the Inverness still swinging from her shoulders. +She had been subconsciously aware of +the grateful warmth in which she was encased +ever since she snuggled comfortably into the +depths of the taxi-cab into which Collier Pratt +had tucked her.</p> +<p>“No, I never <i>have</i> worn it before,” she said, +answering Dick’s question.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' ></a>69</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_V_SCIENCE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Science</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>The activities of the day at Outside Inn began +with luncheon and the preparation for +it. Nancy longed to serve breakfast there, but +as yet it had not seemed practicable to do so. +Most of the patrons of the restaurant conducted +the business of the day down-town, but +had their actual living quarters in New York’s +remoter fastnesses,—Brooklyn, the Bronx or +Harlem. Nancy was satisfied that the bulk of +her patronage should be the commuting and +cliff dwelling contingent of Manhattanites,—indeed +it was the sort of patronage that from +the beginning she had intended to cater to.</p> +<p>Nancy did most of the marketing herself at +first, but Gaspard—the big cook—gradually +coaxed this privilege away from her.</p> +<p>“You see,” he said, “we sit—us together, and +talk of eating”—he prided himself on his use +of English, and never used his native tongue +to help him out, except in moments of great excitement. +“It is immediately after breakfast. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' ></a>70</span> +Yes! I am full of milk-coffee sopped with +bread, and you of bacon with eggs and marmalade. +We say, what shall we give to our +custom for its dinner and its luncheon? We +think sadly—we who have but now brushed +away the crumbs of breakfast—of those who +must sit down so soon to the table groaning +with viands. Therefore we say, ‘Market delicately. +Have the soup clear, the entrée light and +the salad green with plenty of vinegar.’ Even +your calories—they do not help us much. They +are in quantities so unexpected in the food that +weighs nothing in the scales. We say you shall +go to market and buy these things, and you go. +I stir and walk about, and grow restless for +my <i>déjeuner</i>, and when you return from market, +hungry too, we are not the same people +who had thought our soup should be clear, and +our entrée more beautiful than nutritious. If +I go to market myself <i>late</i> I am inspired there +to buy what is right, because by that hour I +have a proper relish and understanding of what +all the world should eat.”</p> +<p>“I know he is right,” Nancy said to Billy +afterward in reporting the conversation, “I +hate to admit it, but even my notion of what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' ></a>71</span> +other people should eat is colored by my own +relation to food. I never realized before how +little use an intellect is in this matter of food +values. I can actually get up a meal that according +to the tables is scientifically correct +that wouldn’t feed anybody if they were hungry.”</p> +<p>“One banana is equal to a pound and three-quarters +of steak,” Billy misquoted helpfully.</p> +<p>“The trouble is that it <i>isn’t</i>,” Nancy said, “except +technically.”</p> +<p>“You can’t eat it and grow thin.”</p> +<p>“You can’t eat it and grow <i>fat</i> unless it happens +to be the peculiar food to which you are +idiosyncratic.”</p> +<p>“If that’s really a word,” Billy said, “I’ll overlook +your trying it out on me. If it isn’t you’ll +have to take the consequences.” He went +through the pantomime of one preparing to do +physical violence.</p> +<p>“Oh! it’s a word. Ask Caroline.” Nancy’s +eyes still held their look of being focussed on +something in the remote distance. “The trouble +with all this dietetic problem is that the individual +is dependent on something more than +an adjustment of values. His environment and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' ></a>72</span> +his heredity play an active part in his diet +problem. Some people can eat highly concentrated +food, others have to have bulk, and so +on. You can’t substitute cheese and bananas +for steak and do the race a service no matter +what the cost of steak may soar to. You can’t +even substitute rice for potatoes.”</p> +<p>“Not unless your patronage is more Oriental +than Celtic.”</p> +<p>“Healthy people have to have honest fare of +about the type to which their environment has +accustomed them, but intelligently supervised,—that’s +the conclusion I’ve come to.”</p> +<p>“You may be right,” Billy said, “my general +notion has always been that everybody ate +wrong, and that everybody who would stand +for it ought to be started all over again. I +wouldn’t stand for it, so I’ve never looked into +the matter.”</p> +<p>“People don’t eat wrong, that’s the really +startling discovery I’ve made recently. I mean +healthy people don’t.”</p> +<p>“I don’t believe it,” said Billy; “the way people +eat is one of the most outrageous of the +human scandals. I read the newspapers.”</p> +<p>“The newspapers don’t know,” Nancy said; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' ></a>73</span> +“the individual usually has an instinctive working +knowledge of the diet that is good for him, +and his digestional experiences have taught him +how to regulate it to some extent.”</p> +<p>“How do you account for the clerk that orders +coffee and sinkers at Child’s every day?”</p> +<p>“That’s exactly it,” Nancy said. “He knows +that he needs bulk and stimulation. He’s handicapped +by his poverty, but he gets the nearest +substitute for the diet that suits him that he +can get. If he could afford it he would have a +square meal that would nourish him as well as +warm and fill him.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see but what this interesting theory +lets you out altogether. Why Outside Inn, with +its foxy table d’hôte, if what’s one man’s meat +is another man’s poison, and natural selection +is the order of the day?”</p> +<p>“Outside Inn is all the more necessary to the +welfare of a nation that’s being starved out by +the high cost of living. All I need to do is to +have a little more variety, to have all the nutritive +requirements in each meal, and such +generous servings that every patron can make +out a meal satisfying to himself.”</p> +<p>“Everybody knows that all fat people eat all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' ></a>74</span> +the sweets that they can get, and all thin people +take tea without sugar with lemon in it.”</p> +<p>“These people aren’t healthy. That’s where +the intelligent supervision comes in.”</p> +<p>“What do you intend to do about them?”</p> +<p>“Watch over them a little more carefully. +Regulate their servings craftily. Be sure of +my tables. I have lots of schemes. I’ll tell you +about them sometime.”</p> +<p>“<i>Sometime</i>,—for this relief much thanks,” +murmured Billy; “just now I’ve had as much +of these matters as I can stand. I don’t see how +you are going to run this thing on a profit, +though.”</p> +<p>“I’m not,” Nancy said, “I’m losing money +every minute. That fifteen thousand dollars is +almost gone now, of course. Billy, do you think +it would be perfectly awful if I didn’t try to +make money at all?”</p> +<p>“I think it would be a good deal wiser. I’ll +raise all the money you want on your expectations.”</p> +<p>“All right then. I’m not going to worry.”</p> +<p>Billy looked down into the courtyard from +the room up-stairs in which they had been talking. +Already the preparations for lunch were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' ></a>75</span> +under way. The girls were moving deftly +about, laying cloths and arranging flower vases +and silver.</p> +<p>“Can I get right down there and sit down at +one of those tables and have my lunch,” Billy +inquired, “or do I have to go out of the back +door and come in the front like a regular customer?”</p> +<p>“Whichever you prefer. There’s Caroline +coming in at the gate now.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, I know which I prefer,” Billy +said, swimming realistically toward the stairs.</p> +<p>“You are getting fat, Billy,” Caroline informed +him critically after the amenities were +over, and the meal appropriately begun. “You +ought to watch your diet a little more carefully.”</p> +<p>“No,” Billy said firmly, “I don’t need to watch +my diet, I’m perfectly healthy, and therefore +my natural cravings will point the way to my +most judicious nourishment. Nancy has explained +all to me.”</p> +<p>“That’s a very interesting theory of +Nancy’s,” Caroline said, “but I don’t altogether +agree with it.”</p> +<p>“I do,” said Billy, then he added hastily, “but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' ></a>76</span> +I agree with you, too, Caroline. You are to +all other women what moonlight is to sunlight, +or I mean—what sunlight is to moonlight. In +other words—you are the goods.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be silly, Billy.”</p> +<p>“There’s only one thing in all this wide universe +that you can’t say to me, Caroline, and +‘don’t be silly, Billy,’ is that thing,—express +this same thing in <i>vers libre</i> if you must say +it! Look at the handsome soup you’re getting. +What is the name of that soup, Molly?”</p> +<p>He smiled ingratiatingly at the little waitress, +who always beamed at any one of Nancy’s +particular friends that came into the restaurant, +and made a point of serving them if she +could possibly arrange it.</p> +<p>“Cream of spinach,” she said, “it’s a special +to-day.”</p> +<p>“Beautiful soup so rich and green,” Billy began +in a soulful baritone, “waiting in a hot +tureen. Where’s mine, Molly?”</p> +<p>“Dolly’s bringing your first course, sir.”</p> +<p>Billy gazed in perplexity at the half of a delicious +grapefruit set before him by the duplicate +of the pretty girl who stood smiling deprecatingly +behind Caroline’s chair.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' ></a>77</span></div> +<p>“Where’s my soup, Dolly?” Billy asked with +a thundering sternness of manner.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, sir,” Dolly began glibly, “but the +soup has given out. Will you be good enough +to allow the substitution of—”</p> +<p>“That’s a formula,” Billy said. “The soup +can’t be out. We’re the first people in the dining-room. +Go tell Miss Nancy that I will be +served with some of that green soup at once, or +know the reason why.”</p> +<p>The two waitresses exchanged glances, and +went off together suppressing giggles, to return +almost immediately, their risibility still causing +them great physical inconvenience.</p> +<p>“Intelligent supervision, she says.” Dolly +exploded into the miniature patch of muslin +and ribbon that served her as an apron.</p> +<p>“She says that’s the reason why,” Molly contributed,—following +her sister’s example.</p> +<p>“Nancy doesn’t serve soup to a fat man if she +can possibly avoid it. That’s part of her theory,” +Caroline explained. “There’s no use making a +fuss about it, because you won’t get it.”</p> +<p>Billy sat looking at his grapefruit for some +seconds in silence. Then he began on it slowly.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' ></a>78</span></div> +<p>Nancy was learning a great many things +very rapidly. The practical application of her +theories of feeding mankind to her actual experiments +with the shifting population of New +York, revolutionized her attitude toward the +problem almost daily. She had started in with +a great many ideas and ideals of service, with +preconceived notions of balanced rations, and +exact distribution of fuel stuffs to the human +unit. She had come to realize very shortly, that +the human unit was a quantity as incalculable +in its relation to its digestive problems as its +psychological ones. She had believed vaguely +that in reference to food values the race made +its great exception to its rule of working out +toward normality; but she changed that opinion +very quickly as she watched her fellow men +selecting their diet with as sure an instinct for +their nutritive requirements as if she had +coached them personally for years.</p> +<p>From the assumption that she lived in a +world gone dietetically mad, and hence in the +process of destroying itself, she had gradually +come to see that in this phase of his struggle +for existence, as well as in every other, the instinct +of man operated automatically in the direction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' ></a>79</span> +of his salvation. This new attitude in +tie matter relieved her of much of her responsibility, +but left her not less anxious to do what +she could for her kind in the matter of calories. +She was, as she had shown in her treatment of +Billy, not entirely blinded by her growing predilection +in favor of the doctrine of natural +selection.</p> +<p>Every day she had Gaspard make, in addition +to his regular table d’hôte menu, dozens of +nutritive custards, quarts of stimulating broths +and jellies and other dishes containing the maximum +of easily digested and highly concentrated +nutriment, and these she managed to +have Molly or Dolly or even Hildeguard—the +Alma Tadema girl—introduce into the luncheon +or dinner service in the case of those patrons +who seemed to need peculiarly careful nourishing. +Let a white-faced girl sink into a seat +within the range of Nancy’s vision,—she always +ensconced herself in the doorway screened +with vines at the beginning of a meal,—and she +gave orders at once for the crafty substitution +of invalid broth for soup, of rich nut bread for +the ordinary rolls and crackers, of custards or +specially made ice-cream for the dessert of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' ></a>80</span> +day. No overfed, pasty-faced man ever escaped +from Outside Inn until an attempt at +least had been made to introduce a portion of +stewed prunes into his diet; and all such were +fed the minimum of bread and other starchy +foods, and the maximum of salad and green +vegetables. Nancy had gluten bread made in +quantities for the stouter element of her patronage, +and in nine cases out of ten she was +able to get it served and eaten without protest. +Some of her regular patrons began to change +weight gradually, a heavy man or two became +less heavy, and a wraithlike girl now and then +took on a new bloom and substantiality. These +were the triumphs for which Nancy lived. Her +only regret was that she was not able to give +to each her personal time and attention, and establish +herself on a footing with her patrons +where she might learn from their own lips the +secrets of their metabolism.</p> +<p>She was not known as the proprietor of the +place. In fact, the management of the restaurant +was kept a careful secret from those who +frequented it and with the habitual indifference +of New Yorkers to the power behind the throne, +so long as its affairs were manipulated in good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' ></a>81</span> +and regular order, they soon ceased to feel any +apparent curiosity about it. Betty, who sometimes +rebelled at remaining so scrupulously incognita, +defiantly took the limelight at intervals +and moved among the assembled guests with an +authoritative and possessive air, adjusting and +rearranging small details, and acknowledging +the presence of <i>habitués</i>, but since her attentions +were popularly supposed to be those of a +superior head waitress, she soon tired of the +gesture of offering them.</p> +<p>Nancy’s intention had been to allow the restaurant +to speak for itself, and then at the climactic +moment to allow her connection with it +to be discovered, and to speak for it with all +the force and earnestness of which she was +capable. She had meant to stand sponsor for +the practical working theory on which her experiment +was based, and she had already partially +formulated interviews with herself in +which she modestly acknowledged the success +of that experiment, but the untoward direction +in which it was developing made such a revelation +inexpedient.</p> +<p>There was one regular patron to whom she +was peculiarly anxious to remain incognita. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' ></a>82</span> +Collier Pratt made it his almost invariable +habit to come sauntering toward the table in +the corner, under the life-sized effigy of the <i>Vênus +de Medici</i>, at seven o’clock in the evening, +and that table was scrupulously reserved for +him. To it were sent the choicest of all the +viands that Outside Inn could command. Michael +was tacitly sped on his way with his teapot +full of claret. Gaspard did amazing things +with the breasts of ducks and segments of +orange, with squab chicken stuffed with new +corn, with <i>filets de sole a la Marguery</i>. Nancy +craftily spurred him on to his most ambitious +achievements under pretense of wishing her +own appetite stimulated, and the big cook, who +adored her, produced triumph after triumph +of his art for her delectation, whereupon the +biggest part of it was cunningly smuggled out +to the artist. From behind her screen of vines +Nancy watched the fine features of her quondam +friend light with the rapture of the <i>gourmet</i> +as be sampled Gaspard’s sauce <i>verte</i> or +Hollandaise or lifted the glass cover from the +mushrooms <i>sous cloche</i> and inhaled their delicate +aroma.</p> +<p>“I wonder if he finds our food very American +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' ></a>83</span> +in character, now,” she said to herself, +with a blush at the memory of the real southern +cornbread and candied sweet potatoes that were +offered him in the initial weeks of his patronage. +Gaspard still made these delicacies for +luncheon, but they had been almost entirely +banished from the dinner menu. Afternoon +tea at the Inn was famous for the wonderful +waffles produced with Parisian precision from +a traditional Virginian recipe, but Collier Pratt +never appeared at either of these meals to criticize +them for being American.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' ></a>84</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_VI_AN_ELEEMOSYNARY_INSTITUTION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>An Eleemosynary Institution</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>One night during the latter part of July +Betty had a birthday, and according to +immemorial custom Caroline and Nancy and +Dick and Billy helped her to celebrate it at one +of the old-fashioned down-town hotels where +they had ordered practically the same dinner +for her anniversaries ever since they had been +grown up enough to celebrate them unchaperoned. +Caroline’s brother, Preston, had made +a sixth member of the party for the first two or +three years, but he had been located in London +since then, in charge of the English office of his +firm, to which he had been suddenly appointed +a month after he and Betty, who had been +sweethearts, had had a spectacular quarrel.</p> +<p>Nancy stayed by the celebration until about +half past nine, and then Dick put her into a +taxi-cab, and she fled back to her responsibilities +as mistress of Outside Inn, agreeing to +meet the others later for the rounding out of +the evening. As she drew up before the big +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' ></a>85</span> +gate the courtyard seemed practically deserted. +The waitresses were busy clearing away the +few cluttered tables left by the last late guests, +and in one sheltered corner a man and a girl +were frankly holding hands across the table, +while they whispered earnestly of some impending +parting. The big canopy of striped awning +cloth had been drawn over the tables, as the +rather heavy air of the evening bad been punctured +occasionally by a swift scattering of rain. +Nancy was half-way across the court before she +realized that Collier Pratt was still occupying +his accustomed seat under the shadow of the +big Venus. She had not seen him face to face +or communicated with him since the day she +had looked him up in the telephone book and +sent his cape to him by special messenger. She +stopped involuntarily as she reached his side, +and he looked up and smiled as he recognized +her.</p> +<p>“You’re late again, Miss Ann Martin,” he +said, rising and pulling out a chair for her opposite +his own. “I think perhaps I can pull the +wires and procure you some sustenance if you +will say the word.”</p> +<p>“I’ve no word to say,” Nancy said, “but how +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' ></a>86</span> +do you do? I’ve just dined elsewhere. I only +stopped in here for a moment to get something—something +I left here at lunch.”</p> +<p>“In that case I’ll offer you a drop of Michael’s +tea in my water glass.” He poured a tablespoonful +or so of claret from the teapot into +the glass of ice-water before him, and added +several lumps of sugar to the concoction, which +he stirred gravely for some time before he offered +it to her. “I never touch water myself. +This is <i>eau rougie</i> as the French children drink +it. It’s really better for you than ice-cream and +a glass of water.”</p> +<p>“And less American,” Nancy murmured with +her eyes down.</p> +<p>“And less American,” he acquiesced blandly.</p> +<p>Nancy sipped her drink, and Collier Pratt +stirred the dregs in his coffee cup—Nancy had +overheard some of her patrons remarking on +the curious habits of a man who consumed a +pot of tea and a pot of coffee at one and the +same meal—and they regarded each other for +some time in silence. Michael and Hildeguard, +Molly and Dolly and two others of the staff of +girls were grouped in the doorway exactly in +Nancy’s range of vision, and whispering to one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' ></a>87</span> +another excitedly concerning the phenomenon +that met their eyes.</p> +<p>“The little girl?” Nancy said, trying to ignore +the composite scrutiny to which she was being +subjected, by turning determinedly to her companion, +“the little girl that you spoke of—is she +well?”</p> +<p>“She’s as well as a motherless baby could +be, subjected to the irregularities of a life like +mine. Still she seems to thrive on it.”</p> +<p>“Is she yours?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, she’s mine,” Collier Pratt said, gravely +dismissing the subject, and leaving Nancy half +ashamed of her boldness in putting the question, +half possessed of a madness to know the +answer at any cost.</p> +<p>“I’ve discovered something very interesting,” +Collier Pratt said, after an interval in which +Nancy felt that he was perfectly cognizant of +her struggle with her curiosity; “in fact, it’s +one of the most interesting discoveries that I +have made in the course of a not unadventurous +life. Do you come to this restaurant often?”</p> +<p>“Quite often,” Nancy equivocated, “earlier in +the day. For luncheon and for tea.”</p> +<p>“I come here almost every night of my life,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' ></a>88</span> +Collier Pratt declared, “and I intend to continue +to come so long as <i>le bon Dieu</i> spares me my +health and my epicurean taste. You know that +I spoke of the food here before. The character +of it has changed entirely. It’s unmistakably +French now, not to say Parisian. Outside of +Paris or Vienna I have never tasted such soups, +such sauce, such delicate and suggestive flavors. +My entire existence has been revolutionized by +the experience. I am no longer the lonely and +unhappy man you discovered at this gate a +short month ago. I can not cavil at an America +that furnishes me with such food as I get in +this place.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“Man may live without friends, and may live without books.</p> +<p>But civilized man can not live without cooks,”</p> +</div></div> +<p class='ni'>Nancy quoted sententiously.</p> +<p>“Exactly. The whole point is that the cooking +here is civilized. Oh! you ought to come +here to dinner, my friend. I don’t know what +the luncheons and teas are like—”</p> +<p>“They’re very good,” Nancy said.</p> +<p>“But not like the dinners, I’ll wager. The +dinners are the very last word! I don’t know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' ></a>89</span> +why this place isn’t famous. Of course, I do +my best to keep it a secret from the artistic +rabble I know. It would be overrun with them +in a week, and its character utterly ruined.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if it would.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I’m sure of it.”</p> +<p>“What is your discovery?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt leaned dramatically closer to +her, and Nancy instinctively bent forward +across the tiny table until her face was very +near to his.</p> +<p>“Do you know anything about the price of +foodstuffs?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“A little,” Nancy admitted.</p> +<p>“You know then that the price of every commodity +has soared unthinkably high, that the +mere problem of providing the ordinary commonplace +meal at the ordinary commonplace +restaurant has become almost unsolvable to the +proprietors? Most of the eating places in New +York are run at a loss, while the management +is marking time and praying for a change in +conditions. Well, here we have a restaurant +opening at the most crucial period in the history +of such enterprises, offering its patrons +the delicacies of the season most exquisitely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' ></a>90</span> +cooked, at what is practically the minimum +price for a respectable meal.”</p> +<p>“That’s true, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“More than that, there are people who come +here, who order one thing and get another, and +the thing they get is always a much more elaborate +and extravagant dish than the one they +asked for. I’ve seen that happen again and +again.”</p> +<p>“Have you?” Nancy asked faintly, shrinking +a little beneath the intentness of his look. “How—how +do you account for it?”</p> +<p>“There’s only one way to account for it.”</p> +<p>“Do you think that there is an—an unlimited +amount of capital behind it?”</p> +<p>“I think that goes without saying,” he said; +“there must be an unlimited amount of capital +behind it, or it wouldn’t continue to flourish +like a green bay tree; but that’s not in the nature +of a discovery. Anybody with any power +of observation at all would have come to that +conclusion long since.”</p> +<p>“Then, what is it you have found out?” +Nancy asked, quaking.</p> +<p>“My discovery is—” Collier Pratt paused for +the whole effect of his revelation to penetrate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' ></a>91</span> +to her consciousness, “that this whole outfit is +run <i>philanthropically</i>.”</p> +<p>“Philanthropically?”</p> +<p>“Don’t you see? There can’t be any other +explanation of it. It’s an eleemosynary institution. +That’s what it is.”</p> +<p>Nancy met his expectant eyes with a trifle +of wildness in her own, but he continued to +hold her gaze triumphantly.</p> +<p>“Don’t you see,” he repeated, “doesn’t everything +point to that as the only possible explanation? +It’s some rich woman’s plaything. That +accounts for the food, the setting,—everything +in fact that has puzzled us. Amateur,—that’s +the word; effective, delightful but inexperienced. +It sticks out all over the place.”</p> +<p>“The food isn’t amateur,” Nancy said, a little +resentfully.</p> +<p>“Nothing is amateur but the spirit behind it, +through which we profit. Don’t you see?”</p> +<p>“I’m beginning to see,” Nancy admitted, +“perhaps you are right. I guess the place is +run philanthropically. I—I hadn’t quite realized +it before.”</p> +<p>“What did you think?”</p> +<p>“I knew that the—one who was running it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' ></a>92</span> +wasn’t quite sure where she was coming out, +but I didn’t think of it is an eleemosynary institution.”</p> +<p>“Of course, it is.”</p> +<p>“It’s an unscrupulous sort of charity, then,” +Nancy mused, “if it’s masquerading as self-respecting +and self-supporting. I—I’ve never approved +of things like that.”</p> +<p>“Why quarrel with a scheme so beneficent?”</p> +<p>“Don’t you care?” Nancy asked with a catch +in her voice that was very like an appeal.</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>“Why should I?” he smiled.</p> +<p>“Then I don’t care, either,” she decided with +an emphasis that was entirely lost on the man +on the other side of the table.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' ></a>93</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_VII_CAVEMAN_STUFF'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Cave-man Stuff</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>“Cave-man stuff,” Billy said to Dick, +pointing a thumb over his shoulder +toward the interior of the Broadway moving-picture +palace at the exit of which they had +just met accidentally. “It always goes big, +doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“It does,” Dick agreed thoughtfully, “in the +movies anyhow.”</p> +<p>“Caroline says that the modern woman has +her response to that kind of thing refined all +out of her.” Billy intended his tone to be entirely +jocular, but there was a note of anxiety +in it that was not lost on his friend.</p> +<p>Dick paused under the shelter of a lurid poster—displaying +a fierce gentleman in crude +blue, showing all his teeth, and in the act of +strangling an early Victorian ingenue with a +dimple,—and lit a cigarette with his first match.</p> +<p>“Caroline may have,” he said, puffing to keep +his light against the breeze, “but I doubt it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' ></a>94</span></div> +<p>“Rough stuff doesn’t seem to appeal to her,” +Billy said, quite humorously this time.</p> +<p>“She’s healthy,” Dick mused, “rides horseback, +plays tennis and all that. Wouldn’t she +have liked the guy that swung himself on the +roof between the two poles?” He indicated +again the direction of the theater from which +they had just emerged.</p> +<p>“She would have liked him,” Billy said gloomily, +“but the show would have started her +arguing about this whole moving-picture +proposition,—its crudity, and its tremendous +sacrifice of artistic values, and so on and so on.”</p> +<p>“Sure, she’s a highbrow. Highbrows always +cerebrate about the movies in one way or another. +Nancy doesn’t get it at just that angle, +of course. She hasn’t got Caroline’s intellectual +appetite. She’s not interested in the movies because +she hasn’t got a moving-picture house of +her own. The world is not Nancy’s oyster—it’s +her lump of putty.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know which is the worst,” Billy said. +“Caroline won’t listen to anything you say to +her,—but then neither will Nancy.”</p> +<p>“Women never listen to anything,” Dick said +profoundly, “unless they’re doing it on purpose, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' ></a>95</span> +or they happen to be interested. I imagine +Caroline is a little less tractable, but +Nancy is capable of doing the most damage. +She works with concrete materials. Caroline’s +kit is crammed with nothing but ideas.”</p> +<p>“Nothing <i>but</i>—” Billy groaned.</p> +<p>“As for this cave-man business—theoretically, +they ought to react to it,—both of them. +They’re both normal, well-balanced young +ladies.”</p> +<p>“They’re both runnin’ pretty hard to keep in +the same place, just at present.”</p> +<p>“Nancy isn’t doing that—not by a long shot,” +Dick said.</p> +<p>“She’s not keeping in the same place certainly,” +Billy agreed. “Caroline is all eaten up +by this economic independence idea.”</p> +<p>“It’s a good idea,” Dick admitted; “economic +conditions are changing. No reason at all that +a woman shouldn’t prove herself willing to cope +with them, as long as she gets things in the order +of their importance. Earning her living +isn’t better than the Mother-Home-and-Heaven +job. It’s a way out, if she gets left, or gets +stung.”</p> +<p>“I’m only thankful Caroline can’t hear you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' ></a>96</span> +Billy raised pious eyes to heaven but he continued +more seriously after a second, “It’s all +right to theorize, but practically speaking both +our girls are getting beyond our control.”</p> +<p>“I’m not engaged to Nancy,” Dick said a trifle +stiffly.</p> +<p>“Well, you ought to be,” Billy said.</p> +<p>Dick stiffened. He was not used to speaking +of his relations with Nancy to any one—even +to Billy, who was the closest friend he had. +They walked up Broadway in silence for a +while, toward the cross-street which housed the +university club which was their common objective.</p> +<p>“I know I ought to be,” Dick said, just as +Billy was formulating an apology for his presumption, +“or I ought to marry her out of hand. +This watchful waiting’s entirely the wrong +idea.”</p> +<p>“Why do we do it then?” Billy inquired pathetically.</p> +<p>“I wanted Nancy to sow her economic wild +oats. I guess you felt the same way about +Caroline.”</p> +<p>“Well, they’ve sowed ’em, haven’t they?”</p> +<p>“Not by a long shot. That’s the trouble,—they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' ></a>97</span> +don’t get any forrider, from our point of +view. I thought it would be the best policy to +stand by and let Nancy work it out. I thought +her restaurant would either fail spectacularly +in a month, or succeed brilliantly and she’d +make over the executive end of it to somebody +else. I never thought of her buckling down +like this, and wearing herself out at it.”</p> +<p>“There’s a pretty keen edge on Caroline this +summer.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid Nancy’s in pretty deep,” Dick +said. “The money end of it worries me as much +as anything.”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t let that worry me.”</p> +<p>“She won’t take any of mine, you know.”</p> +<p>“I know she won’t. See here, Dick, I wouldn’t +worry about Nancy’s finances. She’ll come out +all right about money.”</p> +<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> +<p>“I know so. We’ve got lots of things in the +world to worry about, things that are scheduled +to go wrong unless we’re mighty delicate in the +way we handle ’em. Let’s worry about <i>them</i>, +and leave Nancy’s financial problems to take +care of themselves.”</p> +<p>“Which means,” Dick said, “that you are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' ></a>98</span> +sure that she’s all right. I’m not in her confidence +in this matter—”</p> +<p>“Well, I am,” Billy said, “I’m her legal adviser, +and with all due respect to your taste +in girls, it’s a very difficult position to occupy. +What with the things she won’t listen to and +the things she won’t learn, and the things she +actually knows more about than I do—”</p> +<p>The indulgent smile of the true lover lit +Dick’s face, as if Billy had waxed profoundly +eulogistic. Unconsciously, Billy’s own tenderness +took fire at the flame.</p> +<p>“Why don’t we run away with ’em?” he said, +breathing heavily.</p> +<p>Dick stopped in a convenient doorway to light +his third cigarette, end on.</p> +<p>“It’s the answer to you and Caroline,” he +said.</p> +<p>“Why not to you and Nancy?”</p> +<p>“It may be,” Dick said, “I dunno. I’ve +reached an <i>impasse</i>. Still there is a great deal +in your proposition.”</p> +<p>They turned in at the portico that extended +out over the big oak doors of their club. An +attendant in white turned the knob for them, +with the grin of enthusiastic welcome that was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' ></a>99</span> +the usual tribute to these two good-looking, +well set up young men from those who served +them.</p> +<p>“I’ll think it over,” Dick added, as he gave +up his hat and stick, “and let you know what +decision I come to.”</p> +<p>In another five minutes they were deep in a +game of Kelly-pool from which Dick emerged +triumphantly richer by the sum of a dollar and +ninety cents, and Billy the poorer by the loss +of a quarter.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>There is a town in Connecticut, within a reasonable +motoring distance from New York that +has been called the Gretna Green of America. +Here well-informed young couples are able to +expedite the business of matrimony with a phenomenal +neatness and despatch. Licenses can +be procured by special dispensation, and the +nuptial knot tied as solemnly and solidly as if a +premeditated train of bridesmaids and flower +girls and loving relatives had been rehearsed +for days in advance.</p> +<p>Dick and his Rolls-Royce had assisted at a +hymeneal celebration or two, where a successful +rush had been made for the temporary altars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' ></a>100</span> +of this beneficent town with the most felicitous +results, and he knew the procedure. +When he and Billy organized an afternoon excursion +into Connecticut, they tacitly avoided +all mention of the consummation they hoped to +bring about, but they both understood the nature +and significance of the expedition. Dick,—who +was used to the easy accomplishment of his +designs and purposes, for most obstacles gave +way before his magnetic onslaught,—had only +sketchily outlined his scheme of proceedings, +but he trusted to the magic of that inspiration +that seldom or never failed him. He was +the sort of young man that the last century +novelists always referred to as “fortune’s +favorite,” and his luck so rarely betrayed him +that he had almost come to believe it to be +invincible.</p> +<p>His general idea was to get Nancy and Caroline +to drive into the country, through the cool +rush of the freer purer air of the suburbs, give +them lunch at some smart road-house, soothingly +restful and dim, where the temperature +was artificially lowered, and they could powder +their noses at will; and from thence go on until +they were within the radius of the charmed circle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' ></a>101</span> +where modern miracles were performed +while the expectant bridegroom waited.</p> +<p>“Nancy, my dear, we are going to be married,”—that +he had formulated, “we’re going to +be done with all this nonsense of waiting and +doubting the evidence of our own senses and +our own hearts. We’re going to put an end to +the folly of trying to do without each other,—your +folly of trying to feed all itinerant New +York; my folly of standing by and letting you +do it, or any other fool thing that your fancy +happens to dictate. You’re mine and I’m yours, +and I’m going to take you—take you to-day and +prove it to you.” This was to be timed to be +delivered at just about the moment when they +drew up in front of the office of the justice of +the peace, who was Dick’s friend of old. “Hold +up your head, my dear, and put your hat on +straight; we’re going into that building to be +made man and wife, and we’re not coming out +of it until the deed has been done.” In some +such fashion, he meant to carry it through. +Many a time in the years gone by he had +steered Nancy through some high-handed escapade +that she would only have consented to +on the spur of the moment. She was one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' ></a>102</span> +these women who responded automatically to +the voice of a master. He had failed in mastery +this last year or so. That was the secret of his +failure with her, but the days of that failure +were numbered now. He was going to succeed.</p> +<p>On the back seat of the big car he expected +Billy and Caroline to be going through much +the same sort of scene.</p> +<p>“We’ve come to a show-down now, Caroline,—either +I sit in this game, or get out.” He +could imagine Billy bringing Caroline bluntly +to terms with comparatively little effort. That +was what she needed—Caroline—a strong +hand. Billy’s problem was simple. Caroline +had already signified her preference for him. +She wore his ring. Billy had only to pick her +up, kicking and screaming if need be, and +bear her to the altar. She would marry him +if he insisted. That was clear to the most superficial +of observers,—but Nancy was different.</p> +<p>The day was hot, and grew steadily hotter. +By the time Nancy and Caroline were actually +in the car, after an almost superhuman +effort to assemble them and their various +accessories of veils and wraps, and to dispose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' ></a>103</span> +of the assortment of errands and messages +that both girls seemed to be committed to despatch +before they could pass the boundaries of +Greater New York, the two men were very +nearly exhausted. It was only when the chauffeur +let the car out to a speed greatly in excess +of the limitations on some clear stretch of road, +that the breath of the country brought them +any relief whatsoever.</p> +<p>Dick looked over his shoulder at the two in +the back seat, and noted Caroline’s pallor, and +the fact that she was allowing a listless hand +to linger in Billy’s; but when he turned back +to Nancy he discovered no such encouraging +symptoms. She was sitting lightly relaxed at +his side, but there was nothing even negatively +responsive in her attitude. Her color was high; +her breath coming evenly from between her +slightly parted lips. She looked like a child +oblivious to everything but some innocent daydream.</p> +<p>“You look as if you were dreaming of candy +and kisses, Nancy,—are you?” he asked presently.</p> +<p>“No, I’m just glad to be free. It’s been a +long time since I’ve played hooky.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' ></a>104</span></div> +<p>“I know it.” The “dear” constrained him, +and he did not add it: “You’ve been working +most unholy hard. I—I hate to have you.”</p> +<p>“But I was never so happy in my life.”</p> +<p>“That’s good.” His voice hoarsened with the +effort to keep it steady and casual. “Is everything +going all right?”</p> +<p>“Fine.”</p> +<p>“Is—is the money end of it all right?”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is, I am not worrying about +money.”</p> +<p>“You’re not making money?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“You are not losing any?”</p> +<p>“I am—a little. That was to be expected, +don’t you think so?”</p> +<p>“How much are you losing?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know exactly.”</p> +<p>“You ought to know. Are you keeping your +own books?”</p> +<p>“Betty helps me.”</p> +<p>“Are you losing a hundred a month?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Five hundred?”</p> +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> +<p>“A thousand?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' ></a>105</span></div> +<p>“I don’t really know.”</p> +<p>“A thousand?” he insisted.</p> +<p>“Yes,” Nancy answered recklessly, “the way +I run it.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t make any difference, of course;” +Dick said, “you’ve got all my money behind +you.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t anybody’s money behind me except +my own.”</p> +<p>“You had fifteen thousand dollars. Do you +mean to say that you have any of that left to +draw on?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t.”</p> +<p>“Do you mind telling me how you are managing?”</p> +<p>“Billy borrowed some money for me.”</p> +<p>“On what security?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t he come to me?”</p> +<p>“I told him not to.”</p> +<p>“Nancy, do you realize that you’re the most +exasperating woman that ever walked the face +of this earth?” the unhappy lover asked.</p> +<p>Nancy managed to convey the fact that Dick’s +asseveration both surprised and pained her, +without resorting to the use of words.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' ></a>106</span></div> +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t spoil this lovely party,” +she said to him a few seconds later. “I’m +extremely tired, and I should like to get my +mind off my business instead of going over +these tiresome details with anybody.”</p> +<p>“You look very innocent and kind and loving,” +Dick said desperately, “but at heart +you’re a little fraud, Nancy.”</p> +<p>She interrupted him to point out two children +laden with wild flowers, trudging along the +roadside.</p> +<p>“See how adorably dirty and happy they are,” +she cried. “That little fellow has his shoestrings +untied, and keeps tripping on them, he’s +so tired, but he’s so crazy about the posies that +he doesn’t care. I wonder if he’s taking them +home to his mother.”</p> +<p>“You’re devoted to children, Nancy, aren’t +you?” Dick’s voice softened.</p> +<p>“Yes, I am, and some day I’m going to +adopt a whole orphan asylum,”—her voice +altered in a way that Dick did not in the +least understand. “I could if I wanted to,” +she laughed. “Maybe I will want to some +day. So many of my ideas are being changed +and modified by experience.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' ></a>107</span></div> +<p>The road-house of his choice, when they +reached it, proved to have deteriorated sadly +since his last visit. The cool interior that he +remembered had been inopportunely opened to +the hottest blast of the day’s heat, and hermetically +sealed again, or at least so it seemed +to Dick; and the furniture was all red and +thickly, almost suffocatingly, upholstered. +Nancy had no comment on the torrid air of +the dining-room,—she rarely complained about +anything. Even the presence of a fly in her +bouillon jelly scarcely disturbed her equanimity, +but Dick knew that she was secretly +sustained by the conviction that such an +accident was impossible under her system of +supervision at Outside Inn, and resented her +tranquillity accordingly.</p> +<p>Caroline, behaving not so well, seemed to +him a much more human and sympathetic figure, +though her nose took on a high shine +unknown to Nancy’s demurer and more discreetly +served features; but Billy evidently +preferred Nancy’s deportment, which was on +the surface calm and reassuring.</p> +<p>“Nancy’s a sport,” he pointed out to Caroline +enthusiastically, “no fly in the ointment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' ></a>108</span> +gets her goat. She enjoys herself even when +she’s perfectly miserable.”</p> +<p>“She doesn’t feel the heat the way I do,” +Caroline snapped.</p> +<p>“I feel the heat,” Nancy said, “but I—”</p> +<p>“She’s got a system,” Dick cut in savagely: +“she stands it just as long as she can, and then +she takes it out of me in some diabolical +fashion.”</p> +<p>Nancy’s gray-blue eyes took on the far-away +look that those who loved her had learned to +associate with her most baffling moments.</p> +<p>“Just by being especially nice to Dick,” she +said thoughtfully, “I can make him more furious +with me than in any other way.”</p> +<p>Nancy and Caroline finished their sloppy +ices at the table together while Dick and Billy +sought the solace of a pipe in the garage outside.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand coming into Connecticut +to-day,” Nancy said as soon as they were +alone; “it seems like such a stupid excursion +for Dick to make. He’s usually pretty good +at picking out places to go. In fact, he has a +kind of genius for it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' ></a>109</span></div> +<p>“He slipped up this time,” Caroline said, +“I’m so hot.”</p> +<p>“So am I,” said Nancy, slumping limply into +the depths of her red velour chair. “I want to +get back to New York. Oh! what was it you +told me the other day that you had been saving +up to tell me?”</p> +<p>Caroline brightened.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes! Why, it was something Collier +Pratt said about you. You know Betty has +scraped up quite an acquaintance with him. +She goes and sits down at his table sometimes.”</p> +<p>“She’s going to be stopped doing <i>that</i>,” +Nancy said.</p> +<p>“Well, you remember the night when you +went home early with a headache, and passed +by his table going out?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I didn’t know he saw me.”</p> +<p>“He sees everything, Betty says.”</p> +<p>“He didn’t suspect me?”</p> +<p>“He didn’t know you came out of the interior. +He said to Betty, ‘It’s curious that Miss +Martin never stays here to dine in the evening, +though she so often drops in.’ Betty is pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' ></a>110</span> +quick, you know. She said, ‘I think Miss Martin +is a friend of the proprietor.’”</p> +<p>“So I am,” said Nancy, “the best friend +she’s got. Go on, dear.”</p> +<p>“Then he said slowly and thoughtfully, ‘It’s +a crime for a woman like that not to be the +mother of children. If ever I saw a maternal +type, Miss Ann Martin is the apotheosis of it. +Why some man hasn’t made her understand +that long ago I can not see.’”</p> +<p>Nancy’s cheeks burned crimson and then +white again.</p> +<p>“How dare Betty?” she said.</p> +<p>“Wait till you hear. You know Betty +doesn’t care what she says. Her reply to that +was peculiarly Bettyish. She sighed and cast +down her eyes,—the little imp! ‘The course of +true love never does run smooth,’ she said; +‘perhaps Ann has discovered the truth of that +old saying in some new connection.’ She +didn’t mean to be a cat, she was only trying +to create a romantic interest in your affairs, +doing as she would be done by. The effect was +more than she bargained for though. Collier +Pratt’s eyes quite lit up. ‘I can imagine no +greater crime than frustrating the instincts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' ></a>111</span> +of a woman like that,’ he said. Imagine that—the +instincts—whereupon Betty, of course, +flounced off and left him.”</p> +<p>“She would,” Nancy said. Then a storm of +real anger surged through her. “I’ll turn her +out of my place to-morrow. I’ll never look at +her or speak to her again.”</p> +<p>“I think it would be more to the point,” +Caroline said, “to turn out Collier Pratt. +That was certainly an extraordinary way for +him to speak of you to a girl who is a stranger +to him.”</p> +<p>“Caroline, you’re almost as bad as Betty is. +You’re both of you hopelessly—helplessly—provincially +American. I don’t think that was +extraordinary or impertinent even,” Nancy +said. “I—I understand how that man means +things.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The car drove up in front of the office of +the justice of the peace in the town beyond +that in which they had had their unauspicious +luncheon party.</p> +<p>“Are we stopping here for any particular +reason?” Caroline said.</p> +<p>Nancy had not spoken in more than a monosyllable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' ></a>112</span> +since they had resumed their places in +the car again.</p> +<p>“Not now,” Dick said wearily. “I thought +I’d point out the sights of the town. This +place is called the Gretna Green of America, +you know. A great many runaway couples +come out here to be married. The man inside +that office, the one with whiskers and no collar, +is the one that marries them.”</p> +<p>“Does he?” Billy asked a trifle uncertainly.</p> +<p>Nancy turned to Dick with a real appeal in +her voice. It was the first time during the +day that she had addressed him with anything +like her natural tenderness and sweetness.</p> +<p>“Oh! Dick, can’t we start on?” she said.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' ></a>113</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_VIII_SCIENCE_APPLIED'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Science Applied</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Gaspard was ill—very ill. He lay in the +little anteroom at the top of the stairs and +groaned thunderously. He had a pain in his +back and a roaring in his head, and an extreme +disorder in the region of his solar plexus.</p> +<p>“Sure an’ he’s no more nor less than a +human earthquake,” Michael reported after an +examination.</p> +<p>Nancy applied ice caps and hot-water bags +to the afflicted areas without avail. The +stricken man had struggled from his bed in +the Twentieth Street lodging-house that he +had chosen for his habitation, and staggered +through the heavy morning heat to his post in +the basement kitchen of Nancy’s Inn, there to +collapse ignominiously between his cooking +ranges. With Molly and Dolly and Hildeguard +at his feet and herself and Michael and a dishwasher +at his head they had managed to get him +up the two short flights of stairs. It developed +that it would be necessary to remove him in an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' ></a>114</span> +ambulance later in the day, but for the time +being he lay like a contorted Colossus on the +fragile-looking cot that constituted his improvised +bed of pain: “Like the great grandfather,” +to quote Michael again, “of all of +them Zeus’es and gargoyles, and other cavortin’ +gentlemen in the yard down-stairs.”</p> +<p>With the luncheon menu before her, Nancy +decided that the hour had come for her to prove +herself. She had assumed the practical management +of the business of the Inn only to +have the responsibility and much of the +authority of her position taken from her by +the very efficiency of her staff. She was +far too good a business woman not to realize +that this condition was distinctly to her advantage, +and to encourage it accordingly, but +there was still so much of the child in her +that she secretly resented every usurpation of +privilege.</p> +<p>With Gaspard ill she was able to manipulate +the affairs of the kitchen exactly as she chose, +and even in the moment of applying the “hot +at the base of the brain and the cold at the +forehead” that the doctor had prescribed as +the most effective method for relieving the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' ></a>115</span> +pressure of blood in the tortured temples of the +suffering man, she had been conscious of that +thrill of triumph that most human beings feel +when the involuntary removal of the man +higher up invests them with power.</p> +<p>Michael did the marketing, and the list went +through as Gaspard had planned it, with some +slight adaptations to the exigency, such as the +substitution of twenty-five cans of tomato +soup for the fresh vegetables with which Gaspard +had planned to make his tomato bisque, +and brandied peaches in glass jars instead of +peach soufflé.</p> +<p>“If I allow myself a little handicap in the +matter of details,” she said, “I know I can put +everything else through as well as Gaspard;” +whereupon she enveloped herself in a huge +linen apron, tucked her hair into one of the +chef’s white caps, and attacked the problem of +preparing luncheon for from sixty-five to two +hundred people, who were scheduled to appear +at uncertain intervals between the hours of +twelve and two-thirty. Later she must be +ready to serve tea and ices to a problematical +number of patrons, but she tried not to think +beyond the immediate task.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' ></a>116</span></div> +<p>She could make a very good tomato bisque +by adding one cup of milk and a dash of cream +to one half-pint can of MacDonald’s tomato +soup, enough to serve three people adequately, +and she proceeded to multiply that recipe by +twenty-five. She didn’t think of getting large +cans till Michael in the process of opening the +half-pint tins made the belated suggestion, +which she greeted with some hauteur.</p> +<p>“I’m not the person to mind a little extra +work, Michael, when I am sure of my results. +Precision—that’s the secret of the difference +between American and French cooking.”</p> +<p>“An’ sure and I fail to see the difference +between the preciseness of a quart can and +four half-pint ones, but I suppose it’s my +ignorance now.”</p> +<p>“Your supposition is correct, Michael,” she +said airily, but out of the corner of her eye she +saw him smiling to himself over the growing +heap of half-pint tins, and reddened with +mortification at her naiveté in the matter.</p> +<p>She looked at the vat of terra-cotta purée +with considerable dismay when she had stirred +in the last measure of cream. Twenty-five +pints of tomato bisque is a rather formidable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' ></a>117</span> +quantity of a liquid the chief virtue of which +is its sparing and judicious introduction into +the individual diet scheme. Nancy hardly felt +that she wanted to be alone with it.</p> +<p>“They’ll soon lick it all up, and be polishing +their plates like so many Tom-cats,” Michael +said, indicating their potential patronage by +waving his hand toward the courtyard. “Here +comes Miss Betty, now. She’ll be after lending +a hand in the cooking.”</p> +<p>“Keep her away, Michael,” Nancy cried; “go +out and head her off. Make her go up-stairs +and sit with Gaspard,—anything, but don’t let +her come in here. If she does I won’t answer +for the consequences. I’ll—I’ll—I don’t know +what I’ll do to her.”</p> +<p>“Throw her in the soup kettle, most likely,” +Michael chuckled. “Faith, an’ I never saw a +woman yet that wasn’t ready to scratch the +eyes out of the next one that got into her kitchen.”</p> +<p>“She isn’t safe,” Nancy said darkly. “I need +every bit of brain and self-control I have to +put this luncheon through. You keep Miss +Betty’s mind on something else—anything but +me and the way I am doing the cooking.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' ></a>118</span></div> +<p>“’Tis done,” said Michael; “sure an’ I’ll protect +her from you, if I have to abduct her myself!”</p> +<p>“I wish he would,” Nancy said to herself +viciously, “before she gets another chance at +Collier Pratt.—Creamed chicken and mushrooms. +It’s a lucky thing that Gaspard diced +the chicken last night, and fixed that macédoine +of vegetables for a garnish.—She’s a +dangerous woman; she might wreck one’s +whole life with her unfeeling, histrionic nonsense.—I +wonder if thirteen quarts of cream +sauce is going to be enough.”</p> +<p>It turned out to be quite enough after the +crises in which the butter basis got too brown, +and the flour after melting into it smoothly +seemed unreasonably inclined to lump again as +Nancy stirred the cold milk into it, but the +result after all was perfectly adequate, except +for the uncanny brown tinge that the whole +mixture had taken on. Nancy was unable to +restrain herself from taking a sample of it to +Gaspard’s bedside.</p> +<p>“<i>Mais</i>—but I can not eat it now,” he cried, +misunderstanding the purpose of her visit, “nor +again—nor ever again. <i>Jamais!</i>”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' ></a>119</span></div> +<p>“I don’t want you to eat it, Gaspard, I want +you to look at it, and tell me what makes it +that color. It turned tan, you see. I don’t +want to poison any one.”</p> +<p>“I am too miserable,” Gaspard said. “The +sauce—you have made into Béchamel with the +browning butter, <i>voilà tout</i>. It is better so,—it +would not hurt any one in the world but me—and +me it would kill.”</p> +<p>“Poor thing,” sighed Nancy, as she took her +place by the kitchen dresser again, trying to +remember where she had last seen brown eyes +that reflected the look of stricken endurance +that glazed Gaspard’s velvet orbs, recalled with +a start that Dick had gazed at her in much +the same helpless fashion on their drive home +from their recent motor trip in Connecticut. +She had been too absorbed in her own distresses +to consider anybody’s state of mind but her +own, on that occasion, but now Dick’s expression +came back to her vividly, and she nearly +ruined a big bowl of French dressing, at the +crucial moment of putting in the vinegar, trying +to imagine which one of the events of that +inauspicious day might conceivably have +caused it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' ></a>120</span></div> +<p>After the actual serving of the meal began, +however, she had very little time for reflection +or reminiscence. The distribution of food +to the waitresses as they called for it required +the full concentration of her powers. Molly and +Dolly coached her, and with their assistance +she was soon able to fill the bewilderingly +rapid orders from the line of girls stretching +from the door to the open space in front of her +serving-table, which never seemed to diminish +however adequately its demands were met.</p> +<p>Mechanically she took soup and meat dishes +from the hooded shelves at the top of the +range where they were kept warming, and +ladled out the brick-colored bisque, the creamed +chicken and garnishing of the individual +orders. The chicken looked delicious with its +accompaniment of vari-colored vegetables,—Nancy +had done away with the side dish long +since—and each serving was assembled with +special reference to its decorative qualities. +The girls went up-stairs to put the salad on +the plates, where the desserts were already +dished in the quaint blue bowls in which +stewed fruits and the more fluid sweets were +always served.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' ></a>121</span></div> +<p>In her mind’s eye Nancy could see the picture. +At noon the court was almost entirely +in the shade, and instead of the awning top, +which shut out the air, there were gay striped +umbrellas at the one or two tables that were +imperfectly protected from the sun. She had +recently invested in some table-cloths with +bright blue woven borders. Flowers were arranged +in low bowls and baskets on respective +tables. Nancy instinctively grouped tired +young business men in blue serge and soft collars +at the tables decorated with the baskets of +blue flowers; and pale young women in lingerie +blouses before the bowls of roses. She could +see them,—those big-eyed girls with delicate +blue veins accentuating the pallor of their white +faces—sinking gratefully into the wicker seats +and benches, and sniffing rapturously at the +faint far-away fragrance of the woodland blossoms.</p> +<p>“I hope they will steal a great many of +them,” she thought, for her patrons were given +to despoiling her flower vases in a way that +scandalized the good Hildeguard, who was a +just but ungenerous soul in spite of her ample +proportions and popular qualities. Molly and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' ></a>122</span> +Dolly were rather given to encouraging the +vandals, knowing that they had Nancy’s tacit +approval.</p> +<p>Automatically dipping the huge metal ladle—one +filling of which was enough for a service—into +the big soup kettle, she stood for a +moment gazing into its magenta depths oblivious +to everything but the rhapsodic consideration +of her realized dream. Now for the first +time she was contributing directly her own +strength and energy to the public which she +served. She had prepared with her own hands +the meal which her grateful patrons were consuming. +The little girls with the tired faces, +the jaded men, the smart, weary business women—buyers +and secretaries and modistes,—who +were occupied in the neighborhood were all +being literally nourished by her. She had actually +manufactured the product that was to +sustain them through the weary day of heat +and effort.</p> +<p>“How do they like the lunch, Molly?” she +asked, as she deftly deposited the forty-fifth +serving of chicken with Béchamel sauce on the +exact center of the plate before her. “Are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' ></a>123</span> +they pleased with the soup? Are they saying +complimentary things about the chicken?”</p> +<p>“Some of them is, Miss Nancy. Some of +them is complaining that they can’t get any +other kind of soup. Them that usually gets +invalid broth don’t understand our running +out of it.”</p> +<p>“I forgot about the specials,” Nancy cried.</p> +<p>“That red-haired girl that we feed on custards +and nut bread and that special cocoa +Gaspard makes for her, she acted real bad. +They get expecting certain things, and then +they want them.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” Nancy said; “I’ll make all those +things to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“The old feller that always has the stewed +prunes is terrible pleased though. I give him +two helps of the peaches, and he wanted +another. He was pleased to get white bread +too. He complains something dreadful about +his bran biscuit every day.”</p> +<p>“I meant to send to the woman’s exchange +for different kinds of health bread, but I forgot +it,” Nancy moaned. “Do they like the +peaches at all?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' ></a>124</span></div> +<p>“Most of them likes them too well. There +was one old lady that got one whiff of them, +and pushed back her chair and left. I guess +she had took the pledge, and the brandy went +against her principles.”</p> +<p>“I never thought of that. I only thought +that brandied peaches would be a treat to so +many people who didn’t have them habitually +served at home.”</p> +<p>The picture in Nancy’s mind changed in +color a trifle. She could see sour-faced spinsters +at single tables pushing back their +chairs, overturning the rose bowls in their +hurry to shake the dust of her restaurant +from their feet.</p> +<p>“Don’t accept any money from people who +don’t like their luncheon,” she admonished +Molly, who was next in line with several +orders to be filled at once. “Tell them that +the proprietor of Outside Inn prefers not to be +paid unless the meal is entirely satisfactory.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid there wouldn’t never be any +satisfactory meals if I told them that, Miss +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any one ever to pay for anything +he doesn’t like,” Nancy insisted. “Slip +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' ></a>125</span> +the money back in their coat pockets if you +can’t manage it any other way.”</p> +<p>“There’s lots of complaints about the soup,” +Dolly said; “so many people don’t like tomato +in the heat. Gaspard, he always had a choice +even if it wasn’t down on the menu. I might +deduct, say fifteen cents now, and slip it back +to them with their change.”</p> +<p>“Please do,” Nancy implored. “Tell Molly +and Hildeguard.”</p> +<p>“Hilda would drop dead, but Molly’d like the +fun of it.”</p> +<p>It was hot in the kitchen. The soup kettle +bad been emptied of more than half its contents, +but the liquid that was left bubbled +thickly over the gas flame that had been newly +lit to reheat it. The pungent, acrid odor of +hot tomatoes affronted her nostrils. She had +a vision now of the pale tired faces of the little +stenographers turning in disgust from the contemplation +of the flamboyant and sticky purée +on their plates, annoyed by the color scheme +in combination with the soft wild-rose pink +of the table bouquets, if not actually sickened +by the fluid itself. For the first time since +his abrupt seizure that morning she began to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' ></a>126</span> +hope in her heart that Gaspard’s illness might +be a matter of days instead of weeks. She +served Hildeguard and one of the other waitresses +with more soup, and then began to boil +some eggs to eke out the chicken, which, owing +to her unprecedented generosity in the matter +of portions, seemed to be diminishing with +alarming rapidity.</p> +<p>From the kitchen closet beyond came the +clatter of dishwashing, the interminable +splashing of water, and stacking of plates, +punctuated by the occasional clang of smashing +glass or pottery. She had discharged two +dishwashers in less than two weeks’ time, +with the natural feeling that any change in +that department must be for the better, but +the present incumbent was even more incompetent +than his predecessors. Even Nancy’s +impregnable nerves began to feel the strain of +the continual clamorous assault on them.</p> +<p>Betty appeared in the doorway that led +directly from the restaurant stairs.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said. “Don’t +blame Michael, I’m breaking my parole to get +in here. He locked me in and made me swear +I’d keep out of the kitchen before he’d let me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' ></a>127</span> +out at all, but I had to tell you this. The +tomato soup has curdled and you ought not to +serve it any more.”</p> +<p>“Well, I thought it looked rather funny,” +Nancy moaned.</p> +<p>“It won’t do anybody any harm, you know. +It just looks bad, and a lot of people are kicking +about it. Did Molly tell you about the +old fellow that got tipsy on the peaches?”</p> +<p>“No, she didn’t. I sent Michael out for some +ripe peaches and other fruit to serve instead.”</p> +<p>“That’s a good idea. How’s the food holding +out? There are lots of people you know up-stairs,” +she rattled on, for Nancy, who was +getting more and more distraught with each +disquieting detail, made no pretense of answering +her. “Dolly has probably kept you +informed. Dick’s aunt is here, and that terribly +highbrow cousin of Caroline’s; and that +good-looking young surgeon that suddenly got +so famous last winter, and admired you so +much. Dr. Sunderland—isn’t that his name? +I never saw Collier Pratt here for lunch before. +There’s a little girl with him, too.”</p> +<p>“Collier Pratt?” Nancy cried, “Oh, Betty, +he isn’t here. He couldn’t be. Don’t frighten +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' ></a>128</span> +me with any such nonsense. He never comes +here in the day-time.”</p> +<p>“He is though,” Betty said, “and a queer-looking +little child with him, a dark-eyed +little thing dressed in black satin.”</p> +<p>“It seems a good deal to me as if you were +making that up,” Nancy cried in exasperation; +“it’s so much the kind of thing you do +make up.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” Betty said, unexpectedly +reasonable, “but as it happens I’m not. Collier +Pratt really is up-stairs with a poor little +orphan in tow. Ask any one of the girls.”</p> +<p>At this moment Dolly, her ribbons awry and +her china-blue eyes widened with excitement, +appeared with a dramatic confirmation of +Betty’s astonishing announcement.</p> +<p>“There’s a little girl took sick from the +peaches, and moved up-stairs in the room +next to Gaspard’s,” she cried breathlessly. +“The doctor that was sitting at the next +table, had her moved right up there. He +wants to see the lady that runs the restaurant, +and he wants a lot of hot water in a pitcher, +and some baking soda.”</p> +<p>“You see,” Betty said, “go on up, I’ll take +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' ></a>129</span> +your place here. Dolly, get the things the +doctor asked for.”</p> +<p>Nancy stripped off her cap and her apron +and resigned her spoons and ladles to Betty +without a word. She was still incredulous of +what she would find at the top of the three +flights of creaking age-worn stairs that +separated her from the nest of rooms that +were the storm quarters of her hostelry, now +converted by a sudden malevolence on the part +of fate into a temporary hospital. As she +took the last flight she could hear Gaspard’s +stertorous breathing coming at the regular intervals +of distressful slumber, and through +that an ominous murmur of grave and low-voiced +conference, such as one hears in the +chambers of the dead. The convulsive application +of a powder puff to the tip of her burning +nose—her whole face was aflame with +exertion and excitement—was merely a part +of her whole subconscious effort to get herself +in hand for the exigency. Her mind, itself, refused +any preparation for the scene that +awaited her.</p> +<p>On one of the cushioned benches against the +wall in the most decorative of the dining-rooms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' ></a>130</span> +of the up-stairs suite, a little girl was +lying stark against the brilliant blue of the +upholstery. She was a child of some seven or +eight, lightly built and delicate of features and +dressed all in black. Her eyes were closed, +but the long lashes emphasizing the shadows in +which they were set, prepared you for the +revelation of them. Nancy understood that +they were Collier Pratt’s eyes, and that they +would open presently, and look wonderingly +up at her. She recognized the presence of Dr. +Sunderland, of Michael and several of the +waitresses, and a flighty woman in blue taffeta—an +ubiquitous patron,—but she made +her way past them at once, and sank on her +knees before the prostrate child.</p> +<p>“It’s nothing very serious, Miss Martin,” +the young surgeon reassured her, “delicate +children of this type are likely to have these +seizures. It’s not exactly a fainting fit. It +belongs rather to the family of hysteria.”</p> +<p>“Wasn’t it the peaches?” Nancy asked +fearfully. “They—they had a little brandy in +them.”</p> +<p>“They may have been a contributing cause,” +Dr. Sunderland acknowledged, “but the child’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' ></a>131</span> +condition is primarily responsible. Let her +alone until she rouses,—then give her hot +water with a pinch of soda in it at fifteen-minute +intervals. Keep her feet hot and her +head cold and don’t try to move her until +after dark, when it’s cooler.”</p> +<p>“All right,” Nancy said, “I’ll take care of +her.”</p> +<p>“Here comes her poor father, now,” the +lady in taffeta announced with the dramatic +commiseration of the self-invited auditor. +“He thought an iced towel on her head might +make her feel better. Is the dear little thing +an orphan—I mean a half orphan?”</p> +<p>The assembled company seeming disinclined +to respond, she repeated her inquiry to Collier +Pratt himself, as with the susceptive grace +that characterized all his movements, he +swung the compress he was carrying sharply +to and fro to preserve its temperature in +transit. “Is the poor little thing a half orphan?”</p> +<p>“The poor little thing is nine-tenths orphan, +madam,” said Collier Pratt, “that is—the only +creature to whom she can turn for protection is +the apology for a parent that you see before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' ></a>132</span> +you. Would you mind stepping aside and giving +me a little more room to work in?”</p> +<p>“Not at all.” Irony was wasted on the indomitable +sympathizer in blue. “Hasn’t she really +anybody but you to take care of her?”</p> +<p>Collier Pratt arranged the towel precisely in +position over the little girl’s forehead, smoothing +with careful fingers the cloud of dusky hair +that fell about her face.</p> +<p>“She has not,” he answered with some savagery.</p> +<p>“Hasn’t she any women friends or relatives +that would be willing to take charge of her?”</p> +<p>“No, madam.”</p> +<p>“Then some woman that has no child of her +own to care for ought to adopt her, and relieve +you of the responsibility. It’s a shame and disgrace +the way these New York women with no +natural ties of their own go around crying for +something to do, when there are sweet little +children like this suffering for a mother’s care. +I’d adopt her myself if I was able to. I certainly +would.”</p> +<p>“I’m perfectly willing to give over the technical +part of her bringing up to some one of the +women whom you so feelingly describe,” Collier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' ></a>133</span> +Pratt said. “The trouble is to find the woman—the +right woman. The vicarious mother is +not the most prevalent of our modern types, +I regret to say.”</p> +<p>The little girl on the couch stirred softly, and +the hand that Nancy was holding, a pathetic, +thin, unkempt little hand, grew warm in hers. +The lids of the big eyes fluttered and lifted. +Nancy looked into their clouded depths for an +instant. Then she turned to Collier Pratt +decisively.</p> +<p>“I’ll take care of your little girl for you, if +you will let me,” she said.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' ></a>134</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_IX_SHEILA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Sheila</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>“I had <i>mal de mer</i> when I was on the +steamer,” the child said, in her pretty, +painstaking English—she spoke French habitually. +“I do not like to have it on the land. +The gentleman in there,” she pointed to the +room beyond where Gaspard was again distressfully +sleeping the sleep of the spent after a period +of the most profound physical agitation, +“he does not like to have it, too,—I mean +either.”</p> +<p>Nancy had propped the little girl up on +improvised pillows made of coats and wraps +swathed in towels and covered her with some +strips of canton flannel designed to use as +“hushers” under the table covers. As soon as +the intense discomfort and nausea that had followed +the first period of faintness had passed, +Nancy had slipped off the shabby satin dress, +made like the long-sleeved kitchen apron of +New England extraction, and attired the child +in a craftily simulated night-gown of table +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' ></a>135</span> +linen. Collier Pratt had worked with her, +deftly supplementing all her efforts for his +little girl’s comfort until she had fallen into the +exhausted sleep from which she was only now +rousing and beginning to chatter. Her father +had left her, still sleeping soundly, in Nancy’s +care, and gone off to keep an appointment with +a prospective picture buyer. He had made no +comment on Nancy’s sudden impulsive offer to +take the child in charge, and neither she nor he +had referred to the matter again.</p> +<p>“Are you comfortable now, Sheila?” Nancy +asked. She had expected the child to have a +French name, Suzanne or Japonette or something +equally picturesque, but she realized as +soon as she heard it that Sheila was much more +suitable. The cloudy blue-black hair, and steel-blue +eyes, the slight elongation of the space +between the upper lip and nose, the dazzling +satin whiteness of the skin were all Irish in +their suggestion. Was the child’s mother—that +other natural protector of the child, who had +died or deserted her—Nancy tried not to wonder +too much which it was that she had done,—an +Irish girl, or was Collier Pratt himself of +that romantic origin?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' ></a>136</span></div> +<p>“<i>Oui</i>, Mademoiselle, I mean, yes, thank you. +I do not think I will say to you Miss Martin. +We only say their names like that to the people +with whom we are not <i>intime</i>. We are <i>intime</i> +now, aren’t we, now that I have been so very +sick <i>chez vous</i>? In Paris the <i>concierge</i> had a +daughter that I called Mademoiselle Cherie, and +we were <i>very intime</i>. I think I would like to +call you Miss Dear in English after her.”</p> +<p>“I should like that very much,” Nancy said.</p> +<p>“I am glad the sick gentleman is called Gaspard. +So many <i>messieurs</i>—I mean gentlemen +in Paris are called Gaspard, and hardly any in +the United States of America. American things +are very different from things in Paris, don’t +you think so, Miss Dear?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid they are,” Nancy acquiesced +gravely.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid they are too,” the child said, +“but afraid is what I try not to be of them. My +father says America is full of beasts and devils, +but he does not mind because he can paint +them.”</p> +<p>“Do you live in a studio?” Nancy asked +after a struggle to prevent herself from asking +the question. She felt that she had no right to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' ></a>137</span> +any of the facts about Collier Pratt’s existence +that he did not choose to volunteer for himself.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Dear, but not like Paris. There +we had a door that opened into a garden, and +the birds sang there, and I was allowed to go +and play. Here we have only a fire-escape, +and the <i>concierge</i> is only a janitor and +will not allow us to keep milk bottles on it. I +do not like a janitor. <i>Concierges</i> have so much +more <i>politesse</i>. Now, no one takes care of me +when father goes out, or brings me soup or +<i>gâteaux</i> when he forgets.”</p> +<p>“Does he forget?” Nancy cried, horrified.</p> +<p>“Sometimes. He forgets himself, too, very +often except dinner. He remembers that because +he likes to come to this Outside Inn restaurant, +where the cooking is so good. He +brought me here to-day because it was my birthday. +I think the cooking is very good except +that I was so sick of eating it, but father swore +to-day that it was not.”</p> +<p>“Swore?”</p> +<p>“He said damn. That is not very bad swearing. +I think <i>nom de Dieu</i> is worse, don’t you, +Miss Dear?”</p> +<p>“I’m going to take you up in my arms,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' ></a>138</span> +Nancy with sudden passion. “I want to feel how +thin you are, and I want to feel how you—feel.”</p> +<p>“Why, your eyes are wetting,” the little girl +exclaimed as she nestled contentedly against +Nancy’s breast, where Nancy had gathered her, +converted table-cloth and all.</p> +<p>“It’s your not having enough to eat,” Nancy +cried. “Oh! baby child, honey. How could +they? It’s your calling me Miss Dear, too,” she +said. “I—I can’t stand the combination.”</p> +<p>The child patted her cheek consolingly.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry,” she said; “my father cries because +I get so hungry, when he forgets, but he +does forget again as soon.”</p> +<p>“Would you like to come and live with me, +Sheila?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>“I think so, Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>“Then you shall,” Nancy said devoutly.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt found his child in Nancy’s arms +when he again mounted the stairs to the third +floor of Outside Inn. The place was curiously +cool to one who had been walking the sun-baked +streets, and he gave an appreciative glance at +the dim interior and the tableau of woman and +child. Nancy’s burnished head bent gravely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' ></a>139</span> +over the shadowy dark one resting against her +bosom.</p> +<p>“All right again, is she?” he inquired with +the slow rare smile that Nancy had not seen +before that day.</p> +<p>“Yes,” Nancy said, “she’s better. She’s under-nourished, +that’s what the trouble is.”</p> +<p>“I suspected that,” Collier Pratt said ruefully. +“I’m not specially talented as a parent. +I feed her passionately for days, and then I +stop feeding her almost entirely. Artists in my +circumstances eat sketchily at best. The only +reason that I am fed with any regularity is that +I have the habit of coming to this restaurant +of yours. By the way, is it yours? I found you +in charge to-day to my amazement.”</p> +<p>“I am in charge to-day,” Nancy acknowledged; +“in fact I have taken over the management +of it for—for a friend.”</p> +<p>“The mysterious philanthropist.”</p> +<p>“Ye-es.”</p> +<p>“Then I will refrain from any comment on +the lunch to-day.”</p> +<p>“Oh! that—that was a mistake,” Nancy +cried, “an experiment. Gaspard the <i>chef</i>—was +ill.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' ></a>140</span></div> +<p>“He was very ill, father, dear,” Sheila added +gravely, “like crossing the Channel, much sicker +than I was. I was only sick like crossing the +ocean, you know.”</p> +<p>“These fine distinctions,” Collier Pratt said, +“she’s much given to them.” His eyes narrowed +as they rested again on the picture +Nancy made—the cool curve of her bent neck, +the rise and fall of the breast in which the +breathing had quickened perceptibly since his +coming,—the child swathed in the long folds of +white linen outlined against the Madonna blue +of the dress that she was wearing. Nancy +blushed under the intentness of his gaze, understanding, +thanks to Caroline’s report of his +conversation with Betty, something of what +was in his mind about her.</p> +<p>“Gaspard is going to be taken away in an ambulance,” +the child said, “to the hospital.”</p> +<p>“Then who is going to cook my dinner?” +Collier Pratt asked.</p> +<p>“Good lord, I don’t know,” Nancy cried, +roused to her responsibilities.</p> +<p>She looked at the watch on her wrist, a platinum +bracelet affair with an octagonal face that +Dick had persuaded her to accept for a Christmas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' ></a>141</span> +present by giving one exactly like it to +Betty and Caroline. It was twenty-five minutes +of five. Dinner was served every night +promptly at half past six, and there was absolutely +no preparation made for it, not so much +as a loaf of bread ordered. Instead of doing +the usual marketing in the morning she had +sent Michael out for the things that she needed +in the preparation of luncheon, and planned to +make up a list of things that she needed for +dinner just as soon as her midday duties in the +kitchen had set her free. She thought that she +would be more like Gaspard, “inspired to buy +what is right” if she waited until the success +of her luncheon had been assured. The ensuing +events had driven the affairs of her cuisine +entirely out of her mind. She was constrained +by her native tendency to concentrate on the +business in hand to the exclusion of all other +matters, big and little. She had dismissed +Betty during the excitement that followed Sheila’s +illness, and Betty had seemed unnaturally +willing to leave the hectic scene and go about +her business. Michael had made several ineffectual +attempts to speak to her, but she had +waved him away impatiently. She knew that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' ></a>142</span> +neither he nor any one else on the restaurant +staff would believe that she hadn’t made some +adequate and mysterious provision for the serving +of the night meal. She had never failed +before in the smallest detail of executive policy. +She set the child back upon the cushion, and +arranged her perfunctorily in position there.</p> +<p>“I don’t know <i>what</i> you are going to have +for dinner,” she said, “much less who’s going +to cook it for you.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I had better arrange to have it +elsewhere, since this seems to be literally the +cook’s day out.”</p> +<p>“There’ll be dinner,” said Nancy uncertainly.</p> +<p>Dick came up the stairs three at a time, and +in his wake she heard the murmur of women’s +voices—Caroline’s and Betty’s.</p> +<p>“I heard you were in difficulties,” Dick said, +“so I made Sister Betty and Caroline give up +their perfectly good trip into the country, in +order to come around and mix in.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know Betty was going driving with +you,” Nancy said. “She didn’t say so. Oh! +Dick, there isn’t any dinner. I forgot all about +it. This is Mr. Collier Pratt and his little +daughter,—Mr. Richard Thorndyke. She’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' ></a>143</span> +coming to live with me soon, I hope, and let +Hitty take care of her.”</p> +<p>The two men shook hands.</p> +<p>“Hold on a minute,” Dick said, “that paragraph +is replete with interest, but I want to +get it assimilated. Sure, Betty was going driving +with me. I told her to ask you if she +thought it would be any use, but she allowed +it wouldn’t. I am delighted to meet Mr. Pratt, +and pleased to know that his daughter is coming +to live with you, but isn’t that rather sudden? +Also, what’s this about there not being +any dinner?”</p> +<p>“There isn’t,” Nancy was beginning, when +she realized that Caroline and Betty, who had +followed closely on Dick’s footsteps, were looking +at her with faces pale with consternation +and alarm. She could see the anticipatory collapse +of Outside Inn writ large on Caroline’s +expressive countenance. Caroline was the type +of girl who believed that in the very nature of +things the undertakings of her most intimate +friends were doomed to failure. “There isn’t +any dinner yet,” Nancy corrected herself, “but +you go up to my place, Dick, and get Hitty. +Tell her she’s got to cook dinner for this restaurant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' ></a>144</span> +to-night. She can cook three courses +of anything she likes, and have <i>carte blanche</i> +in the kitchen. You have more influence with +her than anybody, so, no matter what she says, +make her do it. Then when she decides what +she wants to cook, drive her around until she +collects her ingredients. She won’t let anybody +do the marketing for her.”</p> +<p>“All right,” Dick said, “I’ll do my best.”</p> +<p>“You’ll have to do more than that,” Betty +laughed as he started off, “but you’re perfectly +capable of it. How do you do, Mr. Pratt? This +is Miss Eustace, pale with apprehension about +the way things are going, but still recognizable +and answering to her name.” Betty always enjoyed +introducing Caroline with an audacious +flourish, since Caroline always suffered so much +in the process.</p> +<p>“And this is little Miss Sheila Pratt,” Nancy +supplemented.</p> +<p>“<i>Enchanté</i>,” the little girl said, “I mean, I +am very pleased to meet you. I was very sick, +but I am better now, and I am going to live +with Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>“It seems to be settled,” her father said, +shrugging.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' ></a>145</span></div> +<p>“Would you mind it so very much?” Nancy +asked.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t mind it at all,” Collier Pratt said. +“I think it would be a delightful arrangement,—if +I’m to take you seriously.”</p> +<p>“Nancy is always to be taken seriously,” +Betty put in. “What she really wants of the +child is to use her for dietetic experiment, I’m +sure.”</p> +<p>“That’s what she’s used to, poor child,” Collier +Pratt said ruefully.</p> +<p>The removal of Gaspard created a diversion. +Nancy took Sheila in to bid him good-by, and +the great creature was so touched by the farewell +kiss that she imprinted on his forehead, +and the revelation of the fact that a fellow being +had been suffering kindred throes in the +chamber just beyond his own that he was of +two minds about letting himself be moved at +all from her proximity. A group of waitresses +collected on the second landing, and Nancy and +her friends stood together at the head of the +stairs while the white-coated intern from the +hospital rolled his great bulk upon a fragile-looking +stretcher, and with the assistance of all +the male talent in the establishment, managed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' ></a>146</span> +to head him down the stairs, and so on across +the court and into the waiting ambulance.</p> +<p>Nancy’s eyes filled with inexplicable tears, +and she caught Collier Pratt regarding them +with some amusement.</p> +<p>“He’s such a dear,” she said somewhat irrelevantly. +“I really didn’t care whether he was +sick or not this morning,—but you get so fond +of people that are around all the time.”</p> +<p>“I don’t,” said Collier Pratt,—he spoke very +lightly, but there was something in his tone +that made Nancy want to turn and look at him +intently. She seemed to see for the first time a +shade of defiant cruelty in his face,—“I don’t,” +he reiterated.</p> +<p>“I do,” Nancy repeated stubbornly, but as she +met his slow smile, the slight impression of unpleasantness +vanished.</p> +<p>“We artists are selfish people,” he said. “I’m +going to run away now, and leave my daughter +to cultivate your charming friends. Will you +come and eat your dinner at my little table to-night, +and talk, discuss this matter of her visit +to you?”</p> +<p>“I will if there is any dinner,” Nancy said, +putting out a throbbing hand to him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' ></a>147</span></div> +<p>There was a dinner. It was Hitty’s conception +of an emergency meal—the kind of thing +that her mother before her had prepared on +wash-day when an unexpected relative alighted +from the noon train, and surprised her into inadvertent +hospitality. It began with steamed +clams and melted butter sauce. Hitty knew a +fish market where the clams were imported direct +from Cape Cod by the nephew of a man +who used to go to school with her husband’s +brother, and he warranted every clam she +bought of him. They were served in soup +plates and the drawn butter in demi-tasses, but +Hitty would have it no other way. The <i>pièce +de résistance</i> was ham and eggs, great fragrant +crispy slices of ham browned faintly gold across +their pinky surface, and eggs—Hitty knew +where to get country eggs, too—so white, so +golden-yolked, so tempting that it was difficult +to associate them with the prosaic process +of frying, but fried they were. With them were +served boiled potatoes in their jackets,—no +wash-day cook ever removed the peeling from +an emergency potato,—and afterward a course +of Hitty’s famous huckleberry dumplings, the +lightest, most ephemeral balls of dumplings +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' ></a>148</span> +that were ever dipped into the blue-black deeps +of hot huckleberry—not blueberry, but country +huckleberry—sauce.</p> +<p>“Where’s the coffee?” Nancy asked Dolly +miserably, when the humiliating meal was +drawing to its close.</p> +<p>“She won’t make coffee,” Dolly whispered; +“she says it will keep everybody awake, and +they’re much better off without it, but Miss +Betty, she’s watching her chance, and she’s +making it.”</p> +<p>Collier Pratt had received each course in silence, +but had eaten heartily of the food that +was set before him.</p> +<p>“I suppose he was hungry enough to eat +anything,” Nancy thought; “the lunch was humiliating +enough, but this surpasses anything +I dreamed of.”</p> +<p>She had given up trying to estimate the calories +that each man was likely to average in partaking +of Hitty’s menu. She noticed that a +great many of her patrons had taken second +helpings, and that threw her out in her calculation +of quantities, while the relative digestibility +of the protein and the fats in pork depend +so much upon its preparation that she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' ></a>149</span> +could not approximate the virtue of Hitty’s bill +of fare without consultation with Hitty.</p> +<p>“That was a very excellent dinner,” Collier +Pratt broke through her painful reverie to make +his pronouncement. “Astonishing, but very +satisfactory. It reminds me of days on my +grandfather’s farm when I was a youngster.”</p> +<p>“I should think it might,” Nancy said, for +the first time in her relation with her new +friend becoming ironical on her own account. +Then she added seriously, “It’s Hitty, you know, +that will have all the real care of Sheila. I’m +pretty busy down here, and I—” she hesitated, +half expecting him to threaten to remove his +child at once from the prospective guardianship +of a creature who reverted so readily to +the barbarism of ham and eggs.</p> +<p>“Well, if it’s Hitty that is to have the care +of Sheila,” Collier Pratt said, and Nancy was +not longer puzzled as to which element of her +parentage Sheila owed her Irish complexion, +“why, more power to her!”</p> +<p>Nancy dreamed that night that she was married +to Dick, and that Hitty made and served +them <i>pâté de foies gras</i> dumplings, while Collier +Pratt in freckles and overalls sat in a high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' ></a>150</span> +chair, and had his dinner with the family. +Later it was discovered that Betty had poisoned +his bread and milk, and he died in Nancy’s arms +in dreadful agony, swearing in a beautiful Irish +brogue that in all his life he had never looked +at another woman,—which even in her dream +seemed to Nancy a somewhat irreconcilable +statement.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' ></a>151</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_X_THE_PORTRAIT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>The Portrait</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>To Nancy’s surprise Hitty welcomed the little +girl warmly, when she was introduced +into the family circle. She liked to be busy all +day, and her duties in taking care of Nancy +were not onerous enough to keep her full energy +employed. She liked children and family life, +and she seemed to have the feeling that if +Nancy continued to assemble the various parts +that go to make up a family, she would end by +adding to it the essential masculine element, +though it was Dick and not Collier Pratt that +she visualized at the head of the table cutting +up Sheila’s meat for her. Collier Pratt +was to her a necessary but insignificant detail +in Nancy’s scheme of things, a poor artist who +had “frittered away so much time in furrin +parts” that he was incapable of supporting his +only child—“poor little motherless lamb!”—in +anything like a befitting and adequate manner. +Whenever he came to see Sheila she treated him +with the condescension of a poor relation, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' ></a>152</span> +served his tea in the second best china with the +kitchen silver and linen, unless Nancy caught +her at it in time to demand the best.</p> +<p>Nancy had expected that Collier Pratt would +try to make some business arrangement with +her when she took Sheila in charge,—that he +would insist on paying her at least a nominal +sum a week for the child’s board. She had +lain awake nights planning the conversations +with him in which she would overcome his delicate +but natural scruples in the matter and persuade +him to her own way of thinking. She had +even fixed on the smallest sum—two dollars and +a half a week—at which she thought she might +induce him to compromise, if all her eloquence +failed. She knew that he considered her the +hard working, paid manager of Outside Inn, +and took it for granted that she had no other +source of income. She was a little disconcerted +that he made no effort, beyond thanking her +sincerely and simply for her kindness, to put +the matter on a more concrete basis, but when +he told her presently that he was going to do a +portrait of her, she scourged herself for her +New England perspective on an affair that he +handled with so much delicacy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' ></a>153</span></div> +<p>Her friends were, on the whole, pleased with +her experiment in vicarious motherhood. Dick +instinctively resented the fact that Nancy had +taken Collier Pratt’s daughter into her home +and heart, but the child herself was a delight +to him, and he spent hours romping with her +and telling her stories, loading her with toys +and sweetmeats, and taking her off for enchanting +holiday excursions “over the Palisades and +far away.” Billy was hardly less diverted with +her, and Betty regarded her advent as a provision +on the part of Providence against things +becoming too commonplace. Caroline, as was +her wont, took the child very seriously, and +tried to interest Nancy in all the latest educational +theories for her development, including +posture dancing, and potato raising.</p> +<p>Nancy herself had loved the child from the +moment the big lustrous gray eyes opened, on +the day of her sudden illness at Outside Inn, +and looked confidingly up into hers. For the +first time in her life her maternal ardor—the +instinct which made her yearn to nourish and +minister to a race—had concentrated on a single +human being. Sheila, hungry for mothering, +had turned to her with the simplicity of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' ></a>154</span> +people among whom she had been brought up, +taking her sympathetic response as a matter of +course; and the two were soon on the closest, +most affectionate terms.</p> +<p>Sheila and Outside Inn divided Nancy’s time +to the practical exclusion of all other interests. +She had, without realizing her processes, taken +into her life artificial responsibilities in almost +exact proportion to the normal ones of any +woman who makes the choice of marriage +rather than that of a career. She was doing +housekeeping on a large scale,—she had a child +to care for, and she felt that she had entirely +disproved any lingering feeling in the mind of +any one associated with her that she ought to +marry,—at least that she ought to marry Dick.</p> +<p>No woman ought to marry for the sake of +marrying, but she was growing to understand +now that the experiences of love and marriage +might be necessary to the true development of +a woman like herself; that there might even be +some tragedy in missing them. She was twenty-five, +practically alone in the world, and the +growing passion of her life was for a child +that she had borrowed, and might be constrained +to relinquish at any moment.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' ></a>155</span></div> +<p>She was tired. The unaccustomed confinement +of the long hours at the Inn, the strain of +enduring the thick, almost unalleviated heat of +an exceptionally humid New York summer, and +the tension engendered by her various executive +responsibilities, all told on her physically, +and her physical condition in its turn reacted +on her mind, till she was conscious of a +nostalgia,—a yearning and a hunger for something +that she could not understand or name, +but that was none the less irresistible. She fell +into strange moods of brooding and lassitude; +but there were two connections in which her +spirit and ambition never failed her. She +never failed of interest in the distribution of +food values to her unconscious patrons, and incidentally +to Collier Pratt, or in directing the +activities and diversions of Sheila.</p> +<p>She bathed and dressed the child with her +own hands every morning, combed out the +cloudy black hair, fine spun and wavy, that +framed the delicate face, and accentuated the +dazzling white and pink of her coloring. She +had bought her a complete new wardrobe—she +was spending money freely now on every one +but herself—venturing on one dress at a time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' ></a>156</span> +in fear and trepidation lest Collier Pratt should +suddenly call her to account for her interference +with his rights as a parent, but he seemed +entirely oblivious of the fact that Sheila had +changed her shabby studio black for the most +cobwebby of muslins and linens, frocks that by +virtue of their exquisite fineness cost Nancy +considerably more than her own.</p> +<p>“I say to my father, ‘See the pretty new gown +that Miss Dear bought for me,’ and my father +says to me, ‘Comb your hair straight back from +your brow, and don’t let your arms dangle from +your shoulders.’” Sheila complained, “He sees +so hard the little things that nobody sees—and +big things like a dress or a hat he does not +notice.”</p> +<p>“Men are like that,” Nancy said. “Last night +when I put on my new rose-colored gown for +the first time, your friend Monsieur Dick told +me he had always liked that dress best of all.”</p> +<p>“<i>Comme il est drôle</i>, Monsieur Dick,” Sheila +said; “he asked me to grow up and marry him +some day. He said I should sit on a cushion +and sew a fine seam, and feast upon strawberries, +sugar and cream—like the poetry.”</p> +<p>“And what did you say?” Nancy asked.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' ></a>157</span></div> +<p>“I said that I thought I should like to marry +him if I ever got to be big enough,—but I was +afraid I should not be bigger for a long time. +Miss Betty said she would marry him if I was +<i>trop petite</i>.”</p> +<p>“What did Dick say to that?” Nancy could +not forbear asking.</p> +<p>“He said she was very kind, and maybe the +time might come when he would think seriously +of her offer.”</p> +<p>There was a feeling in Nancy’s breast as if +her heart had suddenly got up and sat down +again. Betty bore no remotest resemblance to +the pale kind girl, practically devoid of feminine +allure, that Nancy had visualized as the +mate for Dick, and frequently exhorted him to +go in search of.</p> +<p>“Miss Betty was only making a joke,” she +told Sheila sharply.</p> +<p>“We were all making jokes, Miss Dear,” +Sheila explained.</p> +<p>“I have never loved any one in the world +quite so much as I love you, Sheila,” Nancy +cried in sudden passion as the little girl turned +her face up to be kissed, as she always did when +the conversation puzzled her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' ></a>158</span></div> +<p>“I like being loved,” Sheila said, sighing happily. +“My father loves me,—when he is not +painting or eating. He is very good to me, I +think.”</p> +<p>“Your father is a very wise man, Sheila,” +Nancy said, “he understands beautiful things +that other people don’t know anything about. +He looks at a flower and knows all about it, and—and +what it needs to make it flourish. He +looks at people that way, too.”</p> +<p>“But he doesn’t always have time to get the +flower what it wants,” Sheila said; “my jessamine +died in Paris because he forgot to water +them.”</p> +<p>“Your father needs taking care of himself, +Sheila. We must plan ways of trying to make +him more comfortable. Don’t you think of +something that he needs that we could get for +him?”</p> +<p>“More socks—he would like,” Sheila said unexpectedly. +“When his socks get holes in them +he will not wear them. He stops whatever he +is doing to mend them, and the mends hurt him. +He mends my stockings, too, sometimes, but I +like better the holes especially when he mends +them on my feet.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' ></a>159</span></div> +<p>Sheila could have presented no more appealing +picture of her father to Nancy’s vivid +imagination. Collier Pratt with the incongruous +sewing equipment of the unaccustomed +male, using, more than likely, black darning +cotton on a white sock—Nancy’s mental pictures +were always full of the most realistic detail—bent +tediously over a child’s stocking, +while the precious sunlight was streaming unheeded +upon the waiting canvas. She darned +very badly herself, but the desire was not less +strong in her to take from him all these preposterous +and unbefitting tasks, and execute them +with her own hands. She stared at the child +fixedly.</p> +<p>“You buy him some socks out of your allowance,” +she said at last. Then she added an anxious +and inadequate “Oh, dear!”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you happy?” Sheila asked in unconscious +imitation of Dick, with whom she had +been spending most of her time for days, while +Nancy superintended the additions and improvements +she was making in the up-stairs +quarters of her Inn, preparatory to moving in +for the winter.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m happy,” Nancy said, “but I’m sort +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' ></a>160</span> +of—stirred, too. I wish you were my own little +girl, Sheila. I think I’ll take you with me to +the Inn to-day. You might melt and trickle +away if I left you alone here with Hitty.”</p> +<p>“<i>Quelle joie!</i> I mean, how nice that will be! +Then I can talk about Paris to Gaspard, and he +will give me some baba, with a <i>soupçon of maraschine</i> in the sauce, if you will tell him that I +may, Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>“I’ll think about it.” It was Nancy’s dearest +privilege to be asked and grant permission for +such indulgences. “Put on that floppy white +hat with the yellow ribbon, and take your white +coat.”</p> +<p>“When I had only one dress to wear I suppose +I got just as dirty,” Sheila reflected, “only +it didn’t show on black satin. Now I can tell +just how dirty I am by looking. I make lots of +washing, Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>“Yes, thank heaven,” Nancy said, unaccountably +tearful of a sudden.</p> +<p>The first part of the day at the Inn went much +like other days. Gaspard, eager to retrieve +the record of the week when Hitty and a Viennese +pastry cook had divided the honors of preparing +the daily menus between them—for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' ></a>161</span> +Nancy had never again attempted the feat—never +let a day go by without making a new +<i>plat de jour</i> or inventing a sauce; was in the +throes of composing a new casserole, and it was +a pleasure to watch him deftly sifting and sorting +his ingredients, his artist’s eyes aglow with +the inward fire of inspiration. Nancy called all +the waitresses together and offered them certain +prizes and rewards for all the buttermilk, +and prunes and other health dishes that they +were able to distribute among ailing patrons,—with +the result they were over assiduous at the +luncheon hour, and a red-headed young man +with gold teeth made a disturbance that it took +both Hilda and Michael, who appeared suddenly +in his overalls from the upper regions where +he was constructing window-boxes, to quell. +But these incidents were not sufficiently significant +to make the day in any way a memorable +one to Nancy. It took a telephone message +from Collier Pratt, requesting, nay demanding, +her presence in his studio for the first sitting +on her portrait, to make the day stand out +upon her calendar.</p> +<p>“Sheila is with me. Shall I bring her?” +Nancy asked.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' ></a>162</span></div> +<p>“No,” Collier Pratt said uncompromisingly, +“I am not a parent at this hour. She would +disturb me.”</p> +<p>“What shall I wear?”</p> +<p>“What have you got on?”</p> +<p>“That blue crêpe, made surplice,—the one +you liked the other night.”</p> +<p>“That’s just what I want—Madonna blue. +Can you get down here in fifteen minutes?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ll send Michael up-town with Sheila.”</p> +<p>The bare, ramshackle studio on Washington +Square shocked her,—it was so comfortless, so +dingy; but the canvases on the walls, set up +against the wainscoting, stacked on every +available chair, gave her a new and almost appalling +impression of his personality, and the +peculiar poignant power of him. She could not +appraise them, or get any real sense of their +quality apart from the astounding revelation of +the man behind the work.</p> +<p>“They’re wonderful!” she gasped, but +“You’re wonderful” were the words she stifled +on her lips.</p> +<p>He painted till the light failed him.</p> +<p>“It’s this diffused glow,—this gentle, faded +afternoon light that I want,” he said. “I want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' ></a>163</span> +you to emerge from your background as if you +had bloomed out of it that very moment. Oh! +I’ve got you at your hour, you know! The +prescient maternal—that’s what I want. The +conscious moment when a woman becomes +aware that she is potentially a mother. Sheila’s +done that for you. She’s brought it out in you. +It was ready, it was waiting there before, but +now it’s come. It’s wonderful!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Nancy said, “it’s—it’s come.”</p> +<p>“It hasn’t been done, you know. It’s a modern +conception, of course; but they all do the +thing realized, or incipient. I want to do it +<i>implicit</i>—that’s what I want. I might have +searched the whole world over and not found +it.”</p> +<p>“Well, here I am,” said Nancy faintly.</p> +<p>“Yes, here you are,” Collier Pratt responded +out of the fervor of his artist’s absorption.</p> +<p>“It’s rather a personal matter to me,” Nancy +ventured some seconds later.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt turned from the canvas he was +contemplating, and looked at her, still posed as +he had placed her, upright, yet relaxed in the +scooped chair that held her without constraining +her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' ></a>164</span></div> +<p>“Like a flower in a vase,” he said; “to me +you’re a wonderful creature.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad you like me,” Nancy said, quivering +a little. “This is a rather uncommon experience +to me, you know, being looked at so +impersonally. Now please don’t say that I’m +being American.”</p> +<p>“But, good God! I don’t look at you impersonally.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you?” Nancy meant her voice to be +light, and she was appalled to hear the quaver +in it.</p> +<p>“You know I don’t.” He glanced toward a +dun-colored curtain evidently concealing shelves +and dishes. “Let’s have some tea.”</p> +<p>“I can’t stay for tea.” Nancy felt her lips +begin to quiver childishly, but she could not +control their trembling. “Oh! I had better go,” +she said.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt took one step toward her. Then +he turned toward the canvas. Nancy read his +mind like a flash.</p> +<p>“You’re afraid you’ll disturb the—what you +want to paint,” she said accusingly.</p> +<p>“I am.” He smiled his sweet slow smile, then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' ></a>165</span> +he took her stiff interlaced hands and raised +them, still locked together, to his lips where +he kissed them gently, one after the other. +“Will you forgive me?” he asked, and pushed +her gently outside of his studio door.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' ></a>166</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XI_BILLY_AND_CAROLINE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Billy and Caroline</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>It was one night in middle October when Billy +and Caroline met by accident on Thirty-fourth +Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. +Caroline stood looking into a drug-store +window where an automatic mannikin was +shaving himself with a patent safety razor.</p> +<p>“There’s a wax feller going to bed in an automatic +folding settee, a little farther down the +street,” Billy offered gravely at her elbow; “and +on Forty-second Street there is a real live duck +pond advertising the advantages of electric +heaters in the home.”</p> +<p>“H’lo,” said Caroline, who was colloquial +only in moments of real pleasure or excitement. +“I’ve just written to you. I asked you to come +and see me to-morrow evening,” she added more +seriously, “to talk about something that’s +weighing on my mind.”</p> +<p>“I’m going out with a blonde to-morrow, +night,” Billy said speciously, “but what’s the +matter with to-night? I’m free until six-fifty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' ></a>167</span> +A. M. and I could spare an hour or two between +then and breakfast time.”</p> +<p>“I can’t to-night,” Caroline said, “I promised +Nancy to dine at the Inn.”</p> +<p>“That wasn’t your line at all,” Billy groaned. +“Who’s the blonde?—that was your cue. If +it’s only Nancy you’re dining with—that can be +fixed.”</p> +<p>“I regard an engagement with Nancy as just +as sacred as—”</p> +<p>“So do I,” Billy cut in. “She is the blonde. +Well, let to-morrow night be as it may; let’s +you and I call up the Nancy girl now and tell +her that we’re going batting together; she +won’t care.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like doing that,” Caroline said; “it’s +a nice night for a bat, though.”</p> +<p>“I walked down Murray Hill and saw the sun +set in a nice pinky gold setting,” Billy said artfully. +Caroline liked to have him get an artistic +perspective on New York. “Let’s walk down +the avenue to the Café des Artistes and have +Emincé Bernard, and a long wide high, tall +drink of—ginger ale,” he finished lamely.</p> +<p>“We’d have to telephone Nancy,” Caroline +hesitated.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' ></a>168</span></div> +<p>Billy took her by the arm and guided her +into the interior of the drug-store to the side +aisle where the telephones were, and stepped +into the first empty booth that offered. Caroline +stopped him firmly as he was about to shut +himself inside.</p> +<p>“I’d rather hear what you say,” she said.</p> +<p>Billy slipped his nickel in the slot and took up +the receiver.</p> +<p>“Madison Square 3403 doesn’t answer,” Central +informed him crisply after an interval.</p> +<p>“Oh! Nancy, dear,” Billy replied softly into +her astonished ear. “Caroline and I are going +off by ourselves to-night, you don’t care, do +you?”</p> +<p>“Ringing thr-r-ree-four-o-thr-r-ee, Madison +Square.”</p> +<p>“That’s nice of you,” Billy responded heartily. +“I thought you’d say that.”</p> +<p>“Madison Square thr-r-ree-four-o-t-h-r-r-ree +doesn’t answer. Hang up your receiver and I’ll +call you if I get the party.”</p> +<p>“Of course I will. You’re always so tactful +in the way you put things, always so generous +and kind and thoughtful. I can’t tell you how +much I appreciate it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' ></a>169</span></div> +<p>“What did Nancy say?” Caroline asked, as +they turned away from the booth.</p> +<p>“You heard my end of the conversation,” +Billy said blandly. “You can deduce hers +from it.”</p> +<p>“There was something about your end of the +conversation that sounded queer to me somehow. +It was odd that Central should have returned +your nickel to you after you had talked +so long.”</p> +<p>“Yes, wasn’t it?” Billy asked innocently. +“Well, I suppose mistakes will happen in the +best regulated telephone companies.”</p> +<p>“I like you,” Billy said contentedly, as the +lights of the avenue strung themselves out before them. +“I like walking down this royal +thoroughfare with you. You’re a kind of a neutral +girl, but I like you.”</p> +<p>“You’re a kind of ridiculous boy.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you like me a little bit?”</p> +<p>“Yes, a little.”</p> +<p>“What did you get engaged to me for if you +only like me a little?”</p> +<p>“Ought not to be engaged to you. That’s one +of the things I want to talk to you about.”</p> +<p>“Well, you are engaged to me, and that’s one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' ></a>170</span> +of the things I don’t care to discuss—even with +you.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Billy,” Caroline sighed, “why can’t we +be just good friends and see a good deal of each +other without this perpetual argument about +getting married?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know why we can’t, but we can’t,” +Billy said firmly. “What was the other thing +you wanted to talk to me about?”</p> +<p>“Nancy’s affairs. The reckless—the criminal +way she is running that restaurant, and the +unthinkable expenditure of money involved. I +can’t sleep at night thinking of it.”</p> +<p>“And I thought this was going to be a pleasant +evening,” Billy cried to the stars.</p> +<p>“I wish you’d be serious about this,” Caroline +said. “Nancy’s the best friend I have in +the world, and she doesn’t seem to be quite right +in her mind, Billy. Of course, I approve of a +good part of her scheme. I believe that she +can be of incalculable value as a pioneer in an +enterprise of this sort. Her restaurant is +based on a strictly scientific theory, and every +person who patronizes it gets a balanced ration, +if he has the good sense to eat it as it’s served.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' ></a>171</span></div> +<p>“And not leave any protein on his plate,” +Billy murmured.</p> +<p>“I don’t even mind the slight extra expenditure +and the deficit that is bound to follow +her theory of stuffing all her subnormal +patrons with additional nourishment. That is +charity. I believe in devoting a certain amount +of one’s income to charity, but what I mind +about the whole proceeding is the crazy way +that Nancy is running it. She’s not even trying +to break even. She orders all the delicacies +of the season—no matter what they are. She’s +paid an incredible amount for the new set of +carved chairs she has bought for up-stairs. +You’d think she had an unlimited fortune behind +her, instead of being in a position where +the sheriff may walk in upon her any day.”</p> +<p>“Handy men to have around the house,—sheriffs. +I knew a deputy sheriff once that +helped the lady of the house do a baby wash +while he was standing around in charge of the +place. All the servants had deserted, and—”</p> +<p>“You pretend to be Nancy’s friend, and +you’re the only thing remotely approaching a +lawyer that she has, and yet you can shake with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' ></a>172</span> +joy at the thought of her going into bankruptcy.”</p> +<p>“That isn’t what I’m shaking with joy +about.”</p> +<p>“Nancy must have spent at least twice the +amount of her original investment.”</p> +<p>“Just about,” Billy agreed cheerfully.</p> +<p>Caroline turned large reproachful eyes on +him.</p> +<p>“Billy, how can you?”</p> +<p>“Listen to me, Caroline, honey love, it will +be all right. Nancy isn’t so crazy as she seems. +She is running wild a little, I admit, but there’s +no danger of the sheriff or any other disaster. +She knows what she’s doing, and she’s playing +safe, though I admit it’s an extraordinary +game.”</p> +<p>“She’s unhappy,” Caroline said. “You don’t +suppose she’s going to marry Dick to get out of +the scrape, and that she’s suffering because +she’s had to make that compromise.”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t,” said Billy.</p> +<p>“I can’t imagine anything more dreadful +than to give up your career—your independence +because you were beaten before you could demonstrate +it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' ></a>173</span></div> +<p>“Let’s go right in here,” Billy said, guiding +her by the arm through the door of the grill of +the Café des Artistes which she was ignoring +in her absorption.</p> +<p>It was early but the place was already +crowded with the assortment of upper cut Bohemians, +Frenchmen, and other discriminating +diners to whom the café owed its vogue. Billy +and Caroline found a snowy table by the window, +a table so small that it scarcely seemed to +separate them.</p> +<p>“If it’s Dick that Nancy’s depending on,” +Caroline shook out her mammoth napkin vigorously, +“then I think the whole situation is +dreadful.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see why,” Billy argued; “have him to +fall back on—that’s what men are for.”</p> +<p>“Your opinion of women, Billy Boynton, just +about tallies with the most conservative estimate +of the Middle Ages.”</p> +<p>“Charmed, I’m sure,” he grinned, then his +evil genius prompting, he continued. “Isn’t +that just about what you have me for—to fall +back on? You’re fond of me. You know I’ll +be there if the bottom drops out. You’re sure +of me, and you’re holding me in reserve against +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' ></a>174</span> +the time when you feel like concentrating your +attention on me.”</p> +<p>“Is that what you think?”</p> +<p>“Sure, it’s the way it is. If I haven’t got any +kick coming I don’t see why you should have +any. You’re worth it to me. That’s the point.”</p> +<p>Caroline opened her lips to speak, and then +thought better of it. The dangerous glint in +her pellucid hazel eyes was lost on Billy. He +was watching the clear cool curve of her cheek, +the smooth brown hair brushed up from the +temple, and tucked away under the smart folds +of a premature velvet turban.</p> +<p>“I like those mouse-colored clothes of yours,” +he said contentedly.</p> +<p>“I think the only reason a woman should +marry a man is that she—she—”</p> +<p>“Likes him?” Billy suggested.</p> +<p>“No, that she can be of more use in the +world married than single. She can’t be that +unless she’s going to marry a man who is entirely +in sympathy with her point of view.”</p> +<p>“That I know to be unsound,” Billy said. +“Caroline, my love, this is a bat. Can’t we let +these matters of the mind rest for a little? See, +I’ve ordered <i>Petite Marmite</i>, and afterward an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' ></a>175</span> +artichoke, and all the nice fattening things that +Nancy won’t let me eat.”</p> +<p>“I wish you’d tell me about Nancy,” Caroline +said. “It makes a lot of difference. You +haven’t any idea how much difference it +makes.”</p> +<p>“See the nice little brown pots with the soup +in them,” Billy implored her. “Cheese, too, all +grated up so fine and white. Sprinkle it in like +little snow-flakes.”</p> +<p>But in spite of all Billy’s efforts the evening +went wrong after that. Caroline was wrapped +in a mantle of sorrowful meditation the opacity +of which she was not willing to let Billy penetrate +for a moment. After they had dined they +took a taxi-cab up-town and danced for an hour +on the smooth floor of one of the quieter hotels. +Billy’s dancing being of that light, sure, rhythmic +quality that should have installed him irrevocably +in the regard of any girl who had +ever danced with a man who performed less +admirably. Caroline liked to dance and fell in +step with an unexpected docility, but even in +his arms, dipping, pivoting, swaying to the curious +syncopation of modern dance time, she +was as remote and cool as a snow maiden.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' ></a>176</span></div> +<p>At the table on the edge of the dancing platform +where they sat between dances, Billy +pledged her in nineteen-four <i>Chablis Mouton</i>.</p> +<p>“This is what you look like,” he said, holding +up his glass to the light, “or perhaps I ought to +say what you act like,—clear, cold stuff,—lovely, +but not very sweet.”</p> +<p>“If it’s Dick,”—Caroline refused to be diverted—“Nancy +is merely taking the easiest +way out. Just getting married because she +hasn’t the courage to go through any other +way. She and Dick have hardly a taste in common—they +don’t even read the same books.”</p> +<p>“What difference does that make?”</p> +<p>“If you don’t know I can’t tell you. When +you see somebody else in danger of following +the same course of action that you, yourself, +are pursuing,” she added cryptically, “it puts +a new face on your own affairs.”</p> +<p>“Oh! let’s get out of here,” Billy said, signaling +for his check.</p> +<p>Caroline lived, for the summer while her +family were away, in an elaborate Madison Avenue +boarding-house. The one big room into +which the entrance gave, dim and palatial in +effect—at least in the light of the single gas-jet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' ></a>177</span> +turned economically low—seemed scarcely to +present a departure from its prototype, the +great living hall of the private residence for +which the house was originally designed. It was +only on the second floor that the character of the +establishment became unmistakable. Billy took +Caroline’s latchkey from her,—she usually +opened the door for herself—and let her quietly +into the dim interior. Then he stepped inside +himself, and closed the door gently after him. +Being a man he entirely failed to note the drift +of psychological straws that indicated the sudden +sharp turn of the wind, and the presage +of storm in the air. He was thinking only of +the illusive, desirable, maddening quality of the +girl that walked beside him, filled with inexplicable +forebodings for a friend, whom he knew +to be invulnerable to misfortune. Certain +phrases of Dick’s were ringing in his ears to +the exclusion of all more immediate conversational +fragments.</p> +<p>“Cave-man stuff—that’s the answer to you +and Caroline.... This watchful waiting’s +entirely the wrong idea....”</p> +<p>Billy made a great lunge toward the figure +of his fiancée, and caught her in his arms.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' ></a>178</span></div> +<p>“I’ve never really kissed you before,” he +cried, “now I shan’t let you go.”</p> +<p>She struggled in his arms, but he mastered +her. He covered her cool brow with kisses, her +hands, the lovely curve of her neck where the +smooth hair turned upward, and at last—her +lips.</p> +<p>“You’re mine, my girl,” he exulted, “and +nothing, nothing, nothing shall ever take you +away from me now.”</p> +<p>There was a click in the latch of the door +through which they had just entered. Another +belated boarder was making his way into the +domicile which he had chosen as a substitute +for the sacred privacy of home. Caroline tore +herself out of Billy’s arms just in time to exchange +greetings with the incoming guest with +some pretense of composure. He was a fat man +with an umbrella which clattered against the +balusters as he ascended the carved staircase.</p> +<p>“Caught with the goods,” Billy tried to say +through lips stiffened in an effort at control.</p> +<p>Caroline turned on him, her face blazing with +anger, the transfiguring white rage of the +woman whose spiritual fastnesses have been +invaded through the approach of the flesh.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' ></a>179</span></div> +<p>“There is no way of my ever forgiving you,” +she said. “No way of my ever tolerating you, +or anything you stand for again. You are utterly—utterly—utterly +detestable in my eyes.”</p> +<p>“Is—is that so?” Billy stammered, dizzied by +the suddenness of the onslaught.</p> +<p>“I—I’ve got some decent hold on my pride +and self-respect—even if Nancy hasn’t, and I’m +not going to be subjugated like a cave woman +by mere brute force either.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you?” said Billy weakly, his mind in +a whirl still from the lightning-like overthrow +of all his theories of action.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to do what Nancy is going to +do, just out of sheer temperamental weakness, +and—and tendency to follow the line of least +resistance.”</p> +<p>Billy had no idea of the significance of her +last phrase, and let it go unheeded. Caroline +turned and walked away from him, her head +high.</p> +<p>“But, good lord, Nancy isn’t going to do it,” +he called after her retreating figure, but all the +answer he got was the silken swish of her petticoat +as she took the stairs.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' ></a>180</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XII_MORE_CAVEMAN_STUFF'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>More Cave-Man Stuff</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>When Nancy left Collier Pratt’s studio +on the day of her first sitting for the +portrait he was to do of her, she never expected +to enter it again. She was in a panic of hurt +pride and anger at his handling of the situation +that had developed there, and in a passion of +self-disgust that she had been responsible for it.</p> +<p>It was a simple fact of her experience that +the men she knew valued her favors, and exerted +themselves to win them. She had always +had plenty of suitors, or at least admirers who +lacked only a few smiles of encouragement to +make suitors of them, and she was accustomed +to the consideration of the desirable woman, +whose privilege it is to guide the conversation +into personal channels, or gently deflect it +therefrom. An encounter in which she could +not find her poise was as new as it was bewildering +to her.</p> +<p>From the moment that she had begun to +realize Collier Pratt’s admiration for her she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' ></a>181</span> +had scarcely given a thought to any other man. +With the insight of the artist he had seen +straight into the heart of Nancy’s secret—the +secret that she scarcely knew herself until he +translated it for her, the most obvious secret +that a prescient universe ever throbbed with,—that +a woman is not fulfilled until she is a mate +and a mother. The nebulous urge of her spirit +had been formulated. In Nancy’s world there +was no abstract sentimentality—if this man indulged +himself in emotional regret for her frustrated +womanhood—she called it that to herself—it +must in some way concern him. She had +never in her life been troubled by a condition +that she was not eager to ameliorate, and she +could not conceive of an emotional interest in +an individual disassociated from a certain responsibility +for that individual’s welfare. She +took Collier Pratt’s growing tenderness for her +for granted, and dreamed exultant dreams of +their romantic association.</p> +<p>The scene in the studio had shocked her only +because he put his art first. He had taken a +lover’s step toward her, and then glancing at +the crudely splotched canvas from which his +ideal of her was presently to emerge, he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' ></a>182</span> +thought better of it, soothing her with caresses +as if she were a child, and like a child dismissing +her. She felt that she never wanted to see +again the man who could so confuse and humiliate +her. But this mood did not last. As +the days went on, and she feverishly recapitulated +the circumstances of the episode, she began +to feel that it was she who had failed to respond +to the beautiful opportunity of that hour. +She had inspired the soul of an artist with a +great concept of womanhood, and had, in effect, +demanded an immediate personal tribute from +him. He had been wise to deflect the emotion +that had sprung up within them both. After +the picture was done—. She became eager to +show him that she understood and wanted to +help him conserve the impression of her from +which his inspiration had come, and when he +asked her to go to the studio again the following +week she rejoiced that she had another chance +to prove to him how simply she could behave in +the matter.</p> +<p>She looked in the mirror gravely every night +after she had done her hair in the prescribed +pig-tails to try to determine whether or not the +look he had discovered in her face was still +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' ></a>183</span> +there,—the look of implicit maternity that she +had been fortunate enough to reflect and symbolize +for him,—but she was unable to come to +any decision about it. Her face looked to her +much as it had always looked—except that her +brow and temples seemed to have become more +transparent and the blue veins there seemed to +be outlined with an even bluer brush than usual.</p> +<p>She was busier than she had ever been in her +life. The volume of her business was swelling. +With the return of the native to the city of his +adoption—there is no native New Yorker in the +strict sense of the word—Outside Inn was besieged +by clamorous patrons. Gaspard, with the +adaptability of his race, had evolved what was +practically a perfect system of presenting the +balanced ration to an unconscious populace, and +the populace was responding warmly to his +treatment. It had taken him a little time to +gauge the situation exactly, to adapt the supply +to the idiosyncrasies of the composite demand, +but once he had mastered his problem he dealt +with it inspiredly. His southern inheritance +made it possible for him to apprehend if he +could not actually comprehend the taste of a +people who did not want the flavor of nutmeg +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' ></a>184</span> +in their cauliflower, and who preferred cocoanut +in their custard pie, and he realized that +their education required all the diplomacy and +skill at his command.</p> +<p>Nancy found him unexpectedly intelligent +about the use of her tables. He grasped the essential +fact that the values of food changed in +the process of cooking, and that it was necessary +to Nancy’s peace of mind to calculate the +amount of water absorbed in preparing certain +vegetables, and that the amount of butter and +cream introduced in their preparation was an +important factor in her analysis. He also +nodded his head with evident appreciation when +she discoursed to him of the optimum amount +of protein as opposed to the actual requirements +in calories of the average man, but she never +quite knew whether the matter interested him, +or his native politeness constrained him to listen +to her smilingly as long as she might choose +to claim his attention. But the fact remained +that there was no such cooking in any restaurant +in New York of high or low degree, as that +which Gaspard provided, and as time went on, +and he realized that expense was not a factor +in Nancy’s conception of a successfully conducted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' ></a>185</span> +restaurant, the reputation of Outside +Inn increased by leaps and bounds.</p> +<p>To Nancy’s friends—with the exception, of +course, of Billy, who was in her confidence—the +whole business became more and more puzzling. +Caroline, her susceptibility to vicarious distress +being augmented by the sensitiveness of her +own emotional state, yearned and prayed over +her alternately. Betty, avid of excitement, +spent her days in the pleasurable anticipation +of a dramatic bankruptcy. It was on Dick, +however, that the actual strain came. He saw +Nancy growing paler and more ethereal each +day, on her feet from morning till night manipulating +the affairs of an enterprise that seemed +to be assuming more preposterous proportions +every hour of its existence. He made surreptitious +estimates of expenditures and suffered +accordingly, approximating the economic unsoundness +of the Inn by a very close figure, and +still Nancy kept him at arm’s length and flouted +all his suggestions for easing, what seemed to +him now, her desperate situation.</p> +<p>He managed to pick her up in his car one day +with Sheila, and persuaded her to a couple of +hours in the open. She was on her way home +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' ></a>186</span> +from the Inn, and had meant to spend that time +resting and dressing before she went back to +consult with Gaspard concerning the night meal. +She had no complaint to make now of the usurpation +of her authority or the lack of actual +executive service that was required of her. +With the increase in the amount of business +that the Inn was carrying she found that every +particle of her energy was necessary to get +through the work of the day.</p> +<p>“I’m worried about you,” Dick said, as they +took the long ribbon of road that unfurled in +the direction of Yonkers, and Nancy removed +her hat to let the breeze cool her distracted +brow. His man Williams, was driving.</p> +<p>“Well, don’t tell me so,” she answered a trifle +ungraciously.</p> +<p>“Miss Dear is cross to-day,” Sheila explained. +“The milk did not come for Gaspard to make +the poor people’s custard, <i>crême renversé</i>, he +makes—deliciously good, and we give it to the +clerking girls.”</p> +<p>“The buttermilk cultures were bad,” Nancy +said. “And I wasn’t able to get any of the preparations +of it, that I can trust. There are one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' ></a>187</span> +or two people that ought to have it every day +and their complexions show it if they don’t.”</p> +<p>“I suppose so,” Dick said, with a grimace.</p> +<p>“These people who have worked in New York +all summer have run pretty close to their margin +of energy. You’ve no idea what a difference +a few calories make to them, or how +closely I have to watch them, and when I have +to substitute an article of diet for the thing +they’ve been used to, it’s awfully hard to get +them to take it.”</p> +<p>“I should think it might be,” Dick said. “It’s +true about people who have worked in New +York all summer, though. I have—and you +have.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I’m all right,” Nancy said.</p> +<p>“So am I,” Sheila said, “and so is Monsieur +Dick, <i>n’est-ce pas</i>?”</p> +<p>“<i>Vraiment, Mademoiselle.”</i></p> +<p>“Father isn’t very right, though. Even when +Miss Dear has all the beautiful things in the +most beautiful colors in the world cooked for +him and sent to him, he won’t eat them unless +she comes and sits beside him and begs him.”</p> +<p>“He’s very fond of <i>sauce verte</i>,” Nancy said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' ></a>188</span> +hastily, “and <i>apricot mousse</i> and <i>cèpes et pimentos</i>, +things that Gaspard can’t make for the +regular menu,—bright colored things that +Sheila loves to look at.”</p> +<p>“He likes <i>petit pois avec laitue</i> too and <i>haricot +coupé</i>, and <i>artichaut mousselaine</i>. Sometimes +when he does not want them Miss Dear +eats them.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad they are diverted to some good +use,” Dick said.</p> +<p>“I’ve been looking into the living conditions +of my waitresses.” Nancy changed the subject +hastily. “Did you realize, Dick, that the +waitresses have about the unfairest deal of any +of the day laborers? They’re not organized, +you know. Their hours are interminable, the +work intolerably hard, and the compensation +entirely inadequate. Moreover, they don’t last +out for any length of time. I’m trying out a +new scheme of very short shifts. Also, I’m +having a certain sum of money paid over to +them every month from my bank. If they don’t +know where it comes from it can’t do them any +harm. That is, I am not establishing a precedent +for wages that they won’t be able to earn +elsewhere. I consider it immoral to do that.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' ></a>189</span></div> +<p>“You are paying them an additional sum of +money out of your own pocket? You told me +you paid them the maximum wage, anyhow, and +they get lots of tips.”</p> +<p>“Oh! but that’s not nearly enough.”</p> +<p>“Nancy,” Dick said dramatically, “where do +you get the money?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Nancy said, “it comes +along. The restaurant makes some.”</p> +<p>“Very little.”</p> +<p>“I could make it pay any time that I wanted +to.”</p> +<p>“Sometimes I wonder if you are in full possession +of your senses.”</p> +<p>“Caroline is affected that way, too. I feel +that she is likely to get an alienist in at any +time. She is so earnest in anything she undertakes. +She and Billy have had a scrap, did you +know it?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“Billy wants to marry her, and he has +shocked her delicate feelings by suggesting it +to her.”</p> +<p>“I imagine you have a good deal to do with +her feelings on the subject,” Dick said gloomily. +“I suppose at heart you don’t believe in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' ></a>190</span> +marriage, or think you don’t and you’ve communicated +the poison to Caroline.”</p> +<p>“I’ve done nothing of the kind,” Nancy insisted +warmly. “I do believe in marriage with +all my heart. I think the greatest service any +woman can render her kind in this mix-up +age is to marry one man and make that marriage +work by taking proper scientific care of +him and his children.”</p> +<p>“This is news to me,” Dick said. “I thought +that <i>you</i> thought that the greatest service a +woman could do was to run Outside Inn, and +stuff all the derelicts with calories.”</p> +<p>“That’s a service, too.”</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>They were out beyond the stately decay of the +up-town drive, with its crumbling mansions and +the disheveled lawns surrounding them, beyond +the view of the most picturesque river in the +world, though, comparatively speaking, the +least regarded, covering the prosaic stretch of +dusty road between Van Courtland Park and +the town of Yonkers.</p> +<p>“I like the <i>Bois</i> better,” Sheila said, “but I +like Central Park better than the <i>Champs Elyseés</i>. +In Paris the children are not so gay as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' ></a>191</span> +the grown-up people. Here it is the grown-up +people who are without smiles on the streets.”</p> +<p>“Why is that, Dick?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>“That’s always true of the maturer races, the +gaiety of the French is appreciative enthusiasm,—if +I may invent a phrase. The children +haven’t developed it.”</p> +<p>“I would like to have my hand held, Monsieur +Dick,” Sheila announced. “I always feel +homesick when I think about Paris. I was so +contente and so <i>malheureuse</i> there.”</p> +<p>“Why were you unhappy, sweetest?” Nancy +asked.</p> +<p>“My father says I am never to speak of those +things, and so I don’t—even to Miss Dear, my +<i>bien aimée</i>.”</p> +<p>Dick lifted Sheila into his lap, he took the +hand that still clung to Nancy’s in his warm +palm, and held them both there caressingly.</p> +<p>“My <i>bien aimée</i>,” he said softly.</p> +<p>Beyond the town a more gracious and magnificent +country revealed itself; lovely homes +set high on sweeping terraces, private parks +and gardens and luxuriant estates, all in a blaze +of October radiance with the glorious pigments +of the season.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' ></a>192</span></div> +<p>“Isn’t it time to go back?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” Dick said. “I want to show you +something. There’s an old place here I want +you to see. That colonial house set way back +in the trees there.”</p> +<p>“Williams is driving in,” Nancy said as they +approached it.</p> +<p>“He’s been here before.”</p> +<p>“Are we going to get out?” Sheila asked.</p> +<p>Dick was already opening the door of the +tonneau and assisting Nancy out of the car.</p> +<p>“I’m going to leave Sheila with Williams, and +take you over the house, Nancy. She’ll be more +interested in the grounds than she would in the +interior. I want you to see the inside.”</p> +<p>He took a key out of his pocket, and unlocked +the stately door. Everything about the place +was gigantic, stately,—the huge columns that +supported the roof of the porch, the big elms +that flanked it, and the great entrance hall, as +they stepped into its majestic enclosure.</p> +<p>“It’s a biggish sort of place, isn’t it?” Nancy +said.</p> +<p>“But it’s rather lovely, don’t you think so?” +Dick asked anxiously. “These old places are +getting increasingly hard to find,—real old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' ></a>193</span> +homes, dignified and beautiful, within a reasonable +distance from town.”</p> +<p>“It is lovely,” Nancy said, “it could be made +perfectly wonderful to live in. I can see this +big hall—furnished in mahogany or even +carved oak that was old enough. Thank heaven, +we’re no longer slaves to a <i>period</i> in our decorating; +we can use anything that’s beautiful +and suitable and not intrinsically incongruous +with a clear conscience.”</p> +<p>“Come up-stairs.”</p> +<p>Nancy lingered on the landing of the fine old +staircase, white banistered with a mahogany +hand-rail, that turned only once before it led +into the region up-stairs.</p> +<p>“I’d rather see the kitchen,” she said.</p> +<p>“The kitchen isn’t the thing that I’m proudest +of. Its plumbing is early English, or Scottish, +I’m afraid. I think this arrangement up +here is delightful. See these front suites, one +on either side of the hall. Bedroom, dressing-room, +sitting-room. Which do you like best? I +thought perhaps I might take the one that overlooks +the orchard.”</p> +<p>Nancy stopped still on her way from window +to window.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' ></a>194</span></div> +<p>“Dick Thorndyke, whose house <i>is</i> this?” she +demanded.</p> +<p>“Mine.”</p> +<p>“Yours—have you bought it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I put the deed in my safe deposit vault +yesterday. Come in here. Isn’t this a cunning +little guest chamber nested in the trees? Be +becoming to Betty’s style of beauty, wouldn’t +it?” He held the door open for her ingratiatingly, +and she passed under his arm perfunctorily.</p> +<p>“What on earth did you buy a house like +this for?”</p> +<p>“I thought you might like it.”</p> +<p>“I—what have I to do with it?”</p> +<p>Dick turned the rusty key in the lock deliberately, +and put it in his pocket, thus closing +them into the little musty room which had no +other exit. A branch of flaming maple leaves +tapped lightly on the window.</p> +<p>“You’ve a whole lot to do with it, Nancy,” he +said. “It’s yours, and I’m yours, and I want to +know how much longer you’re going to hedge.”</p> +<p>“I’m not hedging,” Nancy blazed. “Take that +key out of your pocket. This is moving-picture +stuff.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' ></a>195</span></div> +<p>“I know it is. I can’t get you to talk to me +any other way, so I thought I’d try main force +for a change.”</p> +<p>“Well, it is a change,” she agreed. “Shall I +begin to scream now, or do you intend to give +me some other provocation?”</p> +<p>“Don’t be coarse, darling.” There is a certain +disadvantage in having known the woman +who is the object of your tenderest emotions all +your life, and to be on terms of the most familiar +badinage with her. Dick was feeling this +disadvantage acutely at the moment. He took +a step toward her, and put a heavy hand on her +shoulder. “Nancy, don’t you love me?” he said, +“don’t you really?”</p> +<p>“No,” Nancy said deliberately, “I don’t, and +you know very well I don’t. Unlock that door, +and let’s be sensible.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you know, dear, or care that you’re +hurting me?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t,” Nancy said. “You say so, and I +hear you, but I don’t really believe it. If I +did—”</p> +<p>“If you did—what?”</p> +<p>“Then I’d be sorrier.”</p> +<p>“You aren’t sorry at all, as it stands.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' ></a>196</span></div> +<p>“I find it’s awfully hard to be sorry for you, +Dick, in any connection. There’s really nothing +pathetic about you, no matter how tragic you +think you are being. You’re rich and lucky and +healthy. You have everything you want—”</p> +<p>“Not everything.”</p> +<p>“And you live the way you want to, and eat +the food you want to—”</p> +<p>“The ruling passion.”</p> +<p>“And make the jokes you want to.” Nancy +literally stuck up a saucy nose at him. “There +is really nothing that I could contribute to your +happiness. I mean nothing important. You +are not a poor man whom I could help to work +his way up to the top, or a genius that needs +fostering, or a—”</p> +<p>“Dyspeptic that needs putting on a special +diet,—but for all that I do need a mother’s love, +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“I don’t believe you do,” Nancy said, a trifle +absently. “Unlock the door, Dick. I don’t think +Sheila put on that sweater when I told her to, +and I’m afraid she’ll get cold.”</p> +<p>“Kiss me, Nancy.”</p> +<p>“Will you unlock the door if I do?”</p> +<p>“Yes’um.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' ></a>197</span></div> +<p>Nancy put up cool fragrant lips to meet a +brother’s kiss, and for the moment was threatened +with a second salute that was very much +less fraternal, but the danger passed. Dick unlocked +the door and let her pass him without +protest.</p> +<p>“If you had been any other girl,” he mused, +as they went down the stairs together companionably, +“you wouldn’t have got away with +that.”</p> +<p>“With what?” Nancy asked innocently.</p> +<p>“If you don’t know,” Dick said, “I won’t tell +you. If you’d been any other girl I should have +thrown that key out of the window when you +began to sass me.”</p> +<p>“And then?” Nancy inquired politely.</p> +<p>“And then,” Dick replied finally and firmly.</p> +<p>“Are there any other girls?” Nancy asked, +faintly curious, as they stood on the deep steps +of the porch waiting for Sheila and Williams +who were emerging from the middle entrance.</p> +<p>Dick met her glance a little solemnly, and +hesitated for a perceptible instant.</p> +<p>“Are there, Dick?” she insisted.</p> +<p>“Yes, dear,” he said.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' ></a>198</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XIII_THE_HAPPIEST_DAY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>The Happiest Day</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>It was thoroughly characteristic of Nancy to +turn her back on the most significant facts +of her experience, and occupy herself exclusively +with its by-products. She refused to +consider herself as an heiress entitled to spend +money lavishly for her own uses, but she squandered +it on her pet enterprise. She dismissed +the idea that Dick, whom she neglected to discourage +as decisively as her growing interest in +another man would seem to warrant, had +bought a country estate for the sole purpose of +ensconcing her there as mistress. She dreamed +of Collier Pratt and his ideal of her, and presented +herself punctually at his studio as a +model for that ideal, while ignoring absolutely +the fact that he was nearly a hundred dollars +in debt to her for meals served at Outside Inn. +She had sufficient logic and common sense to +apply to these matters, and sufficient imagination +to handle them sympathetically, had she +chosen to consider them at all, but she did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' ></a>199</span> +choose. She was deep in the adventure of her +existence as differentiated from its practical +working out.</p> +<p>The day Collier Pratt finished his portrait of +her she was not alone in the studio with him. +Sheila, in a fluffy white dress with a floppy +black satin hat framing her poignant little face, +was omnipresent at the interview which succeeded +the actual two hours of absorption when +he put in the last telling strokes.</p> +<p>“It’s done,” he said, as he set aside pigments +and brushes, and divested himself of his painting +apron. “I don’t want to look at it now. I’ve +got it, but I can’t stand the strain of contemplating +it till my brain cools a trifle. Let’s go +out and celebrate.”</p> +<p>“Where shall we go?” Nancy said. This was +the moment she had dreamed of for weeks, the +hour of fruition when the work was done, and +they could face each other, man and woman +again with no strip of canvas between them.</p> +<p>“The place I always go when I’ve finished a +picture is a little café under the shadow of +<i>Notre Dame</i>, where I get cakes and beer and an +excellent perspective on all my favorite gargoyles.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' ></a>200</span></div> +<p>“And the little birds flutter in the sun, and +eat my crumbs and the great music swells out +while you ask the <i>garçon</i> for another <i>bock</i>. Do +you remember, father dear, the day that <i>she</i> +found us there?”</p> +<p>“I remember only that you made yourself ill +eating <i>Madelaines</i> and had to be taken home +<i>en voiture</i>,” Collier Pratt said quickly. “We +will go and have some coffee at the Café des +Artistes, and discuss ships and shoes and sealing +wax—anything but the art of painting.”</p> +<p>“And cabbages and kings,” Sheila contributed +ecstatically. “I used to think when I was a very +little girl and couldn’t read English very well +that it was really Heaven where Alice went, +and it made me sad to think she was dead and +I didn’t understand it, but now Miss Dear has +explained to me.”</p> +<p>“Miss Dear has made a good many things +clear to us both,” Collier Pratt said, but he +said no more that might be even remotely construed +as referring to the issue between them, +and Nancy finished out her day with dragging +limbs and an aching empty heart that a word +of tenderness would have filled to running over.</p> +<p>But after her work for the day was done, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' ></a>201</span> +she was back in her own apartment with Sheila +tucked snugly in bed, and Hitty out for the +night with a sick friend, there came the touch +on her bell that she knew was Collier Pratt’s; +and she opened the door to find him standing +on her threshold.</p> +<p>“I knew you’d come,” she said, as women +always say to the man they have that hour +given up looking for.</p> +<p>“I wasn’t sure I would,” Collier Pratt said, +“but I did, you see.”</p> +<p>“Why weren’t you sure?” She stood beside +him in her little rectangular hall while he +divested himself of his cape, and placed his hat, +stick and gloves in orderly sequence on the +oak settee beside it. She liked to watch the +precision with which he always arranged these +things.</p> +<p>“Why should I be sure?” He turned and +faced her. “Miss Dear,” he said to himself +softly, “Miss Dear,” and she saw that in his eyes +which made the moment simpler for her to +bear.</p> +<p>She led the way into her drawing-room.</p> +<p>“Light the candles,” he said, “this firelight +is too good to drown in a flood of electric light!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' ></a>202</span></div> +<p>“Is that better?” she asked.</p> +<p>They were standing before the fireplace; the +embers had burned to a gentle glowing radiance. +Of the four candles she had lighted, the wick +of only one had taken fire and was burning. +Nancy’s breath caught in her throat, and she +could not steady it. Collier Pratt took a step +forward and held out his arms.</p> +<p>“No, this is better,” he said.</p> +<p>“I thought there was some place in the world +where I could be—comfortable,” Nancy said, +when she finally lifted her head from the +shoulder of the shabby, immaculate black suit, +“but I wasn’t quite sure.”</p> +<p>“Are you sure now, you little wonder +woman?” He held her at the length of his +arm for a moment and gazed curiously into +her face. Then he drew her slowly toward +him again. She met his kiss bravely, so bravely +that he understood the quality of her courage.</p> +<p>“I didn’t realize that this would be the first +time,” he said.</p> +<p>“There couldn’t have been any other time,” +Nancy breathed, “you know that.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know,” Collier Pratt said thoughtfully. +“Oh! you little American girls, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' ></a>203</span> +your strange, straight-laced little bodies and +your fearless souls!”</p> +<p>“Betty told you something,” Nancy cried, +scarcely hearing him, “but it wasn’t true. +There never has been anybody else.” She put +her head down on his shoulder again. “It is +comfortable here,” she said, “where I belong.”</p> +<p>She felt the sudden passion sweep through +him,—the high avid wave of tenderness and +desire,—and she exulted as all purely innocent +women exult when that madness surges first +through the veins of the man they love. He +put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her +into the armchair by the fire, and there she took +his head on her breast and understood for all +time what it means for a woman to be called +the mother of men.</p> +<p>“You wonder woman,” he murmured again.</p> +<p>She brushed the dark hair back from his +forehead and kissed his eyes. “You dear,” she +said, “you boy, you little boy.”</p> +<p>Suddenly through the darkness came the +sound of a shrill cry, and the thud of a fall in +some room down the corridor.</p> +<p>“It’s Sheila,” Nancy said, “she has those +little nightmares and falls out of bed.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' ></a>204</span></div> +<p>“I know she does,” Collier Pratt said, “but +she picks herself up again.”</p> +<p>“Not always,” Nancy said; “don’t you want +to come in and help me put her back?”</p> +<p>“I do not,” Collier Pratt said with unnecessary +emphasis.</p> +<p>Nancy was of two minds about picking the +child up in her little white night-gown and +bringing her out to her father, flushed and lovely +with sleep as she was. It was Collier Pratt’s +baby she had in her arms; her charge, the child +she loved, and the child of the man she loved, +a part of the miracle that was slowly revealing +itself to her; but a sudden sharp instinct +warned her that her impulse was ill-timed.</p> +<p>“I had forgotten the child was here,” Collier +Pratt said when she returned to him.</p> +<p>“I hadn’t,” Nancy said happily.</p> +<p>“I suppose she has to be somewhere, poor +little wretch,” he said. “She’s an extraordinarily +picturesque baby, isn’t she?”</p> +<p>Nancy crept nearer to him. He stood leaning +against the mantel and frowning slightly, but +he made no move toward her again.</p> +<p>“She doesn’t have nightmares often now,” +Nancy said with stiffening lips. “She used to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' ></a>205</span> +have them almost every night, but by watching +her diet carefully we have practically eliminated +them.”</p> +<p>“The Hitty person doesn’t like me,” Collier +Pratt said. “<i>Pas du tout</i>. She treats me as if I +were a book agent.”</p> +<p>“She loves Sheila, she—she’d do anything for +her.”</p> +<p>“The women who do not find me attractive +are likely to find me quite conspicuously otherwise, +I am afraid.” He had been carefully +avoiding Nancy’s eyes, but her little cry at this +drew his gaze. She was standing before him, +slowly blanching as if he had struck her, absolutely +still except for the trembling of her lips.</p> +<p>“What am I,” he said, “to hold out against +all the forces of the Universe? Do you love me, +Nancy, do you love me?”</p> +<p>“You know,” she whispered, once more in the +shelter of the shabby shoulder.</p> +<p>“This is madness,” he swore as he kissed her; +“we’re both out of our senses, Nancy; don’t you +know it?”</p> +<p>“The picture is done, anyhow,” she said. “I +don’t know how I can ever bear to look it in the +face, but I shall have to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' ></a>206</span></div> +<p>“It’s the best work I’ve ever done,” he said.</p> +<p>“I don’t look like it now, do I?”</p> +<p>He held her off to see.</p> +<p>“No, by jove, you don’t. It’s gone, now—just +that thing I painted.”</p> +<p>“How do I look now?”</p> +<p>“Much more commonplace from the point of +view from which I painted you. Much more +beautiful though,—much more beautiful.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad.”</p> +<p>“I might paint you again,—like this. No, +I swear I won’t. I got the thing itself down on +canvas. I’ll never try to paint you again.”</p> +<p>“Is—that flattering?”</p> +<p>“Supremely.”</p> +<p>“When am I going to have my picture?” she +asked after another interlude. “Do you want +me to send for it?”</p> +<p>“I can’t give you the picture,” he said. “I +intended to if I had done merely a portrait, but +I can’t part with this. It has got to make my +fame and fortune.”</p> +<p>“I thought I was to have it,” Nancy said. “I—I—” +then she felt she was being ungenerous, +unworthy, “but I couldn’t take it, of course, +it’s too valuable.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' ></a>207</span></div> +<p>“Please God.”</p> +<p>“It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it, if my +picture did make you famous!”</p> +<p>“I think it will.”</p> +<p>“I’m nothing but a grubby little working girl, +and you’re a great artist,—and you love me.”</p> +<p>“You’re not a grubby little working girl to +me,” he said, “you’re a glorious creature—a +wonder woman. I ought to go down on my +knees to you for what you’ve given me in that +picture.”</p> +<p>“In the picture?” Nancy said. “I love you. +I love you. That wasn’t in the picture—I kept +it out.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“I won’t marry him until he is ready for me,” +she said to herself at one time during the night. +She lay perfectly quiet till morning, her hands +folded upon her breast, and her little girl pig-tails +pulled down on either side of the coverlet, +wide-eyed and tranquil. She could not bear to +sleep and forget for a moment the beautiful +thing that had happened to her between dawn +and dawn. “I’ll take care of him and Sheila, +and nourish him, and help him to sell my +picture. It isn’t every woman who would understand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' ></a>208</span> +his kind of loving, but I understand +it.”</p> +<p>At eight o’clock Hitty came in to her, and +roused her from the light drowse into which +she had fallen at last.</p> +<p>“You was crying in your sleep again,” she +said, “your cheeks is all wet. I heard you the +minute I put my key into the latch. You’re as +bad as Sheila, only I expect she suffers from +something laying hard on her stummick. It’s +always something on your mind that starts you +in.”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing on my mind, Hitty,” Nancy +said, sitting up in bed, “nothing but happiness, +I mean. In some ways, Hitty dear, this is the +happiest day that I’ve ever waked up to.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, there’s other ways that it isn’t,” +Hitty said, opening the door to stalk out +majestically.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' ></a>209</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XIV_BETTY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Betty</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>“There’s a lady waiting to see you, sir,” +Dick’s man servant informed him on +his arrival at his apartment one evening when +he had been dining at his club, and was putting +in a leisurely appearance at his own place after +his coffee and cigar.</p> +<p>“A lady?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, she has been here since nine. She +says it’s not important, but she insisted on +waiting.”</p> +<p>“The deuce she did.”</p> +<p>Dick’s quarters were not, strictly speaking, +of the bachelor variety. That is, he had a suite +in one of the older apartment houses in the +fifties, a building that domiciled more families +and middle-aged married couples than sprightly +young single gentlemen. Dick had fallen heir +to the establishment of an elderly uncle, who +had furnished the place some time in the nineties +and when he grew too decrepit to keep his +foothold in New York had retired to the country, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' ></a>210</span> +leaving Dick in possession. Even if Dick +had been a conspicuously rakish young gentleman, +which he was not, the traditional dignity +of his surroundings would have certainly protected +him from incongruous indiscretion in +their vicinity.</p> +<p>Betty rose composedly from the pompous +red velour couch that ran along the wall under +a portrait of a gentleman that looked like a +Philip of Spain, but was really Dick’s maternal +great grandfather.</p> +<p>“Why, Betty,” Dick said, “this isn’t +<i>convenable</i> unless you have a chaperon somewhere +concealed. We don’t do things like this.”</p> +<p>“I do,” Betty said. “I wanted to see you, +so I came. In these emancipated days ladies +call upon their men friends if they like. It’s +archaic to prattle of chaperons.”</p> +<p>“Still we were all brought up in the fear of +them.”</p> +<p>“Mine were brought up in the fear of me. I +like this place, Dicky. Why don’t you give us +more parties in it? You haven’t had a crowd +here for months.”</p> +<p>“Everybody’s so busy,” Dick said, “we don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' ></a>211</span> +seem to get together any more. I’m willing to +play host any time that the rest want to come.”</p> +<p>“You mean Nancy is so busy with her old +Outside Inn.”</p> +<p>“You are busy there, too.”</p> +<p>“I’m not so busy that I wouldn’t come here +when I was asked, Dicky.”</p> +<p>“Or even when you weren’t?” Dick’s smile +took the edge off his obviously inhospitable suggestion.</p> +<p>“Or even when I wasn’t,” Betty said impudently. +“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Thorndyke?”</p> +<p>“Can’t I call you a cab, Miss Pope?”</p> +<p>“I don’t wish to go away.”</p> +<p>“Betty, be reasonable,” Dick said, “it’s after +ten o’clock. It is not usual for me to receive +young ladies alone here, and it looks badly. +I don’t care for myself, of course, but for you +it looks badly.”</p> +<p>“If it’s only for me—I don’t care how it +looks. Come and sit down beside me, and talk +to me, Dicky, and I’ll tell you really why I +came.”</p> +<p>Dick folded his arms and looked down at her. +Betty’s piquant little face, olive tinted, and pure +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' ></a>212</span> +oval in contour, was turned up to him confidently; +under the close seal turban the soft +brown hair framed the childish face, while the +big dark eyes danced with mischief. She patted +the couch by her side invitingly.</p> +<p>“I’ll go away in fifteen minutes, Dicky dear. +It certainly wouldn’t look well if you put me out +immediately, after all your establishment knowing +that I waited here an hour for you.”</p> +<p>Dick took out his watch.</p> +<p>“Fifteen minutes, then,” he said. “What’s +your trouble, Betty?”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s a long sad story,” she temporized. +“Perhaps I had better not begin on it now that +our time is so short. You wouldn’t like to hold +my hand, would you, Dicky?”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to, at any rate.”</p> +<p>“I thought you’d say that,” she sighed. +“Have you seen Nancy lately?”</p> +<p>“Yesterday.”</p> +<p>“She’s looking better, don’t you think so?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Preston Eustace is back.”</p> +<p>“Is that so? I didn’t know he was here yet. +I knew he was coming.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' ></a>213</span></div> +<p>“He’s to be here six months, or so.”</p> +<p>“Have you seen him?”</p> +<p>“No, Caroline told me.” Her voice was carefully +steadied but Dick noticed for the first +time the shadows etched under the big brown +eyes, and the flush of excitement splotched +high on her cheek-bones. She had been engaged +to Preston Eustace for three months succeeding +her twentieth birthday.</p> +<p>“On second thoughts I think I will hold your +hand, Betty,” he said, covering that childlike +member with his own rather brawny one. “You +are not a very big little girl, are you, Betty?”</p> +<p>“My mother used to tell me that I was a very +destructive child.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder if you were that yet.”</p> +<p>“Don’t let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about +you, Dicky.”</p> +<p>“About me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, please. I think you’re a very interesting +subject.”</p> +<p>Having arrived at some conclusion concerning +this unprecedented attack upon his privacy, +Dick was disposed to be kind to his unexpected +visitor. The fact that Preston Eustace was in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' ></a>214</span> +town and Betty had not seen him shed an entirely +new light on her recklessness. Like every +other incident in Betty’s history her love-affair +had been very conspicuously featured.</p> +<p>“The interesting things about me just at present +are—” he was just about to say “six shirts +of imported gingham” but he bethought himself +that she would be certain to demand to see +them, so he finished lamely with—“my game of +golf, and my new dogs.”</p> +<p>“What kind of dogs?”</p> +<p>“Belgian police dogs.”</p> +<p>“Where do you keep them?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t taken them over yet.”</p> +<p>“I heard that you had bought a place up in +Westchester, but I asked Nancy, and she said +she didn’t know. I don’t think Nancy appreciates +you, Dick.”</p> +<p>“That so often happens.”</p> +<p>“I mean that seriously.”</p> +<p>“It’s a serious matter—being appreciated. +The only person who I ever thought really +appreciated me was Billy’s old aunt. Every +time she saw me she used to say to me, ‘You’re +such a clean-looking young man I can’t take my +eyes off you.’”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' ></a>215</span></div> +<p>“You <i>are</i> clean-looking, and awfully good-looking +too.”</p> +<p>“Do you mind if I smoke, Betty?” Dick carefully +disengaged his hand from her clinging +fingers, and a look of something like intelligence +passed between them, before Betty +turned her ingenuous child’s stare on him +again.</p> +<p>“Not if you’ll give me a cigarette, too.”</p> +<p>Dick fumbled through his pockets.</p> +<p>“It’s awfully stupid, but I haven’t any about +me,” he said, fingering what he knew that she +knew to be the well filled case he always carried +in his inner pocket. He did not approve of +women smoking.</p> +<p>But “Poor Dicky!” was all she said.</p> +<p>“Your fifteen minutes are up, Betty,” he said +presently, taking out his watch.</p> +<p>“Well, I suppose I’ll have to go then.”</p> +<p>Dick rose politely.</p> +<p>“You really don’t care whether I go or stay, +do you?” she sighed.</p> +<p>“I would rather have you go, Betty,” he said +gravely.</p> +<p>Betty’s eyes filled with sudden tears, that +Dick to his surprise realized were genuine.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' ></a>216</span></div> +<p>“I wanted you to want me to stay,” she said +incoherently.</p> +<p>“I suppose you’re just a miserable little thing +that doesn’t want to be alone,” he concluded. +“Come, I’ll take you home.”</p> +<p>The telephone bell on the table beside him +rang sharply.</p> +<p>“I’m just going out,” he said to Billy, on the +wire. “Betty is here with a fit of the blues. +I’m going to take her home. Ride up with us, +will you?”</p> +<p>“He’ll meet us down-stairs in ten minutes,” +he said. “I’ll order a taxi.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to see Billy,” Betty said rebelliously. +She rose suddenly, pulling on her +gloves, and took a step forward as if about to +brush by him petulantly, but as she did so she +staggered, put her hand to her eyes, and fell +forward against his breast.</p> +<p>Dick picked up the limp little body, and made +his way to the couch where he deposited it +gently among the stiff red pillows there. Then +he began to chafe her hands, to push back the +tumbled hair from which the fur hat had been +displaced, and finally fallen off, and to call out +her name remorsefully.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' ></a>217</span></div> +<p>“Betty, dear, dearest,” he cried, “I didn’t +know, I didn’t dream,—I thought you were just +trying it on. I’m so sorry, dear, I am so sorry.”</p> +<p>She moaned softly, and he bent over her again +more closely. Then he gathered her up in his +arms.</p> +<p>“Betty, dear, Betty,” he said again.</p> +<p>She opened her eyes. Her two soft arms stole +up around his neck, and she lifted her lips.</p> +<p>“You little devil,” Dick cried, almost at the +same instant that he kissed her.</p> +<p>“She deserves to be spanked,” he told Billy +grimly at the door. “She got in my apartment +when I was out, and insisted on staying there +till I came in, to make me a visit.”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t understand me,” Betty complained, +as she cuddled confidingly in the corner of +the taxi-cab, “when I’m serious he doesn’t +realize or appreciate it, and he doesn’t understand +the nature of my practical jokes.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like—practical jokes,” Dick said. +“Have you seen Preston Eustace, Billy?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t seen Caroline,” Billy said, as if +that disposed of all the interrogatory remarks +that might be addressed to him in the present +or the future.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' ></a>218</span></div> +<p>“It’s a nice-looking river,” Betty said, looking +out at the softly gleaming surface of the +Hudson, as their cab took the drive. “It looks +strange to-night, though, laden with all kinds +of queer little boats. I wonder how it would +feel to be drifting down it, or up it, on a barque +or a barkentine—I don’t know what a barkentine +is—all dead like Elaine or Ophelia,—with +your hands neatly folded across your breast?”</p> +<p>“For heaven sake’s, Betty,” Billy cried, “I +don’t like your style of conversation. I’m in a +state of gloom myself, to-night.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t say I was in a state of gloom,” +Betty said. They rode the rest of the way in +silence, but when Dick got out of the cab to +open her door for her, she whispered to him, +“I’m awfully ashamed, Dick,” before she fled +up-stairs through the darkened hallway of her +own home.</p> +<p>“Queer little thing,—Betty,” Billy said as +Dick stepped back to the cab again, “you never +know where you have her. Full of the deuce as +she can stick. Unscrupulous little rascal, too, +but made of good stuff.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think so?” Billy inquired presently +as Dick did not answer.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' ></a>219</span></div> +<p>“Think what?”</p> +<p>“That Betty’s a queer sort of girl.”</p> +<p>Dick took his pipe out of his pocket and began +stuffing it full of tobacco. When this was satisfactorily +accomplished, he struck a match on +his boot heel, and lit the mixture, drawing at it +critically meanwhile.</p> +<p>“Damn’ queer,” he admitted, between puffs.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' ></a>220</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XV_CLOUDS_OF_GLORY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Clouds of Glory</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nancy, trailing clouds of glory, took up the +management of her Inn with renewed +vigor. She had found her touchstone. The +flower of love, which she had scarcely understood +to be indigenous to the soil of her own +practical little garden, had suddenly lifted up +its head there in fragrant, radiant bloom. She +was so happy that she was impatient of all the +inadequate, inefficient manipulation of affairs in +the whole world. She felt strong and wise to +put everything right in a neglected universe.</p> +<p>She loved. She was satisfied to live in that +love for the present, with no imagination of the +future except as her lover should construct it +for her; and in him she had absolute faith. +The things that he had said or left unsaid had +no significance to her. Before she had dreamed +of a personal relation with him he had singled +her out as a creature made for the consummation +and fulfilment of the greatest passion +of all. The merest suspicion that there had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' ></a>221</span> +been a man in the world who could have frustrated +this beautiful potentiality in her had +moved him profoundly. There was nothing in +her experience to help her to differentiate +between the sensibility of the artistic temperament +and the manifestations of the more reliable +emotions. The presence in the human +breast of a fire that gave out light and not heat +was a condition undreamed of in her philosophy. +To doubt Collier Pratt’s love for her in +the face of his tacit pursuit of her, and the +acceptance of the obligation she had chosen to +put him under, would have seemed to her the +rankest kind of heresy.</p> +<p>She had been brought up on terms of comradely +equality with boys and men, and she +understood the rules of all the pretty games of +fluffing and light flirtation that young men and +women play with each other, but serious love-making—that +was a thing apart. In the world +of honor and fair dealing a man took a woman’s +kiss of surrender for one reason and one reason +only——that she was his woman, and he so held +her in his heart.</p> +<p>Now that she was in this sort committed to +her love for Collier Pratt, her one ambition was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' ></a>222</span> +to put her life in order for him,—to pick up the +raveling threads of her achievement and prove +to him and to herself that she was the kind of +woman who accomplishes that which she +attempts. In the light of his indefatigable +patience in all matters that pertained to his +art—his clean-cut workmanship—his skill in +handling his material—she blushed for the +amateur spirit that animated all her undertakings, +and for the first time recognized it +for what it was.</p> +<p>“Gaspard,” she said one morning soon after +her miracle had been achieved, “where do you +think the greatest leak is? We spend a great +deal too much money in running this place. +As you know, that is not the most important +matter to me. Getting my customers properly +nourished with invitingly prepared food is the +essential thing, but if there was a way to adjust +the economical end of it, I should feel a great +deal more comfortable in my mind.”</p> +<p>“But certainly, mademoiselle, I should like +myself to try the pretty little economies. The +Frenchman he likes to spend his money when it +is there, but it hurts him in the heart to waste +this money without cause.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' ></a>223</span></div> +<p>“Am I wasting money without cause, Gaspard, +in your opinion?”</p> +<p>“What else?”</p> +<p>“How can I stop it?”</p> +<p>“By calculation of the tall cost of living, +and by buying what is good instead of what is +expensive.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, Gaspard?”</p> +<p>Gaspard contemplated her for a moment.</p> +<p>“We have had this week—squab chicken,” he +said, “racks of little unseasonable lambs, sweetbreads, +guinea fowl and <i>filet du boeuf</i>. We +have with them mushrooms, fresh string bean, +cooked endive, and new, not very good peas +grown in glass. We have the salted nuts, the +radish, the olive, the celery, the <i>bon bon</i>, all +extra without pay. Then you make in addition +to this the health foods, and your bills are +sky high up. Is it not?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid it is, Gaspard. I had no idea I +was as reckless as all that.”</p> +<p>“But yes, and more of it.”</p> +<p>“What would you do if you were running +this restaurant, Gaspard?”</p> +<p>“I would give <i>ragoût</i>, and rabbits—so cheap +and so good too—stewed in red wine, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' ></a>224</span> +good pot roast with vegetables all in the delicious +sauce, and carrots with parsley and the +peas out of the can, cooked with onion and lettuce, +and macédoine of all the other things left +over. Lentils and flageolet I should buy dried +up, and soak them out.—All those things which +you have said were needless.—In my way they +would be so excellent.”</p> +<p>“You make my mouth water, Gaspard. I +don’t know whether it’s a Gallic eloquence, or +whether that food really would work. They +might like it for a change anyhow.”</p> +<p>“I have many personal patrons now,” Gaspard +said with some pride; “all day they send +me messages, and very good tips. I think what +I would serve them they would eat.—But there +is one thing—” he paused and hesitated dejectedly, +“that, what you say, takes the heart out +of the beautiful cooking.”</p> +<p>“What thing is that, Gaspard?”</p> +<p>“Those calories.”</p> +<p>“Why, Gaspard, surely you’re used to working +with tables now. It must be almost second +nature to you. My whole end and aim has been +to serve a balanced ration.”</p> +<p>“I know, but the ration when he is right, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' ></a>225</span> +he balances himself. These tables they are like +the steps in dancing—to learn and to forget. +I figure all day all night to get those calories, +and then I find I have eight—and eight are so +little—lesser than I would have had without the +figuring, and if our customer he has taken himself +one piece of sweetmeat outside, he has +more than made it up.”</p> +<p>“I always have worried about what they eat +between meals,” Nancy said,—“but that, of +course, we can’t regulate.”</p> +<p>“Could I perhaps go to it, as you say, and +cook like the <i>bourgeoisie</i> for a week or two of +trials?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I think you could, Gaspard,” Nancy +said thoughtfully. “Go to it, as we say, and I +won’t interfere in any way. Maybe they’d +like it. Perhaps our food is getting to be too +much like hotel food, anyway.”</p> +<p>She knew in her heart that the gradually +increasing scale of luxury on which she had +been running her cuisine had been largely due +to her desire to provide Collier Pratt with all +the delicacies he loved, without making the +fact too conspicuous. The specially prepared +dishes sent out to his table had become a matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' ></a>226</span> +of so much comment among the members of the +staff, and the target of so much piquant satire +from Betty that she had become sensitive on the +subject, especially since Betty had access to the +books, and knew in actual dollars and cents +how much this favoritism was costing her. +Now that matters had been settled between +herself and her lover, she felt vaguely ashamed +of this elaboration of method. It was so simple +a thing to love a man and give him all you had, +with the eyes of the world upon you, if necessary. +She felt that she handled the matter +rather unworthily.</p> +<p>She had also a consultation with Molly and +Dolly about the economic problem, and discovered +that they agreed with Gaspard about the +unnecessary extravagance of her management.</p> +<p>“Them health foods,” Dolly said,—she was +not the more grammatical of the twins, “the +ones that gets them regular gets so tired of +them, or else they gets where they don’t need +them any more. There’s one girl that crumbs +up her health muffins and puts them on the +window-sill every day when I ain’t looking, so’s +not to hurt my feelings.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' ></a>227</span></div> +<p>“That accounts for all those chittering sparrows,” +Nancy said.</p> +<p>“And some of those buttermilk men threatens +not to come any more if I don’t stop serving +it to them.”</p> +<p>“What do you say to them, Dolly, when they +object to it?”</p> +<p>“Well, sometimes I say one thing, and sometimes +another. Sometimes I say it’s orders to +serve it; and sometimes I say will they please +to let it stand by their plate not to get me in +trouble with the management; and sometimes +I coax them to take it.”</p> +<p>“By an appeal to their better nature,” Nancy +said. “I’m glad Dick can’t hear all this,—he’d +think it was funny.”</p> +<p>“We don’t have so much trouble with the +broths,” Molly said, “but so many people would +rather have the cream soups Gaspard makes, +that we waste a good deal.”</p> +<p>“It sours on us,” Dolly elucidated.</p> +<p>“What do you think would be the best way +out of that?”</p> +<p>“I think to charge for the invalid things,” +Dolly said; “people would think more of them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' ></a>228</span> +if they was specials, and had to be paid good +money for. Health bread, if you didn’t call +it that, would go good, if it cost five cents +extra.”</p> +<p>“What would you call it?” Nancy asked.</p> +<p>“California fruit nut bread, or something +like that, and call the custards crême renversé, +and the ice-cream, French ice-cream.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” Nancy said, “that isn’t the way +I want to do things at all.”</p> +<p>“We can slip the ones that needs them a few +things from time to time, can’t we, Molly?” +Dolly said.</p> +<p>“We’ll do it,” Nancy said. “I hate the way +that the most uninspired ways of doing things +turn out to be the best policy after all. I don’t +believe in stereotyped philanthropy, but I did +think I had found a way around this problem of +feeding up people who needed it.”</p> +<p>“They get fed up pretty good if they do pay +a regular price for it,” Dolly said. “You can’t +get something for nothing in this world, and +most everybody knows it by now.”</p> +<p>“I’m managing my restaurant a little differently,” +she told Collier Pratt a few days later, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' ></a>229</span> +as she took her place at the little table beside +him, where she habitually ate her dinner. “If +you don’t like it you are to tell me, and I’ll see +that you have things you will like.”</p> +<p>“This dinner is good,” he said reflectively, +“like French home cooking. I haven’t had a +real <i>ragoût</i> of lamb since I left the pension of +Madame Pellissier. Has your mysterious +patroness got tired of furnishing <i>diners de +luxe</i> to the populace?”</p> +<p>“Not exactly that,” Nancy said, “but she—she +wants me to try out another way of doing +things.”</p> +<p>“I thought that would come. That’s the +trouble with patronage of any kind. It is so +uncertain. There is no immediate danger of +your being ousted, is there?”</p> +<p>“No,” Nancy said, “there—there is no danger +of that.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like that cutting you down,” he said, +frowning. “It would be rather a bad outlook +for us all if she threw you over, now wouldn’t +it?”</p> +<p>“Oh!—she won’t, there’s nothing to worry +about, really.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' ></a>230</span></div> +<p>“It would be like my luck to have the only +café in America turn me out-of-doors.—I should +never eat again.”</p> +<p>“I promise it won’t,” Nancy said; “can’t you +trust me?”</p> +<p>“I never have trusted any woman—but you,” +he said.</p> +<p>“You can trust me,” Nancy said. “The truth +is, she couldn’t put me out even if she wanted +to. I—she is under a kind of obligation to me.”</p> +<p>“Thank God for that. I only hope you are +in a position to threaten her with blackmail.”</p> +<p>“I could if anybody could,” Nancy said. She +put out of her mind as disloyal, the faintly +unpleasant suggestion of his words. He owed +her mythical patron a substantial sum of money +by this time. He was not even able to pay +Michael the cash for the nightly teapot full of +Chianti that Nancy herself now sent out for +him regularly. For the first time since her +association with him she was tempted to compare +him to Dick, and that not very favorably; +but at the next instant she was reproaching +herself with her littleness of vision. He was +too great a man to gauge by the ordinary standards +of life. Money meant nothing to him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' ></a>231</span> +except that it was the insignificant means to the +end of that Art, which was to him consecrated.</p> +<p>They were placed a little to the left of the +glowing fire—Nancy had restored the fireplace +in the big central dining-room—and the light +took the brass of the andirons, and all the +polished surface of copper and pewter and silver +candelabra that gave the room its quality +of picturesqueness.</p> +<p>“Some of those branching candlesticks are +very beautiful,” he said; “the impression here +is a little like that of a Catholic altar just before +the mass. I’ve always thought I’d like to have +my meals served in church, <i>Saint-Germain-des-Prés</i> +for instance.”</p> +<p>“It is rather dim religious light.” Nancy had +no wish to utter this banality, but it was forced +from her by her desire to seem sympathetic.</p> +<p>“Can we go to your place for a little while +to-night?”</p> +<p>These were the words she had spent her days +and nights hungering for; yet now she hesitated +for a perceptible instant.</p> +<p>“Yes, we can, of course. There is a friend +of mine—Billy Boynton, up there this evening. +He is not feeling very fit, and phoned to ask +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' ></a>232</span> +if he could go up and sprawl before my fire, so, +of course, I said he could.”</p> +<p>“Oh! yes, Sheila’s friend. Can’t he be disposed +of?”</p> +<p>“I think so. We could try.”</p> +<p>But at Nancy’s apartment they found not +only Billy, but Caroline, and the atmosphere +was like that of the glacial regions, both literally +and figuratively.</p> +<p>“Hitty had the windows open, and the fire +went out, and I forgot to turn on the heat,” +Billy explained from his position on the hearth +where he was trying to build an unscientific +fire with the morning paper, and the remains of +a soap box. There was a long smudge across +his forehead.</p> +<p>Caroline drew Nancy into the seclusion of her +bedroom and clutched her violently by the arm.</p> +<p>“I can’t stand the strain any longer,” she +cried, “you’ve got to tell me. Are you or are +you not going to marry Dick Thorndyke for his +money, and is Billy Boynton putting you up to +it—out of cowardice?”</p> +<p>“No, I’m not and he isn’t,” Nancy said. +“What’s the matter with you and Billy anyway?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' ></a>233</span></div> +<p>“I haven’t seen him for weeks before. I just +happened to be in this neighborhood to-night, +and ran in here, and there he was.”</p> +<p>“Why don’t you take him home with you?” +Nancy said.</p> +<p>“I don’t want him to go home with me.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you love him?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. That isn’t the point.”</p> +<p>“It is the point,” Nancy said; “there isn’t +any other point to the whole of existence. +There’s nothing else in the world, but love, the +great, big, beautiful, all-giving-up kind of love, +and bearing children for the man you love; and +if you don’t know that yet, Caroline, go down +on your bended knees and pray to your God +that He will teach it to you before it is too +late.”</p> +<p>“I—I didn’t know you felt like that,” Caroline +gasped.</p> +<p>“Well, I do,” Nancy said, “and I think that +any woman who doesn’t is just confusing issues, +and taking refuge in sophistry. I wouldn’t give +<i>that</i>”—she snapped an energetic forefinger, +“for all your silly, smug little ideas of economic +independence and service to the race, and +all that tommy-rot. There is only one service +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' ></a>234</span> +a woman can do to her race, and that is to +take hold of the problems of love and marriage,—and +the problems of life, birth and death that +are involved in them—and work them out to +the best of her ability. They <i>will</i> work out.”</p> +<p>“You—you’re a sort of a pragmatist, aren’t +you?” Caroline gasped.</p> +<p>“Billy loves you, and you love Billy. Billy +needs you. He is the most miserable object +lately, that ever walked the face of the earth. +I’m going to call a taxi-cab, and send you both +home in it, and when you get inside of it I want +you to put you arms around Billy’s neck, and +make up your quarrel.”</p> +<p>“I won’t do that,” said Caroline, “but—but +somehow or other you’ve cleared up something +for me. Something that was worrying me a +good deal.”</p> +<p>“Shall I call the taxi?” Nancy said inexorably.</p> +<p>“Well, yes—if—if you want to,” Caroline +said.</p> +<p>The fire was crackling merrily in the drawing-room +when she stepped into it again after +speeding her departing guests. Collier Pratt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' ></a>235</span> +was walking up and down impatiently with his +hands clasped behind his back.</p> +<p>“You got rid of them at last,” he said. “I +was afraid they would decide to remain with +us indefinitely.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t have as much trouble as I anticipated,” +admitted Nancy cryptically.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt made a round of the rose-shaded +lamps in the room—there were three including +a Japanese candle lamp,—and turned them all +deliberately low. Then he held out his arms +to Nancy.</p> +<p>“We’ll snatch at the few moments of joy the +gods will vouchsafe us,” he said.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' ></a>236</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XVI_CHRISTMAS_SHOPPING'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Christmas Shopping</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Sheila and Nancy were doing their Christmas +shopping. The weather, which had +been like mid-May—even to betraying a bewildered +Jersey apple tree into unseasonable bloom +that gave it considerable newspaper notoriety,—had +suddenly turned sharp and frosty. +Sheila, all in gray fur to the beginning of her +gray gaiters, and Nancy in blue, a smart blue +tailor suit with black furs and a big black +satin hat—she was dressing better than she had +ever dressed in her life—were in that state of +physical exhilaration that follows the spur of +the frost.</p> +<p>“We mustn’t dance down the avenue, Sheila,” +Nancy said, “it isn’t done, in the circles in +which we move.”</p> +<p>“It is you who are almost very nearly dancing, +Miss Dear,” Sheila said, “I was only walking +on my toetips.”</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t you feel good, Sheila?” Nancy +cried.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' ></a>237</span></div> +<p>“Don’t you, Miss Dear?”</p> +<p>“I feel almost too good,” Nancy said, “as if +in another minute the top of the world might +come off.”</p> +<p>“The top of the world is screwed on very +tight, I think,” said Sheila. “I used to think +when I was a little girl that it was made out of +blue plush, but now I know better than that.”</p> +<p>“It might be,” Nancy argued, “blue plush +and bridal veils. There’s a great deal of filmy +white about it, to-day.”</p> +<p>“It’s a long way off from Fifth Avenue,” +Sheila sighed, “too far. I am not going to +think about it any more. I am going to think +hard about what to give my father. Michael +said to get a smoking set, but I don’t know +what a smoking set is. Hitty said some hand +knit woolen stockings, but I am afraid he would +be scratched by them. Gaspard said a big bottle +of <i>Cointreau</i>, but I do not know what that is +either.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t we give him a beautiful brocaded +dressing-gown and a Swiss watch, thin as a +wafer, and some handkerchiefs cobwebby fine, +and a dozen bottles of <i>Cointreau</i>, and—then get +the other things as we think of them?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' ></a>238</span></div> +<p>“Are we rich enough to do <i>that</i>?” Sheila +asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.</p> +<p>“Rich enough to buy anything we want, +Sheila,” Nancy cried. “I had no idea it was going +to be such a heavenly feeling. When you +say your prayers to-night, Sheila, I hope you +will ask God to bless somebody you’ve never +heard of before. <i>Elijah Peebles Martin</i>, do you +think you could remember that long name, +Sheila?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Dear,—do you remember him in +your prayers every night?”</p> +<p>“Well, I haven’t,” Nancy said, “but I intend +to from now on. Do you think Collier—father—would +like to have a new pipe?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” Shelia said; “wouldn’t Uncle +Dick like to have one?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether Uncle Dick is going to +want a Christmas present from me or not, +Sheila.” Nancy answered seriously. “There +may be—reasons why he won’t come to see us +for a while when he knows them.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear,” Sheila said, “but I can buy him a +Christmas present myself, can’t I? I don’t +want it to be Christmas if I can’t.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' ></a>239</span></div> +<p>“Of course, dear. What shall we buy Aunt +Caroline and Uncle Billy?”</p> +<p>“Some pink and blue housekeeping dishes, I +think.”</p> +<p>“I’m going to have trouble buying Caroline +<i>anything</i>,” Nancy said. “She’s so sure I can’t +afford it. If I give a silver chest I’ll have to +make Billy say it came from his maiden aunt.”</p> +<p>“What shall we give Aunt Betty?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know exactly why,” Nancy said, “but +someway I feel more like giving her a good +shaking than anything else.”</p> +<p>“For a little surprise,” Sheila said presently, +“do you think we could go down to see my father +in his studio, after we have shopped? I +feel like seeing my father to-day. Sometimes I +wake up in the morning and I think of Hitty +and my breakfast, and the canary bird, and of +you, Miss Dear, fast asleep where I can hear +you breathing in your room—if I listen to it—and +then other mornings I wake up thinking +only of my father, and how he looks in his +shirt-sleeves and necktie. I was thinking of +him this morning like that. So now I should +like to see him.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' ></a>240</span></div> +<p>“You shall, dear. I want him to see you in +your new clothes. He’ll think you look like a +little gray bird with a scarlet breast.”</p> +<p>“Then I must open the front of my coat when +I go in so he shall see my vest at once, mustn’t +I?”</p> +<p>“Do you know how much I love you, Sheila?” +Nancy cried suddenly.</p> +<p>“Is it a great deal, Miss Dear?”</p> +<p>“It’s more than I’ve ever loved anybody in +this world but one person, and if I should ever +be separated from you I think it would break +my heart—so that you could hear it crack with +a loud report, Sheila.”</p> +<p>The little girl slipped her gray gloved hand +into Nancy’s and held it there silently for a +moment.</p> +<p>“Then we won’t ever be separated, Miss +Dear,” she said.</p> +<p>The shops were crowded with the usual conglomerate +Christmas throng, and their progress +was somewhat retarded by Sheila’s desire to +make the acquaintance of every department-store +and Salvation Army Santa Claus that +they met in their peregrinations. In the toy +department of one of the Thirty-fourth Street +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' ></a>241</span> +shops there was a live Kris Kringle with animated +reindeers on rollers, who made a short +trip across an open space in one end of the department +for a consideration, and presented +each child who rode with him a lovely present, +tied up in tissue and marked “Not to be opened +until Christmas.” Sheila refused a second trip +with him on the ground that it would not be +polite to take more than one turn.</p> +<p>Nancy was able to discover the little girl’s +preferences by a tactful question here and there +when they were making the rounds of the different +counters. She wanted, it developed, a +golden-haired doll with a white fur coat, a pair +of roller skates, an Indian costume, a beaded +pocketbook, with a blue cat embroidered on it, a +parchesi board to play parchesi with her Uncle +Dick, some doll’s dinner dishes, a boy’s bicycle, +some parlor golf sticks, a red leather writing +set, a doll’s manicure set, a sailor-boy paper +doll, a dozen small suede animals in a box, a +drawing book and crayon pencils and several +other trifles of a like nature. The things she +did not want she rejected unerringly. It +pleased Nancy to realize that she knew exactly +what she did want, even though her range of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' ></a>242</span> +taste was so extensive. Nancy had a sheaf of +her own cards with her address on them in her +pocketbook, and each time Sheila saw the thing +her heart coveted Nancy nodded to the saleswoman +and whispered to her to send it to the +address given and charge to her account.</p> +<p>They took their lunch in a famous confectionary +shop, full of candy animals and alluring +striped candy sticks and baskets. Here +Sheila’s eye was taken by a basket of spun +sugar flowers, which she insisted on buying for +Gaspard. By the time they were ready to resume +their shopping tour, Sheila began to show +signs of fag, so they bought only brooches for +the waitresses, and the watch as thin and exquisite +of workmanship as a man’s pocket watch +could be, for Collier Pratt.</p> +<p>“I think we had better give it to him now, +Miss Dear,” Sheila decided. “I don’t see how +he can wait till Christmas for it—it is so beautiful. +He has not had a gold watch since that +time in Paris when we had all that trouble.”</p> +<p>“What trouble, Sheila dear?” Nancy said. +She had tucked the child in a hansom, and they +were driving slowly through the lower end of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' ></a>243</span> +Central Park to restore Sheila’s roses before +she was exhibited to her parent.</p> +<p>“When we lost all our money, and my father +and some one I must not speak of, had those +dreadful quarrelings, and we ran away. I do +not like to think of it. My father does not like +to think of it.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, you mustn’t, dear,” Nancy said, +“but just be glad it is all over now. I don’t +like to realize that so many hard things happened +to you and him before I knew you, but +I do like to think that I can perhaps prevent +them ever happening to you again.”</p> +<p>She closed resolutely that department of her +mind that had begun to occupy itself with conjectures +concerning the past of the man to +whom she had given her heart. The child’s +words conjured up nightmare scenes of unknown +panic and dread. It was terrible to her +to know that Collier Pratt had the memory of +so much bitterness and distress of mind and +body locked away in the secret chambers of his +soul. “Some one of whom I must not speak,” +Sheila had said, “and some one of whom I must +not think,” Nancy added to herself. It was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' ></a>244</span> +probably some one with whom he had quarreled +and struggled passionately maybe, with disastrous +results. He could not have injured or +killed anybody, else how could he be free and +honorably considered in a free and honorable +country? She laughed at her own melodramatic +misgivings. It was only, she realized, that +she so detested the connotation of the words +“ran away.” Nancy had never run away from +anything or anybody in her life, and she could +not understand that any one who was close to +her should ever have the instinct of flight.</p> +<p>The most conscientious objector to New +York’s traffic regulations can not claim that +they fail to regulate. The progress of their +cab down the avenue was so scrupulously regulated +by the benignant guardians of the semaphores +that twilight was deepening into early +December evening before they reached their +objective point,—the ramshackle studio building +on the south side of Washington Square +where the man she loved lived, moved and had +his being, with the gallant ease and grace which +made him so romantic a figure to Nancy’s imagination.</p> +<p>She had never been to his studio before without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' ></a>245</span> +an appointment, and her heart beat a little +harder as, Sheila’s hand in hers, they tiptoed +up the worn and creaking stairs, through the +ill-kept, airless corridors of the dingy structure, +till they reached the top, and stood breathless +from their impetuous ascent, within a few +feet of Collier Pratt’s battered door.</p> +<p>“I feel a little scared, Miss Dear,” Sheila +whispered. “I thought it was going to be so +much fun and now I don’t think so at all. Do +you think he will be very angry at my coming?”</p> +<p>“I don’t think he will be angry at all,” Nancy +said. “I think he will be very much surprised +and pleased to see both of us. Turn around, +dear, and let me be sure that you’re neat.”</p> +<p>Sheila turned obediently. Nancy fumbled +with her pocket mirror, and then thought better +of it, but passed a precautionary hand over the +back of her hair to reassure herself as to its +arrangement, and straightened her hat.</p> +<p>“Now we’re ready,” she said.</p> +<p>But Sheila put out her hand, and clutched at +Nancy’s sleeve.</p> +<p>“There’s some one in there,” she said, “somebody +crying. Oh! don’t let’s go in, Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>From behind the closed door there issued suddenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' ></a>246</span> +the confused murmur of voices, one—a +woman’s—rising and falling in the cadence of +distress, the other low pitched in exasperated +expostulation.</p> +<p>“It’s Collier,” Nancy said mechanically, “and +some woman with him.”</p> +<p>Sheila shrank closer into the protecting shelter +of her arms.</p> +<p>“Don’t let’s go in, Miss Dear,” she repeated.</p> +<p>“It may be just some model,” Nancy said. +“We’ll wait a minute here and see if she doesn’t +come out.”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t want to see who comes out,” the +child said, her face suddenly distorted.</p> +<p>There was a sharp sound of something falling +within, then Collier Pratt’s voice raised +loud in anger.</p> +<p>“You’d better go now,” he said, “before you +do any more damage. I don’t want you here. +Once and for all I tell you that there is no place +for you in my life. Weeping and wailing won’t +do you any good. The only thing for you to do +is to get out and stay out.”</p> +<p>This was answered by an indistinguishable +outburst.</p> +<p>“I won’t tell you where the child is,” Collier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' ></a>247</span> +Pratt said steadily. “She’s well taken care of. +God knows you never took care of her. There’s +nothing you can do, you know. You might sue +for a restitution of conjugal rights, I suppose, +but if you drag this thing into the courts I’ll +fight it out to the end. I swear I will.”</p> +<p>“You brute,—you—”</p> +<p>At the first clear sound of the woman’s voice +the child at Nancy’s side broke into sobs of +convulsive terror.</p> +<p>“Take me away, Miss Dear. Oh! take me +away from here, quickly, quickly, I’m so frightened. +I’m so afraid she’ll come out and get me. +It’s my <i>mother</i>,” she moaned.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' ></a>248</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XVII_GOODBY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Good-By</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nancy had no memory of her actions during +the time that elapsed between leaving +the studio building and her arrival at her own +apartment. She knew that she must have +guided Sheila to the beginning of the bus route +at the lower end of the square, and as perfunctorily +signaled the conductor to let her off at +the corner of Fifth Avenue and her own street, +but she could never remember having done so. +Her first conscious recollection was of the few +minutes in Sheila’s room, while she was slipping +off the child’s gaiters, in the interval before +she gave her over to Hitty for the night. +The little girl was still sobbing beneath her +breath, though her emotion was by this time +purely reflexive.</p> +<p>“I didn’t understand that your mother was +living, Sheila,” she said.</p> +<p>“She isn’t very nice,” the little girl said miserably. +“We don’t tell any one. She always +cries and screams and makes us trouble?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' ></a>249</span></div> +<p>“Did she live with you in Paris?”</p> +<p>“Only sometimes.”</p> +<p>“Does she do—something that she should not +do, Sheila?” Nancy asked, with her mind on inebriety, +or drug addiction.</p> +<p>“She just isn’t very nice,” Sheila repeated. +“She is <i>histérique</i>; she pounded me with her +hands, and hurt me.”</p> +<p>Nancy telephoned to the Inn that she had a +headache, and shut herself into her room, without +food, to gather her scattered forces. She +lay wide-awake all the night through, her mind +trying to work its way through the lethargy of +shock it had received. She remembered falling +down the cellar stairs, when she was a little +girl, and lying for hours on the hard stone floor, +perfectly serene and calm, without pain, until +she tried to do so much as move a little finger +or lift an eyelid, when the intolerable nausea +would begin. She was calm now, until she +made the attempt to think what it was that had +so prostrated her, and then the anguish spread +through her being and convulsed her with unimaginable +distress of mind and body.</p> +<p>By morning she had herself in hand again,—at +least to the extent of dealing with the unthinkable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' ></a>250</span> +fact that Collier Pratt, her lover, the +man to whom she had given the lover’s right to +hold her in his arms and cover her upturned +face with kisses, had a living wife, and that he +was not free to make honorable love to any +woman.</p> +<p>Her life had been too sound, too sweet, to +give her any perspective on a situation of the +kind. It was inconceivable to her that a married +man should make advances to an unmarried +woman,—but gradually she began to make +excuses for this one man whose circumstances +had been so exceptional. Tied to an insane +creature, who beat his child, who made him +strange hectic scenes, and followed him all over +the world to threaten his security, and menace +that beautiful and inexplicable creative instinct +that animated him like a holy fire, and set him +apart from his kind; she began to see how it +might be with him. She was still the woman he +loved,—she believed that; he was weaker than +she had thought,—that was all, weaker and not +so wise. This being true, she must put aside +her own pain and bewilderment, her own devastating +disillusionment, and comfort him, and +help him. She rose from her bed that morning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' ></a>251</span> +firmly resolved to see him before the day was +through.</p> +<p>She breakfasted with Sheila, and made a +brave attempt to get through the morning on +her usual schedule, but once at the Inn she collapsed, +and Michael and Betty had to put her +in a cab and send her home again, where Hitty +ministered to her grimly,—and she slept the +sleep of exhaustion until well on into the evening, +and into the night again.</p> +<p>On the day following she was quite herself; +but she still hesitated to bring about the momentous +interview that she so dreaded, and yet +longed for. She intended to take her place at +the table beside Collier Pratt when he came for +his dinner that night, but when the time came +she could not bring herself to do it, and fled +incontinently. Later in the evening he telephoned +that he wanted to see her, and she told +him that he might come.</p> +<p>She faced him with the facts, breathlessly, +and in spite of herself accusingly,—and then +waited for the explanation that would extenuate +the apparent ugliness of his attitude toward +her, and set all the world right for her again. +As she looked into his face she felt that it must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' ></a>252</span> +come. She noted compassionately how the +shadows under the dark eyes had deepened; +how weary the pose of the fine head; and for the +moment she longed only to rest it on her breast +again. Even as she spoke of the thing that had +so tortured her it seemed insignificant in +light of the fact that he was there beside her, +within reach of her arms whenever she chose +to hold them out to him.</p> +<p>“I regret that the revelation of my private +embarrassments should have been thrust upon +you so suddenly,” he said, when she had poured +out the story to him. “My marriage has proved +the most uncomfortable indiscretion that I ever +committed; and unfortunately my indiscretions +have been numberless as the well-known leaves +of Vallombrosa.”</p> +<p>“You always said that Sheila was motherless,” +Nancy said.</p> +<p>“It is simpler than stating that she is worse +than motherless.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”</p> +<p>Collier Pratt smiled at her—kindly it seemed +to Nancy.</p> +<p>“It hadn’t anything to do with <i>us</i>,” he said. +“I should never want to marry again—even if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' ></a>253</span> +I were free. The thought is horrible to me. +You mean a great deal to me. <i>Think</i>, if you +doubt that and think again. I have had in this +little front room of yours the only real moments +of peace and happiness that I have had +for years. I value them—you can not dream or +imagine how much—but surely it is understood +between us that our relation can not be anything +but transitory. I am an artist with a way +to make for my art: you are a working woman +with a career, odd as it is,” he smiled whimsically, +“that you have chosen, and that you will +pursue faithfully until some stalwart young +man dissuades you from it, when you will take +your place in your niche as wife and mother, +and leave me one more beautiful memory.”</p> +<p>“Surely,” Nancy said, “you know it isn’t—like +that.”</p> +<p>“What is it like then?”</p> +<p>Nancy felt every sane premise, every eager +hope and delicate ideal slipping beyond her +reach as she faced his mocking, tender eyes.</p> +<p>“It can’t be that you believe you have been—fair +with me,” she faltered.</p> +<p>“I don’t think I have been unfair,” he said, +“I have made no protestations, you know.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' ></a>254</span></div> +<p>Nancy shut her eyes. Curious scraps of her +early religious education came back to her.</p> +<p>“You have partaken of my bread and wine,” +she said.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t exactly consecrated.”</p> +<p>“I think it was,” she said faintly. “Oh! +don’t you understand that that isn’t a way for +a man to think or to feel about a woman like +me?”</p> +<p>“Little American girl,” Collier Pratt said, +“little American girl, don’t you understand that +there is only one way for a woman to think or +feel about a <i>man</i> like <i>me</i>? I have had my life, +and I haven’t liked it much. I’m to be loved +warmly and lightly till the flesh and blood +prince comes along, but I’m never to be mistaken +for him.”</p> +<p>“I don’t believe you’re sincere,” Nancy cried; +“women must have loved you deeply, tragically, +and have suffered all the torture there is, at +losing you.”</p> +<p>“That may be. Sincerity is a matter of so +many connotations. You haven’t known many +artists, my dear.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Nancy. “No, but I thought they +were the same as other men, only worthier.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' ></a>255</span></div> +<p>“How should they be? He who perceives a +merit is not necessarily he who achieves it. +Else the world would be a little more one-sided +than it is.”</p> +<p>“I can’t believe those things,” Nancy said. +“I want to believe in you. You <i>must</i> care for +me, and what becomes of me. You have known +so long what I was like, and what I was made +for. All this seems like a terrible nightmare. +I want you to tell me what it is you want of me, +and let me give it to you.”</p> +<p>“I am proving some faint shadow of worthiness +at least, when I say to you that I want +absolutely nothing of you. I love, but I +refrain.”</p> +<p>“You love,” Nancy cried, “you <i>love</i>?”</p> +<p>“Not as you understand loving, I am afraid. +In my own way I love you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like your way, then,” Nancy said +wearily.</p> +<p>“We’re both so poor, little girl,—that’s one +thing. If I were free and could overcome my +prejudice against matrimony, and could be a +little surer of my own heart and its constancy,—even +then, don’t you see, practical considerations +would and ought to stand in our way. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' ></a>256</span> +couldn’t support you, you couldn’t possibly support +me.”</p> +<p>“I see,” said Nancy. “Would you marry me +If I were rich?” she said slowly.</p> +<p>“I already have one wife,” Collier Pratt +smiled. Nancy remembered afterward that he +smiled oftener during this interview than at +any other. “But if somebody died, and left you +a million, she might possibly be disposed of.”</p> +<p>For one moment, perhaps, his fate hung in +the balance. Then he took a step forward.</p> +<p>“Kiss me good night, dear,” he said, “and let +us end this bitter and fruitless discussion.”</p> +<p>“Kiss you good night,” Nancy cried. “Kiss +you good night. Oh! how dare you!—How dare +you?” And she struck him twice across his +mouth. “I wish I could kill you,” she blazed. +“Oh! how dare you,—how dare you?”</p> +<p>“Oh! very well,” said Collier Pratt calmly, +wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “If +that’s the way you feel—then our pleasant little +acquaintanceship is ended. I’ll take my hat and +stick and my child—and go.”</p> +<p>“Your child?” Nancy cried aghast. “You +wouldn’t take Sheila away from me.”</p> +<p>“I don’t feel exactly tempted to leave her with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' ></a>257</span> +you,” he said deliberately. “I don’t mind a +woman striking me—I’m used to that; it is one +of my charming wife’s ways of expressing herself +in moments of stress—but I do object to +any but the most purely formal relations with +her afterward. There is a certain degree of intimacy +involved in your having charge of my +child. I think I will take the little girl away +with me now.”</p> +<p>“Please, please, please don’t,” Nancy said. +“I love her. I couldn’t bear it now. You can’t +be so cruel.”</p> +<p>“Better get it over,” Collier Pratt said. “Will +you call Hitty, or shall I?”</p> +<p>“Sheila is in bed,” Nancy cried. “You +wouldn’t take her out of her warm bed to-night. +I’ll send her to you to-morrow at whatever hour +you ask.”</p> +<p>“I ask for her now.”</p> +<p>There was no fight left in Nancy. She called +Hitty and superintended the dressing of the little +girl to its last detail. She could not touch +her.</p> +<p>“Won’t you kiss me good night, Miss Dear?” +Sheila said, drowsily, as she took her father’s +hand at the door.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' ></a>258</span></div> +<p>“Not to-night,” Nancy said hoarsely. “I’ve +a bad throat, dear, I wouldn’t want you to +catch it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know where I’m going,” the little +girl said, “but I suppose my father knows. I’ll +come back as soon as I can.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear,” Nancy said. “Good-by.”</p> +<p>Collier Pratt turned at the door and made an +exaggerated gesture of farewell.</p> +<p>“We part more in anger than in sorrow,” he +said.</p> +<p>“Oh! Go,” Nancy cried.</p> +<p>As the door closed upon the two Nancy sank +to her knees, and thence to a crumpled heap on +the floor, but remembering that Hitty would +find her there shortly, and being entirely unable +to regain her feet unaided, she started to +crawl in the direction of her own room, and +presently arrived there, and pushed the door to +behind her with her heel.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' ></a>259</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XVIII_TAME_SKELETONS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Tame Skeletons</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>It was Sunday night, and New Year’s Eve. +Gaspard was preparing, and Molly and Dolly +were serving a special dinner for Preston Eustace, +planned weeks before on his first arrival +in New York.</p> +<p>Before the great logs—imported by Michael +for the occasion—that blazed in the fireplace, a +round table was set, decorously draped in the +most immaculate of fine linen, and crowned +with a wreath of holly and mistletoe, from +which extended red satin trailers with a present +from Nancy for each guest, on the end of each. +All the impedimenta of the restaurant was +cleared away, and a couch and several easy +chairs that Nancy kept in reserve for such occasions +were placed comfortably about the +room. Only the innumerable starry candles +and branching candelabra were reminiscent of +the room’s more professional aspect.</p> +<p>Billy and Caroline were the first to arrive,—Caroline +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' ></a>260</span> +in pale floating green tulle, which accentuated +the pure olive of her coloring, and +transported Billy from his chronic state of +adoration to that of an almost agonizing worship. +Dick and Betty were next. He had realized +the possible awkwardness of the situation +for her, and had been thoughtful enough to offer +to call for her. She was in defiant scarlet +from top to toe, and had never looked more +entrancing. Preston Eustace was to come in +from Long Island where he was spending the +holidays with a married sister. Michael received +the guests and did the honors beamingly.</p> +<p>“Where’s Nancy?” Dick asked, as, divested +of his outer garments, he appeared without +warning in the presence of the lovers. “Don’t +bother to drop her hand, Billy. I don’t see how +you have the heart to, she’s so lovely to-night.”</p> +<p>“We don’t know where Nancy is,” Caroline +answered for him. “It seems to be all right, +though. She’s expected, Michael says.”</p> +<p>“Where’s Nancy?” Betty asked, in her turn, +appearing on the threshold with every hair most +amazingly in place.</p> +<p>“Coming,” Dick reassured her.</p> +<p>“Has anybody heard from her?” Betty asked.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' ></a>261</span></div> +<p>“Michael has, I think.”</p> +<p>“You aren’t worried about her, are you?” +Caroline asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, I am,” Betty said.</p> +<p>“I thought you and Nancy were rather on the +outs,” Caroline suggested. “It seems odd to +have you worrying about her like her maiden +aunt.”</p> +<p>“You wait till you see her, you’ll be worried +about her, too.”</p> +<p>“What’s wrong?” Dick asked quickly.</p> +<p>“She’s lost Sheila for one thing. That unspeakable +Collier Pratt—I hope he chokes on +his dinner to-night, and I hope it’s a rotten dinner—has +taken the child away.”</p> +<p>“The devil he has.”</p> +<p>There was a step on the rickety stair.</p> +<p>“Hush! There she is now,” Caroline cried.</p> +<p>“No,” Betty said quietly, listening. “That’s +not Nancy. That’s your brother, Caroline.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t heard his step for such a long time +I’ve forgotten it,” Billy said.</p> +<p>“I haven’t heard it for a long time either,” +Betty said, her face draining of its last bit of +color.</p> +<p>“Promises to be one of those merry little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' ></a>262</span> +meals when everybody present is attended by a +tame skeleton,” Billy whispered, “except us, +Caroline.”</p> +<p>“I don’t feel that we have any right to be so +happy with the whole continent of Europe in +the state it’s in,” Caroline whispered in reply.</p> +<p>“I feel better about the continent of Europe +than I did a while back,” Billy said, contentedly.</p> +<p>“Hello, everybody,” Preston Eustace said as +Michael held the door for him. “How’s everything, +Caroline?”</p> +<p>“All right,” Caroline said. Then she added +unnecessarily, “You—you know Betty, don’t +you?”</p> +<p>“I used to know Betty,” he said slowly.</p> +<p>The two looked at each other, with that look +of incredulity with which lovers sometimes +greet each other after absence and estrangement. +“This can’t be you,” their eyes seem to +be saying, “I’ve disposed of you long since, God +help me!”</p> +<p>“How do you do, Preston?” Betty said, giving +him her hand. Then she smiled faintly, and +added with a caricature of her usual manner: +“Lovely weather we’re having for this time of +year, aren’t we?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' ></a>263</span></div> +<p>“I’m very fond of you, Betty,”—Dick smiled +as she sank into the chair beside him and Preston +turned to his sister. “I think you’re a little +sport.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know how you can, Dicky,” she +smiled at him forlornly. “I’ve got a bad black +heart, and I play the wrong kind of games.”</p> +<p>“Well, I see through them, so it’s all right. +What’s this about Nancy?”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you later,” Betty said; “there she +comes now.”</p> +<p>Nancy, stimulated by massage and steam, her +hair dressed by a professional; powdered, and +for the first time in her life rouged to hide the +tell-tale absence of her natural quickening color, +came forward to meet her guests in supreme +unconsciousness of the pathos of the effect she +had achieved. She was dressed in snowy white +like a bride,—the only gown she had that was +in keeping with the holiday decorations, and +she moved a little clumsily, as if her brain had +found itself suddenly in charge of an unfamiliar +set of reflexes. Her lids drooped over burning +eyes that had known no sleep for many nights, +and every line and lineament of her face was +stamped with pain.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' ></a>264</span></div> +<p>“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she +said. Her voice, curiously, was the only natural +thing about her. “I’ve been scouring off every +vestige of my work-a-day self, and that takes +time. Thank you for the roses, Dick, but the +only flowers I could have worn with this color +scheme would have been geraniums.”</p> +<p>“I’ll send you some geraniums to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Don’t,” she said. “How do you do, Preston?”</p> +<p>She gave him a cold hand, and he stared at +her almost as he had stared at Betty. He was +a tall grave-looking youth, with Caroline’s +straight features and olive coloring, and a shock +of heavy blond hair.</p> +<p>“I hope you’ll like your party,” Nancy hurried +on. “Gaspard is bursting with pride in it. +I think it would be a nice thing to have him in +and drink his health after the coffee. He would +never forget the honor.”</p> +<p>“My God!” Dick said in an undertone to +Betty, “how long has she been like this?”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you later,” she promised him again.</p> +<p>With the serving of the first course of dinner—Gaspard’s +wonderful <i>Purée Mongol</i>—an artist’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' ></a>265</span> +dream of all the most delicate vegetables in +the world mingled together as the clouds are +mingled, the tensity in the air seemed to break +and shatter about them in showers of brilliant, +artificial mirth, which presently, because they +were all young and fond of one another and +their group had the habit of intimacy, became +less and less strained and unreal.</p> +<p>Nancy’s tired eyes lost something of their +unnatural glitter, and Betty seemed more of a +woman than a scarlet sprite, while Caroline’s +smile began to reflect something of the real +gladness that possessed her soul. Dick and +Billy took up the burden of the entertainment +of the party, and gave at least an excellent imitation +of inspirational gaiety.</p> +<p>“This <i>filet of sole</i>,” Billy observed as he sampled +his second course appreciatively, “is common +or barnyard flounder,—and the shrimp +and the oyster crab, and that mushroom of the +sea, and the other little creature in the corner +of my plate who shall be nameless, because I +have no idea what his name is,—are all put in +to make it harder.”</p> +<p>“Gaspard is using some of the simpler native +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' ></a>266</span> +products now instead of the high-priced imported +ones,” Nancy said eagerly, “and he is +getting wonderful results, I think.”</p> +<p>“Flounder <i>a la Française</i> is all right,” Dick +said.</p> +<p>“Our restaurant has reformed,” Betty said. +“We’re running it on a strictly business basis.”</p> +<p>“And making money?” Dick asked quickly.</p> +<p>“We’re not losing much,” Betty said. “That’s +a great improvement.”</p> +<p>“Some of those little girls from the publishing +houses look paler to me than they did,” +Nancy said. “I wish I could give them hypodermics +of protein and carbohydrates.”</p> +<p>“Give me the name and address of any of +your customers that worry you,” Dick said, +“and I’ll buy ’em a cow or a sugar plum tree +or a flivver or anything else they seem to be in +need of.”</p> +<p>“Don’t those things tend to pauperize the +poor?” Caroline’s brother put in gravely.</p> +<p>“Sure they do,” Billy agreed, “only Nancy +has kind of given up her struggle not to pauperize them.”</p> +<p>“I started in with some very high ideals about +scientific service,” Nancy explained. “I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' ></a>267</span> +never going to give anybody anything they +hadn’t actually earned in some way, except to +bring up the average of normality by feeding +my patrons surreptitious calories. I had it all +figured out that the only legitimate charity was +putting flesh on the bones of the human race,—that +increasing the general efficiency that way +wasn’t really charity at all.”</p> +<p>“You don’t believe that now?” Preston Eustace +asked.</p> +<p>“I don’t know what I believe now.”</p> +<p>“What is scientific charity, anyhow?” Dick +looked about inquiringly.</p> +<p>“There ain’t no such animal,” Billy contributed.</p> +<p>“It’s substituting the cool human intellect for +the warm human heart, I guess,” Betty said +dreamily.</p> +<p>“But that so often works,” Caroline said.</p> +<p>“I was never going to make any mistakes,” +Nancy said. “I was going to keep my fists scientifically +shut, and my heart beatifically open.” +She hesitated. “I—I was going to swing my +life, and my undertakings—right.” It became +increasingly hard for her to speak, and a little +gasp went round the table. “I’ve—I’ve made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' ></a>268</span> +nothing—nothing but mistakes,” she finished +piteously.</p> +<p>“But you’ve rectified them,” Betty put in vigorously. +“Nancy, dear, I’ve never known you +to make a mistake that you haven’t rectified, +and that is more than I can say of any other +person in the world.”</p> +<p>“Sirloin and carrots,” Caroline said, as the +next course came in. “I’ll wager you’ve cut +the price of this dinner in two by judicious +ordering.”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing else but field salad,” Nancy +said, still piteously, “and raspberry <i>mousse</i>.”</p> +<p>“Nancy, you’ll break my heart,” Betty said, +wiping her eyes frankly, but Nancy only looked +at her wonderingly, wistfully, preoccupied and +remote, while Preston Eustace gazed at Betty +as if he too would find a welcome relief in shedding +a heavy tear or two.</p> +<p>“Collier Pratt has broken her heart, Dick,” +Betty told him in the limousine on the way +home. “It’s been going on ever since the first +time she saw him. Down at the restaurant +we’ve all known it. She’s been eating at his +table every night for months, and Gaspard and +everybody else in the place, in fact, has been a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' ></a>269</span> +slave to his lightest whim. I’ve always disliked +him intensely, myself.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me before, Betty?”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t my business to tell you. I thought +it was coming off, you know.”</p> +<p>“What was coming off?”</p> +<p>“Their affair. I thought it was past my +meddling.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say that you thought Nancy +was going to marry Collier Pratt—<i>Nancy</i>?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes, if I hadn’t I—I wouldn’t have +acted up the way I did in your rooms that +night.”</p> +<p>But Dick neither heard nor understood her.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say that you think Collier +Pratt has been making love to her?”</p> +<p>“I think so.”</p> +<p>“But the damned scoundrel is married.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Betty cried. “<i>Oh!</i>—I didn’t know +that.”</p> +<p>“I’ve known it—I’ve always known it,” Dick +said. “I never dreamed that Nancy had any +special interest in him.”</p> +<p>“Well, she had. She’s going through everything, +Dick, even Sheila—you know how she +loved Sheila?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' ></a>270</span></div> +<p>“I know,” Dick said grimly. “Do you mind +going on home alone, Betty? You’ll be perfectly +safe with Williams, you know.”</p> +<p>“Of course not. What are you going to do, +Dick? Are you going to Nancy?”</p> +<p>“No, I’m not going to Nancy.”</p> +<p>Betty, looking at him more closely, realized +for the first time that she was sitting beside a +man in whom the rage of the primitive animal +was gaining its ascendency. His breath was +coming in short stertorous gasps, his hands +were clinched, the purplish color was mounting +to his brows, but he still went through the motions +of a courteous leave-taking.</p> +<p>“Where are you going, Dick?” she asked +again, as he stood on the curb where he had +signaled Williams to leave him, with the door +of the car in his hand, staring down at it, and +for the moment forgetting to close it.</p> +<p>“I’m going to find Collier Pratt,” he said +thickly. Then with a slam that splintered the +hinge of the door he was holding he crashed it +in toward the car.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' ></a>271</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XIX_OTHER_PEOPLES_TROUBLES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Other People’s Troubles</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Nancy was trying conscientiously to interest +herself in other people’s troubles. +After the first great shock of pain following +her loss at a blow of her lover and Sheila, she +began automatically to try to work her way +through her suffering. The habit of application +to the daily task combined with her instinct for +taking immediate action in a crisis stood her in +good stead in her hour of need. She decided +what to occupy herself with, and then devoted +herself faithfully to the prescribed occupation.</p> +<p>The Inn did not need her. With Betty to +guide him economically Gaspard was able to +superintend all the details of the establishment +adequately and artistically. Sheila was gone. +She packed up several trunks of dresses and +toys and other childish belongings and sent +them to Washington Square, but even without +these constant reminders of her, the hunger +for the child’s presence did not abate. The little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' ></a>272</span> +girl was curiously dissociated from her father +in Nancy’s mind. She had seen so little +of the two together that they seemed to belong +to entirely different compartments of her consciousness. +It was only the anguish of losing +them that linked them together.</p> +<p>Nancy decided to devote a certain proportion +of her days and nights to remedying such evils +as lay under her immediate observation;—to +helping the individuals with whom she came +into daily contact—the dependents and tradespeople +with whom she dealt. She had always +been convinced that the people who ministered +to her daily comfort in New York should occupy +some part in her scheme of existence. It was +one of her favorite arguments that a little more +energy and imagination on the part of New +York citizens would develop the communal +spirit which was so painfully lacking in the +soul of the average Manhattanite.</p> +<p>So the milkman and the corner grocer, the +newspaper man, and Hitty’s small brood of +grand nieces and nephews, to say nothing of the +Italian fruit man’s family, and her laundress’s +invalid daughter, were all occupying a considerable +place in Nancy’s daily schedule. In a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' ></a>273</span> +very short interval she had the welfare of more +than half a dozen families on her hands, and +was involved in all manner of enterprises of a +domestic nature,—from the designing of confirmation +gowns to the purchase of rubber-tired +rolling chairs, and heterogeneous woolen garments +and other intimate necessities.</p> +<p>She was a little ashamed of her new line of +activities, and still hurt enough to shun the +scrutiny of her friends, and thereby succeeded +in mystifying and alarming Billy and Dick and +Betty and Caroline almost beyond the limit of +their endurance by resolutely keeping them at +arm’s length. She was supremely unconscious +of anything at all remarkable in her behavior, +and believed that they accepted her excuses and +apologies at their face value. She had no conception +of the fact that her tortured face, with +tragedy looking newly out of her eyes, kept +them from their rest at night.</p> +<p>Sheila wrote to thank her for sending the +trunks.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“My dear, <i>ma chère</i>, Miss Dear,” she said. +“<i>Merci beaucoup pour</i> my clothes and other +beautiful things. I like them. <i>Je t’aime—je +t’aime toujours</i>. My father will not permit me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' ></a>274</span> +to go back. <i>Comme</i>—how I desire to see you! +My father has been sick. He fell down or was +hurt in the street. There was blood—a great +deal. Are they well—the others? Tell Monsieur +Dick I give him <i>tout mon coeur</i>. Come to +see me if it is <i>permit</i>. No more. You could +write <i>peut-être</i>. <i>Je t’aime</i>.”</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Yours,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Sheila.</span>”<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Nancy read this letter, in the quaint childish +hand, with a great wave of dumb sickness +creeping over her—a devastating, disintegrating +nausea of soul and body. The most significant +fact in it, however, that Collier Pratt had +fallen down “or been hurt in the street,” of +course escaped her entirely, except to stir her +with a kind of dim pity for his distress.</p> +<p>In one of her long night vigils Preston Eustace’s +face came back to her oddly. She remembered +suddenly the strange sad way he had +stared at Betty on the evening of her party at +the Inn. She reconstructed Betty’s love-story, +and its sudden breaking off, three years before, +and with her new insight into the human heart, +decided that these two loved each other still, +and must be helped to the consummation of +their happiness. She telephoned to them both +the next day that they could be of service to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' ></a>275</span> +her; and made an appointment to meet them at +a given hour the next evening at her apartment.</p> +<p>She expected and intended to be there herself +to give the meeting the semblance of coincidence, +and to offer them the hospitality of her +house before she was inspired with the excuse +that would permit her an exit that left them +alone together; but she found herself in the +slums of Harlem by an Italian baby’s bedside at +that hour, and decided that even to telephone +would be superfluous, as once finding each other +the lovers would be oblivious to all other considerations.</p> +<p>What actually happened was that Preston +Eustace, exactly on time as was his habit, had +been waiting some ten minutes on Nancy’s +hearth-rug when Betty, delayed by the eccentricities +of a casual motor-bus engine, and frantic +with anxiety for her friend, burst in upon +him. So full was she of the most hectic speculations +concerning Nancy’s sudden appeal to +her that she scarcely noticed who was waiting +there to greet her, and when she did notice, +scarcely heeded that recognition.</p> +<p>“Where’s Nancy?” she demanded breathlessly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' ></a>276</span></div> +<p>“I don’t know, Betty,” Preston Eustace said.</p> +<p>“Doesn’t Hitty know?”</p> +<p>“She says she doesn’t!”</p> +<p>“How did you happen to be here?”</p> +<p>“She sent for me.”</p> +<p>“She’s probably sent for everybody else,” +Betty said. “She’s killed herself, I know she +has.”</p> +<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> +<p>“Her heart is broken, she’s been suffering +terribly.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think she would have sent for me +if she had been going to kill herself,” Preston +Eustace said, a little as if he would have added, +“We are not on those terms.”</p> +<p>“I don’t suppose she would,” Betty said. “But +oh, Preston, I’m so worried about her. I don’t +know where she is or anything. I tell you her +heart is broken.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you believed in hearts—broken +or otherwise, Betty.”</p> +<p>“I believe in Nancy’s heart.”</p> +<p>“You never believed in mine.”</p> +<p>“You never gave me much reason to, Preston. +You—you let me give you back your ring the +first time I threatened to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' ></a>277</span></div> +<p>“Of course I did.”</p> +<p>“You never came near me again.”</p> +<p>“Of course I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“You let three years go by without a word.”</p> +<p>“Of course—”</p> +<p>“If you say ‘of course I did’ again I’ll fly +straight up through this roof. If you’d ever +loved me you wouldn’t have gone away and +left me.”</p> +<p>“If I hadn’t loved you I wouldn’t have gone +away.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear,” Betty sighed. “I don’t see how +you can stand there and think about yourself +with Nancy out in the night—we don’t know +where.”</p> +<p>“Ourselves, Betty—did you ever really love +me?”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t make any difference whether I +did or not,” Betty said. “I hate men.”</p> +<p>“I think I’d better be going,” Preston Eustace +said, his face dark with pain. He was +rather a literal-minded young man, as Caroline’s +brother would have been likely to be.</p> +<p>Betty buried her face in her hands.</p> +<p>“My head aches,” she said, “and I was never +in my life so mad and so miserable. I can’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' ></a>278</span> +understand why everything and everybody +should behave so—devilishly. You and every +one else, I mean. I just simply can’t bear to +have Nancy suffer so. My head aches and my +heart aches and my soul aches.” She lifted her +head defiantly.</p> +<p>“I think I had better be going,” Preston Eustace +repeated, looking down at her sorrowfully.</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t be going,” Betty said. “What in +the name of sense do you want to be going for?” +Then without warning or premeditation she +hurled herself at his breast. “Oh! Preston, if +there is anything comforting in this world,” +she said, “tell it to me, now.”</p> +<p>Preston Eustace gathered her to his breast +with infinite tenderness.</p> +<p>“I love you,” he said with his lips on her +brow. “Doesn’t that comfort you a little?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she admitted, “yes,” winding her arms +about his neck, “but you have no idea what a +little devil I am, Preston.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to have any idea,” he said, still +holding her hungrily.</p> +<p>“No, I don’t think you do,” Betty said. “Oh! +kiss me again, dear, and tell me you won’t ever +let me go now.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' ></a>279</span></div> +<p>When Nancy came in she found the lovers so +oblivious to the sound of her key in the latch or +her footstep in the corridor that she decided to +slip into bed without disturbing them, and did +so, without their ever realizing that for the latter +part of the evening at least, they had a +hostess within range of the sound of their voices—indeed, +she was obliged to stuff the pillow +into her ears to prevent herself from actually +hearing what they were saying.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>At first her freedom—her release from the +monotonous constraint of her daily confinement +at the Inn—the unaccustomed independence of +her new activities which justified her most +untoward goings and comings—was very soothing +to her. She liked the feeling of slipping out +of the house at night, accountable to no one +except the redoubtable Hitty to whom she presented +any explanation that happened to occur +to her,—however wide its departure from the +actual facts—and losing herself in the resurgent +town. But after a while her liberty lost its +savor. She began to feel uncared for and neglected. +The unaccountable anguish in her +breast was neither assuaged nor mitigated by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' ></a>280</span> +the geographical latitude she permitted herself. +She kept doggedly on with her personally conducted +philanthropies, but she began to feel a +little frightened about her capacity for endurance. +Her body and brain began to show +strange signs of fatigue. She was afraid that +one or the other might suddenly refuse to +function.</p> +<p>One night, on coming out into the heterogeneous +human stream on Avenue A, after a visit +to a Polish family in the model tenements on +Seventy-ninth Street, she ran into Dick.</p> +<p>“Why, Dick,” she said, “what an extraordinary +place to find you!”</p> +<p>“Yes, isn’t it?” he said. “My business often +brings me up this way.”</p> +<p>“Your business? What business?” she asked +incredulously.</p> +<p>“I don’t know exactly what business it is. +The ministering business, I guess.” He motioned +toward the basket on her arm: “Let me +carry that, and you, too, if you’ll let me, Nancy. +You look tired.”</p> +<p>“I am tired, Dick,” she said. “Have you got +a car anywhere around?”</p> +<p>“I can phone for it in two shakes,” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' ></a>281</span> +“Here in this ice-cream parlor. Can I buy you +a cone while you’re waiting?”</p> +<p>“Buy cones for that crowd of children and I’ll +watch them eat them. Doesn’t that little girl +in the pink dress look like Sheila, Dick?”</p> +<p>She sank down on a stool in the interior of +the candy shop and rested her elbows on the +damp marble table in front of her, splotched +and streaked still with the refreshment of the +last customer who occupied the seat there and +watched the horde of dirty clamorous street +children devouring ice-cream cones and cheap +sweets to the limit of their capacity.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you believed in this promiscuous +feeding of children between meals,” Dick +said, when she was settled comfortably at last +among the cushions of his car, which had arrived +on the scene with an amazing, not to say, +suspicious promptness.</p> +<p>“I don’t,” Nancy said, “in the least; but I +don’t <i>really</i> believe in the things I believe in +any more.”</p> +<p>“Poor Nancy!” Dick said.</p> +<p>“I’ve had some trouble, Dick. I’m shaken all +out of my poise. I can’t seem to get my universe +straight again.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' ></a>282</span></div> +<p>“I’m sorry for that,” he said. “Anything I +can do?”</p> +<p>“Stand by; that’s all, I guess.”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t tell me a little more about it, +could you?”</p> +<p>“No, I couldn’t, Dick.”</p> +<p>“I’m not even to guess?”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t guess. It’s the kind of thing +that’s entirely outside of—of the probabilities. +I think it’s outside of the range of your understanding, +Dick. I don’t think you know that +there is exactly that kind of trouble in the +world.”</p> +<p>“And you think you’d better not enlighten +me?”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t, Dick, even if I wanted to. Funny +you happened to be in this part of town to-night +just when I really needed you.”</p> +<p>He smiled. Every night of his life he followed her, +watching over her, dodging down +dark alley ways, waiting at squalid entrances +until she came out. To-night he had ventured +to speak to her only because he knew her to be +in need of actual physical assistance.</p> +<p>“Awfully glad to be anywhere around when +you need me,” he said; “still I hope you don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' ></a>283</span> +mind my suggesting that this is a Gehenna of a +place for either of us to be in.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you any feeling for the downtrodden?” +Nancy asked, with a faint reflection of +what Billy referred to as her “older and better +manner.”</p> +<p>“I’m downtrodden myself, Nancy.”</p> +<p>She smiled in her turn.</p> +<p>“You don’t look very downtrodden to me,” +she said. “<i>You’ve</i> got everything to live for.”</p> +<p>“Everything?”</p> +<p>“Well, money and freedom and—and—”</p> +<p>“Money is the only thing I’ve got that you +haven’t, and that doesn’t mean much unless you +can share it with the person you love.”</p> +<p>“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Nancy said unexpectedly. +“What’s that scar on your forehead?”</p> +<p>“That’s a scratch I got.”</p> +<p>“How?”</p> +<p>“Shaving or fighting, or something like that.”</p> +<p>“<i>Was</i> it fighting, Dick?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Who were you fighting with?”</p> +<p>“I wasn’t fighting. I was assaulting and +battering.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' ></a>284</span></div> +<p>“Why, Dick!”</p> +<p>“If it’s any satisfaction to you to know it I +made one grand job of it.”</p> +<p>“Why should it be any satisfaction to me?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Why, Dick!” Nancy said again. “I didn’t +know you had any of that kind of brutality in +you.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you?”</p> +<p>“What happens to a man when he—does a +thing like that?”</p> +<p>“He gets jugged.”</p> +<p>“Did he get jugged?”</p> +<p>“Well, that wasn’t the part that interested +me.”</p> +<p>An odd picture presented itself to Nancy’s +mind of the men of the world engaged in one +grand mêlée of brawling; struggling, belaying +one another with their bare fists, drawing +blood; brutes turned on brutes.</p> +<p>“Men are queer things,” she said.</p> +<p>Dick’s face was turned away from her. It +was not at the moment a face she would have +recognized. The eyes were contracted: the +nostrils quivering: the teeth set.</p> +<p>“I’m always at your service, Nancy,” he said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' ></a>285</span> +presently. “Is there anything in the world you +want that I can get for you?”</p> +<p>“The only thing I want is something you +can’t get?”</p> +<p>“And that is?”</p> +<p>“Sheila.”</p> +<p>“No,” Dick said. “I can’t get Sheila for you. +I’m sorry. I suppose that’s the whole answer +to you,” he went on musingly. “You want +something, somebody to mother—to minister +to. It doesn’t make so much difference what +else it is, so long as it’s—downtrodden. That’s +why I’ve never made more of a hit with you. +I’ve never been downtrodden enough. I didn’t +need feeding or nursing. I’ve always sort of +cherished the feeling that I liked to be the one +creature you didn’t have to carry on your back. +I thought that to stand behind <i>you</i> was a pretty +good stunt, but you’ve never needed anything +yet to fall back on.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think I ever shall,” Nancy said. +“Not,—not in the way you mean, Dick.”</p> +<p>“So be it,” he said, folding his arms. “But +there’s still one thing you’ll take from me, and +that’s the thing I’ve got that you haven’t—money. +I never have cared much about it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' ></a>286</span> +before, but now that there are so many things +I can’t put right for you, I know you won’t be +selfish enough to deny this one satisfaction. +Let me make over to you all the money you need +to get you out of your difficulties with the Inn. +Let me hand out a good round sum for all these +charities of yours. If you knew how everything +else in connection with you had conspired +to hurt me,—how this being discounted and losing +out all around has cut into me, you wouldn’t +deny me this one privilege. You don’t want +<i>me</i>, you wouldn’t take me, but for God’s sake, +Nancy, take this one thing that I can give you.”</p> +<p>They had just swung into the lower entrance +of the Park, and the big car was speeding silently +into the deepening night, low hung with +silver stars, and jeweled with soft lights.</p> +<p>“You’re awfully good to me, Dick,” Nancy +said, “and I appreciate every word you’ve been +saying. I’d take your money, not for myself, +but for the things I’m doing, if I needed it, but +I don’t, you know.” She looked out into the +coolness of the evening, lulled by the transition +to a region of so much airiness and space, +soothed by the soft motion, and the presence of +a friend who loved her. The conversation in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' ></a>287</span> +which she was engaged suddenly became trivial +and unimportant to her. She was very tired, +and she found herself beginning to rest and +relax. “I don’t need it,” she repeated vaguely. +“I’ve got plenty of money of my own. Over a +million, Billy says now. Uncle Elijah left it to +me. I didn’t want him to, but perhaps it was +all for the best.” She put her head back against +the cushions and shut her eyes. “I’m terribly +sleepy,” she said, “and as for the Inn—that’s +making money, too, you know. Last month we +cleared more than two hundred dollars.”</p> +<p>And Dick saying nothing, but continuing to +stare into space—the panoramic space fleeting +rhythmically by the car window,—she let herself +gradually slip into the depths of sudden +drowsiness that had overtaken her.</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' ></a>288</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XX_HITTY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Hitty</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Hitty put on her bonnet—she had worn +widow’s weeds for twenty-five years—and +went out into the morning. She finally +succeeded in boarding a south-bound Sixth +Avenue car,—though since it was her habit to +ignore the near side stop regulation, she always +had considerable trouble in getting on any car,—and +in seating herself bolt upright on the +lengthwise seat, her black gloved hands folded +indomitably before her.</p> +<p>At Fourth Street she descended and made +her way east to the square, and thence to the +top floor of the studio building to which Collier +Pratt had taken his little daughter on the memorable +occasion when he had plucked her from +her warm nest of blankets and led her, sleepy +and shivering, into the cold of the night. She +had been at some pains to secure the address +without taking Nancy into her confidence.</p> +<p>She took each creaking stair with a snort of +disgust, and reaching the battered door with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' ></a>289</span> +Collier Pratt’s visiting card tacked on the +smeary panel on a level with her eye, she +knocked sharply, and scorning to wait for a reply, +turned the knob and walked in.</p> +<p>Collier Pratt was making coffee on a small +spirit lamp, set on the wash-stand, which was +decorously concealed during the more formal +hours of the day behind a soft colored Japanese +screen. He was wearing a smutty painter’s +smock, and though his face was shining with +soap and water, his hair was standing about +his face in a disorder eloquent of at least a +dozen hours’ neglect. Sheila, in a mussy gingham +dress, was trying to pry off the pasteboard +covering of a pint bottle of milk with a pair of +scissors, and succeeding only indifferently. They +both turned on Hitty’s entrance, and the milk +bottle went crashing to the floor when the little +girl recognized her friend, but after one terrified +look at her father she made no move at all +in Hitty’s direction.</p> +<p>“And to what,” Collier Pratt ejaculated +slowly and disagreeably, as is any man’s wont +before he has had his draught of breakfast +coffee, “am I to attribute the pleasure of this +visit?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' ></a>290</span></div> +<p>“It ain’t no pleasure to me,” Hitty said, advancing, +a figure of menace, into the center of +the dusty workshop, strangely uncouth and unprepossessing +in the cold morning light,—“and +if it’s any pleasure to you, that’s an effect that +I ain’t calculated to produce. I’ve come here on +business—the business of collecting that poor +neglected child there, and taking her back +where she belongs, where there’s folks that +knows enough to treat her right.”</p> +<p>“Another of Miss Martin’s friends and well-wishers, +I take it. These American girls are +given to surrounding themselves with groups +of warm and impulsive associates. Do you by +any chance happen to know a young lawyer by +the name of Boynton, Hitty? A collection +lawyer?”</p> +<p>“I’ll thank you to call me Mrs. Spinney, if you +please, or if you don’t please. Mrs. Spinney is +the name I go by when I’m spoken to by them +that knows their manners. If Billy Boynton +thinks he can collect blood out of a stone he’s +welcome to try, but I should think he was too +long headed to waste his time.”</p> +<p>“I gave him my I. O. U.,” Collier Pratt said +wearily. “If you don’t mind, Hitty,—I really +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' ></a>291</span> +must be excused from your inexcusable surname—I +am going to drink a cup of coffee before +we continue this interesting discussion—<i>café +noir</i>, our late unfortunate accident depriving +me of <i>café au lait</i> as usual. Sheila, get the +cups.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean to say that you feed that +peaked child with full strength coffee, do you? +It’ll stunt her growth; ain’t you got the sense +to know that?”</p> +<p>“I don’t like <i>big</i> women,” Collier Pratt said. +“She’s very fond of coffee.”</p> +<p>“Well! I’ve come to get her and take her +away where you won’t be in a position to stunt +her growth, whatever your ideas on the subject +is.”</p> +<p>Collier Pratt seated himself at the deal table +that Sheila had set with the coffee-cups and a +big loaf of French bread, and began slowly +consuming a bowl of inky fluid, strong of chicory, +into which from time to time he dipped a +portion of the loaf. Sheila imitated his processes +with less daintiness and precision, since +she was shaken with excitement at Hitty’s +appearance.</p> +<p>“I should spread a newspaper down if I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' ></a>292</span> +you,” Hitty said, “before I et my vittles off a +table that way. If a table ain’t scrubbed as +often as twice a day it ain’t fit to be et off.”</p> +<p>“I know your breed,” Collier Pratt said. +“You’d be capable of taking your breakfast off +<i>The Evening Telegram</i> if no more appropriately +colored sheet were at hand. Tell me, did Miss +Martin send you here this morning, or was the +inspiration to come entirely your own?”</p> +<p>“Nobody had to send me. Wild horses +wouldn’t have kept me away from here.”</p> +<p>“Nor drag you away from here, I suppose, +until your gruesome visit is accomplished. +What makes you think that I would give up +Sheila to you?”</p> +<p>“I don’t <i>think</i> you would. I know you’re +a-goin’ to.”</p> +<p>“Indeed.”</p> +<p>“We want the child. You don’t want her, +and you can’t pretend to me that you do. Even +if you did want her you can’t take care of her +in no way that’s decent.”</p> +<p>“There’s a great deal in what you say, Hitty.”</p> +<p>“What you’re going to do is to sign a paper +giving up your claim to her, and then Nancy +can adopt her when she sees fitting to do so.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' ></a>293</span></div> +<p>“What would you suggest my doing about the +child’s mother? She has a mother living, you +know.”</p> +<p>“Well, I didn’t know,” Hitty said, “but now +I do know I guess I ain’t going to have so much +trouble as I thought I was. You’re just a plain +low-down yellow cur that any likely man I know +would come down here and lick the lights out +of.”</p> +<p>“Well, don’t send any more of them, Hitty,” +Collier Pratt protested. “My work won’t +stand it.”</p> +<p>“You ’tend to the child’s mother then, and +I’ll ’tend to you. You’d better let Sheila come +away peaceable without any more trouble.”</p> +<p>“What do you propose doing to me if I don’t?”</p> +<p>“There’s so many different things I could +use,” Hitty said thoughtfully, “that I don’t +know which one to hold over your head first.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see how you could use anything +you’ve got.”</p> +<p>“I’d just as soon use something I hadn’t got,” +Hitty said grimly. “I’d sue you for breach o’ +promise myself ruther than lose what I come +after.”</p> +<p>“I don’t doubt you’re capable of it,” Collier +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' ></a>294</span> +Pratt said, surveying her ruefully. “That certainly +would ruin my reputation. But seriously, +supposing I were to give my consent to +Sheila’s going back to Miss Martin—Sheila’s +fond of her, and I should be very glad to do +Miss Martin a service—little as you may be inclined +to believe it of me. I’m fond enough of +the child, but she is a considerable embarrassment +to a man situated as I am. Supposing I +should consent to giving her up as you suggest, +how can a woman situated as Miss Martin is +situated undertake such a charge permanently? +How could she afford it? What kind of a future +should I be surrendering my little girl to? +One has to think of those things. Miss Martin is +a poor girl—”</p> +<p>“It’s a lucky thing that you didn’t know it +before,” Hitty said deliberately. “What you +don’t know that a woman’s got, you wouldn’t be +trying to get away from her. Nancy’s Uncle +Elijah that died last year left her a million +dollars in his will.”</p> +<p>“The devil he did—”</p> +<p>“I guess if anybody’s going to talk about +devils it had better be me,” Hitty said dryly. +“Does the child go or stay?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' ></a>295</span></div> +<p>“Oh! she goes,” Collier Pratt said. “I’m +sorry you didn’t come after me too, Hitty.”</p> +<p>“Nobody from up our way is ever coming +after you. You can put that in your pipe and +smoke it. Put on your bonnet, Sheila.”</p> +<p>“In some ways that is more of a relief than +you know, Hitty. Some of the young men from +up your way are so violent.”</p> +<p>“It ain’t generally known yet,” Hitty said as +a parting shot when, Sheila’s hand in hers, she +stood at the door preparatory to taking her +triumphal departure. “But Nancy is going to +marry considerable money in addition to what +she’s inherited.”</p> +<p>Nancy finding it impossible to spend an hour +of her time idly and with no appointments before +noon that day, was engaged in darning a +basket full of slum socks that she had brought +home from the tenements to occupy Hitty’s leisure +moments. She was not very expert at +this particular task, and the holes were so huge, +and their method of behaving under scientific +management so peculiar—it is hardly necessary +to say that Nancy knew the theory of +darning perfectly—that she was becoming more +and more dissatisfied with her progress. Hitty’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' ></a>296</span> +unprecedented and taciturn donning of her best +bonnet in the early morning hours, followed by +her abrupt departure without explanation or +apology, was also a little disconcerting to any +one acquainted with her habits. Nancy was relieved +to hear her key in the lock again, and put +down her work to greet her.</p> +<p>The door opened and Sheila stood on the +threshold. Hitty was close behind her, but +Nancy had eyes only for the child.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry, Miss Dear,” Sheila said, in her +arms. “I cried hard every night when I was +gone from you, but now I have come back. My +father does not want me, and he says that you +can have me.”</p> +<p>“He signed a paper,” Hitty said. “I’ve got +it in my bag with my specs. If ever he shows +his face around here we can have the law on +him.”</p> +<p>“Can I really have Sheila?” Nancy cried. “I +can’t believe that—her father would let her go. +I can’t understand it.”</p> +<p>“He’s a kind of a poor soul,” Hitty said. “He +ain’t got no real contrivance. He’s glad enough +to get rid of her.”</p> +<p>“Did he say so?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' ></a>297</span></div> +<p>“Well, nearabout. He has a high-falutin way +of talking but that was the amount of it. He +knows which side his bread is buttered. He +ain’t nobody’s fool. I’ll say that for him.”</p> +<p>“I can’t say that you make him out a very +pleasant character,” Nancy said. “But he’s an +artist, Hitty. Artists don’t react to the same +set of laws that we do. They’re different somehow.”</p> +<p>“They ain’t so different, when it comes to +that,” Hitty said dryly. “They won’t take a +hint, but the harder you kick ’em the better for +all concerned. Don’t you go sticking up for +that low-down loon. He ain’t worth it.”</p> +<p>“I suppose he isn’t,” Nancy said; “he’s a +pretty poor apology for a man as we understand +men, Hitty, but there’s something about him,—a +power and a charm that you can’t altogether +discount, even though you have lost every particle +of your respect for him.”</p> +<p>“He has a kind of way,” Hitty conceded, “but +I ain’t one o’ them kind o’ women that hankers +much for the society of a man that’s once shown +himself to be more of a sneak than the average.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think that I am, either,” Nancy said +gravely.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' ></a>298</span></div> +<p>“I want to be your little girl always,” Sheila +announced, “if I may talk now, may I? And +Monsieur Dick’s, too, and sit on a cushion and +sew a fine seam, and feast upon strawberries, +sugar and cream. I want to see Monsieur Dick. +Where is he?”</p> +<p>“He’s been sick,” Nancy said, “but he’s getting +better now, I think. I haven’t seen him +for some time, myself.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you love him very much and aren’t +you very sorry?”</p> +<p>“He probably isn’t very sick,” Nancy said. +“I don’t think he could be—but if he were I +should be sorry, of course.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want him to be sick,” Sheila said, +making herself a nest in Nancy’s lap, and curling +around in it like a kitten. “If he was I +should be very, very unhappy, and I am tired +of being unhappy, Miss Dear.”</p> +<p>Nancy’s arms closed tight about her little +body, which was lighter in her arms than she +had ever known it. “Oh! I’m going to make +such a strong well, little girl of you,” she cried, +“and we’re going to have so many pleasant +times together. I’m tired of being unhappy, +too, Sheila, dear.”</p></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' ></a>299</span> +<a id='CHAPTER_XXI_LOHENGRIN_AND_WHITE_SATIN'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='smcap'>Lohengrin and White Satin</span></span></h2> +</div> +<div class='text'><p class='ni'>Dick, having la grippe, and doing his +bewildered best to get pneumonia and gastritis +by creeping out of bed when his temperature +was highest, and indulging in untrammelled +orgies of food and drink and exposure to +draughts, had finally succeeded in making himself +physically very miserable indeed. His +mind had been out of joint for weeks. He +reached the phase presently of refusing all +nourishment and spiritual consolation, indiscriminately, +and finding himself unbenefited by +these heroic methods, decided in his own mind +that all was over with him.</p> +<p>He knew nothing about sickness, having led +a charmed life in that respect since the measles +period, and the persistent misery in his interior, +attacking lung and liver impartially,—to +say nothing of the top of his head and the back +of his neck, and as his weakness increased, his +cardiac region where there was a perpetual palpitation, +and the calves of his legs which set +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' ></a>300</span> +up an ache like that of a recalcitrant tooth,—persuaded +him that such suffering as his must +be a certain indication of the approaching end. +He had dismissed his doctor after the first visit, +and denying himself to visitors, found himself +alone and apparently in a desperate condition, +with no one to minister to him but paid dependents. +It was then that the loss of Nancy +began to assume spectral proportions. He had +been so long accustomed to think of himself as +the strong silent lover, equipped with the patience +and understanding that would outlast all +the vagaries of Nancy’s adventurous tendencies, +that it was difficult to readjust himself to a new +conception of her as a woman that another and +even less worthy man had so nearly won,—under +his nose.</p> +<p>He had never thought much of his money +until it began to acquire the virtue of an alkahest +in his mind, an universal solvent that +would transmute all the baser metals in Nancy’s +life and the lives of the people in whom Nancy +was interested, into the pure gold of luxury and +ease. He knew that the conventional fairy gifts +would mean very little to her, but he had dreamed, +when she was ready, of working out with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' ></a>301</span> +her some practicable and gracious scheme of +beneficence. There was one power she coveted +that he could put in her hands,—one way that +he could befriend and relieve her even before +she conceded him that prerogative. When he +learned that she had a fortune of her own his +hopes came tumbling about his head, and he lay +disconsolate among the ruins. His creeping +physical disability seemed significant of the +cataclysmic overthrow of all his dreams and +desires. From having secretly and in some +terror arrived at the conclusion that death was +imminent, he began to look upon such a solution +of his misery with some favor.</p> +<p>It was a very gaunt and hollow-eyed caricature +of the Dick she had known that confronted +Nancy, when instigated by Betty, who +had his illness heavily on her mind, she forced +her way unannounced into the curious Georgian +living-room of the suite wherein he was incarcerated. +He had been stretched in an attitude +of abandon on the couch when she opened the +oak paneled door, but he jumped to his feet in +a spasm of rage and alarm when he discovered +that he had a visitor.</p> +<p>“Go away,” he said, “I am not able to see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' ></a>302</span> +anybody. There’s a mistake. I gave strict +orders that nobody at all was to be admitted.”</p> +<p>“I know, Dick,” Nancy said gently, “don’t +blame your faithful servitors. I thought I +should have to use a gun on them, but I explained +to them that you must be looked after.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to be looked after. I’m all +right, thank you. Are you alone?”</p> +<p>“No, Hitty’s outside. Betty simply insisted +on my bringing her,—I don’t know why, but +she said you’d be kinder to me if I did. I +don’t think you’re very kind.”</p> +<p>A flicker of a smile crossed Dick’s face, which +seemed to say that if anything could bring back +a momentary relish of existence the mention of +Betty’s name would be that thing. Nancy saw +the expression and misinterpreted it.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to see anybody,” Dick repeated +firmly. “Will you be good enough to go away +and leave me to my misery?”</p> +<p>“No, I won’t,” Nancy said, “I never left anybody +to their misery yet, and I’m not going to +begin on you. Of course, if you’d rather see +Betty, I’ll send for her. She seems to know a +good deal about your habits and customs. You +look like a monk in that bathrobe. I’m glad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' ></a>303</span> +you’re not a fat man, Dick. It’s so very hard to +calculate just how much to cut down on starches +and sweets without injury to the health. What +are you feeding up on?”</p> +<p>“You know very well that I’m not feeding +up on anything, but if you think you can come +around here, and dope out one of your darned +health menus for me, and sit around watching +me eat it, you are jolly well mistaken. I wish +you’d go home, Nancy. I don’t like you to-day. +I don’t like myself or anybody in this whole +universe. I’m not fit for human society—don’t +you see I’m not?”</p> +<p>“You’re awful cross, dear.”</p> +<p>“Don’t call me dear. I’m not Sheila or one +of your sick waitresses, you know.”</p> +<p>“Sheila’s back.”</p> +<p>“Is she?”</p> +<p>“Don’t you care?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I suppose so.”</p> +<p>“She loves you.”</p> +<p>“She’s unique.”</p> +<p>“You told me once there were other girls, +Dick.”</p> +<p>“They’re all over it by now.”</p> +<p>“Dick, can’t I do something for you?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' ></a>304</span></div> +<p>“Yes, leave me alone.”</p> +<p>“I’ve never seen you like this before.”</p> +<p>“No, thank God.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you were ever anything but +sort of smug and superior.”</p> +<p>“Grand description.”</p> +<p>“You ought to be in bed, dear—I didn’t mean +to call you dear, it slipped out, Dicky,—and taking +nourishment every hour or so. What does +the doctor say?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, he’s given me up as a bad job.”</p> +<p>“Given you up?”</p> +<p>“Yes, there’s nothing he can do for me.”</p> +<p>“Why, Dick, my dear, what is it?”</p> +<p>“Oh! lungs or liver or something. I don’t +know.”</p> +<p>“What are you taking, Dick?”</p> +<p>“I tell you I can’t take anything,” he said, +misunderstanding her. “It makes me sick to +eat. Every time I try to eat anything I feel a +lot worse for it.”</p> +<p>“When did you try last?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yesterday some time. Now what in the +name of sense makes a woman shed tears at a +simple statement like that? I’m not in shape +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' ></a>305</span> +to stand this. Once and for all, Nancy, will +you get out and leave me? I tell you I never +wanted to see you less in my life. I’ll write +you a letter and apologize if you’ll only go, +now.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll go,” Nancy said. “I couldn’t really +believe that you wanted me to,—that’s all.”</p> +<p>She started for the door—but Dick, weakened +by lack of food, tortured beyond his endurance +by the sudden assault on his nerves made by +Nancy’s appearance, gave way to his relief at +her going an instant too soon. Like a small +boy in pain he crooked his elbow and covered +his face with his arm.</p> +<p>Nancy ran to him and knelt at his side, taking +his head on her breast.</p> +<p>“Dear,” she said, “you do want me. We want +each other. You love me, Dicky, and I am going +to love you—if you’ll only let me look after +you and nurse you back to health again.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to be nursed,” Dick blubbered, +his head buried in her bosom, “I want to look +out for you, and take care of you, and—and +now look at me. You’ll never love me after this, +Nancy.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' ></a>306</span></div> +<p>“Yes, I shall, dear,” Nancy said. “I’ve always +loved you somehow. It’ll—it’ll be the saving +of me, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Well, then I do want to be nursed. I—I +haven’t cried before since I had the measles, +Nancy.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad you cried, now, then,” Nancy said.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“I suppose you’ll want to be married in the +courtyard of the Inn,” Dick said some weeks +later, when they were conventionally ensconced +in Nancy’s own drawing-room; Hitty happily +rattling silverware in the butler’s pantry in the +rear, “with old Triton blowing his wreathed +horn above us, and all the nymphs and gargoyles +and Hercules as interested spectators. +Well, go as far as you like. I haven’t any +objection. I’ll be married in a Roman bath if +you want me to, and eat bran biscuit and hygienic +apple sauce for my wedding breakfast.”</p> +<p>“Betty and Preston are going to be married +at the Inn,” Nancy said; “you know her +mother’s an invalid, and they can’t have it at +home. Do you know what I’d like to give them +as a wedding present?”</p> +<p>“I don’t.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' ></a>307</span></div> +<p>“Well, you know, Preston’s firm has gone out +of existence. The war simply killed it. They +haven’t much money ahead, and he may have +a harder time than he thinks getting located +again.”</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“I thought I’d like to give them Outside +Inn for a wedding present. Besides, I don’t +see what else there is to do with it. It’s making +several hundred a month, now, and promises +to make more.”</p> +<p>“Good idea,” Dick said.</p> +<p>“You don’t seem exceedingly interested.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am,” Dick said, “I’m more interested in +our wedding than Betty’s wedding present, but +that doesn’t imply a lack of merit in your idea. +<i>You’ll</i> want to be married at the Inn, I take +it?”</p> +<p>“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”</p> +<p>“Sure I’d let you. When a man marries a +modern girl with all the trappings and the +suits of modernity, he ought to be prepared to +take the consequences cheerfully.”</p> +<p>“Then I’m going to surprise you. I don’t +want anything modern at all about my wedding. +I want it in church with a huge bridal bouquet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' ></a>308</span> +and <i>Lohengrin</i> and white satin; Caroline +for my matron of honor and Betty for my +bridesmaid, and Sheila for flower girl. I want +a wedding breakfast at the Ritz and rice and +old shoes—just all the old traditional things.”</p> +<p>“Gee whiz,” Dick ejaculated, “is this +straight, or are you only making it up to sound +good to me? You can have it anyway you like +it, you know.”</p> +<p>“That’s the way I like it,” Nancy said. “It’s +good to be a modern girl, but I really prefer to +be an old-fashioned wife—with reservations,” +she added hastily.</p> +<p>“That’s what we all come to in the end,” +Dick said, “no matter how we feel or think +we feel about it—being modern with reservations.”</p> +<p>“I saw Collier Pratt to-day,” Nancy said +suddenly, as she watched a log split apart in the +fireplace and scatter its tiny shower of sparks, +“on the avenue.”</p> +<p>Dick carefully stamped out two smoldering +places on the rug before he answered.</p> +<p>“Did you?” he said.</p> +<p>“He had a cheap little creature with him, +dark haired in messy cerise.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' ></a>309</span></div> +<p>“It may have been his wife. I hear that she’s +living with him again.”</p> +<p>“Is she?”</p> +<p>“Nancy,” Dick said with an effort, after a +few minutes of silence, “are you all over that? +Is it really fair and right of me to take you? +I’ve been puzzling over that lately. I want you +on any terms, you know, as far as I am concerned, +but I’m a sort of monogamist. If a +woman has once cared for a person, no matter +who or what that person is, can she ever care +again in the same way for any one? Isn’t it +pity you feel for me, after all?”</p> +<p>“No it isn’t pity,” Nancy said slowly. “I +cared for that man until I found that he was +the shadow and not the substance. He isn’t +fit to black your shoes, Dick.—Besides—if—if +it was pity,” she added irrelevantly, “that’s the +way to get me started, you know.”</p> +<p>“If I only have got you started—really.”</p> +<p>Nancy crossed the two feet of space between +them and sank at his feet, leaning her head +back against his knee while he stroked her +hair silently.</p> +<p>“There’s one way of proving,” she said presently, +“if—if you’ve made a woman really care +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' ></a>310</span> +for you. I should think you’d know that. I +told you how you’d made me feel about the bridal +bouquet and <i>Lohengrin</i>.”</p> +<p>“Does that prove something?”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t it?”</p> +<p>“I suppose it does. You mean it proves +that a woman truly loves a man if he’s made +her feel that she wants to be an old-fashioned +wife—”</p> +<p>“And mother, Dick,” Nancy finished for him +bravely.</p> +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:2em;'>THE END</p></div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.20 with eppg.rb version 0.01 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Nov 15 19:28:16 -0700 2009 --> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30483 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30483-h/images/illus-emb.png b/30483-h/images/illus-emb.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e88a299 --- /dev/null +++ b/30483-h/images/illus-emb.png diff --git a/30483-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/30483-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad6ef73 --- /dev/null +++ b/30483-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg |
