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diff --git a/old/cares10.txt b/old/cares10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..982d534 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cares10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10682 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of WHO CARES?, by COSMO HAMILTON + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +WHO CARES? + +A STORY OF ADOLESCENCE + + +by COSMO HAMILTON + + + + +TO + +MY YOUNG BROTHER + +ARTHUR + +WHO PLAYS THE GAME + + + + +"Another new novel?" + +"Well,--another novel." + +"What's it about?" + +"A boy and a girl." + +"A love story?" + +"Well,-- it's about a boy and a girl." + +"Do they marry?" + +"I said it was about a boy and a girl." + +"And are they happy?" + +"Well,-- it's a love story." + +"But all love stories aren't happy!" + +"Yes they are,-- if it's love." + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART ONE + +SPRING IN THE WORLD + + +PART TWO + +THE ROUND-ABOUT + + +PART THREE + +THE GREAT EMOTION + + +PART FOUR + +THE PAYMENT + + + + +I + +SPRING IN THE WORLD AND ALL THINGS FOR THE YOUNG + + +Birds called. Breezes played among branches just bursting into +green. Daffodils, proud and erect, stood in clumps about the +dazzling lawn. Young, pulsing, eager things elbowed their way +through last year's leaves to taste the morning sun; the wide-eyed +celandine, yellower than butter; the little violet, hugging the +earth for fear of being seen; the sturdy bourgeois daisy; the pale- +faced anemone, earliest to wake and earliest to sleep; the blue +bird's-eye in small family groups; the blatant dandelion already a +head and shoulders taller than any neighbor. Every twig in the old +garden bore its new load of buds that were soft as kittens' paws; +and up the wrinkled trunks of ancient trees young ivy leaves chased +each other like school-boys. + +Spring had come again, and its eternal spirit spread the message of +new-born hope, stirred the sap of awakening life, warmed the bosom +of a wintry earth and put into the hearts of birds the old desire to +mate. But the lonely girl turned a deaf ear to the call, and rounded +her shoulders over the elderly desk with tears blistering her +letter. + +"I'm miserable, miserable," she wrote. "There doesn't seem to be +anything to live for. I suppose it's selfish and horrid to grumble +because Mother has married again, but why did she choose the very +moment when she was to take me into life? Oh, Alice, what am I to +do? I feel like a rabbit with its foot in a trap, listening to the +traffic on the main road--like a newly fledged bird brought down +with a broken wing among the dead leaves of Rip Van Winkle's +sleeping-place. You'll laugh when you read this, and say that I'm +dramatizing my feelings and writing for effect; but if you've got +any heart at all, you'd cry if you saw me (me of all girls!) buried +alive out here without a single soul to speak to who's as young as I +am--hushed if I laugh by mistake, scowled at if I let myself move +quickly, catching old age every hour I stay here." + +"Why, Alice, just think of it! There's not a person or a thing in +and out of this house that's not old. I don't mean old as we thought +of it at school, thirty and thirty-five, but really and awfully old. +The house is the oldest for miles round. My grandfather is seventy- +two, and my grandmother's seventy. The servants are old, the trees +are old, the horses are old; and even the dogs lie about with dim +eyes waiting for death." + +"When Mother was here, it was bearable. We escaped as often as we +could, and rode and drove and made secret visits to the city and saw +the plays at matinees. There's nothing old about Mother. I suppose +that's why she married again. But now that I'm left alone in this +house of decay, where everybody and everything belongs to the past, +I'm frightened of being so young, and catch looks that make me feel +that I ought to be ashamed of myself. It's so long since I quarreled +with a girl or flirted with a boy that I can't remember it. I'm +forgetting how to laugh. I'm beginning not to care about clothes or +whether I look nice." + +"One day is exactly like another. I wander about aimlessly with +nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to speak to. I've even begun to +give up reading novels, because they make me so jealous. It's all +wrong, Alice. It's bad and unhealthy. It puts mutinous thoughts into +my head. Honestly, the only way in which I can get the sort of +thrill that I ought to have now, if ever I am to thrill at all, is +in making wild plans of escape, so wild and so naughty that I don't +think I'd better write about them, even to you, dear." + +"Mother's on her honeymoon. She went away a week ago in a state of +self-conscious happiness that left Grandfather and Grandmother +snappy and disagreeable. She will be away four months, and every +weekly letter that comes from her will make this place more and more +unbearable and me more restless and dangerous. I could get myself +invited away. Enid would have me and give me a wonderful time. She +has four brothers. Fanny has begged me to stay with her in Boston +for the whole of the spring and see and do everything, which would +be absolutely heaven. And you know everybody in New York and could +make life worth living." + +"But Grandfather won't let me go. He likes to see me about the +house, he says, and I read the papers to him morning and evening. It +does me good, he considers, to 'make a sacrifice and pay deference +to those whose time is almost up.' So here I am, tied to the +shadows, a prisoner till Mother comes back--a woman of eighteen +forced to behave like a good little girl treated as if I were still +content to amuse myself with dolls and picture books! But the fire +is smolderin Alice, and one fine day it will burst into flame." + + +A shaft of sunlight found its way through the branches of a chestnut +tree and danced suddenly upon the envelope into which Joan had +sealed up this little portion of her overcharged vitality. Through +the open windows of her more than ample room with its Colonial four- +post bed, dignified tallboys, stiff chairs and anemic engravings of +early-Victorianism, all the stir and murmur of the year's youth came +to Joan. + +If her eyes had not been turned inward and her ears had not been +tuned only to catch her own natural complaints, this chatter of +young things would have called her out to laugh and tingle and dance +in the haunted wood and cry out little incoherent welcomes to the +children of the earth. Something of the joy and emotion of that +mother-month must have stirred her imagination and set her blood +racing through her young body. She felt the call of youth and the +urge to play. She sensed the magnetic pull of the voice of spring, +but when, with her long brown lashes wet with impatient tears, she +went to the window and looked out at the green spread of lawn and +the yellow-headed daffodils, it seemed more than ever to her that +she was peering through iron bars into the playground of a school to +which she didn't belong. She was Joan-all-alone, she told herself, +and added, with that touch of picturesque phrasing inherited from +her well-read mother, that she was more like a racing motorboat tied +to a crumbling wharf in a deserted harbor than anything else in the +world. + +There was a knock on her door and the sound of a bronchial cough. +"Come in," she said and darted an anxious look at the blond fat face +of the clock on the mantelshelf. She had forgotten all about the +time. + +It was Gleave who opened the door, Gleave the bald-headed manservant +who had grown old along with his master with the same resentfulness- +-the ex-prizefighter, sailor, lumberman and adventurer who had +thrown in his lot with Cumberland Ludlow, the sportsman, when both +were in the full flush of middle age. His limp, the result of an +epoch-making fight in an Australian mining camp, was emphasized by +severe rheumatism, and the fretfulness of old age was heightened by +his shortness of breath. + +He got no further than: "Your grandfather--" + +"I know," said Joan. "I'm late again. And there'll be a row, I +suppose. Well, that will break the monotony, at any rate." Seizing +the moment when Gleave was wrestling with his cough, she slipped her +letter into her desk, rubbed her face vigorously with her +handkerchief and made a dart at the door. Grandfather Ludlow +demanded strict punctuality and made the house shake if it failed +him. What he would have said if he could have seen this eager, +brown-haired, vivid girl, built on the slim lines of a wood nymph, +swing herself on to the banisters and slide the whole way down the +wide stairway would have been fit only for the +appreciative ears of his faithful man. As it was, Mrs. Nye, the +housekeeper, was passing through the hall, and her gasp at this +exhibition of unbecoming athletics was the least that could be +expected from one who still thought in the terms of the crinoline +and had never recovered from the habit of regarding life through the +early-Victorian end of the telescope. + +Joan slipped into Mr. Cumberland Ludlow's own room, shut the door +quickly and picked her way over the great skins that were scattered +about the polished floor. + +"Good morning, Grandfather," she said, and stood waiting for the +storm to break. She knew by heart the indignant remarks about the +sloppiness of the younger generation, the dire results of modern +anarchy and the universal disrespect that stamped the twentieth +century, and set her quick mind to work to frame his opening +sentence. + +But the old man, whose sense of humor was as keen as ever, saw in +the girl's half-rebellious, half-deferential attitude an impatient +expectation of his usual irritation, and so he merely pointed a +shaking finger at the clock. His silence was far more eloquent and +effective than his old-fashioned platitudes. He smiled as he saw her +surprise, indicated a chair and gave her the morning paper. "Go +ahead, my dear," he said. + +Sitting bolt upright, with her back to the shaded light, her +charming profile with its little blunt nose and rounded chin thrown +up against the dark glistening oak of an old armoire, Joan began to +read. Her clear, high voice seemed to startle the dead beasts whose +heads hung thickly around the room and bring into their wide, fixed +eyes a look of uneasiness. + +Several logs were burning sulkily in the great open fireplace, +throwing out a pungent, juicy smell. The aggressive tick of an old +and pompous clock endeavored to talk down the gay chatter of the +birds beyond the closed windows. The wheeze of a veteran Airedale +with its chin on the head of a lion came intermittently. + +They made a picture, these two, that fitted with peculiar rightness +into the mood of Nature at that moment. Youth was king, and with all +his followers had clambered over winter and seized the earth. The +red remainders of autumn were almost over-powered. Standing with his +hands behind him and his back to the fire, the old sportsman +listened, with a queer, distrait expression, to the girl's reading. +That he was still putting up a hard fight against relentless Time +was proved by his clothes, which were those of a country-lover who +dressed the part with care. A tweed shooting-coat hung from his +broad, gaunt shoulders. Well-cut riding breeches, skin tight below +his knees, ran into a pair of brown top-boots that shone like glass. +A head and shoulders taller than the average tall man, his back was +bent and his chest hollow. His thin hair, white as cotton wool, was +touched with brilliantine, and his handsome face, deeply lined and +wrinkled, was as closely shaved as an actor's after three o'clock. +His sunken eyes, overshadowed by bushy brows, had lost their fire. +He could no longer see to read. He too heard the call without, and +when he looked at the young, sweet thing upon whom he was dependent +for the news, and glanced about the room so full of memories of his +own departed youth, he said to himself with more bitterness than +usual: "I'm old; I'm very old, and helpless; life has no use for me, +and it's an infernal shame." + +Joan read on patiently, glancing from time to time at the man who +seemed to her to be older than the hills, startlingly, terribly old, +and stopped only when, having lowered himself into his arm-chair, he +seemed to have fallen asleep. Then, as usual, she laid the paper +aside, eager to be up and doing, but sat on, fearful of moving. Her +grandfather had a way of looking as though he would never wake up +again, and of being as ready as a tiger to pounce upon her if she +tried to slip away. She would never forget some of the sarcastic +things he had said at these times, never! He seemed to take an +unexplainable delight in making her feel that she had no right to be +so young. He had never confided to her the tragedy of having a young +mind and an old body, young desires and winter in his blood. He had +never opened the door in his fourth wall and let her see how +bitterly he resented having been forced out of life and the great +chase, to creep like an old hound the ancient dogs among. He had +never let her suspect that the tragedy of old age had hit him hard, +filling his long hours with regret for what he might have done or +done better. Perhaps he was ashamed to confess these things that +were so futile and so foolish. Perhaps he was afraid to earn a young +incredulous laugh at the pathetic picture of himself playing Canute +with the on-coming tide of years. He was not understood by this +girl, because he had never allowed her to get a glimpse into his +heart; and so she failed to know that he insisted upon keeping her +in his house, even to the point of extreme selfishness, because he +lived his youth over again in the constant sight of her. What a long +and exquisite string of pearls there could be made of our unspoken +words! + +The logs glowed red; the hard tick of the pompous clock marked off +the precious moments; and outside, spring had come. But Joan sat on +with mutinous thoughts, and the man who not so long ago had stalked +the beasts whose heads and skins were silent reminders of his +strength, lay back in his chair with nodding head. + +"He's old," she said to herself, "dreadfully, awfully old, and he's +punishing me for being young. Oh! It's wicked, it's wicked. If only +I had a father to spoil me and let me live! If only Mother hadn't +forgotten all about me in her own happiness! If only I had money of +my own and could run away and join the throng!" + +She heard a sigh that was almost a groan, turned quickly and saw two +slow tears running down her grandfather's face. He had been kicking +against the pricks again and had hurt his foot. + +With all the elaborate care of a Deerslayer, Joan got up, gave the +boards that creaked a wide berth--she knew them all--and tiptoed to +the door. The fact that she, at eighteen years of age, a full-grown +woman in her own estimation, should be obliged to resort to such +methods made her angry and humiliated. She was, however, rejoicing +at one thing. Her grandfather had fallen asleep several pages of the +paper earlier than usual, and she was to be spared from the utter +boredom of wading through the leading articles which dealt with +subways and Tammany and foreign politics and other matters for which +she had a lofty contempt. She was never required to read the notices +of new plays and operas and the doings of society, which alone were +interesting to her and made her mouth water. + +Just as she had maneuvered her way across the wide, long room and +was within reach of the door, it opened and her grandmother hobbled +in, leaning on her stick. There was a chuckle from the other end of +the room. The blood flew to the girl's face. She knew without +turning to look that the old man had been watching her careful +escape and was enjoying the sight of her, caught at the moment when +freedom was at hand. + +Mrs. Ludlow was one of those busy little women who are thorns in the +flesh of servants. Her eyes had always been like those of an +inspecting general. No detail, however small, went unnoticed and +unrectified. + +She had been called by an uncountable number of housemaids and +footmen "the little Madam"--the most sarcastic term of opprobrium +contained in their dictionary. A leader of New York society, she had +run charitable institutions and new movements with the same +precision and efficiency that she had used in her houses. Every hour +of her day had been filled. Not one moment had been wasted or +frittered away. Her dinner parties had been famous, and she had had +a spoke in the wheels of politics. Her witty sayings had been passed +from mouth to mouth. Her little flirtations with prominent men and +the ambitious tyros who had been drawn to her salon had given rise +to much gossip. Not by any means a beauty, her pretty face and +tiptilted nose, her perennial cheerfulness, birdlike vivacity and +gift of repartee had made her the center of attraction for years. + +But she, like Cumberland Ludlow, had refused to grow old gracefully +and with resignation. She had put up an equally determined fight +against age, and it was only when the remorseless calendar proved +her to be sixty-five that she resigned from the struggle, washed the +dye out of her hair and the make-up from her face and retired to +that old house. Not even then, however, did she resign from all +activity and remain contented to sit with her hands in her lap and +prepare herself for the next world. This one still held a certain +amount of joy, and she concentrated all the vitality that remained +with her to the perfect running of her house. At eleven o'clock +every morning the tap of her stick on the polished floors was the +signal of her arrival, and if every man and woman of the menage was +not actively at work, she knew the reason why. Her tongue was still +as sharp as the blade of a razor, and for sloppiness she had no +mercy. Careless maids trembled before her tirades, and strong men +shook in their shoes under her biting phrases. At seventy, with her +snowy hair, little face that had gone into as many lines as a dried +pippin, bent, fragile body and tiny hands twisted by rheumatism, she +looked like one of the old women in a Grimm's fairy tale who +frightened children and scared animals and turned giants into +cowards. + +She drew up in front of the frustrated girl, stretched out her white +hand lined with blue veins and began to tap her on the shoulder-- +announcing in that irritating manner that she had a complaint to +make. + +"My dear," she said, "when you write letters to your little friends +or your sentimental mother, bear in mind that the place for ink is +on the note paper and not on the carpet." + +"Yes, Grandmother." + +"Try to remember also that if you put your hand behind a candle you +can blow it out without scattering hot grease on the wall paper." + +"Yes, Grandmother" + +"There is one other thing, if I may have your patience. You are not +required to be a Columbus to discover that there is a basket for +soiled linen in your bedroom. It is a large one and eager to fulfill +its function. The floor of your clothes closet is intended for your +shoes only. Will you be so good as to make a note of these things?" + +"Yes, Grandmother." + +Ink, candle grease, wash basket--what did they matter in the scheme +of life, with spring tapping at the window? With a huge effort Joan +forced back a wild burst of insurrection, and remained standing in +what she hoped was the correct attitude of a properly repentant +child. "How long can I stand it?" she cried inwardly. "How long +before I smash things and make a dash for freedom?" + +"Now go back and finish reading to your grand father." + +And once more, trembling with anger and mortification, the girl +picked her way over the limp and indifferent skins, took up the +paper and sat down. Once more her clear, fresh voice, this time with +a little quiver in it, fitted in to the regular tick of the +querulous clock, the near-by chatter of birds' tongues and the hiss +of burning logs. + +The prim old lady, who had in her time borne a wonderful resemblance +to the girl whom she watched so closely,--even to the chestnut-brown +hair and the tip-tilted nose, the full lips, the round chin and the +spirit that at any moment might urge her to break away from +discipline,--retired to carry on her daily tour of inspection; and +the old man stood again with his back to the fire to listen +impatiently and with a futile jealousy to the deeds and misdeeds of +an ever-young and ever-active world. + + + + +II + + +Joan was thankful when lunch was over, and murmured "Amen" to grace +with a fervor that would have surprised an unimaginative and +unobservant person. Like all the meals in that pompous dining-room, +it was a form of torture to a young thing bubbling with health and +high spirits, who was not supposed to speak unless directly +addressed and was obliged to hold herself in check while her +grandparents progressed slowly and deliberately through a menu of +medically thought-out dishes. Both the old people were on a rigid +diet, and mostly the conversation between them consisted of grumbles +at having to dally with baby-food and reminiscences of the admirable +dinners of the past. An aged butler and a footman in the sere and +yellow only added to the general Rip van Winklism, and the presence +of two very old dogs, one the grandfather's Airedale and the other +Mrs. Ludlow's Irish terrier, with a white nose and rusty gray coat, +did nothing to dispel the depression. The six full-length portraits +in oils that hung on the walls represented men and women whose +years, if added together, would have made a staggering grand total. +Even the furniture was Colonial. + +But when Joan had put on her hat, sweater and a pair of thick-soled +country boots, and having taken care to see that no one was about, +slid down the banisters into the hall on her way out for her usual +lonely walk, she slipped into the garden with a queer sense of +excitement, an odd and unaccountable premonition that something was +going to happen. This queer thing had come to her in the middle of +lunch and had made her heart suddenly begin to race. If she had been +given to self analysis, which she was not, she might have told +herself that she had received a wireless message from some one as +lonely as herself, who had sent out the S.O.S. call in the hope of +its being picked up and answered. As it was, it stirred her blood +and made her restless and intensely eager to get into the open, to +feel the sun and smell the sweetness in the air and listen to the +cheery note of the birds. + +It was with something of the excited interest which must have +stirred Robinson Crusoe on seeing the foot-prints on the sand of +what he had conceived to be a desert island that she ran up the +hill, through the awakened woods whose thick carpet of brown leaves +was alight with the green heads of young ferns, and out to the +clearing from which she had so often gazed wist fully in the +direction of the great city away in the distance. + +She was surprised to find that she was alone as usual, bitterly +disappointed to see no other sign of life than her friends the +rabbits and the squirrels--the latter of which ambled toward her in +the expectation of peanuts. She had no sort of concrete idea of what +she had expected to find: nor had she any kind of explanation of the +wave of sympathy that had come to her as clearly as though it had +been sent over an electric wire. All she knew was that she was out +of breath for no apparent reason, and on the verge of tears at +seeing no one there to meet her. Once before, on her sixth birth +day, the same call had been sent to her when she was playing alone +with her dolls in the semitropical garden of a hired house in +Florida, and she had started up and toddled round to the front and +found a large-eyed little girl peering through the gate. It was the +beginning of a close and blessed friendship. + +This time, it seemed, the call had been meant for some other lonely +soul, and so she stood and looked with blurred eyes over the wide +valley that lay unrolled at her feet and, asked herself what she had +ever done to deserve to be left out of all the joy of life. From +somewhere near by the baying of hounds came, and from a farm to her +left the crowing of a cock; and then a twig snapped behind her, and +she turned eagerly. + +"Oh, hello," said the boy. + +"Oh, hello," she said. + +He was not the hero of her dreams, by a long way. His hair didn't +curl; his nose was not particularly straight; nor were his eyes +large and magnetic. He was not something over six feet two; nor was +he dressed in wonderful clothes into which he might have been poured +in liquid form. He was a cheery, square-shouldered, good-natured +looking fellow with laughter in his gray eyes and a little quizzical +smile playing round a good firm mouth. He looked like a man who +ought to have been in the navy and who, instead, gave the impression +of having been born among horses. His small, dark head was bare; his +skin had already caught the sun, and as he stood in his brown +sweater with his hands thrust into the pockets of his riding +breeches, he seemed to her to be just exactly like the brother that +she ought to have had if she had had any luck at all, and she held +out a friendly hand with a comfortable feeling of absolute security. + +With some self-consciousness he took it and bowed with a nice touch +of deference. He tried to hide the catch in his breath and the +admiration in his eyes. "I'm glad it's spring," he said, not knowing +quite what he was saying. + +"So am I," said Joan. "Just look at those violets and the way the +leaves are bursting." + +"I know. Great, isn't it? Are you going anywhere?" + +"No. I've nowhere to go." + +"Same here. Let's go together." + +And they both laughed, and the squirrel that had come to meet Joan +darted off with a sour look. He had anticipated a fat meal of +peanuts. He was out of it now, he saw, and muttered whatever was the +squirrel equivalent for a swear-word. + +The boy and girl took the path that ran round the outskirts of the +wood, swung into step and chimed into the cantata of spring with +talk and laughter. + +There had been rather a long silence. + +Joan was sitting with her back against the trunk of a fallen tree, +with her hands clasped round her knees. She had tossed her hat +aside, and the sunlight made her thick brown hair gleam like copper. +They had come out at another aerie on the hill, from which a great +stretch of open country could be seen. Her eyes were turned as usual +in the direction of New York, but there was an expression of +contentment in them that would have startled all the old people and +things at home. + +Martin Gray was lying full stretch on the turf with his elbows up +and his chin on his left fist. He had eyes for nothing but the vivid +girl whom he had found so unexpectedly and who was the most alive +thing that he had ever seen. + +During this walk their chatter had been of everything under the sun +except themselves. Both were so frankly and unaffectedly glad to be +able to talk at all that they broke into each other's laughing and +childish comments on obvious things and forgot themselves in the +pleasure of meeting. But now the time had come for mutual +confidences, and both, in the inevitable young way, felt the desire +to paint the picture of their own particular grievance against life +which should make them out to be the two genuine martyrs of the +century. It was now a question of which of them got the first look- +in. The silence was deliberate and came out of the fine sense of +sportsmanship that belonged to each. Although bursting to pour out +her troubles, Joan wanted to be fair and give Martin the first turn, +and Martin, equally keen to prove himself the champion of badly +treated men, held himself in, in order that Joan, being a woman, +should step into the limelight. It was, of course, the male member +of the duet who began. A man's ego is naturally more aggressive than +a woman's. + +"Do you know," said Martin, arranging himself in a more comfortable +attitude, "that it's over two months since I spoke to any one of +about my own age?" + +Joan settled herself to listen. With the uncanny intuition that +makes women so disconcerting, she realized that she had missed her +chance and must let the boy have his head. + +Not until he had unburdened his soul would she be able, she knew, to +focus his complete attention upon herself. + +"Tell me about it," she said. + +He gave her a grateful look. "You know the house with the kennels +over there--the hounds don't let you miss it. I've been wandering +about the place without seeing anybody since Father died." + +"Oh, then, you're Martin Gray!" + +"Yes." + +"I was awfully sorry about your father." + +"Thanks." The boy's mouth trembled a little, and he worked his thumb +into the soft earth. "He was one of the very best, and it was not +right. He was too young and too much missed. I don't understand it. +He had twenty-five years to his credit, and I wanted to show him +what I was going to do. It's all a puzzle to me. There's something +frightfully wrong about it all, and it's been worrying me awfully." + +Joan couldn't find anything to say. Years before, when she was four +years old, Death had come to her house and taken her own father +away, and she had a dim remembrance of dark rooms and of her mother +crying as though she had been very badly hurt. It was a vague figure +now, and the boy's queer way of talking about it so personally made +the conventional expressions that she had heard seem out of place. +It was the little shake in his voice that touched her. + +"He had just bought a couple of new hunters and was going to run the +hunt this fall. I wanted him to live forever. He died in New York, +and I came here to try and get used to being without him. I thought +I should stay all alone for the rest of my life, but--this morning +when I was moping about, everything looked so young and busy that I +got a sort of longing to be young and busy again myself. I don't +know how to explain it, but everything shouted at me to get up and +shake myself together, and on the almanac in Father's room I read a +thing that seemed to be a sort of message from him." + +"Did you? What was it?" + +"'We count it death to falter, not to die.' It was under to-day's +date, and it was the first thing I saw when I went to the desk where +Father used to sit, and it was his voice that read it to me. It was +very wonderful and queer. It sort of made me ashamed of the way I +was taking it, and I went out to begin again,--that's how it seemed +to me,--and I woke everybody up and set things going and saw that +the horses were all right, and then I climbed over the wall, and as +I walked away, out again for the first time after all those bad +weeks, I wanted to find some one young to talk to. I don't know how +it was, but I went straight up the hill and wasn't a bit surprised +when I saw you standing there." + +"That's funny," said Joan. + +"Funny--how?" + +"I don't know. But if you hadn't found me after the feeling that +came to me at lunch--" + +"Well?" + +"Well, I'm sure I should have turned bitter and never believed any +more in fairies and all that. I don't think I mean fairies, and I +can't explain what 'all that' stands for, but I know I should have +been warped if I hadn't turned round and seen you." + +And she laughed and set him laughing, and the reason of their having +met was waved aside. The fact remained that there they were--youth +with youth, and that was good enough. + + + + +III + + +There was a touch of idealism hidden away somewhere in Martin's +character. A more than usually keen-eyed boy had once called him +"the poet" at school. In order that this dubious nickname should be +strangled at birth, there had been an epoch-making fight. Both lads +came out of it in a more or less unrecognizable condition, but +Martin reestablished his reputation and presently entered Yale free +from the suspicion of being anything but a first-rate sportsman and +an indisputable man. + +There Martin had played football with all the desired bullishness. +He had hammered ragtime on the piano like the best ordinary man in +the University. With his father he rode to hounds hell for leather, +and he wrote comic stuff in a Yale magazine which made him +admiringly regarded as a sort of junior George Ade. It was only in +secret, and then with a sneaking sense of shame, that he allowed his +idealistic side to feed on Browning and Ruskin, Maeterlinck and +Barrie, and only when alone on vacation that he bathed in the beauty +of French cathedrals, sat thrilled and stirred by the waves of +melody of the great composers, drew up curiously touched and awed at +the sight of the places in the famous cities of Europe that echoed +with the footsteps of history. + +If the ideality of that boy had been seized upon and developed by a +sympathetic hand, if his lively imagination and passion for the +beautiful had been put through a proper educational course, he might +have used the latent creative power with which nature had endowed +him and taken a high place among artists, writers or composers. As +it was, his machinelike, matter-of-fact training and his own self- +conscious anxiety not to be different from the average good +sportsman had made him conform admirably to type. He was a fine +specimen of the eager, naive, quick-witted, clean-minded young +American, free from "side," devoid of mannerisms, determined to make +the utmost of life and its possibilities. + +It is true that when death seized upon the man who was brother and +pal as well as father to Martin, all the stucco beneath which he had +so carefully hidden his spiritual and imaginative side cracked and +broke. Under the indescribable shock of what seemed to him to be +wanton and meaningless cruelty, the boy gave way to a grief that was +angry and agonized by turns. He had left a fit, high-spirited father +to drive to a golf shop to buy a new mashie, returned to take him +out to Sleepy Hollow for a couple of rounds--and found him stretched +out on the floor of the library, dead. Was it any wonder that he +tortured himself with unanswerable questions, sat for hours in the +dark trying with the most pitiful futility to fathom the riddle of +life, or that he wandered aimlessly about the place, which was +stamped with his father's fine and kindly personality,--like a stick +suddenly swept out of the current of the main stream into a tideless +backwater, untouched by the sun? And when finally, still deaf to the +call of spring, his father's message of courage, "We count it death +to falter, not to die," rang out and straightened him up and set him +on the rails of action once again, it was not quite the same Martin +Gray who uttered the silent cry for companionship that found an +answer in Joan's lonely and rebellious heart. Sorrow had +strengthened him. Out of the silent manliness of grief he went out +again on the great main road with a wistful desire to love and be +loved, to find some one with whom to link an arm in an empty world +all crowded with strangers--and there stood Joan. + +It was natural that he should believe, under those circumstances, +that he and she did not meet by mere accident, that they had been +brought together by design--all the more natural when he listened to +her story of mental and physical imprisonment and came to see, +during their daily stolen meetings, that he was as necessary to her +as she was to him. Every time he left her and watched her run back +to that old house of old people, it was borne in upon him more +definitely that he was appointed in the cosmic scheme to rescue Joan +from her peculiar cage and help her to try her wings. All about that +young fresh, eager creature whose eyes were always turned so +ardently toward the city, his imagination and superstition built a +bower of love. + +He had never met a girl in any way like her--one who wanted so much +and would give so little in return for it, who had an eel-like way +of dodging hard-and-fast facts and who had made up her mind with all +the zest and thoughtlessness of youth to mold life, when finally she +could prove how much alive she was, into no other shape than the one +which most appealed to her. She surprised and delighted him with her +quick mental turns and twists, and although she sometimes made him +catch his breath at her astoundingly frank expression of +individualism, he told himself that she was still in the chrysalis +stage and could only get a true and normal hang of things after +rubbing shoulders with what she called life with a capital L. + +Two weeks slipped away more quickly than these two young things had +ever known them to go, and the daily meetings, utterly guileless and +free from flirtation, were the best part of the day; but there was a +new note in Joan's laugh as she swung out of the wood and went +toward Martin one afternoon. + +He caught it and looked anxiously at her. "Is anything wrong?" + +"There will be," she said. "I just caught sight of Gleave among the +trees. He was spying!" + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Oh, he never walks a yard unless he has to. I thought I saw him +eying me rather queerly at lunch. I've been looking happy lately, +and that's made him suspicious." + +"But what can he do?" + +"What can't he do! Grandmother's one of the old-fashioned sort who +thinks that a girl must never speak to a man without a chaperon. +They must have been a lively lot of young women in her time! Gleave +will tell her that I've been coming here to meet you, and then +there'll be a pretty considerable row." + +Martin was incredulous. He was in America in the twentieth century. +Young people did as they liked, and parents hardly ventured to +remonstrate. He showed his teeth in the silent laugh that was +characteristic of him. "Oh, no! I'll be all right. Your grandfather +knew my father." + +"That won't make any difference. I believe that in a sort of way +he's jealous of my having a good time. Queer, isn't it? Are all old +people like that? And as to Grandmother, this will give her one of +the finest chances to let herself go that she's had since I set a +curtain on fire with a candle; and when she does that, well, things +fly, I assure you." + +"Are you worried about it?" + +Joan gave a gesture of the most eloquent impatience. "I have to be," +she said. "You can't understand it, but I'm treated just as if I +were a little girl in short frocks. It's simply appalling. +Everything I say and do and look is criticized from the point of +view of 1850. Can't you imagine what will be thought of my sneaking +out every afternoon to talk to a dangerous young man who has only +just left Yale and lives among horses?" + +That was too much for Martin. His laugh echoed among the trees. + +But Joan didn't make it a duet. "It wouldn't be so funny to you if +you stood in my shoes, Martin," she said. "If I had gone to +Grandmother and asked her if I might meet you,--and just think of my +having to do that,--she would have been utterly scandalized. Now, +having done this perfectly dreadful thing without permission, I +shall be hauled up on two charges,--deceit and unbecoming behavior,- +-and I shall be punished." + +The boy wheeled around in amazement. "You don't mean that?" + +"Of course I mean it. Haven't I told you over and over again that +these two dear but irritating old people look down at me from their +awful pile of years and only see me as a child?" + +"But what will they do to you?" + +Joan shrugged her shoulders. "Anything they like. I'm completely at +their mercy. For Mother's sake I try to be patient and put up with +it all. It's the only home I've got, and when you're dependent and +haven't a cent to bless yourself with, you can't pack up and +telephone for a cab and get out, can you? But it can't go on +forever. Some day I shall answer back, and sparks will fly, and I +shall borrow money from the coachman, who's my only friend, and go +to Alice Palgrave and ask her to put me up until Mother comes back. +I'm a queer case, Martin--that's the truth of it. In a book the +other day I came across an exact description of myself. I could have +laughed if it hadn't hit me so hard. It said: 'She was a super- +modern in an early-Victorian frame, a pint of champagne in a little +old cut-glass bottle, a gnome engine attached to a coach and pair.'" +She picked up a stone and flung it down the hill. + +One eager wild thought rushed through Martin's brain. It had made +his blood race several times before, but he had thrown it aside +because, during all their talks and walks, Joan had never once +looked at him with anything but the eyes of a sister. As his wife he +could free her, lift her out of her anomalous atmosphere and take +her to the city to which her face was always turned. But he lacked +the courage to speak and continued to hope that some day, by some +miracle, she might become less superlatively neutral, less almost +boyish in her way of treating him. He threw it aside again, tempted +as he was to take advantage of a chance to bribe her into becoming +his wife with an offer of life. Then too, she was only eighteen, and +although he was twenty-four and in the habit of thinking of himself +as a man of ripe years, he had to confess that the mere idea of +marriage made him feel awfully young and scared. And so he said +nothing and went on hoping. + +Joan broke the silence. "Everything will be different when Mother +comes back," she said. "I shall live with her then, and I give you +my word I'll make up for lost time. So who cares? There are three +good hours before I face Grandmother. Let's enjoy ourselves." + + + + +IV + + +Martin couldn't settle down after his solitary dinner that night. +Several times he had jumped out of his father's reading chair and +stood listening at the window. It seemed to him that some one had +called his name. But the only sounds that broke the exquisite +quietude of the night were the distant barking of a dog, the whirl +of an automobile on the road or the pompous crowing of a master of a +barnyard, taken up and answered by others near and far. + +Each time the boy had stood at the open window and peered out +eagerly and wistfully, but nothing had moved across the moon-bathed +lawn or disturbed the sleeping flowers. Under the cold light of the +stars the earth appeared to be more than usually peaceful and +drowsy. All was well. + +But the boy's blood tingled, and he was filled with an unexplainable +sense of excitement. Some one needed him, and he wanted urgently to +be needed. He turned from the window and ran his eyes over the long, +wide, low-ceilinged masculine room, every single thing in which +spelled Father to him; then he went back to the chair the right to +sit in which had been given to him by death, persuaded that over the +unseen wires that stretch from heart to heart a signal had been +sent, certain that he was to hold himself in readiness to do +something for Joan. + +He had written out the words, "We count it death to falter, not to +die" on a long strip of card in big bold letters. They faced him as +he sat and read over and over again what he regarded as his father's +message. It was a call to service, an inspiration to activity, and +it had already filled him with the determination to fall into step +with the movement of the world, to put the money of which he was now +the most reluctant owner to some use as soon as the necessary legal +steps of proving his father's Will had been taken. He had made up +his mind to leave the countryside at the end of the week and meet +his father's lawyers and take advice as to how he could hitch +himself to some vigorous and operative pursuit. He was going, please +God, to build up a workmanlike monument to the memory of his father. + +Ten o'clock struck, and uninterested in his book, he would have gone +to bed but for the growing feeling that he was not his own master, +that he might be required at any moment. The feeling became so +strong that finally he got up and went into the hall. He couldn't +wait any longer. He must go out, slip into the garden of the Ludlow +house and search the windows for a sight of Joan. + +He unbolted the front door, gave a little gasp and found himself +face to face with the girl who was in his thoughts. + +There was a ripple of excited laughter; a bag was thrust into his +hand, and like a bird escaped from a cage, Joan darted past him into +the hall. + +"I've done it," she cried, "I've done it!" And she broke into a +dance. + +Martin shut the door, put the bulging suit-case on a chair and +watched the girl as she whirled about the hall, as graceful as a +water sprite, with eyes alight with mischief and animation. The +sight of her was so bewitching, the fact that she had come to him +for help so good, that his curiosity to know what it was that she +had done fell away. + +Suddenly she came to a breathless stop and caught hold of his arm. +"Bolt the door, Marty," she said, "quickly, quickly! They may send +after me when they find I've got away. I'll never go back, never, +never!" + +All the spirit of romance in the boy's nature flamed. This was a +great adventure. He had become a knight errant, the rescuer of a +damsel in distress. He shot the bolts back, turned out the lights, +took Joan's hand and led her into his father's room. + +"Turn these lights out too," she said. "Make it look as if everybody +had gone to bed." + +He did so, with a sort of solemn sense of responsibility; and it was +in a room lighted only by a shaft of pale moonlight that fell in a +pool upon the polished floor that these two utterly inexperienced +children sat knee to knee, the one to pour out her story, the other +to listen and hold his breath. + +"I was right about Gleave. He was spying. It turns out that he's +been watching us for two or three days. When I went back this +afternoon, I got a look from Mrs. Nye that told me there was a row +in the air. I was later than usual and rushed up to my room to +change for dinner. The whole house seemed awfully quiet and ominous, +like the air before a thunderstorm. I expected to be sent for at +once to stand like a criminal before Grandfather and Grandmother-- +but nothing happened. All through dinner, while Gleave tottered +about, they sat facing each other at the long table, conducting,-- +that's the only word to describe it,--a polite conversation. Neither +of them took any notice of me or even once looked my way. Even +Gleave put things in front of me as though he didn't see me, and +when I caught the watery eyes of the old dogs, they both seemed to +make faces and go 'Yah!'" + +"It was weird, and would have been frightfully funny if I hadn't +known that sooner or later I should have to stand up and take my +dose. Phew, it was a ghastly meal. I'm certain I shall dream it all +over again every time I eat something that doesn't agree with me! It +was a great relief when at last Grandmother turned at the door and +looking at my feet as though they were curiosities, said: 'Joan, you +will follow us to the drawing-room.' Her voice was cold enough to +freeze the sea." + +"Then she went out, her stick rapping the floor, Grandfather after +her with his shoulders bent and a piece of bread on the back of his +dinner jacket. The two dogs followed, and I made up the tail of that +queer procession. I hate that stiff, cheerless drawing room anyhow, +with all its shiny cases of china and a collection of all the +uncomfortable chairs ever designed since Adam. I wanted to laugh and +cry, and when I saw myself in the glass, I couldn't believe that I +wasn't a little shivering girl with a ribbon in my hair and white +socks." + +Some one whistled outside. The girl seized the boy's arm in a sudden +panic of fright. + +"It's all right," he said." It's only the gardener going to his +cottage." + +Joan laughed, and her grip relaxed. "I'm jumpy," she said. "My +nerves are all over the place. Do you wonder?" + +"No, tell me the rest." + +Joan's voice took on a little deeper note like that of a child who +has come to the really creepy bit of his story. "Marty," she went +on, "I wish you could have heard the way in which Grandmother let +herself go! She held me by the scruff of my neck and hit me right +and left with the sort of sarcasm that made me crinkle. According to +her, I was on the downward path. I had done something quite hopeless +and unforgivable. She didn't know how she could bring herself to +report the affair--think of calling it an affair, Marty!--to my poor +mother. Mother, who'd never say a word to me, whatever I did! She +might have out-of-date views, she said, of how young girls should +behave, but they were the right views, and so long as I was under +her roof and in her care, she would see that I conformed to them. +She went on making a mountain out of our little molehill, till even +Grandfather broke in with a word; and then she snapped at him, got +into her second wind and went off again. "I didn't listen half the +time. I just stood and watched her as you'd watch one of those weird +old women in one of Dickens' books come to life. What I remember of +it all is that I am deceitful and fast, ungrateful, irresponsible, +with no sense of decency, and when at last she pronounced sentence, +what do you think it was? Confinement to the house for a week and if +after that, I ever meet you again, to be packed off to a finishing- +school in Massachusetts. She rapped her stick on the floor by way of +a full stop, and waved her hand toward the door. I never said a +word, not a single one. What was the use? I gave her a little bow +and went. Just as I was going to rush upstairs and think over what I +could do, Grandfather came out and told me to go to his room to read +something to him. And there, for the first time, he let me see what +a fine old fellow he really is. He agreed with Grandmother that I +ought not to have met you on the sly. It was dangerous, he said, +though perfectly natural. He was afraid I found it very trying to +live among a lot of old grouches with their best feet in the grave, +but he begged me to put up with it because he would miss me so. He +liked having me about, not only to read to him but to look at. I +reminded him of Grandmother when she was young, and life was worth +living. + +"I cried then. I couldn't help it--more for his sake than mine. He +spoke with such a funny sort of sadness. 'Be patient, my dear,' he +said. 'Treat us both with a little kindness. You're top dog. You +have all your life before you. Make allowances for two old people +entering second childhood. You'll be old some day, you know.' And he +said this with such a twisted sort of smile that I felt awfully +sorry for him, and he saw it and opened out and told me how +appalling it was to become feeble when the heart is as young as +ever. I had no idea he felt like that." + +"When I left him I tried hard to be as patient as he asked me to be +and wait till Mother comes back and make the allowances he spoke +about and give up seeing you and all that. But when I got up to my +room with the echo of Grandmother's rasping voice in my ears, the +thought of being shut up in the house for a week and treated like a +lunatic was too much for me. What had I done that every other +healthy girl doesn't do every day without a question? How COULD I go +on living there, watched and suspected? How could I put up any +longer with the tyranny of an old lady who made me feel artificial +and foolish and humiliated--a kind of doll stuffed with saw dust? + +"Marty, I couldn't do it. I simply couldn't. Something went snap, +and I just flung a few things into a suit-case, dropped it out the +window, climbed down the creeper and made a dash for freedom. +Nothing on earth will ever take me back to that house again, +nothing, nothing!" + +All this had been said with a mixture of humor and emotion that +carried the boy before it. He saw and heard everything as she +described it. His own relations with his father, which had been so +free and friendly, made Joan's with those two old people seem +fantastic and impossible. All his sympathy went out to her. To help +her to get away appealed to him as being as humane as releasing a +squirrel from a trap. No thought of the fact that she was a girl who +had rushed impulsively into a most awkward position struck him. Into +his healthy mind no sex question thrust itself. She was his friend, +and as such, her claim upon him was overwhelming and unarguable. + +"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Have you thought of +anything?" + +"Of course I have. In the morning, early, before they find out that +I've bolted, you must drive me to New York and take me to Alice +Palgrave. She'll put me up, and I can telegraph to Mother for money +to buy clothes with. Does it occur to you, Marty, that you're the +cause of all this? If I hadn't turned and found you that afternoon, +I should still be eating my soul away and having my young life +crushed. As it is, you've forced my hand. So you're going to take me +to the magic city, and if you want to see how a country cousin makes +up for lost time and sets things humming, watch me!" + +So they talked and talked, sitting in that room which was made the +very sanctum of romance by young blood and moonlight. Eleven o'clock +slipped by, and twelve and one; and while the earth slept, watched +by a million glistening eyes, and nature moved imperceptibly one +step nearer to maturity, this boy and girl made plans for the +discovery of a world out of which so many similar explorers have +crept with wounds and bitterness. + +They were wonderful and memorable hours, not ever to be lived again. +They were the hours that all youth enjoys and delights in once-- +when, like gold-diggers arrived in sight of El Dorado, they halt and +peer at the chimera that lies at their feet-- + +"I'm going to make my mark," Martin said. "I'm going to make +something that will last. My father's name was Martin Gray, and I'll +make it MEAN some thing out there for his sake." + +"And I," said Joan, springing to her feet and throwing up her chin, +"will go joy-riding in the huge round-about. I've seen what it is to +be old and useless, and so I shall make the most of every day and +hour while I'm young. I can live only once, and so I shall make life +spin whatever way I want it to go. If I can get anybody to pay my +whack, good. If not, I'll pay it myself--whatever it costs. My +motto's going to be a good time as long as I can get it, and who +cares for the price?" + +The boy followed her to the window, and the moonlight fell upon them +both. "Yes," he said, "you'll get a bill, all right. How did you +know that?" + +"I haven't lived with all those old people so long for nothing," she +answered. "But you won't catch me grumbling if I get half as much as +I'm going out for. Listen to my creed, Martin, and take notes, if +you want to keep up with me." + +"Go ahead," he said, watching the sparkle in her eyes. + +She squared her shoulders and folded her arms in a half-defiant way. +"I shall open the door of every known Blue Room--hurrying out again +if there are ugly things inside, staying to enjoy them if they're +good to look at. I shall taste a little of every known bottle, feel +everything there is to feel except the thing that hurts, laugh with +any one whose laugh is catching, do everything there is to do, go +into every booth in the big Bazaar; and when I'm tired out and +there's nothing left, I shall slip out of the endless procession +with a thousand things stored away in my memory. Isn't that the way +to live?" + +From the superior height of twenty-four, Martin looked down on Joan +indulgently. He didn't take her frank and unblushing individualism +seriously. She was just a kid, he told himself. She was a girl who +had been caged up and held in. It was natural for her to say all +those wild things. She would alter her point of view as soon as the +first surprise of being free had worn off--and then he would speak; +then he would ask her to throw in her lot with his and walk in step +with him along the street of adventure. + +"I sha'n't see the sun rise on this great day," she said, letting a +yawn have full play. "I'm sleepy, Marty. I must lie down this very +instant, even if the floor's the only place you can offer me. Quick! +What else is there?" Before he could answer, she had caught sight of +a low, long, enticing divan, and onto this, with a gurgle of +pleasure, she made a dive, placed two cushions for her head, put one +little hand under her face, snuggled into an attitude of perfect +comfort and deliberately went to sleep. It was masterly. + +Martin, not believing that she could turn off so suddenly at a +complete tangent, spoke to her once or twice but got no other answer +than a long, contented sigh. He stood for a little while trying to +make out her outline in the dim corner of the room. Then he tiptoed +out to the hall, possessed himself of a warm motor-rug, returned +with it and laid it gently and tenderly over the unconscious girl. + +He didn't intend to let sleep rob him of the first sight of a day +that was to mean so much to him, and he went over to the open +window, caught the scent of lilac and listened, with all his +imagination and sense of beauty stirred, to the deep breathing of +the night. . ..Yes, he had cut through the bars which had kept this +girl from taking her place among the crowd. He was responsible for +the fact that she was about to play her part in the comedy of life. +He was glad to be responsible. He had passionately desired a cause +to which to attach hirmelf; and was there, in all the world, a +better than Joan? + +Spring had come again, and all things were young, and the call to +mate rang in his ears and set his heart beating and his thoughts +racing ahead. He loved her, this girl that he had come upon standing +out in all her freshness against a blue sky. He would serve her as +the great lovers had served, and please God, she would some day +return his love. They would build up a home and bring up a family +and go together up the inevitable hill. + +And as he stood sentinel, in a waking dream, waiting for the finger +of dawn to rub the night away, sleep tapped him on the shoulder, and +he turned and went to the divan and sat down with his back to it, +touched one of Joan's placid hands with his lips and drifted into +further dreams with a smile around his mouth. + + + + +V + + +It was ten o'clock in the morning when Martin brought his car to a +stop and looked up at the heavy Gothic decorations of a pompous +house in East Fifty-fifth Street. "Is this it?" + +"Yes," said Joan, getting out of the leather-lined coat that he had +wrapped her in. "It really is a house, isn't it; and luckily, all +the gargoyles are on the outside." She held out her hand and gave +Martin the sort of smile for which any genuine man would sell his +soul. "Marty," she added, "you've been far more than a brother to +me. You've been a cousin. I shall never be able to thank you. And I +adored the drive with our noses turned to the city. I shan't be able +to be seen on the streets until I've got some frocks, so please come +and see me every day. As soon as Alice has got over her shock at the +sight of me, I'm going to compose an historical letter to +Grandmother." + +"Let her down lightly," said Martin, climbing out with the suit- +case. "You've won." + +"Yes, that's true; but I shouldn't be a woman if I didn't get in the +last word." + +"You're not a woman," said Martin. "You're a kid, and you're in New +York, and you're light-headed; so look out." + +Joan laughed at his sudden gravity and ran up the wide steps and put +her finger on the bell. "I've written down your telephone number," +she said, "and memorized your address. I'll call you up at three +o'clock this afternoon, and if you've nothing else to do, you may +take me for a walk in the Park." + +"I sha'n't have anything else to do." + +The door was opened. The footman was obviously English, with the art +of footmanism in his blood. + +"Is Mrs. Gilbert Palgrave at home?" asked Joan as if the question +were entirely superfluous. + +"No, miss." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Quite sure, miss. Mrs. Palgrave left for Boston yesterday on +account of hillness in the family, miss." + +There was an awkward and appalled silence. Little did the man +suspect the kind of blow that his statement contained. + +Joan darted an agonized look at Martin. + +"But Mr. Palgrave is at 'ome, miss." + +And that galvanized the boy into action. He had met Gilbert Palgrave +out hunting. He had seen the impertinent, cocksure way in which he +ran his eyes over women. He clutched the handle of the case and +said: "That's all right, thanks. Miss Ludlow will write to Mrs. +Palgrave." Then he turned and went down the steps to the car. + +Trying to look unconcerned, Joan followed. + +"Get in, quick," said Martin. "We'll talk as we go." + +"But why? If I don't stay here, where am I to stay?" + +"I don't know. Please get in." + +Joan stood firm. The color had come back to her face, and a look of +something like anger had taken the place of fright. "I didn't tell +you to march off like that. Gilbert's here." + +"That's why we're going," Said Martin. + +"I don't understand." Her eyes were blazing. + +"I know you don't. You can't stay in that house. It isn't done." + +"I can do it, and I must do it. Do you suppose I'm going back with +my tail between my legs?" + +"If we argue here, we shall collect a crowd." He got into the car +and held out his hand. + +Joan ignored it but followed him in. She was angry, puzzled, +disappointed, nonplussed. Alice had no right to be away on such an +occasion. Everything had looked so easy and smooth-sailing. Even +Martin had changed into a different man, and was ordering her about. +If he thought he could drive her back to that prison again, he was +considerably wrong. She would never go back, never. + +The car was running slowly. "Have you any other friends in town?" +asked Martin, who seemed to be trying to hide an odd kind of +excitement. + +"No," said Joan. "Alice is my only friend here. Drive to some place +where I can call up Gilbert Palgrave and explain the whole thing. +What does it matter about my being alone? If I don't mind, who +should? Please do as I say. There's no other place for me to go to, +and wild horses sha'n't drag me back." + +"You sha'n't go back," said Martin. He turned the car up Madison +Avenue and drove without another word to East Sixty-seventh Street +and stopped in front of a small house that was sandwiched between a +mansion and a twelve-story apartment-house. "This is mine," he said +simply. "Will you come in?" + +A smile of huge relief came into Joan's eyes. "Why worry?" she said. +"How foolish of us not to have thought of this before!" + +But there was no smile on Martin's face. His eyes were amazingly +bright and his mouth set firmly. His chin looked squarer than ever. +Once more he carried out the suit-case, put a latchkey into the lock +and threw back the door. Joan went in and stood looking about the +cheery hall with its old oak, and sporting prints, white wood and +red carpet. "Oh, but this is perfectly charming, Marty," she cried +out. "Why did we bother our heads about Alice when there is this +haven of refuge?" + +Martin marched up to her and stood eye to eye. "Because I'm alone," +he said, "and you're a girl. That's why." + +Joan made a face. "I see. The conventions again. Isn't there any +sort of woman here?" + +"Yes, the cook." + +She laughed. There was a comic side to this tragedy, after all, it +seemed. "Well, perhaps she'll give us some scrambled eggs and +coffee. I could eat a horse." + +Martin opened the door of the sitting room. Like the one in which +she had slept so soundly the previous night, it was stamped with the +character and personality of the other Martin Gray. Books, warm and +friendly, lined the walls. Mounted on wood, fish of different sizes +and breeds hung above the cases, and over the fireplace there was a +full-length oil painting of a man in a red coat and riding breeches. +His kind eyes greeted Joan. + +For several minutes she stood beneath it, smiling back. Then she +turned and put her hand involuntarily on the boy's shoulder. "Oh, +Marty!" she said. "I AM sorry." + +The boy gave one quick upward glance, and cleared his throat. "I +told you that this house is mine. It isn't. It's yours. It's the +only way, if you're to remain in the city. Is it good enough? Do you +want to stay as much as all that?" + +The puzzled look came back. For a moment Joan was silent, worrying +out the meaning of Martin's abrupt and rather cryptic words. There +seemed to be a tremendous amount of fuss because she happened to be +a girl. + +Martin spoke again before she had emerged from the thicket of inward +questions. She was only eighteen, after all. + +"I mean, you can marry me if you like." he said, "and then no one +can take you back." He was amazed at his courage and hideously +afraid that she would laugh at him. He had never dared to say how +much he loved her. + +She did laugh, but with a ring of so much pleasure and relief that +the blood flew to his head. "Why, Marty, what a brain! What +organization! Of course I'll marry you. Why ever didn't we think of +that last night?" + +But before he could pull himself together a man-servant entered with +an air of extreme surprise. "I didn't know you'd come home, sir," he +said, "until I saw the suit-case." He saw Joan, and his eyes +rounded. + +"I was just going to ring," said Martin. "We want some breakfast. +Will you see to it, please?" Alone again, Martin held out his hand +to Joan, in an odd, boyish way. And she took it, boyishly too. +"Thank you, Marty, dear," she said. "You've found the magic carpet. +My troubles are over; and oh, what a pretty little bomb I shall have +for Grandmamma! And now let's explore my house. If it's all like +this, I shall simply love it!" And away she darted into the hall. + +"And now," said Joan, "being duly married,--and you certainly do +make things move when you start, Marty,--to send a telegram to +Grandmother! Lead me to the nearest place." + +Certain that every person in that crowded street saw in them a newly +married couple, Martin tried to hide his joy under a mask of extreme +callousness and universal indifference. With the challenging +antagonism of an English husband,--whose national habit it is +invariably to stalk ahead of his women-kind while they scramble +along at his heels,--he led the way well in advance of his +unblushing bride. But his eyes were black with emotion. He saw +rainbows all over the sky, and rings of bright light round the +square heads of all the buildings which competed in an endeavor to +touch the clouds; and there was a song in his heart. + +They sat down side by side in a Western Union office, dallied for a +moment or two with the tied pencils the points of which are always +blunt, and to the incessant longs and shorts of a dozen telegraph +instruments they put their epoch-making news on the neat blanks. +Martin did not intend to be left out of it. His best pal was off the +map, and so he chose a second-best friend and wrote triumphantly: +"Have been married to-day. Staying in New York for honeymoon. How +are you?" He was sorry that he couldn't remember the addresses of a +hundred other men. He felt in the mood to pelt the earth with such +telegrams as that. + +"Listen," said Joan, her eyes dancing with misj chief. "I think this +is a pretty good effort: 'Blessings and congratulations on her +marriage to-day may be sent to Mrs. Martin Gray, at 26 East Sixty- +seventh Street, New York.--Joan.' How's that?" + +It was the first time the boy had seen that name, and he blinked and +smiled and got very red. "Terse and literary," he said, dying to put +his arms round her and kiss her before all mankind. "They'll have +something to talk about at dinner to-night. A nice whack in the eye +for Gleave." + +He managed to achieve a supremely blase air while the words were +being counted, but it crumbled instantly when the telegraphist shot +a quick look at Joan and gave Martin a grin of cordial +congratulation. + +As soon as he saw a taxi, Martin hailed it and told the chauffeur to +drive to the corner of Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue. "We'll +walk from there," he said to Joan, "--if you'd like to, that is." + +"I would like to. I want to peer into the shop windows and look at +hats and dresses. I've got absolutely nothing to wear. Marty, tell +me, are we well off?" + +Martin laughed. She reminded him of a youngster going for a picnic +and pooling pocket money. "Yes," he said, "--quite." + +She sat back with her hands crossed in her lap. "I'm so glad. It +simplifies everything to have plenty to spend." But for her +exquisite slightness and freshness, no one would have imagined that +she was an only just-fledged bird, flying for the first time. Her +equability and poise were those of a completely sophisticated woman. +Nothing seemed to surprise her. Whatever happened was all part and +parcel of the great adventure. Yesterday she was an overwatched +girl, looking yearningly at a city that appeared to be unattainable. +To-day she was a married woman who, a moment ago, had been standing +before a minister, binding herself for good or ill to a man who was +delightfully a boy and of whom she knew next to nothing. What did it +matter--what did anything matter--so long as she achieved her long- +dreamed-of ambition to live and see life? + +"Then I can go ahead," she added, "and dress as becomes the wife of +a man of one of our best families. I've never been able to dress +before. Trust me to make an excellent beginning." There was a +twinkle of humor in her eyes as she said these things, and +excitement too. "Tell me this, Marty: is it as easy to get unmarried +as it is to get married?" + +"You're not thinking about that already, surely!" + +"Oh, no. But information is always useful, isn't it?" + +Just for a moment the boy's heart went down into his boots. She +didn't love him yet; he knew that He intended to earn her love as an +honest man earns his living. What hurt was the note of flippancy in +her voice in talking of an event that was to him so momentous and +wonderful. It seemed to mean no more to her to have entered into a +lifelong tie than the buying of a mere hat--not so much, not nearly +so much, as to have found a way of not going back to those two old +people in the country. She was young, awfully young, he told himself +again. Presently her feet would touch the earth, and she would +understand. + +As they walked up Fifth Avenue and with little gurgles of enthusiasm +Joan halted at every other shop to look at hats that appealed to +Martin as absurdly, willfully freakish, and evening dresses which +seemed deliberately to have been handed over to a cat to be torn to +ribbons, it came back to him that one just such soft spring evening, +the year before, he had walked home from the Grand Central Station +and been seized suddenly with an almost painful longing to be asked +by some precious person who belonged wholly to him to share her +delight in all the things which then stood for nothing in his life. +Then and there he fulfilled an ambition long cherished and hidden +away; he touched Joan on the arm and opened the elaborate door of a +famous jeweler. He was known to the shop from the fact that he and +his father had always dealt there for wedding and Christmas +presents. He was welcomed by a man in the clothes of a concert +singer and with the bedside manner of a family doctor. + +He was desperately self-conscious, and his collar felt two sizes too +small, but he managed to get into his voice a tone that was +sufficiently matter-of-fact to blunt the edge of the man's rather +roguish smile. "Let me see your latest gold-mesh bags," he said as +ordinary, everyday people ask to see collar studs. + +"Marty!" whispered Joan. "What are you going to do?" + +"Oh, that's all right," said Martin. "You can't get along without a +bag, you see." + +Half a dozen yellow, insinuating things were laid out on the shining +glass, and with a wonderful smile that was worth all the gold the +earth contained to Martin, Joan made a choice--but not hastily, and +not before she had inspected every other gold bag in the shop. Even +at eighteen she was woman enough to want to be quite certain that +she possessed herself of the very best thing of its kind and would +never have, in future, to feel jealous of one that might lie +alluringly in the window. + +"This one," she said finally. "I'm quite sure." + +Martin didn't ask the price. It was for his bride. He picked it up +and hung it over her wrist, said "The old address," nodded to the +man,--who was just about to call attention to a tray of diamond +brooches,--and led the way out, feeling at least six feet two. + +And as Joan regained the street, she passed another milestone in her +life. To be the proprietor of precisely just such a gold bag had +been one of her steady dreams. + +"Marty," she said, "what a darling you are!" + +The boy's eyes filled with tears. + + + + +VI + + +It was an evening Martin would never forget. + +His suggestion that they should dine at Delmonico's and go to the +Empire to see Ethel Barrymore, accepted with avidity, had stirred +Joan to immediate action. She had hailed a taxi, said, "You'll see +me in an hour, Marty," and disappeared with a quick injunction to +have whatever she bought sent home C.O.D. + +It was actually two hours before he saw her again. He thanked his +stars that he had enough money in the bank to meet the checks that +he was required to make out in quick succession. Joan had not wasted +time, and as she got into the car to drive away from that sandwich +house of excited servants, two other milestones had been left +behind. She was in a real evening frock, and all the other things +she had bought were silk. + +They drove straight home from the theater. Joan was tired. The day +had been long and filled with amazements. She was out in the world +at last. Realization had exceeded expectation for the first time in +history. + +The sand-man had been busy with Martin's eyes too, but he led the +way into the dining room with shoulders square and chin high and +spring in his blood. This was home indeed. + +"What a tempting little supper!" said Joan. "And just look at all +these flowers." + +They were everywhere, lilacs and narcissi, daffodils, violets and +hothouse roses. Hours ago he had sent out the almost unbelieving +footman for them. Joan and flowers--they were synonymous. + +She put her pretty face into a great bowl of violets. "You +remembered all my little friends, Marty," she said. + +They sat opposite each other at the long table. Martin's father +looked down at Martin's wife, and his mother at the boy from whom +she had been taken when his eager eyes came up to the level of her +pillow. And there was much tenderness on both their faces. + +Martin caught the manservant's eyes. "Don't wait," he said. "We'll +look after ourselves." + +Presently Joan gave a little laugh. "Please have something yourself. +You're better than a footman. You're a butler." + +His smile as he took his place would have lighted up a tunnel. + +"I like Delmonico's," said Joan. "We'll often dine there. And the +play was perfectly splendid. What a lot of others there are to see! +I don't think we'll let the grass grow under our feet, Marty. And +presently we'll have some very proper little dinner parties in this +room, won't we? Interesting, vital people, who must all be good- +looking and young. It will be a long time before I shall want to see +anyone old again. Think what Alice Palgrave will say when she comes +back! She'll underline every word if she can find any words. She +wasn't married till she was twenty." + +And presently, having pecked at an admirable fruit salad, just +sipped a glass of wine and made close-fitting plans that covered at +least a month, Joan rose. "I shall go up now, Marty," she said. +"It's twelve o'clock." + +He watched her go upstairs with his heart in his throat. Surely this +was all a dream, and in a moment he would find himself rudely and +coldly awake, standing in the middle of a crowded, lonely world? But +she stopped on the landing, turned, smiled at him and waved her +hand. He drew in a deep breath, went back into the dining room, put +his lips to the violets that had been touched by her face, and +switched off the lights. The scent of spring was in the air. + +"Come in," she said, when presently, after a long pause, he knocked +at her door. + +She was sitting at a gleaming dressing table in something white and +clinging, doing her hair that was so soft and brown and electrical. + +He dared not trust himself to speak. He sat down on the edge of a +sofa at the foot of the bed and watched her. + +She went on brushing but with her unoccupied hand gathered her gown +about her. "What is it, Marty?" she asked quietly. + +"Nothing," he said, finding something that sounded curiously unlike +his voice. + +She could see his young, eager face and broad shoulders in the +looking-glass. His hands were clasped tightly round one knee. + +"I've been listening to the sound of traffic," she said. "That's the +sort of music that appeals to me. It seems a year since I did my +hair in that great, prim room and heard the owls cry and watched +myself grow old. Just think! It's really only a few hours ago that I +dropped my suit-case out of a window and climbed down the creeper. +We said we'd make things move, didn't we?" + +"I shall write to your grandfather in the morning," said Martin, +with almost comical gravity and an unconscious touch of patronage. +How childlike the old are to the very young! + +"That will be nice of you," answered Joan. "We'll be very kind to +him, won't we? There'll be no one to read the papers to him now." + +"He was a great chap once," said Martin. "My father liked him +awfully." + +She swung her hair free and turned her chair a little. "You must +tell me what he said about him, in the morning. Heigh-ho, I'm so +sleepy." + +Martin got up and went to see if the windows were all open. "They'll +call us at eight," he said, "unless you'd like it to be later." + +Joan went to the door and opened it and held out her hand. "Eight's +good," she said. "Good night, Marty." + +The boy looked at the little open hand with its long fingers, and at +his wife, who seemed so cool and sweet and friendly. What did she +mean? + +He asked her, with an odd catch in his voice. + +And she gave him the smile of a tired child. "Just that, old boy. +Good night." + +"But--but we're married," he said with a little stammer. + +"Do you think I can forget that, in this room, with that sound in +the street?" + +"Well, then, why say good night to me like this?" + +"How else, Marty dear?" + +An icy chill ran over Martin and struck at his heart. Was it really +true that she could stand there and hold out her hand and with the +beginning of impatience expect him to leave a room the right to +which had been made over to him by law and agreement? + +He asked her that, as well as he could, in steadier, kinder words +than he need have used. + +And she dropped her hand and sighed a little. "Don't spoil +everything by arguing with me, Marty. I really am only a kid, you +know. Be good and run along now. Look--it's almost one." + +The blood rushed to his head, and he held out his hands to her. "But +I love you. I love you, Joany. You can't--you CAN'T tell me to go." +It was a boy's cry, a boy profoundly, terribly hurt and puzzled. + +"Well, if we've got to go into all this now I may as well sit down," +she said, and did. "That air's rather chilly, too." She folded her +arms over her breast. + +It was enough. All the chivalry in Martin came up and choked his +anger and bitterness and untranslatable disappointment. He went out +and shut the door and stumbled downstairs into the dark sitting room +and stood there for a long time all among chaos and ruin. He loved +her to adoration, and the spring was in his blood; and if she was +young, she was not so young as all that; and where was her side of +the bargain? And at last, through the riot and jumble of his +thoughts, her creed of life came back to him, word for word: she +took all she could get and gave nothing in return; and "Who cares?" +was her motto. + +And after that he stood like a man balanced on the edge of a +precipice. In cold blood he could go back and like a brute demand +his price. And if he went forward and let her off because he loved +her so and was a gentleman, down he must go, like a stone. + +He was very white, and his lips were set when he went up to his +room. With curious deliberation he got back into his clothes and saw +that he had money, returned to the hall, put on his coat and hat, +shut the door behind him and walked out under the stars. + +"All right, then, who cares?" he said, facing toward the "Great +White Way." "Who the devil cares?" + +And up in her room, with her hand under her cheek like a child, Joan +had left the world with sleep. + + + + +PART TWO + + +THE ROUND-ABOUT + +I + + +Alice Palgrave's partner had dealt, and having gone three in "no +trumps" and found seven to the ace, king, queen in hearts lying +before her in dummy, she wore a smile of beatific satisfaction. So +also did Alice--for two reasons. The deal obviously spelled money, +and Vere Millet could be trusted to get every trick out of it. There +were four bridge tables fully occupied in the charming drawing-room, +and as she caught the hostess' eye and smiled, she felt just a +little bit like a fairy godmother in having surrounded Joan with so +many of the smartest members of the younger set barely three weeks +after her astonishing arrival in a city in which she had only one +friend. + +Alice didn't blind herself to the fact that in order to gamble, most +of the girls in the room would go, without the smallest +discrimination, to anybody's house; but there were others,--notably +Mrs. Alan Hosack, Mrs. Cooper Jekyll and Enid Ouchterlony,--whose +pride it was to draw a hard, relentless line between themselves and +every one, however wealthy, who did not belong to families of the +same, or almost the same, unquestionable standing as their own. +Their presence in the little house in East Sixty-seventh Street gave +it, they were well aware, a most enviable cachet and placed Joan +safely within the inner circle of New York society--the democratic +royal inclosure. It was something to have achieved so soon--little +as Joan appeared, in her astonishing coolness, to appreciate it. The +Ludlows, as Joan had told Alice with one of her frequent laughs, +might have come over in the only staterooms on the ship which towed +the heavily laden Mayflower, but that didn't alter the fact that the +Hosacks, the Jekylls and the Ouchterlonys were the three most +consistently exclusive and difficult families in the country, to +know whom all social climbers would joyously mortgage their chances +of eternity. Alice placed a feather in her cap accordingly. + +Joan's table was the first to break up. She was a loser to the tune +of seventy dollars, and while she wrote her check to Marie +Littlejohn, a tiny blond exotic not much older than herself,--who +laid down the law with the ripe authority of a Cabinet Minister and +kept to a daily time-table with the unalterable effrontery of a +fashionable doctor,--talked over her shoulder to Christine Hurley. + +"Alice tells me that your brother has gone to France with the +Canadian Flying Corps. Aren't you proud of him?" + +"I suppose so, but it isn't our war, and they're awfully annoyed +about it at Piping Rock. He was the crack man of the polo team, you +know. I don't see that there was any need of his butting into this +European fracas." + +"I quite agree with you," said Miss Littlejohn, with her eyes on the +clock. "I broke my engagement to Metcalfe Hussey because he insisted +on going over to join the English regiment his grandfather used to +belong to. I've no patience with sentimentality." She took the check +and screwed it into a small gold case. "I'm dining with my bandage- +rolling aunt and going on to the opera. Thank goodness, the music +will drown her war talk. Good-by." She nodded here and there and +left, to be driven home with her adipose chow in a Rolls-Royce. + +Christine Hurley touched a photograph that stood on Joan's desk. +"Who's this good-looking person?" she asked. + +"My husband," said Joan. + +"Oh, really! When are we to see something of him?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Joan. "He's about somewhere." + +Miss Hurley laughed. "It's like that already, is it? Haven't you +only just been married?" + +"Yes," said Joan lightly, "but we've begun where most people leave +off. It's a great saving of time and temper!" + +The sophisticated Christine, no longer in the first flush of giddy +youth, still unmarried after four enterprising years, was surprised +into looking with very real interest at the girl who had been until +that moment merely a hostess. Her extreme finish, her unself- +conscious confidence and intrepidity, her unassumed lightness of +temper were not often found in one so young and apparently virginal. +She dismissed as unbelievable the story that this girl had been +brought up in the country in an atmosphere of early Victorianism. +She had obviously just come from one of those elaborate finishing +schools in which the daughters of rich people are turned into +hothouse plants by sycophants and parasites and sent out into the +world the most perfect specimens of superautocracy, to patronize +their parents, scoff at discipline, ignore duty and demand the sort +of luxury that brought Rome to its fall. With admiration and +amusement she watched her say good-by to one woman after another as +the various tables broke up. It really gave her quite a moment to +see the way in which Joan gave as careless and unawed a hand to Mrs. +Alan Hosack and Mrs. Cooper Jekyll as to the Countess Palotta, who +had nothing but pride to rattle in her little bag; and when finally +she too drove away, it was with the uneasy sense of dissatisfaction +that goes with the dramatic critic from a production in which he has +honestly to confess that there is something new--and arresting. + +Alice Palgrave stayed behind. She felt a natural proprietary +interest in the success of the afternoon. "My dear," she said +emotionally, "you're perfectly wonderful!" + +"I am? Why?" + +"To any other just-married girl this would have been an ordeal, a +nerve-wrecking event. But you've been as cool as a fish--I've been +watching you. You might have been brought up in a vice-regal lodge +and hobnobbed all your life with ambassadors. How do you do it?" + +Joan laughed and threw out her arms. "Oh, I don't know," she said, +with her eyes dancing and her nostrils extended. "I don't stop to +think how to do things. I just do them. These people are young and +alive, and it's good to be among them. I work off some of my own +vitality on them and get recharged at the sound of their chatter. +People, people--give me people and the clash of tongues and the +sense of movement. I don't much care who they are. I shall pick up +all the little snobbish stuff sooner or later, of course, and talk +about the right set and all that, as you do. I'm bound to. At +present everything's new and exciting, and I'm whipping it up. You +wait a little. I'll cut out some of the dull and pompous when I've +got things going, and limit myself to red-blooded speed-breakers. +Give me time, Alice." + +She sat down at the piano and crashed out a fox-trot that was all +over town. No one would have imagined from her freshness and +vivacity that she had been dancing until daylight every night that +week. + +"Well," said Alice when she could be heard, "I see you making +history, my dear; there's no doubt about that." + +"None whatever," answered Joan. "I'm outside the walls at last, and +I'll go the pace until the ambulance comes." + +"With or without Martin Gray?" + +"With, if he's quick enough--without, if not." + +"Be careful," said Alice. + +"Not I, my dear. I left care away back in the country with my little +old frocks." + +Alice held out her hand. "You bewilder me a little," she said. "You +make me feel as if I were in a high wind. You did when we were at +school, I remember. Well, don't bother to thank me for having got up +this party." She added this a little dryly. + +With a most winning smile Joan kissed her. "You're a good pal, +Alice," she said, "and I'm very grateful." + +Alice was compensated, although her shrewd knowledge of character +told her how easily her friend won her points. "And I hope you're +duly grateful to Martin Gray?" + +"To dear old Marty? Rather! He and I are great pals." + +But that was all Alice got. Her burning curiosity to know precisely +how this young couple stood must go unsatisfied for the time being. +She had only caught a few fleeting glimpses of the man who had given +Joan the key to life, and every time had wondered, from something in +his eyes, whether he found things wholly good. She was just a little +suspicious of romances. Her own had worn thin so quickly. "Good-by, +my dear," she said. "Don't forget you're dining with me to-morrow." + +"Not likely." + +"What are you doing to-night?" + +"Going to bed at nine o'clock to sleep the clock round. I'm awfully +tired." + +She stood quite still for many minutes after Alice had gone, and +shut her eyes. In a quick series of moving pictures she saw +thousands of little lights and swaying people and clashing colors, +and caught snatches of lilting music and laughter. She was tired, +and something that seemed like a hand pressed her forehead tightly, +but the near-by sound of incessant traffic sent her blood spinning, +and she opened her eyes and gave a little laugh and went out. + +Martin was on his way downstairs. He drew up abruptly. "Oh, hello!" +he said. + +"Oh, hello!" said Joan. + +He was in evening clothes. His face had lost its tan and his eyes +their clear country early-to-bed look. "You've had a tea-fight, I +see. I peered into the drawing-room an hour ago and backed out, +quick." + +"Why? They were all consumed with curiosity about you. Alice has +advertised our romantic story, you see." She clasped her hands +together and adopted a pose in caricature of the play heroine in an +ecstasy of egomania. + +But Martin's laugh was short and hollow. He wasn't amused. "How did +you get on?" he asked. + +"Lost seventy dollars--that's all. Three-handed bridge with +Grandfather and Grandmother was not a good apprenticeship. I must +have a few lessons. D'you like my frock? Come up. You can't see it +from there." + +And he came up and looked at her as she turned this way and that. +How slim she was, and alluring! The fire in him flamed up, and his +eyes flickered. "Awful nice!" he said. + +"You really like it?" + +"Yes, really. You look beyond criticism in anything, always." + +Joan stretched out her hand. "Thank you, Marty," she said. "You say +and do the most charming things that have ever been said and done." + +He bent over the long-fingered hand. His pride begged him not to let +her see the hunger and pain that were in his eyes. + +"Going out?" she asked. + +Martin gave a careless glance at one of B. C. Koekkoek's inimitable +Dutch interiors that hung between two pieces of Flemish tapestry. +His voice showed some of his eagerness, though. "I was going to have +dinner with some men at the University Club, but I can chuck that +and take you to the Biltmore or somewhere else if you like." + +Joan shook her head. "Not to-night, Marty. I'm going to bed early, +for a change." + +"Aren't you going to give me one evening, then?" His question was +apparently as casual as his attitude. He stood with his hands in his +pockets and his legs wide apart and his teeth showing. He might have +been talking to a sister. + +"Oh, lots, presently. I'm so tired to-night, old boy." + +He would have given Parnassus for a different answer. "All right +then," he said. "So long." + +"So long, Marty! Don't be too late." She nodded and smiled and went +upstairs. + +And he nodded and smiled and went down--to the mental depths. "What +am I to do?" he asked himself. "What am I to do?" And he put his +arms into the coat that was held out and took his hat. In the street +the soft April light was fading, and the scent of spring was blown +to him from the Park. He turned into Fifth Avenue in company with a +horde of questions that he couldn't shake off. He couldn't believe +that any of all this was true. Was there no one in all this world of +people who would help him and give him a few words of advice? "Oh, +Father," he said from the bottom of his heart, "dear old Father, +where are you?" + +The telephone bell was ringing as Joan went into her room. Gilbert +Palgrave spoke--lightly and fluently and with easy words of +flattery. + +She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs and +put the instrument on her knee. "You read all that in a book," she +said. "I'm tired. Yesterday and the night before. . .No. . .No. . +.All right, then. Fetch me in an hour." She put the receiver back. + +"Why not?" she said to herself, ringing for her maid. "Bed's for old +people. Thank God, I sha'n't be old for a century." + +She presented her back to the deft-fingered girl and yawned. But the +near-by clatter of traffic sounded in her ears. + + + + +II + + +Gilbert Palgrave turned back to his dressing table. An hour gave him +ample time to get ready. + +"Don't let that bath get cold," he said. "And look here. You may +take those links out. I'll wear the pearls instead." + +The small, eel-like Japanese murmured sibilantly and disappeared +into the bathroom. + +This virginal girl, who imagined herself able to play with fire +without burning her fingers, was providing him with most welcome +amusement. And he needed it. He had been considerably bored of late- +-always a dangerous mood for him to fall into. He was thirty-one. +For ten years he had paid far more than there had been any necessity +to keep constantly amused, constantly interested. Thanks to a shrewd +ancestor who had bought large tracts of land in a part of Manhattan +which had then been untouched by bricks and mortar, and to others, +equally shrewd, who had held on and watched a city spreading up the +Island like a mustard plant, he could afford whatever price he was +asked to pay. Whole blocks were his where once the sheep had grazed. + +Ingenuity to spend his income was required of Palgrave. He possessed +that gift to an expert degree. But he was no easy mark, no mere +degenerate who hacked off great chunks of a splendid fortune for the +sake of violent exercise. He was too indolent for violence, too +inherently fastidious for degeneracy. And deep down somewhere in a +nature that had had no incentive to develop, there was the fag end +of that family shrewdness which had made the early Palgraves envied +and maligned. Tall and well built, with a handsome Anglo-Saxon type +of face, small, soft, fair mustache, large, rather bovine gray eyes, +and a deep cleft in his chin, he gave at first sight an impression +of strength--which left him, however, when he spoke to pretty women. +It was not so much the things he said,--light, jesting, personal +things,--as the indications they gave of the overweening vanity of +the spoiled boy and of a brain which occupied itself merely with the +fluff and thistledown of life. He was, and he knew it and made no +effort to disguise the fact, a typical specimen of the very small +class of indolent bystanders made rich by the energy of other men +who are to be found in every country. He was, in fact, the peculiar +type of aristocrat only to be found in a democracy--the aristocrat +not of blood and breeding or intellect, but of wealth. He was +utterly without any ambition to shine either in social life or +politics, or to achieve advertisement by the affectation of a half- +genuine interest in any cause. On the contrary, he reveled in being +idle and indifferent, and unlike the aristocrats of Europe he +refused to catch that archaic habit, encouraged at Eton and Oxford, +of relating everything in the universe to the standards and +prejudices of a single class. + +Palgrave was triumphantly one-eyed and selfish; but he waited, with +a sort of satirical wistfulness, for the time when some one person +should cause him to stand eager and startled in a chaos of +individualism and indolence and shake him into a Great Emotion. He +had looked for her at all times and places, though without any +troublesome optimism or personal energy, and had almost come to +believe that she was to him what the end of the rainbow is to the +idealist. In marrying Alice he had followed the path of least +resistance. She was young, pretty and charming, and had been very +much in love with him. Also it pleased his mother, and she had been +worth pleasing. He gave his wife all that she could possibly need, +except very much of himself. She was a perfectly dear little soul. + +Joan only kept him waiting about fifteen minutes. With perfect +patience he stood in front of an Italian mirror in the drawing-room, +smoking a cigarette through a long tortoise-shell holder. He +regarded himself with keen and friendly interest, not in the least +surprised that his wife's little friend from the country so +evidently liked him. He found that he looked up to his best form, +murmured a word of praise for the manner in which his evening coat +was cut and smiled once or twice in order to have the satisfaction +of getting a glimpse of his peculiarly good teeth. Then he laughed, +called himself a conceited ass and went over to examine a rather +virile sketch of a muscular, deep-chested young man in rowing +costume which occupied an inconspicuous place among many well-chosen +pictures. He recognized Martin, whom he had seen several times +following the hounds, and tried to remember if Alice had told him +whether Joan had run away with this strenuous young fellow or been +run away with by him. There was much difference between the two +methods. + +He heard nothing, but caught the scent of Peau d'Espagne. It carried +his mind back to a charming little suite in the Hotel de Crillon in +Paris. He turned and found Joan standing in the doorway, watching +him. + +"Did you ever row?" she asked. + +"No," he said, "never. Too much fag. I played squash and roulette. +You look like a newly risen moon in her first quarter. Where would +you like to go?" + +"I don't know," said Joan. "Let's break away from the conventional +places. I rather want to see queer people and taste different food. +But don't let's discuss it. I leave it to you." She went downstairs. +She might have been living in that house for years. + +He followed, admiring the way her small, patrician head was set on +her shoulders, and the rich brown note of her hair. Extraordinary +little person, this! He told his chauffeur to drive to the Brevoort, +and got into the car. It was possible at that hour to deal with the +Avenue as a street and not as a rest-cure interrupted by short +spurts. + +"Would you rather the windows were up, Gehane?" he asked, looking at +her through his long lashes. + +"No. The air's full of new ferns. But why Gehane?" + +"You remind me of her, and I'm pretty certain that you also could do +your hair in the same two long braids. Given the chance, I can see +you developing into some-thing like medievalism and joining the +ranks of women who loved greatly." + +They passed the Plaza with all its windows gleaming, like a giant's +house in a fairy tale. + +Joan shook her head. "No," she said. "No. I'm just the last word of +this very minute. Everybody in America for a hundred and fifty years +has worked to make me. I'm the reward of mighty effort. I'm the +dream-child of the pioneers, as far removed from them as the chimney +of the highest building ftora the rock on which it's rooted." + +Palgrave laughed a little. "It appears that you did some thinking +out there in your country cage." + +"Thinking! That's all I had to do! I spent a lifetime standing on +the hill with the woods behind me trying to catch the music of this +street, the sound of this very car, and I thought it all out, every +bit of it." + +"Every bit of what?" + +"Life and death and the great hereafter," she said, "principally +life. That's why I'm going out to dinner with you instead of going +early to bed." + +The glare of a lamp silvered her profile and the young curve of her +bosom. Somewhere, at some time, Palgrave had knelt humbly, with +strange anguish and hunger, at the feet of a girl with just that +young proud face and those unawakened eyes. The memory of it was +like an echo of an echo. + +"Why," said Joan, halting for a moment on her way to the steps of +the old hotel, "this looks like a picture postcard of a bit of +Paris." + +"Yes, on the other side of the Seine, near the Odeon. Our +grandfathers imagined that they were very smart when they stayed +here. It's one of the few places in town that has atmosphere." + +"I like it," said Joan. + +The hall was alive with people, laughing and talking, and the walls +with the rather bold designs of the posters. A band, which made up +in vim and go what it lacked in numbers, was playing a selection +from "The Chocolate Soldier." The place was full of the smell of +garlic and cigarette smoke and coffee. There was a certain dramatic +animation among the waiters, characteristically Latin. Few of the +diners wore evening clothes. The walls were refreshingly free from +the hideous gold decorations of the average hotel. + +Men stared at Joan with undisguised interest and approbation. Her +virginity was like the breath of spring in the room. Women looked +after Palgrave in the same way. Into that semi-Bohemianism he struck +a rather surprising note, like the sudden advent of caviar and +champagne upon a table of beer and pickles. + +They were given a table near the wall by the window, far too close +to other tables for complete comfort. Waiters were required to be +gymnasts to slide between them and avoid an accident. Palgrave +ordered without any hesitation, like a newspaper man finding his way +through a daily paper. + +"How do you like it?" he said. + +Joan looked about her. Mostly the tables were occupied by a man and +a woman, but at a few were four and six of both in equal numbers, +and here and there parties of men. At one or two, women with +eccentric heads sat together in curious garments which had the +appearance of being made at home on the spur of the moment. They +smoked between mouthfuls and laughed without restraint. Some of the +men wore longish hair and the double tie of those who wish to be +mistaken for dramatists. Others affected a poetic disarrangement of +collar, and fantastic beards. There were others who had wandered +over the border of middle age and who were bald and strangely +adipose, with mackerel eyes and unpleasant mouths. They were with +young girls, gaudily but shabbily dressed, shopgirls perhaps, or +artists' models or stenographers, who in dull and sordid lives +grappled any chance to obtain a square meal, even if it had to be +accessory to such companionship. The minority of men present was +made up of honest, clean, commonplace citizens who were there for a +good dinner in surroundings that offered a certain stimulus to the +imagination. + +"Who are they all?" asked Joan, beating time with a finger to the +lilting tune which the little band had just begun, with obvious +enjoyment. "Adventurers, mostly, I imagine," replied Palgrave, not +unpleased to play Baedeker to a girl who was becoming more and more +attractive to him. "I mean people who live by their wits--writers, +illustrators, actors, newspaper men, with a smattering of Wall +Street brokers seeking a little mild diversion as we are, and +foreigners to whom this place has a sentimental interest because it +reminds them of home. Sophisticated children, most of them, +optimists with moments of hideous pessimism, enthusiasts at various +stages of Parnassus, the peak of which is lighted with a huge dollar +sign. A friendly, kindly lot, hard-working and temperamental, with +some brilliance and a rather high level of cleverness--slaves of the +magazine, probably, and therefore not able to throw stones farther +into the future than the end of the month. This is not a country in +which literature and art can ever grow big; the cost of living is +too high. The modern Chatterton detests garrets and must drive +something with an engine in it, whatever the name it goes by." + +There was one electrical moment during the next hour which shook the +complacency of every one in the larger room and forced the thoughts, +even of those who deliberately turned their backs to the drama of +Europe, out across the waters which they fondly and fatuously hoped +cut off the United States from ever being singed by the blaze. The +little band was playing one of those rather feeble descriptive +pieces which begin with soft, peaceful music with the suggestion of +the life of a farmyard, and the sound of church bells, swing into +the approach of armed men with shrill bugle calls, become chaotic +with the rush of fearful women and children, and the commencement of +heavy artillery, and wind up with the broad triumphant strains of a +national anthem. It happened, naturally enough, that the particular +national anthem chosen by the energetic and patriotic man who led +the band at the piano was "The Marseillaise." + +The incessant chatter and laughter went on as usual. The music had +no more effect upon the closely filled room than a hackneyed +ragtime. Suddenly, as the first few notes of that immortal air rang +out, a little old white-haired man, dining in a corner with a much- +bosomed, elderly woman, sprang to his feet and in a voice vibrating +with the fervor of emotion screamed "Vive la France--vive la +patrie!" again and again. + +Instantly, from here and there, other men, stout and middle-aged, +lifted out of their chairs by this intense and beautiful burst of +feeling, joined in that old heart-cry, and for two or three +shattering minutes the air was rent with hoarse shouts of "Vive +Joffre," "Vive la France," "Vive la patrie," to the louder and +louder undercurrent of music. Indifference, complacency, neutrality, +gave way. There was a general uprising and uproar; and America, as +represented by that olla podrida of the professions, including the +one which is the oldest in the world, paid homage and tribute and +yelled sympathy to those few Frenchmen among them whose passionate +love of country found almost hysterical vent at the sound of the +hymn which had stirred all France to a height of bravery and +sacrifice never before reached in the history of nations. + +There were one or two hisses and several scoffing laughs, but these +were instantly drowned by vigorous hand-clapping. The next moment +the room resumed its normal appearance. + +When Palgrave, who had been surprised to find himself on his feet, +sat down again, he saw that Joan's lips were trembling and that +there were tears in her eyes. He gave a little laugh, but before he +could say any thing, her hand was on his arm. "No, don't," she said. +"Let it go without a single word. It was too good for sarcasm." + +"Oddly enough, I had no sarcasm ready," replied Palgrave. "When our +time comes, I wonder whether we shall have an eightieth part of that +enthusiasm for our little old tune. What do you think?" + +"Our time? What time?" + +"The time when we have to get into this melee or become the pariah +dog among countries. I don't profess to any knowledge of +international affairs, but any fool can see that our sham neutrality +will be the most costly piece of political blundering ever +perpetrated in history. Here we are in 1915. The war's nine months +old. For every day we stand aside we shall eventually pay a year's +bill." + +"That's all too deep for me," said Joan. "And anyway, I shan't be +asked to pay anything. What shall we do now?" + +"What would you like to do? Go on to the Ritz and dance?" He had a +sudden desire to hold this girl in his arms. + +"Why not? I'm on the verge of getting fed up with this place. Let's +give civilization a turn." + +"I think so." He beckoned to his waiter." The check," he said. +"Sharp's the word, please." + +The Crystal Room was not content with one band. Even musicians must +sometimes pause for breath, and anything like a break in the jangle +and noise might bring depression to the diners who had crowded in to +dance. As soon, therefore, as the left band was exhausted, the one +on the right sprang in with renewed and feverish energy. Whatever +melody there might have been in the incessant ragtime and fox trots +was lost beneath the bang and clang of drum and cymbals, to which +had been added other more ingenious ear tortures in the shape of +rattles and whistles. Broken-collared men and faded women struggled +for elbow room like a mass of flies caught on sticky paper. There +was something both heathenish and pathetic in the whole thing. The +place was reekingly hot. + +"Come on," said Joan, her blood stirred by the movement and sound. + +Palgrave held her close and edged his way into the crowd between +pointed bare elbows and tightly clasped hands. + +"They call this dancing!" he said. + +"What do you call it?" + +"A bullfight in Hades." And he laughed and put his cheek against her +hair and held her young slim body against his own. What did he care +what it was or where they were? He had all the excuse that he needed +to get the sense and scent of her. His utter distaste of being +bruised and bumped, and of adding himself to a heterogeneous +collection of people with no more individuality than sheep, who +followed each other from place to place in flocks after the manner +of sheep, left him. This girl was something more than a young, naive +creature from the country, childishly keen to do everything and go +everywhere at fever heat--something more than the very epitome of +triumphant youth as clean and sweet as apple blossoms, with whom to +flirt and pose as being the blase man of the world, the Mr. Know-All +of civilization, a wild flower in a hot house. Attracted at once by +her exquisite coloring and delicious profile, and amused by her +imperative manner and intolerant point of view, he had now begun to +be piqued and intrigued by her insurgent way of treating marriage +and of ignoring her husband--by her assumption of sexlessness and +the fact that she was unmoved by his compliments and looked at him +with eyes in which there was no remote suggestion of physical +interest. + +And it was this attitude, new to him hitherto on his easy way, that +began to challenge him, to stir in him a desire to bring her down to +his own level, to make her fall in love and become what he called +human. He had given her several evenings, and had put himself out to +cater to her eager demand to see life and burn the night away in +crowds and noise. He had treated her, this young, new thing, as he +was in the habit of treating any beautiful woman with whom he was on +the verge of an affair and who realized the art of give and take. +But more than ever she conveyed the impression of sex detachment to +which he was wholly unaccustomed. He might have been any +inarticulate lad of her own age, useful as a companion, to be +ordered to fetch and carry, dance or walk, go or come. At that +moment there was no woman in the city for whom he would undergo the +boredom and the bruising and the dementia of such a place as the one +to which she had drawn him. He was not a provincial who imagined +that it was the smart thing to attend this dull orgy and struggle on +a polished floor packed as in a sardine tin. Years ago he had +outgrown cabaret mania and recovered from the fascination of +syncopation. And yet here he was, once more, against all his +fastidiousness, playing the out-of-town lad to a girl who took +everything and gave nothing in return. It was absurd, fantastic. He +was Gilbert Palgrave, the man who picked and chose, for whose +attentions many women would give their ears, who stood in satirical +aloofness from the general ruck; and as he held Joan in his arms and +made sporadic efforts to dance whenever there was a few inches of +room in which to do so, using all his ingenuity to dodge the menace +of the elbows and feet of people who pushed and forced as though +they were in a subway crush, he told himself that he would make it +his business from that moment onward to lay siege to Joan, apply to +her all his well-proved gifts of attraction and eventually make her +pay his price for services rendered. + +He had just arrived at this cold-blooded determination when, to his +complete astonishment and annoyance, a strong, muscular form thrust +itself roughly between himself and Joan and swept her away. + + + + +III + + +"Marty!" cried Joan. + +There was a curious glint in Martin's gray eyes, like the flash of +steel in front of a window. His jaw was set, and his face strangely +white. + +"You said you were going to bed." + +"I was going to bed, Marty dear." + +"What are you doing here, then?" + +"I changed my mind, old boy, and went out to dinner." + +"Chucked me in favor of Palgrave." + +"No, I didn't." + +"What then?" + +"He rang up after you'd gone; and going to bed like an old crock +seemed silly and feeble, and so I dressed and went out." + +"Why with that rotter Palgrave? " + +"Why not? And why rotter?" + +"You don't answer my question!" + +"Have I got to answer your question?" + +"You're my wife, although you don't seem to know it; and I object to +Pargrave." + +"I can't help that, Marty. I like him, you see, and humble little +person as I am, I can't be expected to turn my back on every one +except the men you choose for me." + +"I don't choose any men for you. I want you for myself." + +"Dear old Marty, but you've got me forever!" + +"No, I haven't. You're less mine now than you were when I only saw +you in dreams. But all the same you're my wife, and I tell you now, +you sha'n't be handled by a man like Palgrave." + +They were in the middle of the floor. There were people all round +them, thickly. They were obliged to keep going in that lunatic +movement or be run down. What a way and in what a place to bare a +bleeding heart! + +For the first time since he had answered to her call and found her +standing clean-cut against the sky, Martin held Joan in his arms. +His joy in doing so was mixed with rage and jealousy. It had been +worse than a blow in the mouth suddenly to see her, of whom he had +thought as fast asleep in what was only the mere husk of home, +dancing with a man like Palgrave. + +And her nearness maddened him. All the starved and pent-up passion +that was in him flamed and blazed. It blinded him and buzzed in his +ears. He held her so tight and so hungrily that she could hardly +breathe. She was his, this girl. She had called him, and he had +answered, and she was his wife. He had the right to her by law and +nature. He adored her and had let her off and tried to be patient +and win his way to her by love and gentleness. But with his lips +within an inch of her sweet, impertinent face, and the scent of her +hair in his brain, and the wound that she had opened again sapping +his blood, he held her to his heart and charged the crowd to the +beat of the music, like a man intoxicated, like a man heedless of +his surroundings. He didn't give a curse who overheard what he said, +or saw the look in his eyes. She had turned him down, this half- +wife, on the plea of weariness; and as soon as he had left the house +to go and eat his heart out in the hub of that swarming lonely city, +she had darted out with this doll-man whom he wouldn't have her +touch with the end of a pole. There was a limit to all things, and +he had come to it. + +"You're coming home," he said. + +"Marty, but I can't. Gilbert Palgrave--" + +"Gilbert Palgrave be damned. You're coming home, I tell you, if I +have to carry you out." + +She laughed. This was a new Marty, a high-handed, fiery Marty--one +who must not be encouraged. "Are you often like this?" she asked. + +"Be careful. I've had enough, and if you don't want me to smash this +place up and cause a riot, you'll do what I tell you." + +Her eyes flashed back at him, and two angry spots of color came into +her cheeks. He was out of control. She realized that. She had never +in her life seen any one so out of control--unaccountable as she +found it. That he would smash up the place and cause a riot she knew +instinctively. She put up no further opposition. If anything were to +be avoided, it was a scene, and in her mind's eye she could see +herself being carried out by this plunging boy, with a yard of +stocking showing and the laughter of every one ringing in her ears. +No, no, not that! She began to look for Palgrave, with her mind all +alert and full of a mischievous desire to turn the tables on Martin. +He must be shown quickly that if any one gave orders, she did. + +He danced her to the edge of the floor, led her panting through the +tables to the foot of the stairs and with his hand grasping her arm +like a vice, guided her up to the place where ladies left their +wraps. + +"We're going home," he said, "to have things out. I'll wait here." +Then he called a boy and told him to get his hat and coat and gave +him his check. + +Five minutes later, in pulsating silence, both of them angry and +inarticulate, they stood in the street waiting for a taxi. The soft +air touched their hot faces with a refreshing finger. Hardly any one +who saw that slip of a girl and that square-shouldered boy with his +unlined face would have imagined that they could be anything but +brother and sister. The marriage of babies! Was there no single +apostle of common sense in all the country--a country so gloriously +free that it granted licenses to every foolishness without a qualm? + +Palgrave was standing on the curb, scowling. His car moved up, and +the porter went forward to open the door. As quick as lightning, +Joan saw her chance to put Martin into his place and evade an +argument. Wasn't she out of that old country cage at last? Couldn't +she revel in free flight without being called to order and treated +like a school-girl, at last? What fun to use Palgrave to show Martin +her spirit! + +She touched him on the arm and looked up at him with dancing eyes +and a teasing smile. "Not this time, Marty," she said, and was +across the sidewalk in a bound. "Quick," she said to Palgrave. +"Quick!" And he, catching the idea with something more than +amusement, sprang into the car after her, and away they went. + +A duet of laughter hung briefly in the air. + +With all the blood in his head, Martin, coming out of utter +surprise, made a dash for the retreating car, collided with the +porter and stood ruefully and self-consciously over the burly figure +that had gone down with a crash upon the pavement. + +It was no use. Joan had been one too many for him. What, in any +case, was the good of trying to follow? She preferred Palgrave. She +had no use, at that moment, for home. She was bored at the mere idea +of talking things over. She was not serious. She refused to be faced +up with seriousness. She was like a precocious child who snapped her +fingers at authority and pursued the policy of the eel at the +approach of discipline. What had she cried out that night in the +dark with her chin tilted up and her arms thrown out? "I shall go +joy-riding in that huge round-about. If I can get anybody to pay my +score, good. If not, I'll pay it myself, whatever it costs. My +motto's going to be 'A good time as long as I can get it, and who +cares for the price!'" + +Martin helped the porter to his feet, stanched his flow of County +Kerry reproaches with a ten-dollar bill and went back into the +Crystal Room. He had gone there half an hour ago with a party of +young people to kill loneliness and forget a bad hour of despair. +His friend, Howard Oldershaw, who had breezed him out of the reading +room of the Yale Club, was one of the party. He was in the first +flush of speed-breaking and knew the town and its midnight haunts. +He had offered to show Martin the way to get rid of depression. +Right! He should be put to the test. Two could play the "Who cares?" +game; and Martin, cut to the quick, angry and resisted, would enter +his name. Not again would he put himself in the way of being laughed +at and ridiculed and turned down, teased and tantalized and made a +fool of. + +Patience and gentleness--to what end? He loved a will-o'-the-wisp; +he had married a butterfly. Why continue to play the martyr and +follow the fruitless path of rectitude? Hadn't she said, "I can only +live once, and so I shall make life spin whichever way I want it to +go?" He could only live once, and if life was not to spin with her, +let it spin without her. "Who cares?" he said to himself. "Who the +devil cares?" He gave up his coat and hat, and went back into that +room of false joy and syncopation. + +It was one o'clock when he stood in the street once more, hot and +wined and careless. "Let's hit it up," he said to Oldershaw as the +car moved away with the sisters and cousins of the other two men. "I +haven't started yet." + +The red-haired, roistering Oldershaw, newly injected with the virus +of the Great White Way, clapped him on the back. "Bully for you, old +son," he said. "I'm in the mood to paint the little old town. I left +my car round the corner in charge of a down-at-heel night-bird. Come +on. Let's go and see if he's pinched it." + +It was one of those Italian semi-racing cars with a body which gave +it the naked appearance of a muscular Russian dancer dressed in a +skin and a pair of bangles. The night-bird, one of the large army of +city gypsies who hang on to life by the skin of their teeth, was +sitting on the running board with his arms folded across his +shirtless chest, smoking a salvaged cigar, dreaming, probably, of +hot sausages and coffee. He afforded a striking illustration of the +under dog cringing contentedly at the knees of wealth. + +"Good man," said Oldershaw, paying him generously. "Slip aboard, +Martin, and I'll introduce you to one of the choicest dives I know." + +But the introduction was not to be effected that night, at any rate. +Driving the car as though it were a monoplane in a clear sky, with +an open throttle that awoke the echoes, Oldershaw charged into Fifth +Avenue and caught the bonnet of a taxicab that was going uptown. +There was a crash, a scream, a rending of metal. And when Martin +picked himself up with a bruised elbow and a curious sensation of +having stopped a punching bag with his face, he saw Oldershaw +bending over the crumpled body of the taxi driver and heard a girl +with red lips and a small white hat calling on Heaven for +retribution. + +"Some men oughtn't to be trusted with machinery," said Oldershaw +with his inevitable grin. "If I can yank my little pet out of this +buckled-up lump of stuff, I'll drive that poor chap to the nearest +hospital. Look after the angel, Martin, and give my name and address +to the policeman. As this is my third attempt to kill myself this +month, things ought to settle down into humdrum monotony for a bit +now." + +Martin went over to the girl. "I hope you're not hurt?" he asked. + +"Hurt?" she cried out hysterically, feeling herself all over. "Of +course I'm hurt. I'm crippled for life. My backbone's broken; I +shall have water on both knees, a glass eye and a mouth full of +store teeth. But you don't care, you Hun. You like it." + +And on she went, at the top of her voice, in an endless flow of +farce and tragedy, crying and laughing, examining herself with eager +hands, disbelieving more and more in the fact that she was still in +the only world that mattered to her. + +Having succeeded in backing his dented car out of the debris, +Oldershaw leaped out. His face had been cut by the glass of the +broken windshield. Blood was trickling down his fat, good-natured +face. His hat was smashed and looked like that of the tramp cyclist +of the vaudeville stage. "All my fault, old man," he said in his +best irrepressible manner, as a policeman bore down upon him. "Help +me to hike our prostrate friend into my car, and I'll whip him off +to a hospital. He's only had the stuffing knocked out of him. It's +no worse than that. . . . That's fine. Big chap, isn't he--weighs a +ton. I'll get off right away, and my friend there will give you all +you want to know. So long." And off he went, one of his front wheels +wabbling foolishly. + +The policeman was not Irish or German-American. He was therefore +neither loud nor browbeating. He was dry, quiet and accurate, and it +seemed to Martin that either he didn't enjoy being dressed in a +little brief authority or was a misanthrope, eager to return to his +noiseless and solitary tramp under the April stars. Martin gave him +Oldershaw's full name and address and his own; and the girl, still +shrill and shattered, gave hers, after protesting that all +automobiles ought to be put in a gigantic pile and scrapped, that +all harum-scarum young men should be clapped in bed at ten o'clock +and that all policemen should be locked up in their stations to play +dominoes. "If it'll do you any good to know it," she said finally, +"it's Susie Capper, commonly called 'Tootles.' And I tell you what +it is. If you come snooping round my place to get me before the +beak, I'll scream and kick, so help me Bob, I will." There was an +English cockney twang in her voice. + +The policeman left her in the middle of a paean, with the wounded +taxi and Martin, and the light of a lamp-post throwing up the +unnatural red of her lips on a pretty little white face. He had +probably gone to call up the taxicab company. + +Then she turned to Martin. "The decent thing for you to do, Mr. Nut, +is to see me home," she said. "I'm blowed if I'm going to face any +more attempts at murder alone. My word, what a life!" + +"Come along, then," said Martin, and he put his hand under her +elbow. That amazing avenue, which had the appearance of a great, +deep cut down the middle of an uneven mountain, was almost deserted. +From the long line of street lamps intermittent patches of light +were reflected as though in glass. The night and the absence of +thickly crawling motors and swarming crowds gave it dignity. A +strange, incongruous Oriental note was struck by the deep red of +velvet hangings thrown up by the lights in a furniture dealer's shop +on the second floor of a white building. + +"Look for a row of women's ugly wooden heads painted by some one +suffering from delirium tremens," said Miss Susie Capper as they +turned down West Forty-sixth Street. "It's a dressmaker's, although +you might think it was an asylum for dope fiends. I've got a +bedroom, sitter and bath on the top floor. The house is a rabbit +warren of bedrooms, sitters and baths, and in every one of them +there's some poor devil trying to squeeze a little kindness out of +fate. That wretched taxi driver! He may have a wife waiting for him. +Do you think that red-haired feller's got to the hospital yet? He +had a nice cut on his own silly face--and serve him right! I hope +it'll teach him that he hasn't bought the blooming world--but of +course it won't. He's the sort that never gets taught anything, +worse luck! Nobody spanked him when he was young and soft. Come on +up, and you shall taste my scrambled eggs. I'll show you what a +forgiving little soul I am." + +She laughed, ran her eyes quickly over Martin, and opened the door +with a latchkey. Half a dozen small letter boxes were fastened to +the wall, with cards in their slots. + +"Who the devil cares?" said Martin to himself, and he followed the +girl up the narrow, ill-lighted staircase covered with shabby +carpet. Two or three inches of white stockings gleamed above the +drab uppers of her high-heeled boots. Outside the open door of a +room on the first floor there was a line of milk bottles, and Martin +sighted a man in shirt sleeves, cooking sausages on a small gas jet +in a cubby-hole. He looked up, and a cheery smile broke out on his +clean-shaven face. There was brown grease paint on his collar. +"Hello, Tootles," he called out. + +"Hello, Laddy," she said. "How'd it go to-night?" + +"Fine. Best second night in the history of the theater. Come in and +have a bite." + +"Can't. Got company." + +And up they went, the aroma following. + +A young woman in a sky-blue peignoir scuttled across the next +landing, carrying a bottle of beer in each hand. There was a smell +of onions and hot cheese. "What ho, Tootles," she said. + +"What ho, Irene. Is it true they've put your notice up?" + +"Yep, the dirty dogs! Twelve weeks' rehearsals and eight nights' +playing! Me for the novelties at Gimbel's, if this goes on." + +A phonograph in another room ground out an air from "Boheme." + +They mounted again. "Here's me," said Miss Capper, waving her hand +to a man in a dirty dressing gown who was standing on the threshold +of the front apartment, probably to achieve air. The room behind him +was foggy with tobacco smoke which rose from four men playing cards. +He himself was conspicuously drunk and would have spoken if he had +been able. As it was, he nodded owlishly and waggled his fingers. + +The girl threw open her door and turned up the light. "England, Home +and Beauty," she said. "Excuse me while I dress the ship." + +Seizing a pair of corsets that sprawled loosely on the center table, +she rammed them under a not very pristine cushion on the sofa. + +Martin burst out laughing. The Crystal Room wine was still in his +head. "Very nippy!" he said. + +"Have to be nippy in this life, believe me. Give me a minute to +powder my nose and murmur a prayer of thanksgivin', and then I'll +set the festive board and show you how we used to scramble eggs in +Shaftesbury Avenue." + +"Right," said Martin, getting out of his overcoat. How about it? Was +this one way of making the little old earth spin? + +Susie Capper went into a bedroom even smaller than the sitting room, +turned up the light over her dressing table and took off her little +white hat. From where Martin stood, he could see in the looking- +glass the girl's golden bobbed hair, pretty oval face with too red +lips and round white neck. There, it was obvious, stood a little +person feminine from the curls around her ears to the hole in one of +her stockings, and as highly and gladly sexed as a purring cat. + +"Buck up, Tootles," cried Martin. "Where do you keep the frying +pan?" + +She turned and gave him another searching look, this time of marked +approval. "My word, what a kid you look in the light!" she said. "No +one would take you for a blooming road-hog. Well, who knows? You and +I may have been brought together like this to work out one of Fate's +little games. This may be the beginning of a side-street romance, +eh?" + +And she chuckled at the word and turned her nose into a small snow- +capped hill. + + + + +IV + + +Pagliacci was to be followed as usual by "Cavalleria." It was the +swan song of the opera season. + +In a part that he acted as well as he sang, Caruso had been +permitted finally to retire, wringing wet, to his dressing room. +With all the dignity of a man of genuine feeling and sensitiveness +he had taken call after call on the fall of the curtain and stood +bent almost double before the increasing breakers of applause. Once +more he had done his best in a role which demanded everything that +he had of voice and passion, comedy and tragedy. Once more, although +his soul was with his comrades in battle, he had played the fool and +broken his heart for the benefit of his good friends in front. + +In her box on the first tier Mrs. Cooper Jekyll, in a dress +imaginatively designed to display a considerable quantity of her +figure, was surrounded by a party which attracted many glasses. +Alice Palgrave was there, pretty and scrupulously neat, even perhaps +a little prim, her pearls as big as marbles. Mrs. Alan Hosack made a +most effective picture with her black hair and white skin in a +geranium-colored frock--a Van Beers study to the life. Mrs. Noel +d'Oyly lent an air of opulence to the box, being one of those lovely +but all too ample women who, while compelling admiration, dispel +intimacy. Joan, a young daffodil, sat bolt upright among them, with +diamonds glistening in her hair like dew. Of the four men, Gilbert +Palgrave, standing where he could be seen, might have been an +illustration by Du Maurier of one of Ouida's impossible guardsmen. +He made the other three, all of the extraordinary ordinary type, +appear fifty per cent, more manly than they really were--the young +old Hosack with his groomlike face and immaculate clothes, the burly +Howard Cannon, who retained a walrus mustache in the face of +persistent chaff, and Noel d'Oyly, who when seen with his Junoesque +wife made the gravest naturalists laugh at the thought of the love +manners of the male and female spider. + +Turning her chair round, Alice touched Joan's arm. "Will you do +something for me?" she asked. + +Joan looked at her with a smile of disturbing frankness. "It all +depends whether it will upset any of my plans," she said. + +"I wouldn't have asked you if I had thought that." + +Joan laughed. "You've been studying my character, Alice." + +"I did that at school, my dear." Mrs. Palgrave spoke lightly, but it +was plain to see that there was something on her mind. "Don't go out +to supper with Howard Cannon. Come back with me. I want to talk to +you. Will you?" + +Joan had recently danced in Cannon's huge studio-apartment and been +oppressed by its Gulliveresque atmosphere, and she had just come +from the Fifth Avenue house of the Hosack family, where a +characteristically dignified dinner had got on her nerves. Gilbert, +she knew, was engaged to play roulette at the club, and none of her +other new men friends was available for dancing. She hadn't seen +anything of Martin for several days. She could easily oblige Alice +under the circumstances. + +So she said: "Yes, of course I will--just to prove how very little +you really know about me." + +"Thank you," said Alice. "I'll say that I have a headache and that +you're coming home with me. Don't be talked out of it." + +A puzzled expression came into Joan's eyes, and she turned her +shoulder to Palgrave, who was giving her his most amorous glances. +"It doesn't matter," she said, "but I notice that you are all +beginning to treat me like a sort of moral weathercock. I wonder +why?" She gave no more thought to the matter which just for the most +fleeting moment had rather piqued her, but sat drinking in the music +of Mascagni's immortal opera entirely ignoring the fact that +Palgrave's face was within an inch of her shoulder and that Alan +Hosack, on her other side, was whispering heavy compliments. + +Alice sat back and looked anxiously from the face of the girl who +had been her closest friend at school to that of the man to whom she +had given all her heart. In spite of the fact that she had been +married a year and had taken her place in the comparatively small +set which made up New York society, Mrs. Palgrave was an optimist. +As a fiction-fed girl she had expected, with a thrill of excitement, +that after marriage she would find herself in a whirlpool of +careless and extravagant people who made their own elastic code of +morals and played ducks and drakes with the Commandments. She had +accepted as a fact the novelist-playwright contention that society +was synonymous with flippancy, selfishness and unchastity, and that +the possession of money and leisure necessarily undermined all that +was excellent in human nature. Perhaps a little to her +disappointment, she had soon discovered how grotesque and ignorant +this play-and-book idea was. She had returned from her honeymoon in +November of the first year of the war and had been astonished to +find that nearly all the well-known women whose names, in the public +imagination, were associated with decadence and irresponsibility, +were as a matter of fact devoted to Red Cross work and allied war +charities; that the majority of the men who were popularly supposed +to be killing time with ingenious wickedness worked as hard as the +average downtown merchant, and that even the debutantes newly burst +upon the world had, for the most part, banded themselves together as +a junior war-relief society and were turning out weekly an immense +number of bandages for the wounded soldiers of France and England. +Young men of high and gallant spirit, who bore the old names of New +York, had disappeared without a line of publicity--to be heard of +later as members of the already famous Escadrille or as ambulance +workers on the Western front. Beautiful girls had slipped quietly +away from their usual haunts, touched by a deep and rare emotion, to +work in Allied hospitals three thousand miles and more away--if not +as full-blown nurses, then as scullery maids or motor drivers. + +There were, of course, the Oldershaws and the Marie Littlejohns and +the Christine Hurleys and the rest. Alice had met and watched them +throwing themselves against any bright light like all silly moths. +And there were the girls like Joan, newly released from the exotic +atmosphere of those fashionable finishing schools which no sane +country should permit. But even these wild and unbroken colts and +fillies, she believed, had excuses. They were the natural results of +a complete lack of parental discipline and school training. They ran +amuck, advertised by the press and applauded by the hawks who +pounced upon their wallets. They were more to be pitied than +condemned, far more foolish and ridiculous than decadent. They were +not unique, either, or peculiar to their own country. Every nation +possessed its "smart set," its little group of men and women who +were ripe for the lunatic asylum, and even the war and its iron +tonic had failed to shock them into sanity. In her particularly sane +way of looking at things, Alice saw all this, was proud to know that +the majority of the people who formed American society were fine and +sound and generous, and kept as much as possible out of the way of +those others whose one object in life was to outrage the +conventions. It was only when people began to tell her of seeing her +husband and her friend about together night after night that she +found herself wondering, with jealousy in her heart, how long her +optimism would endure, because Gilbert had already shown her a foot +of clay, and Joan was deliberately flying wild. + +It was, at any rate, all to the good that Joan kept her promise and +utterly refused to be turned by the pleadings and blandishments of +Cannon and Hosack. They drove together to Palgrave's elaborate +house, a faithful replica of one of the famous Paris mansions in the +Avenue Wagram and sat down to a little supper in Alice's boudoir. + +They made a curious picture, these two children, one just over +twenty, the other under nineteen; and as they sat in that lofty room +hung with French tapestries and furnished with the spindle-legged +gilt chairs and tables of Louis XIV, they might have been playing, +with all the gravity and imitative genius of little girls in a +nursery, at being grown up. + +While the servants moved discreetly about, Joan kept up a rattle of +impersonalities, laughing at Cannon's amazing mustache and +Gargantuan furniture, enthusing wildly over Caruso's once-in-a- +century voice, throwing satire at Mrs. Cooper Jekyll's confirmed +belief in her divine right to queen it, and saying things that made +Alice chuckle about the d'Oylys--that apparently ill-matched pair. +She drank a glass of champagne with the air of a connoisseur and +finally, having displayed an excellent appetite, mounted a cigarette +into a long thin mother-of-pearl holder, lighted it and sank with a +sigh into the room's one comfortable chair. + +"Gilbert gave me a cigarette holder like that," said Alice. + +"Yes? I think this comes from him," said Joan. "A thoughtful +person!" + +That Joan was not quite sure from whom she received it annoyed Alice +far more than if she had boasted of it as one of Gilbert's numerous +gifts. She needed no screwing up now to say what she had rather +timidly brought this cool young slip of a thing there to discuss. + +"Will you tell me about yourself and Gilbert?" she asked quietly. +There was no need for Joan to act complete composure. She felt it. +"What is there to tell, my dear?" + +"I hope there isn't anything--I mean anything that matters. But +perhaps you don't know that people have begun to talk about you, and +I think you owe it to me to be perfectly frank." + +Even then it didn't occur to Joan that there was anything serious in +the business. "I'll be as frank as the front page of The Times--'All +the news that's fit to print,'" she said. "What do you want to +know?" + +Alice proved her courage. She drew up a chair, bent forward and came +straight to the point. "Be honest with me, Joan, even if you have to +hurt me. Gilbert is very handsome, and women throw themselves at +him. I did, I suppose; but having won him and being still in my +first year of marriage, I'm naturally jealous when he lets himself +be drawn off by them. The women who have tried to take Gilbert away +from me I didn't know, and they owed me no friendship. But you're +different, and I can't believe that you--" + +Joan broke in with a peal of laughter. "Can't you? Why not? I +haven't got wings on my shoulders. Isn't everything fair in love and +war?" + +Alice drew back. She had many times been called prim and old- +fashioned, especially at school, by Joan and others when men were +talked about, and the glittering life that lay beyond the walls. +Sophistication, to put it mildly, had been the order of the day in +that temporary home of the young idea. But this calm declaration of +disloyalty took her color away, and her breath. Here was honesty +with a vengeance! + +"Joan!" she cried. "Joan!" And she put up her hand as though to ward +off an unbelievable thought. + +In an instant Joan was on her feet with her arms around the +shoulders of the best friend she had, whose face had gone as white +as stone. "Oh, my dear," she said, "I'm sorry. Forgive me. I didn't +mean that in the least, not in the very least. It was only one of my +cheap flippancies, said just to amuse myself and shock you. Don't +you believe me?" + +Tears came to Alice. She had had at least one utterly sleepless +night and several days of mental anguish. She was one of the women +who love too well. She confessed to these things, brokenly, and it +came as a kind of shock to Joan to find some one taking things +seriously and allowing herself to suffer. + +"Why, Alice," she said, "Gilbert means nothing to me. He's a dear +old thing; he's awfully nice to look at; he sums things up in a way +that makes me laugh; and he dances like a streak. But as to flirting +with him or anything of that sort--why, my dear, he looks on me as a +little boob from the country, and in my eyes he's simply a man who +carries a latchkey to amusement and can give me a good time. That's +true. I swear it." + +It was true, and Alice realized it, with immense relief. She dried +her eyes and held Joan away from her at arm's length and looked at +her young, frank, intrepid face with puzzled admiration. It didn't +go with her determined trifling. "I shall always believe what you +tell me, Joan," she said. "You've taken a bigger load than you +imagine off my heart--which is Gilbert's. And now sit down again and +be comfortable and let's do what we used to do at school at night +and talk about ourselves. We've both changed since those days, +haven't we?" + +"Have we? I don't think I have." Joan took another cigarette and +went back to her chair. Her small round shoulders looked very white +against the black of a velvet cushion. If there was nothing boyish +or unfeminine about her, there was certainly an indefinable +appearance of being untouched, unawakened. She was the same girl who +had been found by Martin that afternoon clean-cut against the sky-- +the determined individualist. + +Alice sat in front of her on a low stool with her hands clasped +round a knee. "What a queer mixture you are of--of town and country, +Joany. You're like a piece of honeysuckle playing at being an +orchid." + +"That's because I'm a kid," said Joan. "The horrible hour will come +when I shall be an orchid and try and palm myself off as +honeysuckle, never fear." + +"Don't you think marriage has changed you a little?" asked Alice. +"It usually does. It changed me from an empty-headed little fool to +a woman with oh, such a tremendous desire to be worthy of it." + +"Yes, but then you married for love." + +"Didn't you, Joany?" + +"I? Marry for love?" Joan waved her arm for joy at the idea. + +Alice knew the story of the escape from old age. She also knew from +the way in which Martin looked at Joan why he had given her his name +and house. Here was her chance to get to the bottom of a constant +puzzle. "You may not have married for love," she said, "but of +course you're fond of Martin." + +Joan considered the matter. It might be a good thing to go into it +now that there was an unexpected lull in the wild rush that she had +made to get into life. There had been something rather erratic about +Martin's comings and goings during the last week. She hadn't spoken +to him since the night at the Ritz. + +"Yes, I am fond of him," she said. "That's the word. As fond as I +might be of a very nice, sound boy whom I'd known all my life." + +"Is that all?" + +Joan made a series of smoke rings and watched them curl into the +air. "Yes, that's all," she said. + +Alice became even more interested and curious and puzzled. She held +very serious views about marriage. "And are you happy with him?" + +"I don't know that I can be said to be happy with him," said Joan. +"I'm perfectly happy as things are." + +"Tell me how they are." There was obviously something here that was +far from right. + +Joan was amused at her friend's gravity. She had always been a +responsible little person with very definite and old-fashioned +views. "Well," she said, "it's a charming little story, really. I +was the maiden who had to be rescued from the ugly castle, and +Martin was the knight who performed the deed. And being a knight +with a tremendous sense of convention and a castle of his own full +of well-trained servants, it didn't seem to him that he could give +me the run of his house in the Paul and Virginia manner, which isn't +being done now; and so, like a little gentleman, he married me, or +as I suppose you would put it, went through the form of marriage. +It's all part of the adventure that we started one afternoon on the +edge of the woods. I call it the cool and common-sense romance of +two very modern and civilized people." + +"I don't think there's any place in romance for such things as +coolness and common sense," said Alice warmly. "And as to there +being two very modern and civilized people in your adventure, as you +call it, that I doubt." + +Joan's large brown eyes grew a little larger, and she looked at the +enthusiastic girl in front of her with more interest. "Do you?" she +asked. "Why?" + +Alice got up. She was disturbed and worried. She had a great +affection for Joan, and that boy was indeed a knight. "I saw Martin +walking away from your house the night you dined with Gilbert at the +Brevoort--I was told about that!--and there was something in his +eyes that wasn't the least bit cool. Also I rode in the Park with +him one morning a week ago, and I thought he looked ill and haggard +and--if you must know--starved. No one would say that you aren't +modern and civilized,--and those are tame words,--but if Martin were +to come in now and make a clean breast of it, you'd be surprised to +find how little he is of either of those things, if I know anything +about him." + +"Then, my dear," replied Joan, making a very special ring of smoke, +"you know more about him than I do." + +Alice began to walk about. A form of marriage--that was the phrase +that stuck in her mind. And here was a girl who was without a +genuine friend in all that heartless town except herself, and a fine +boy who needed one, she began to see, very badly. She, at any rate, +and she thanked God for it, was properly married, and she owed it to +friendship to make a try to put things right with these two. + +"Joan, I believe I do," she said. "I really believe I do, although +I've only had one real talk with him. You're terribly and awfully +young, I know. You had a bad year with your grandfather and +grandmother, and the reaction has made you wild and careless. But +you're not a girl who has been brought up behind a screen in a room +lighted with one candle. You know what marriage means. There isn't a +book you haven't read or a thing you haven't talked over. And if you +imagine that Martin is content to play Paul to your imitation +Virginia, you're wrong. Oh, Joan, you're dangerously wrong." + +Settling into her chair and working her shoulders more comfortably +into the cushion, Joan crossed one leg over the other and lighted +another cigarette. "Go on," she said with a tantalizing smile. "I +love to hear you talk. It's far more interesting than listening to +Howard Cannon's dark prophecies about the day after to-morrow and +his gloomy rumblings about the writing on the wall. You stand for +the unemancipated married woman. Don't you?" + +"Yes, I do," said Alice quickly, her eyes gleaming. "I consider that +a girl who lets a man marry her under false pretenses is a cheat." + +"A strong word, my dear!" + +"But not too strong." + +"Wait a minute. Suppose she doesn't love him. What then?" + +"Then she oughtn't to have married him." + +"Yes, but it may have suited her to marry him." + +"Then she should fulfill the bargain honestly and play the game +according to the rules. However modern and civilized people are, +they do that." + +Joan shrugged her round white shoulders and flicked her cigarette +ash expertly into the china tray on the spindle-legged table at her +elbow. She was quite unmoved. Alice had always taken it upon herself +to lecture her about individualism--the enthusiastic little thing. +"Dear old girl," she said, "don't you remember that I always make my +own rules?" + +"I know you do, but you can't tell me that Martin wants to go by +them--or that he'll be able to remain a knight long, while you're +going by one set and he's keen to go by another? Where will it end?" + +"End? But why drag in the end when Martin and I are only at the +beginning?" + +Alice sat down again and bent forward and caught up Joan's +unoccupied hand. "Listen, dear," she said with more than +characteristic earnestness. "Last night I went with the Merrills to +the Ziegfeld Follies, and I saw Martin there with a little white- +faced girl with red lips and the golden hair that comes out of a +bottle." + +"Good old Martin!" said Joan. "The devil you did!" + +"Doesn't that give you a jar?" + +"Good heavens, no! If you'd peeked into the One-o'clock Club this +morning at half past two, you would have seen me with a white-faced +man with a red mustache and a kink in his hair that comes from a hot +iron. Martin and I are young and giddy, and we're on the round- +about, and we're hitting it up. Who cares?" + +There was a little silence--and then Alice drew back, shaking her +pretty neat head. "It won't do, Joany," she said, "it won't do. I've +heard you say 'Who cares?' loads of times and never seen anybody +take you by the shoulders and shake you into caring. That's why you +go on saying it. But somebody always cares, Joany dear, and there's +not one thing that any of us can say or do that doesn't react on +some one else, either to hurt or bless. Martin Gray's your knight. +You said so. Don't you be the one to turn his gleaming armor into +common broadcloth--please, please don't." + +Joan gave a little laugh and a little yawn and stretched herself +like a boy and got up. "Who'd have thought it? It's half-past +twelve, and we're both losing our much needed beauty sleep. I must +really tear myself away." She put her arm around Alice and kissed +her. "The same dear little wise, responsible Alice who would like to +put the earth into woolens with a mustard plaster on its chest. But +it takes all sorts to make up a world, you know, and it would be +rather drab without a few butterflies. Don't throw bricks at me +until I've fluttered a bit more, Ally. My colors won't last long, +and I know what old age means, better than most. If I were in love +as you are, my man's rules would be the ones I'd go by all the time; +but I'm not in love, and I don't want to be--yet; and I'm only a +kid, and I think I have the right to my fling. This marriage of mine +is just a part of the adventure that Martin and I plunged into as a +great joke, and he knows it and he's one of the best, and I'm +grateful to him, believe me. Good night. God bless you!" + +She stood for a moment on the top step to taste the air that was +filled with the essence of youth. Across a sky as clear as crystal a +series of young clouds were chasing each other, putting out the +stars for a moment as they scurried playfully along. It was a joy to +be alive and fit and careless. Summer was lying in wait for spring, +and autumn would lay a withering hand upon summer, and winter with +its crooked limbs and lack-luster eyes was waiting its inevitable +turn. + +"A short life and a merry one!" whispered Joan to the moon, throwing +it a kiss. + +A footman, sullen for want of sleep, opened the door of the +limousine. Some one was sitting in the corner with his arms crossed +over his chest. + +"Marty! Is that you?" + +"It's all right," said Gilbert Palgrave. "I've been playing patience +for half an hour. I'm going to see you home." + + + + + V + + +"You are going home?" + +"Yes," said Joan, "without the shadow of a doubt." + +"Which means that I'd better tell the chauffeur to drive round to +the One-o'clock, eh?" + +"I'll drop you there if you like. I'm really truly going home." + +"All right." + +Joan began to sing as the car bowled up Fifth Avenue. Movement +always made her sing, and the effect of things slipping behind her. +But she stopped suddenly as an expression of Alice's flicked across +her memory. "You'll catch Alice up, if you go straight back," she +said. + +"Alice-Sit-by-the-Fire! I wonder why it is the really good woman is +never appreciated by a man until he's obliged to sit on the other +side of the fireplace? I wish we were driving away out into the +country. I have an unusual hankering to stand on the bank of a huge +lake and watch the moonlight on the water." + +Joan was singing again. The trees in the Park were bespattered with +young leaves. + +Palgrave controlled an ardent desire to touch with his lips that +cool white shoulder from which the cloak had slipped. It was +extraordinary how this mere girl inflamed him. Alice--Alice-Sit-by- +the-Fire! She seemed oddly like some other man's wife, these days. + +"Suppose I tell your man to drive out of the city beyond this rabble +of bricks and mortar?" + +But Joan went on singing. Spring was in her blood. How fast the car +was moving, and those young clouds. + +Palgrave helped her out with a hot hand. + +She opened the door with her latch-key. "Thank you, Gilbert," she +said. "Good night." + +But Palgrave followed her in. "Don't you think I've earned the right +to one cigarette?" He threw his coat into a chair in the hall and +hung his hat on the longest point of an antler. It was a new thing +for this much flattered man to ask for favors. This young thing's +exultant youth made him feel old and rather humble. + +"There are sandwiches in the dining room and various things to +drink," said Joan, waving her hand toward it. + +"No, no. Let's go up to the drawing-room--that is, unless you--" + +But Joan was already on the stairs, with the chorus of her song. She +didn't feel in the least like sleep with its escape from life. It +was so good to be awake, to be vital, to be tingling with the +current of electricity like a telegraph wire. She flung back the +curtains, raised all the windows, opened her arms to the air, +spilled her cloak on the floor, sat at the piano and ragged "The +Spring Song." + +"I am a kid," she said, speaking above the sound, and going on with +her argument to Alice. "I am and I will be, I will be. And I'll play +the fool and revel in it as long as I can--so there!" + +Palgrave had picked up the cloak and was holding it unconsciously +against his immaculate shirt. It was the sentimental act of a +virtuoso in the art of pleasing women--who are so easily pleased. At +the moment he had achieved forgetfulness of boudoir trickery and so +retained almost all his usual assumption of dignity. Even Joan, with +her quick eye for the ridiculous, failed to detect the bathos of his +attitude, and merely thought that he was trying to be funny and not +succeeding. + +It so happened that over Palgrave's shoulder she could see the bold +crayon drawing of Martin, brown and healthy and muscular, without an +ounce of affectation, an unmistakable man with his nice irregular +features and clean, merry eyes. There was strength and capability +stamped all over him, and there was, as well, a pleasing sense of +reliability which gained immediate confidence. With the sort of +shock one gets on going into the fresh air from a steam-heated room, +she realized the contrast between these two. + +There is always something as unreal about handsome men as there is +about Japanese gardens. Palgrave's hair was so scrupulously sleek +and wiglike, his features so well-balanced and well-chosen, his +wide-set eyes so large and long-lashed, and his fair, soft mustache +so miraculously precise. His clothes, too, were a degree more than +perfect. They were so right as to be a little freakish because they +attracted as much attention as if they were badly cut. He was born +for tea fights and winter resorts, to listen with a distrait half- +smile to the gushing adulation of the oh-my-dear type of women. + +He attracted Joan. She admired his assurance and polish and manners. +With these three things even a man with a broken nose and a head +bald as an egg can carry a beautiful woman to the altar. He was +something new to her, too, and she found much to amuse her in his +way of expressing himself. He observed, and sometimes crystallized +his observations with a certain neatness. Also, and she made no +bones about owning to it, his obvious attention flattered her. All +the same, she was in the mood just then for Martin. He went better +with the time of year, and there was something awfully companionable +about his sudden laugh. She would have hailed his appearance at that +moment with an outdoor cry. + +It was bad luck for Palgrave, because he now knew definitely that in +Joan he had found the girl who was to give him the great emotion. + +She broke away from "The Spring Song" and swung into "D'ye Ken John +Peel with His Coat So Gay?" It was Martin's favorite air. How often +she had heard him shout it among the trees on his way to meet her +out there on the edge of the woods where they had found each other. +It was curious how her thoughts turned to Martin that night. + +She left the piano in the middle of a bar. "One cigarette," she +said, and held out a silver box. + +Palgrave's hand closed tightly over her slim white arm. In his +throat his heart was pumping. He spoke incoherently, like a man. +"God," he said, "you--you take my breath away. You make my brain +whirl. Why didn't you come out of your garden a year ago?" + +He was acting, she thought, and she laughed. "My arm, I think," she +said. + +"No, mine. It's got to be mine. What's the good of beating about the +bush?" He spoke with a queer hoarseness, and his hand shook. + +She laughed again. He was trying his parlor tricks, as Hosack had +called them one night at the Crystal Room, watching him greet a +woman with both hands. What a joke to see what he would do if she +pretended to be carried away. He might as well be made to pay for +keeping her up. "Oh, Gilbert," she said, "what are you saying!" Her +shyness and fright were admirable. + +They added fuel to his fire. "What I've been waiting to say for +years and never thought I should. I love you. You've just got me." + +How often had he said those very words to other women! He did it +surpassingly well. She continued to act. "Oh, Gilbert," she said in +a low voice, "you mustn't. There's Alice." Two could play at his pet +game. + +"Yes, there is Alice. But what does that matter? I don't care, and +you don't. Your motto is not to care. You're always saying so. I'm +no more married to Alice than you are to Gray. They're accidents, +both of them. I love you, I tell you." And he ran his hand up to her +shoulder and bore down upon her. Where were his manners and polish +and assurance? It was amazing to see the change in the man. + +But she dodged away and took up a stand behind the piano and laughed +at him. "You're an artist, Gilbert," she said. "It's all very well +for you to practice on women of your own age, but I'm an +unsophisticated girl. You might turn my head, you know." + +Her sarcasm threw him up short. She was mocking. He was profoundly +hurt. "But you've chosen me. You've picked me out. You've used me to +take you to places night after night! Don't fool with me, Joan. I'm +in dead earnest." + +And she saw with astonishment that he was. His face was white, and +he stood in a curious attitude of supplication, with his hands out. +She was amazed, and for a moment thrilled. Gilbert Palgrave, the +woman's man, in love with her. Think of it! + +"But Gilbert," she said, "there's Alice. She's my friend." That +seemed to matter more than the fact that she was his wife. + +"That hasn't mattered to you all along. Why drag it in now? Night +after night you've danced with me; I've been at your beck and call; +you used me to rescue you from Gray that time. What are you? What +are you made of? Unsophisticated! You!" He wasn't angry. He was +fumbling at reasons in order to try and get at her point of view. +"You know well enough that a man doesn't put himself out to that +extent for nothing. What becomes of give and take? Do you conceive +that you are going to sail through life taking everything and giving +nothing?" + +Martin had asked her this, and Alice, and now here was Gilbert +Palgrave putting it to her as though it were an indictment! "But I'm +a kid," she cried out. "What do you all mean? Can't I be allowed to +have any fun without paying for it? I'm only just out of the shell. +I've only been living for a few weeks. Can't you see that I'm a kid? +I have the right to take all I can get for nothing,--the right of +youth. What do you mean--all of you?" + +She came out from behind the piano and stood in front of him, as +erect as a silver birch, and as slim and young. There was a great +indignation all about her. + +His eager hands went out, and fell. He was not a brute. It would be +cowardly to touch this amazing child. She was armed with +fearlessness and virginity--and he had mistaken these things for +callousness. + +"I don't know what to say," he said. "You stagger me. How long are +you going to hide behind this youthfulness? When are you going to be +old enough to be honest? Men have patience only up to a point. At +any rate, you didn't claim youth when Gray asked you to marry him-- +though you may have done so afterward. Did you?" + +She kept silent. But her eyes ran over him with contempt. According +to her, she had given him no right to put such questions. + +He ignored it. It was undeserved. It was she who deserved contempt, +not he. And he threw it back at her in a strange incoherent outburst +in which, all the same, there was a vibrating note of gladness and +relief. And all the while, unmoved by the passion into which he +broke, she stood watching with a curious gravity his no longer +immobile face. She was thinking about Martin. She was redeveloping +Martin's expression when she had opened the door of her bedroom the +night of her marriage and let him out. What about her creed, then? +Was she hiding behind youthfulness? Were there, after all, certain +things that must be paid for? Was she already old enough to be what +Alice and this man called honest? Was every man made of the stuff +that only gave for what he hoped to get in return? + +His words trailed off. He was wasting them, he saw. She was looking +through his head. But he rejoiced as to one thing like a potter who +opens the door of his oven and finds his masterpiece unbroken. And +silence fell upon them, interrupted only by the intermittent humming +of passing cars. + +Finally Palgrave took the cigarette box out of Joan's hand and put +it down on a little table and stood looking more of a man than might +have been expected. + +"I've always hoped that one day I should meet you--just you," he +said quietly; "and when I did, I knew that it would be to love. +Well, I've told you. Do what you can for me until you decide that +you're grown up. I'll wait." + +And he turned and went away, and presently she heard a door shut and +echo, and slow footsteps in the street below. + +Where was Martin? + + + + +VI + + +She wanted Martin. Everything that had happened that night made her +want Martin. He knew that she was a kid, and treated her as such. He +didn't stand up and try and force her forward into being a woman-- +although, of all men, he had the right. He was big and generous and +had given her his name and house and the run of the world, but not +from his lips ever came the hard words that she had heard that +night. How extraordinary that they should have come from Alice as +well as from Gilbert. + +She wanted Martin. Where was Martin? She felt more like a bird, at +that moment, than a butterfly--like a bird that had flown too far +from its nest and couldn't find its way back. She had been honest +with Martin, all along. Why, the night before they had started on +the street of adventure, she had told him her creed, in that dark, +quiet room with the moonlight on the floor in a little pool, and had +frankly cried out, "Who cares?" for the first time. And later, +upstairs in her room, in his house, she had asked him to leave her; +and he had gone, because he understood that she wanted to remain +irresponsible for a time and must not be taken by the shoulders and +shaken into caring until she had had her fling. He understood +everything--especially as to what she meant by saying that she would +go joy-riding, that she would make life spin whichever way she +wanted it to go. It was the right of youth, and what was she but +just a kid? He had never stood over her and demanded payment, and +yet he had given her everything. He understood that she was new to +the careless and carefree, and had never flung the word honest at +her head, because, being so young, she considered that she could be +let off from making payments for a time. + +She wanted Martin. She wanted the comforting sight of his clean eyes +and deep chest and square shoulders. She wanted to sit down knee to +knee with him as they had done so often on the edge of the woods, +and talk and talk. She wanted to hear his man's voice and see the +laughter-lines come and go round his eyes. He was her pal and was as +reliable as the calendar. He would wipe out the effect of the +reproaches that she had been made to listen to by Alice and Gilbert. +They might be justified; they were justified; but they showed a lack +of understanding of her present mood that was to her inconceivable. +She was a kid. Couldn't they see that she was a kid? Why should they +both throw bricks at her as though she were a hawk and not a mere +butterfly? + +Where was Martin? Why hadn't she seen him for several days? Why had +he stayed away from home without saying where he was and what he was +doing? And what was all this about a girl with a white face and red +lips? Martin must have friends, of course. She had hers--Gilbert and +Hosack and the others, if they could be called friends. But why a +girl with a white face and red lips and hair that came out of a +bottle? That didn't sound much like Martin. + +All these thoughts ran through Joan's mind as she walked about the +drawing-room with its open windows, in the first hour of the +morning, sending out an S. O. S. to Martin. She ought to be in bed +and asleep--not thinking and going over everything as if she were a +woman. She wasn't a woman yet, and could only be a kid once. It was +too bad of Alice to try and force her to take things seriously so +soon. Seriousness was for older people, and even then something to +avoid if possible. And as for Gilbert--well, she didn't for one +instant deny the fact that it was rather exciting and exhilarating +for him to be in love with her, although she was awfully sorry for +Alice. She had done nothing to encourage him, and it was really a +matter of absolute indifference to her whether he loved her or not, +so long as he was at hand to take her about. And she didn't intend +to encourage him, either. Love meant ties and responsibility--Alice +proved that clearly enough. There was plenty of time for love. Let +her flit first. Let her remain young as long as she could, careless +and care-free. The fact that she was married was just an accident, +an item in her adventure. It didn't make her less young to be +married, and she didn't see why it should. Martin understood, and +that was why it was so far-fetched of Alice to suggest that her +attitude could turn Martin's armor into broadcloth, and hint at his +having ceased to be a knight because he had been seen with a girl-- +never mind whether her face was white and her lips red, and her hair +too golden. + +"I'm a kid, I tell you," she said aloud, throwing out her +justification to the whole world. "I am and I will be, I will be. +I'll play the fool and revel in it as long as I can--so there. Who +cares?" And she laughed once more, and ran her hand over her hair as +though waving all these thoughts away, and shut the windows and +turned out the lights and went upstairs to her bedroom. "I'm a +selfish, self-willed little devil, crazy about myself, thinking of +nothing but having a good time," she added inwardly. "I know it, all +of you, as well as you do, but give me time. Give me my head for a +bit. When I must begin to pay, I'll pay with all I've got." + +But presently, all ready for bed, she put on a dressing gown and +left her room and padded along the passage in heelless slippers to +Martin's room. He might have been asleep all this time. How silly +not to have thought of that! She would wake him for one of their +talks. It seemed an age since they had sat on the hill together +among the young buds, and she had conjured up the high-reaching +buildings of New York against the blue sky, like a mirage. + +She had begun to think again. Alice and Gilbert between them had set +her brain working--and she couldn't stop it. What if the time had +come already when she must pull herself together and face facts and +play what everybody called the game? Well, if it had, and she simply +couldn't hide behind youthfulness any longer, as Gilbert had said, +she would show that she could change her tune of "Who cares?" to "I +care" with the best of them! "I'm only a little over eighteen. I +don't know quite what it is, but I'm something more than pretty. I'm +still not much more than a flapper--an irritating, empty-headed, +fashionable-school-fed, undisciplined, sophisticated kid. I know all +about that as well as they do. I'm making no pretense to be anything +different. Heaven knows, I'm frank enough about it--even to myself. +But it's only a phase. Why not let me get over it and live it down? +If there's anything good in me, and there is, it will come out +sooner or later. Why not let me go through it my own way? A few +months to play the fool in--it isn't much to ask, and don't I know +what it means to be old?" + +She hadn't been along that passage before. It was Martin's side of +the house. She hadn't given much thought to Martin's side of +anything. She tried a door and opened it, fumbled for the button +that would turn the light on and found it. It was a large and +usefully fitted dressing room with a hanging cupboard that ran all +along one wall, with several doors. Two old shiny-faced English +tallboys were separated by a boot rack. Between the two windows was +a shaving glass over a basin. There was a bookcase on each side of +the fire-place and a table conveniently near a deep armchair with a +tobacco jar, pipes and a box of cigarettes. Every available space of +wall was crammed with framed photographs of college groups, some +showing men with the whiskered faces and the strange garments of the +early Victorian period, others of the clean-shaven men of the day, +but all of them fit and eager and care-free, caught in their +happiest hours. It was a man's room, arranged by one, now used by +another. + +Joan went through into the bedroom. The light followed her. There +was no Martin. It was all strangely tidy. Its owner might have been +away for weeks. + +With a sense of chill and a feeling of queer loneliness, she went +back to the dressing room. She wanted Martin. If Martin had been +there, she would have had it all out with him, freely and frankly. +Somehow she couldn't wave away the idea any longer that the time had +come for her to cross another bridge. Thank God she would still be +young, but the kid of her would be left on the other side. If Martin +had been there, she would have told him some of the things that +Alice had said about being honest and paying up, and left it to him +to say whether the girlhood which she had wanted to spin out was +over and must be put away among her toys. + +Alice and Gilbert Palgrave,--curious that it should have been those +two,--had shaken her individualism, as well as something else, vague +and untranslatable, that she couldn't quite grasp, that eluded her +hand. She sat down in the deep chair and with a little smile took up +one of Martin's pipes and looked at it. The good tobaccoey scent of +it took her back to the hill on the edge of the woods, and in her +mind's eye there was a picture of two clean eyes with laughter-lines +coming and going, a strong young face that had already caught the +sun, square shoulders and a broad chest, and a pair of reliable +hands with spatulate fingers clasped round a knee. She could hear +birds calling. Spring was in the air. + +Where was Martin? + + + + +VII + + +It was the first dress rehearsal of "The Ukelele Girl," to be +produced "under the personal direction of Stanwood Mosely." The +piece had been in rehearsal for eleven weeks. + +The curtain had been up on the second act for an hour. Scene +designers, scene painters and scene shifters were standing about +with a stage director, whose raucous voice cut the fuggy atmosphere +incessantly in what was intended to represent the exterior of a +hotel at Monte Carlo. It more nearly resembled the materialization +of a dope fiend's dream of an opium factory. What might have been a +bank building in Utopia, an old Spanish galleon in drydock, or the +exterior of a German beer garden according to the cover of Vogue +occupied the center of the scene. The bricks were violet and old +gold, sprayed with tomato juice and marked by the indeterminate +silver tracks of snails. Pillars, modeled on the sugar-stick posts +that advertise barber's shops, ran up and lost themselves among the +flies. A number of wide stairs, all over wine stains, wandered +aimlessly about, coming to a conclusion between gigantic urns filled +with unnatural flowers of all the colors of a diseased rainbow. +Jotted about here and there on the stage were octopus-limbed trees +with magenta leaves growing in flower pots all covered with bilious +blobs. Stan Mosely didn't profess to understand it, but having been +assured by the designer that it was art nouveau, which also he +didn't understand, he was wholly satisfied. + +Not so the stage director, whose language in describing the effect +it had upon him would have done credit to a gunman under the +influence of cheap brandy and fright. The rehearsal, which had +commenced at eight o'clock, had been hung up for a time considerable +enough to allow him to give vent to his sentiments. The pause +enabled Mosely, squatting frog-wise in the middle of the orchestra +stalls, to surround himself with several women whose gigantic +proportions were horribly exposed to the eye. The rumble of his +voice and the high squeals of their laughter clashed with the sounds +of the vitriolic argument on the stage, and the noises of a bored +band, in which an oboe was giving a remarkable imitation of a +gobbling turkey cock, and a cornet of a man blowing his nose. The +leader of the band was pacing up and down the musicians' room, +saying to himself: "Zis is ze last timer. Zis is ze last timer," +well knowing that it wasn't. The poor devil had a wife and children +to feed. + +Bevies of weary and spirit-broken chorus girls in costume were +sprawling on the chairs in the lower boxes, some sleeping, some too +tired to sleep, and some eating ravenously from paper bags. Chorus +men and costumers, wig makers and lyric writers, authors and friends +of the company, sat about singly and in pairs in the orchestra +seats. They were mostly bored so far beyond mere impatience by all +this super-inefficiency and chaos as to have arrived at a state of +intellectual coma. The various men out of whose brains had +originally come the book and lyrics no longer hated each other and +themselves; they lusted for the blood of the stage director or saw +gorgeous mental pictures of a little fat oozy corpse surrounded by +the gleeful faces of the army of people who had been impotent to +protest against the lash of his whip, the impertinence of his tongue +or the gross dishonesty of his methods. + +One other man in addition to the raucous, self-advertising stage +director, Jackrack, commonly called "Jack-in-office," showed +distinct signs of life--a short, overdressed, perky person with +piano fingers and baldish head much too big for his body, who +flitted about among the chorus girls, followed by a pale, drab woman +with pins, and touched their dresses and sniggered and made remarks +with a certain touch of literary excellence in a slightly guttural +voice. This was Poppy Shemalitz, the frock expert, the man milliner +of the firm, who was required to make bricks out of straw, or as he +frequently said to the friends of his "bosom," "make fifteen dollars +look like fifty." Self-preservation and a sense of humor encouraged +him through the abusive days of a dog's life. + +Sitting in the last row of the orchestra, wearing the expression of +interest and astonishment of a man who had fallen suddenly into +another world, was Martin. He had been there since eight o'clock. +For over six hours he had watched banality emerge from chaos and had +listened to the blasphemy and insults of Jackrack. He would have +continued to watch and listen until daylight peered upbraidingly +through the chinks in the exit doors but for the sudden appearance +of Susie Capper, dressed for the street. + +"Hello, Tootles! But you're not through, are you?" + +"Absobloominlootely," she said emphatically. + +"I thought you said your best bit was in the second act?" + +"'Was' is right. Come on outer here. I can't stand the place a +minute longer. It'll give me apoplexy." + +Martin followed her into the foyer. The tragic rage on the girl's +little, pretty, usually good-natured face worried him. He knew that +she had looked forward to this production to make her name on +Broadway. + +"My dear Tootles, what's happened?" + +She turned to him and clutched his arm. Tears welled up into her +eyes, and her red lips began to tremble. "What did I look like?" she +demanded. + +"Splendid!" + +"Didn't I get every ounce of comedy out of my two scenes in Act +One?" + +"Every ounce." + +"I know I did. Even the stage hands laughed, and if you can do that +there's no argument. And didn't my number go over fine? Wasn't it +the best thing in the act? I don't care what you say. I know it was. +Even the orchestra wanted it over again." + +"But it was," said Martin, "and I heard one of the authors say that +it would be the hit of the piece." + +"Oh, Martin, I've been sweating blood for this chance for five +years, and I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I wish +I was dead." She put her arms against the wall and her face down on +her arms and burst into an agony of tears. + +Martin was moved. This plucky, struggling, hardworking atom of a +remorseless world deserved a little luck for a change. Hitherto it +had eluded her eager hands, although she had paid for it in advance +with something more than blood and energy. "Dear old Tootles," he +said, "what's happened? Try and tell me what's happened? I don't +understand." + +"You don't understand, because you don't know the tricks of this +rotten theater. For eleven weeks I've been rehearsing. For eleven +weeks--time enough to produce a couple of Shakespeare's bally plays +in Latin,--I've put up with the brow-beating of that mad dog +Jackrack. For eleven weeks, without touching one dirty little Mosely +cent, I've worked at my part and numbers, morning, noon and night; +and now, on the edge of production, he cuts me out and puts in a +simpering cow with a fifteen-thousand-dollar necklace and a snapping +little Pekinese to oblige one of his angels, and I'm reduced to the +chorus. I wish I was dead, I tell you--I wish I was dead and buried +and at peace. I wish I could creep home and get into bed and never +see another day of this cruel life. Oh, I'm just whipped and broke +and out. Take me away, take me away, Martin. I'm through." + +Martin put his arm round the slight, shaking form, led her to one of +the doors and out into a narrow passage that ran up into the +deserted street. To have gone down into the stalls and hit that oily +martinet in the mouth would have been to lay himself open to a +charge of cruelty to animals. He was so puny and fat and soft. Poor +little Tootles, who had had a tardy and elusive recognition torn +from her grasp! It was a tragedy. + +It was not much more than a stone's-throw from the theater to the +rabbit warren in West Forty-sixth Street, but Martin gave a shout at +a prowling taxi. Not even policemen and newspaper boys and street +cleaners must see this girl as she was then, in a collapse of +smashed hopes, sobbing dreadfully, completely broken down. It wasn't +fair. In all that city of courageous under-dogs and fate-fighters, +there was not one who pretended to careless contentment with a chin +so high as Tootles. He half carried her into the cab, trying with a +queer blundering sympathy to soothe and quiet her. And he had almost +succeeded by the time they reached the brownstone house of sitters, +bedrooms and baths, gas stoves, cubby-holes, the persistent reek of +onions, cigarettes and hot cheese. The hysteria of the artistic +temperament, or the natural exaggeration of an artificial life, had +worn itself out for the time being. Rather pathetic little sobs had +taken its place, it was with a face streaked with the black stuff +from her eyelashes that Tootles turned quickly to Martin at the foot +of the narrow, dirty staircase. + +"Let's go up quiet," she said. "If any of the others are about, I +don't want 'em to know tonight. See?" + +"I see," said Martin. + +And it was good to watch the way in which she took hold of herself +with a grip of iron, scrubbed her face with his handkerchief, dabbed +it thickly with powder from a small silver box, threw back her head +and went up two stairs at a time. On the second floor there was a +cackle of laughter, but doors were shut. On the third all was quiet. +But on the fourth the tall, thin, Raphael-headed man was drunk +again, arguing thickly in the usual cloud of smoke, which drifted +sullenly into the passage through the open door. + +With deft fingers Tootles used her latchkey, and they slipped into +the apartment like thieves. And then Martin took the pins out of her +little once-white hat, drew her coat off, picked her up as if she +were a child and put her on the sofa. + +"There you are, Tootles," he said, without aggressive cheerfulness, +but still cheerful. "You lie there, young 'un, and I'll get you +something to eat. It's nearly a day since you saw food." + +And after a little while, humanized by the honest kindness of this +obvious man, she sat up and leaned on an elbow and watched him +through the gap in the curtains that hid her domestic arrangements. +He was scrambling some eggs. He had made a pile of chicken +sandwiches and laid the table. He had put some flowers that he had +brought for her earlier in the evening in the middle of it, stuck +into an empty milk bottle. In her excitement and joy about the play, +she had forgotten to put them in water. They were distinctly sad. + +"Me word!" she said to herself, through the aftermath of her +emotion. "That's some boy. Gee, that's some good boy." Even her +thoughts were conducted in a mixture of Brixton and Broadway. + +"Now, then," he said, "all ready, marm," and put his handiwork in +what he hoped was an appetizing manner on the table. The hot eggs +were on a cold plate, but did that really matter? + +Not to Tootles, who was glad to get anything, anyhow. That room was +the Ritz Hotel in comparison with the slatterly tenement in which +she had won through the first unsoaped years of a sordid life. And +Martin--well, Martin was something out of a fairy tale. + +Between them they made a clean sweep of everything, falling back +finally on a huge round box of candies contributed the previous day +by Martin. + +They made short work of several bottles of beer, also contributed by +Martin. He knew that Tootles was not paid a penny during rehearsals. +She laughed several times and cracked one or two feeble jokes--poor +little soul with the swollen eyes and powder-dabbed face! Her bobbed +hair glistened under the light like the dome of the Palace of Cooch +Behar under the Indian sun. + +"Boy," she said presently, putting her hand on his knees and closing +her tired eyes, "where's that magic carpet? If I could sit on it +with you and be taken to where the air's clean and the trees are +whisperin' and all the young things hoppin' about--I'd give twenty- +five years of me life, s'elp me Bob, I would." + +"Would you, Tootles?" A sudden thought struck Martin. Make use of +that house in the country, make use of it, lying idle and neglected! + +"Oh," she said, "to get away from all this for a bit--to shake +Broadway and grease paint and slang and electric light, if only for +a week. I'm fed up, boy. I'm all out, like an empty gasoline tin. I +want to see something clean and sweet." + +Martin had made up his mind. Look at that poor little bruised soul, +as much in need of water as those sad flowers in the milk bottle. +"Tootles," he said, "pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and +be ready for me in the morning." + +"What d'yer mean, boy?" + +"What I say. At eleven o'clock to-morrow--to-day, I'll have a car +here and drive you away to woods and birds and all clean things. +I'll give you a holiday in a big cathedral, and you shall lie and +listen to God's own choir." + +"Go on--ye're pullin' me leg!" + +She waved her hand to stop him. It was all too good to joke about. + +"No, I'm not. I've got a house away in the country. It was my +father's. We shall both be proud to welcome you there, Tootles." + +She sprang up, put her hands on his face and tilted it back and +looked into his eyes. It was true! It was true! She saw it there. +And she kissed him and gave a great sobbing sigh and went into her +bedroom and began to undress. Was there anything like life, after +all? + +Martin cleared the table and drew the curtains over the domestic +arrangements. He didn't like domestic arrangements. Then he sat down +and lighted a cigarette. His head was all blurred with sleep. + +And presently a tired voice, called "Boy!" and he went in. The all- +too-golden head was deep into the pillow and long lashes made fans +on that powdered face. + +"Where did you pinch the magic carpet?" she asked, and smiled, and +fell into sleep as a stone disappears into water. + +As Martin drew the clothes over her thinly clad shoulder, something +touched him. It was like a tap on the heart. Before he knew what he +was doing, he had turned out the light, gone into the sitting room, +the passage, down the stairs and into the silent street. At top +speed he ran into Sixth Avenue, yelled to a cab that was slipping +along the trolley lines and told the driver to go to East Sixty- +seventh Street for all that he was worth. + +Joan wanted him. + +Joan! + +Joan heard the cab drive up and stop, heard Martin sing out "That's +all right," open and shut the front door and mount the stairs; heard +him go quickly to her room and knock. + +She went out and called "Marty, Marty," and stood on the threshold +of his dressing room, smiling a welcome. She was glad, beyond words +glad, and surprised. There had seemed to be no chance of seeing him +that morning. + +Martin came along the passage with his characteristic light tread +and drew up short. He looked anxious. + +"You wanted me?" he said. + +And Joan held out her hand. "I did and do, Marty. But how did you +guess?" + +"I didn't guess; I knew." And he held her hand nervously. + +She looked younger and sweeter than ever in her blue silk dressing +gown and shorter in her heelless slippers. What a kid she was, after +all, he thought. + +"How amazing!" she said. "I wonder how?" + +He shook his head. "I dunno--just as I did the first time, when I +tore through the woods and found you on the hill." + +"Isn't that wonderful! Do you suppose I shall always be able to get +you when I want you very much?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Why?" + +She had gone back into the dressing room. The light was on her face. +Her usual expression of elfish impertinence was not there. She was +the girl of the stolen meetings once more, the girl whose eyes +reflected the open beauty of what Martin had called the big +cathedral. For all that, she was the girl who had hurt him to the +soul, shown him her door, played that trick upon him at the Ritz and +sent him adrift full of the spirit of "Who cares?" which was her +fetish. It was in his heart to say: "Because I adore you! Because I +am so much yours that you have only to think my name for me to hear +it across the world as if you had shouted it through a giant +megaphone! Because whatever I do and whatever you do, I shall love +you!" But she had hurt him twice. She had cut him to the very core. +He couldn't forget. He was too proud to lay himself open to yet +another of her laughing snubs. + +So he shook his head again. "I dunno," he said. "It's like that. +It's something that can't be explained." + +She sat on the arm of the chair with her hands round a knee. A +little of her pink ankle showed. The pipe that she had dropped when +his voice had come up from the street lay on the floor. + +His answer had disappointed her; she didn't quite know why. The old +Marty would have been franker and more spontaneous. The old Marty +might have made her laugh with his boyish ingenuousness, but he +would have warmed her and made her feel delightfully vain. Could it +be that she was responsible for this new Marty? Was Alice too +terribly right when she had talked about armor turning into +broadcloth because of her selfish desire to remain a kid a little +longer? She was afraid to ask him where he was when he had felt that +she wanted him, and she hated herself for that. + +There was a short silence. + +These two young things had lost the complete confidence that had +been theirs before they had come to that great town. What a pity! + +"Well," he asked, standing straight like a man ready to take orders, +"why did you call?" + +And then an overwhelming shyness seized her. It had seemed easy +enough in thought to tell Martin that she was ready to cross the +bridge and be, as Alice had called it, honest, and as Gilbert had +said, to play the game. But it was far from easy when he stood in +the middle of the room in the glare of the light, with something all +about him that froze her words and made her self-conscious and +timid. And yet a clear, unmistakable voice urged her to have courage +and make her confession, say that she was sorry for having been a +feather-brained little fool and ask him to forgive--to win him back, +if--if she hadn't already lost him. + +But she blundered into an answer and spoke flippantly from +nervousness. "Because it's rather soon to become a grass widow, and +I want you to be seen with me somewhere to-morrow." + +That was all, then. She was only amusing herself. It was a case of +"Horse, horse, play with me!"--the other horses being otherwise +occupied. She wasn't serious. He needn't have come. "I can't," he +said. "I'm sorry, but I'm going out of town." + +She saw him look at the clock on the mantelshelf and crinkle up his +forehead. Day must be stretching itself somewhere. She got up, +quickly. How could she say it? She was losing him. + +"Are you angry with me, Marty?" she asked, trying to fumble her way +to honesty. + +"No, Joan. But it's very late. You ought to be in bed." + +"Didn't you think that I should miss you while you've been away?" + +"No, Joan. Look. It's half-past two. A kid like you ought to have +been asleep hours ago." He went over to the door. + +"I'm not a kid--I'm not" she burst out. + +He was too tired to be surprised. He had not forgotten how she had +hidden behind her youth. He couldn't understand her mood. "I must +get to bed," he said, "if you don't mind. I must be up pretty early. +Run along, Joany." + +He couldn't have hurt her more awfully whatever he had said. To be +treated like a naughty girl! But it served her right, and she knew +it. Her plea had come back like a boomerang. + +"Well, have a good time," she said, with her chin high. "I shall see +you again some day, I suppose," and she went out. + +It was no use. She had lost him--she had lost him, just as she had +discovered that she wanted him. There was a girl with a white face +and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle. Martin watched her +go and shut the door, and stood with his hands over his face. + + + + +VIII + + +Mr. and Mrs. George Harley had made an appointment to meet at half- +past eleven sharp on the doorstep of the little house in Sixty- +seventh Street. Business had interrupted their honeymoon and brought +them unexpectedly to New York. Harley had come by subway from Wall +Street to the Grand Central and taken a taxicab. It was twelve +o'clock before he arrived. Nevertheless he wore a smile of placid +ease of mind. His little wife had only to walk from the Plaza, it +was true, but he knew, although a newly married man, that to be half +an hour late was to be ten minutes early. + +At exactly five minutes past twelve he saw her turn off the Avenue, +and as he strolled along to meet her, charmed and delighted by her +daintiness, proud and happy at his possession of her, he did a thing +that all wise and tactful husbands do--he forced back an +irresistible desire to be humorous at her expense and so won an +entry of approval from the Recording Angel. + +If they had both been punctual they would have seen Martin go off in +his car to drive the girl who had had no luck to the trees and the +wild flowers and the good green earth. + +Joan's mother, all agog to see the young couple who had taken life +into their own hands with the sublime faith of youth, had made it +her first duty to call, however awkward and unusual the hour. Her +choice of hats in which to do so had been a matter of the utmost +importance. + +They were told that Mr. Gray had gone out of town, that Mrs. Gray +was not yet awake and followed the butler upstairs to the drawing- +room with a distinct sense of disappointment. The room still +quivered under the emotion of Gilbert Palgrave. + +Rather awkwardly they waited to be alone. Butlers always appear to +resent the untimely visitation of relations. Sunlight poured in +through the windows. It was a gorgeous morning. + +"Well," said George Harley, "I've seen my brokers and can do nothing +more to-day. Let the child have her sleep out. I'm just as happy to +be here with you, Lil, as anywhere else." And he bent over his wife +as if he were her lover, as indeed he was, and kissed her pretty +ear. His clothes were very new and his collar the shade of an inch +too high for comfort and his patent leather shoes something on the +tight side, but the spirits of the great lovers had welcomed him and +were unafraid. + +He won a most affectionate and grateful smile from the neat little +lady whose brown hair was honestly tinged with white, and whose +unlined face was innocent of make-up. Mrs. Harley had not yet +recovered from her astonishment at having been swept to the altar +after fifteen years of widowhood by this most simple and admirable +man. Even then she was not quite sure that she was not dreaming all +this. She patted his big hand and would have put her head aganst his +chest if the brim of her hat had permitted her to do so. + +"That's very sweet of you, Geordie," she said. "How good you are to +me." + +He echoed the word "Good!" and laughed and waved his hands. It was +the gesture of a man whose choice of ready words was not large +enough to describe all that he longed and tried to be to her. And +then he stood back with his long legs wide apart and his large hands +thrust into his pockets and his rather untidy gray head stuck on one +side and studied her as if she were a picture in a gallery. He +looked like a great big faithful St. Bernard dog. + +Mrs. Harley didn't think so. He seemed to her to be the boy of whom +she had dreamed in her first half-budding dreams and who had gone +wandering and come under the hand of Time, but remained a boy in his +heart. She was glad that she had made him change his tie. She loved +those deep cuts in his face. + +"Very well, then," she said. "Although it is twelve o'clock I'll let +her sleep another half an hour." And then she stopped with a little +cry of dismay, "Let her! . . . I'm forgetting that it's no longer in +my power to say what she's to do or not to do!" + +"How's that?" + +"She's no longer the young, big-eyed, watchful child who startled us +by saying uncanny things. She's no longer the slip of a thing that I +left with her grandparents, with her wistful eyes on the horizon. +She's a married woman, Geordie, with a house of her own, and it +isn't for me to 'let' her do anything or tell her or even ask her. +She can do what she likes now. I've lost her, Geordie." + +"Why, how's that, Lil?" There was surprise as well as sympathy in +Harley's voice. He had only known other people's children. + +She went on quickly, with a queer touch of emotion. "The inevitable +change has come before I've had time to realize it. It's a shock. It +takes my breath away. I feel as if I had been set adrift from an +anchor. Instead of being my little girl she's my daughter now. I'm +no longer 'mammy.' I'm mother. Isn't it,--isn't it wonderful? It's +like standing under a mountain that's always seemed to be a little +hill miles and miles away. From now on I shall be the one to be told +to do things, I shall be the child to be kept in order. It's a queer +moment in the life of a mother, Geordie." + +She laughed, but she didn't catch her tears before they were halfway +down her cheeks. "I'm an old lady, my dear." + +Harley gave one of his hearty, incredulous laughs. "You, old. You're +one of the everlasting young ones, you are, Lil," and he stood and +beamed with love and admiration. + +"But I've got you, Geordie," she added, and her surprised heart that +had suddenly felt so empty warmed again and was soothed when he took +her hand eagerly and pressed it to his lips. + +Grandfather and Grandmother Ludlow, Joan and many others who had +formed the habit of believing that Christopher Ludlow's widow would +remain true to his memory, failed utterly to understand the reason +for her sudden breakaway from a settled and steady routine, to +plunge into belated matrimony with a self-made man of fifty-five who +seemed to them to be not only devoid of all attractiveness but +bourgeois and rather ridiculous. But why? A little sympathy, a +little knowledge of human nature,--that's all that was necessary to +make this romance understandable. Because it was romance, in the +best sense of that much abused word. It was not the romance defined +in the dictionary as an action or adventure of an unusual or +wonderful character, soaring beyond the limits of fact and real life +and often of probability, but the result of loneliness and middle +age, and of two hearts starving for love and the expression of love, +for sympathy, companionship and the natural desire for something +that would feed vanity, which, if it is permitted to die, is +replaced by bitterness and a very warped point of view. + +Christopher Ludlow, a wild, harum-scarum fellow who had risked his +life many times during his hunting trips, came to his death in a +prosaic street accident. For fifteen years his widow, then twenty- +five, lived in the country with his parents and his little daughter. +She was at their mercy, because Christopher had left no money. He +had been dependent on an allowance from his father. Either she lived +with them and bore cheerfully and tactfully with their increasing +crotchetiness and impatience of old age, or left them to eke out a +purposely small income in a second-rate hotel or a six by six +apartment barely on the edge of the map. A timid woman, all for +peace, without the grit and courage that goes with self-direction, +she pursued the easy policy of least resistance, sacrificed her +youth on the altar of Comfort and dwindled with only a few secret +pangs into middle age. From time to time, with Joan, she left the +safe waters of Lethe and put an almost frightened foot into the +swift main stream. As time went on and Spring went out of her and +Summer ripened to maturity, she was more and more glad to return +from these brief excursions to the quiet country and the safe +monotonous round. Then the day came when her no longer little girl +came finally out of school, urgent and rebellious, kicking against +the pricks, electrically alive and eager, autocrat and individualist +rolled into one. Catching something of this youthfulness and shocked +to wake to a realization of her lost years, she made a frantic and +despairing effort to grasp at the tail-end of Summer and with a +daughter far more wordly than herself escaped as frequently as +possible into town to taste the pleasures that she had almost +forgotten, and revive under the influence of the theater and the +roar of life. It was during one of these excursions, while Joan was +lunching with Alice Palgrave, that she caught an arrow shot at +random by that mischievous little devil Cupid, which landed plum in +the middle of a heart that had been placid so long. In getting out +of a taxicab she had slipped and fallen, was raised deferentially to +her feet, and looked up to catch the lonely and bewildered eyes of +George Harley. They were outside their mutual hotel. What more +natural and courteous than that he should escort her into the hotel +with many expressions of anxious regret, ascend with her in the +elevator to their mutual floor, linger with her for a polite few +minutes in the sunlight that poured through the passage windows and +leave her to hurry finally to her room thrilling under the +recollection of two admiring eyes and a lingering handshake? She, +even she, then, at her time of life, plump and partridge-like as she +was, could inspire the interest and approval of a man. It was +wonderful. It was absurd. It was . . . altogether too good to be +true! Later, after she had spent a half-amused, half-wistful quarter +of an hour in front of her glass, seeing inescapable white hairs and +an irremediable double chin, she had gone down to the dining room +for lunch. All the tables being occupied, what more natural or +disconcerting than for this modern Raleigh to rise and rather +clumsily and eagerly beg that she would share the one just allotted +to himself. + +To the elderly man, whose nose had been too close to the grindstone +to permit of dalliance, and who now, monied and retired, found +himself terribly alone in the pale sun of St. Martin's Summer, and +to the little charming woman of forty, led back to life by an ardent +and impetuous girl, this quite ordinary everyday incident, which +seemed to them to be touched by romance, came at a moment when both +were pathetically receptive. They arranged to meet again, they met +again, and one fine afternoon while Joan was at a theater with +Alice, he spoke and she listened. It was in the more than usually +hotel-like drawing-room of their mutual hotel. People were having +tea, and the band was playing. There was a jangle of voices, the +jingle of a musical comedy, the movement of waiters. Under the +leaves of a tame palm which once had known the gorgeous freedom of a +semi-tropical forest he stumbled over a proposal, the honest, +fearful, pulsating proposal of a man who conceived that he was +trying hopelessly to hitch his wagon to a star, and she, tremulous, +amazed, and on the verge of tears, accepted him. Hers presumably the +dreadful ordeal of facing an incredulous daughter and two sarcastic +parents-in-law and his of standing for judgment before them,-- +argument, discussion, satire, irony, abuse even,--a quiet and +determined marriage and a new and beautiful life. + +"What a delightful room," said Mrs. Harley. "It looks so comfortable +for a drawing-room that it must have been furnished by a man." + +"We'll have a house in town by October, around here, and I'll bet it +won't be uncomfortable when you've finished with it." + +The raucous shouts of men crying an "extra" took Harley quickly to +the open window. He watched one scare-monger edge his way up one +side of the street and another, whose voice was like the jagged edge +of a rusty saw, bandy leg his way up the other side. "Sounds like +big sea battle," he said, after listening carefully. "Six German +warships sunk, five British. Horrible loss of life. But I may be +wrong. These men do their best not to be quite understood. Only six +German ships! I wish the whole fleet of those dirty dogs could be +sunk to the bottom." + +There was nothing neutral or blind-eyed about George Harley. He had +followed all the moves that had forced the war upon the nations +whose spineless and inefficient governments had so long been playing +the policy of the ostrich. He had nothing but detestation for the +vile and ruthless methods of the German war party and nation and +nothing but contempt for the allied politicians who had made such +methods possible. He had followed the course of the war with pain, +anguish and bated breath, thrilling at the supreme bravery of the +Belgians and the French, and the First Hundred Thousand, thanking +God for the miracle that saved Paris from desecration, and paying +honest tribute to the giant effort of the British to wipe out the +stain of a scandalous and criminal unpreparedness. He had squirmed +with humiliation at the attempts of the little, dreadful clever +people of his own country,--professors, parsons, pacifists and pro- +Germans,--to prove that it was the duty of the United States to +stand aloof and unmoved in the face of a menace which affected +herself in no less a degree than it affected the nations then +fighting for their lives, and had watched with increasing alarm the +fatuous complacency of Congress which continued to deceive itself +into believing that a great stretch of mere water rendered the +country immune from taking its honest part in its own war. "Oh, my +God," he had said in his heart, as all clear-sighted Americans had +been saying, "has commercialism eaten into our very vitals? Has the +good red blood of the early pioneers turned to water? Are we without +the nerve any longer to read the writing on the wall?" And the only +times that his national pride had been able to raise its head +beneath the weight of shame and foreboding were those when he passed +the windows of Red Cross Depots and caught sight of a roomful of +good and noble women feverishly at work on bandages; when he read of +the keen and splendid training voluntarily undergone by the far- +sighted men who were making Plattsburg the nucleus of an officers' +training corps, when he was told how many of his young and red- +blooded fellow-countrymen had taken up arms with the Canadian +contingents or had slipped over to France as ambulance men. What +would he not have given to be young again! + +He heaved a great sigh and turned back to the precious little woman +who had placed her life into his hands for love. The hoarse alarming +voices receded into the distance, leaving their curious echo behind. + +"What were we talking about?" he asked. "Oh, ah, yes. The house. +Lil, during the few days that I have to be in the city, let's find +the house, let's nose around and choose the roof under which you and +I will spend all the rest of our honeymoon. What do you say, dear?" + +"I'd love it, Geordie; I'd just love it. A little house, smaller +than this, with windows that catch the sun, quite near the Park, so +that we can toddle across and watch the children playing. Wouldn't +that be nice? And now I think I'll ring for some one to show me +Joan's room and creep in and suggest that she gets up." + +But there was no need. The door opened, and Joan came in, with eyes +like stars. + + + + +IX + + +Three o'clock that afternoon found the Harleys still in Martin's +house, with Mrs. Harley fidgetting to get George out for a walk in +order that she might enjoy an intimate, mother-talk with Joan, and +Joan deliberately using all her gifts to keep him there in order to +avoid it. + +Lunch had been a simple enough affair as lunches go, lifted above +the ordinary ruck of such meals by the 1906 Chateau Latour and the +Courvoisier Cognac from the cellar carefully stocked by Martin's +father. From the psychological side of it, however, nothing could +well have been more complicated. George had not forgotten his +reception by the Ludlows that day of his ever-to-be-remembered visit +of inspection--the cold, satirical eyes of Grandmother, the freezing +courtesy of Grandfather, and the silent, eloquent resentment of the +girl who saw herself on the verge of desertion by the one person who +made life worth living in intermittent spots. He was nervous and +overanxious to appear to advantage. The young thoroughbred at the +head of the table who had given him a swift all-embracing look, an +enigmatical smile and a light laughing question as to whether he +would like to be called "Father, papa, Uncle George or what" awed +him. He couldn't help feeling like a clumsy piece of modern pottery +in the presence of an exquisite specimen of porcelain. His hands and +feet multiplied themselves, and his vocabulary seemed to contain no +more than a dozen slang phrases. He was conscious of the fact that +his collar was too high and his clothes a little too bold in +pattern, and he was definitely certain for the first time in his +life, that he had not yet discovered a barber who knew how to cut +hair. + +Overeager to emphasize her realization of the change in her +relationship to Joan, overanxious to let it be seen at once that she +was merely an affectionate and interested visitor and not a mother +with a budget of suggestions and corrections and rearrangements, +Mrs. Harley added to the complication. Usually the most natural +woman in the world with a soft infectious laugh, a rather shrewd +humor and a neat gift of comment, she assumed a metallic +artificiality that distressed herself and surprised Joan. She +babbled about absolutely nothing by the yard, talked over George's +halting but gallant attempts to make things easy like any Clubwoman, +and in an ultra-scrupulous endeavor to treat Joan as if she were a +woman of the world, long emancipated from maternal apron strings, +said things to her, inane, insincere things, that she would not have +said to a complete stranger on the veranda of a summer hotel or the +sun deck of a transatlantic liner. She hated herself and was +terrified. + +For two reasons this unexpected lunch was an ordeal so far as Joan +was concerned. She remembered how antagonistic she had been to +Harley under the first rough shock of her mother's startling and +what then had appeared to be disloyal aberration, and wanted to make +up for it to the big, simple, uncomfortable man who was so obviously +in love. Also she was still all alone in the mental chaos into which +everything that had happened last night had conspired to plunge her +and was trying, with every atom of courage that she possessed, to +hide the fact from her mother's quick solicitous eyes. SHE of all +people must not know that Martin had gone away or find the loose end +of her married life! + +It was one of those painful hours that crop up from time to time in +life and seem to leave a little scratch upon the soul. + +But when quarter past three came Mrs. Harley pulled herself +together. She had already dropped hints of every known and well- +recognized kind to George, without success. She had even invented +appointments for him at the dentist's and the tailor's. But George +was basking in Joan's favor and was too dazzled to be able to catch +and concentrate upon his wife's insinuations as to things and people +that didn't exist. And Joan held him with her smile and led him from +one anecdote to another. Finally, with no one realized how supreme +an effort, Mrs. Harley came to the point. As a rule she never came +to points. + +"Geordie," she said, seizing a pause, "you may run along now, dear, +and take a walk. It will do you good to get a little exercise before +dinner. I want to be alone with Joan for a while." + +And before Joan could swing the conversation off at a tangent the +faithful and obedient St. Bernard was on his feet, ready and willing +to ramble whichever way he was told to go. With unconscious dignity +and a guilelessness utteriy unknown to drawing-rooms he bent over +Joan's reluctant hand and said, "Thank you for being so kind to me," +laid a hearty kiss on his wife's cheek and went. + +"And now, darling," said Mrs. Harley, settling into her chair with +an air of natural triumph, "tell me where Martin is and how long +he's going to be away and all about everything." + +These were precisely the questions that Joan had worked so hard and +skilfully to dodge. "Well, first of all, Mummy," she said, with +filial artfulness, "you must come and see the house." + +And Mrs. Harley, who had been consumed with the usual feminine +curiosity to examine every corner and cranny of it, rose with +alacrity. "What I've already seen is all charming," she said. "I +knew Martin's father, you know. He spent a great deal of time at his +house near your grandfather's, and was nearly always in the saddle. +He was not a bit like one's idea of a horsey man. He was, in fact, a +gentleman who was fond of horses. There is a world of difference. He +had a most delightful smile and was the only man I ever met, except +your grandfather, who could drink too much wine without showing it. +Who's this good-looking boy with the trustworthy eyes?" + +"Martin," said Joan. "Martin," she added inwardly, "who treated me +like a kid last night." + +Mrs. Harley looked up at the portrait. An involuntary smiled played +round her mouth. "Yes, of course. I remember him. What a dear boy! +No wonder you fell in love with him, darling. You must be very +happy." + +Joan followed her mother out of the room. She was glad of the chance +to control her expression. She went upstairs with a curious lack of +the spirit of proprietorship. It hurt her to feel as if she were +showing a house taken furnished for the season in which she had no +rights, no pride and no personal interest. Martin had treated her +like a kid last night and gone away in the morning without a word. +Alice and Gilbert had taunted her with not being a wife. She wasn't, +and this was Martin's house, not hers and Martin's . . . it hurt. + +"Ah," said Mrs. Harley softly as she went into Joan's bedroom. "Ah. +Very nice. You both have room to move here." But the mass of little +filet lace pillows puzzled her, and she darted a quick look at the +tall young thing with the inscrutable face who had ceased to be her +little girl and had become her daughter. + +"The sun pours in," said Joan, turning away. + +Mrs. Harley noticed a door and brightened up. + +"Martin's dressing room?" she asked. "No. My maid's room!" Joan +said. + +Mrs. Harley shook her head ever so little. She was not in sympathy +with what she called new-fashioned ideas. It was on the tip of her +tongue to say so and to forget, just this once, the inevitable +change in their relationship and speak like mammy once more. But she +was a timid, sensitive little woman, and the indefinable barrier +that had suddenly sprung up held her back. Joan made no attempt to +meet her halfway. The moment passed. + +They went along the passage. "There are Martin's rooms," said Joan. + +Mrs. Harley went halfway in. "Like a bachelor's rooms, aren't they?" +she said, without guile. And while she glanced at the pictures and +the crowded bootrack and the old tallboys, Joan's sudden color went +away again. . . . He was a bachelor. He had left her on the other +side of the bridge. He had hurt her last night. How awfully she must +have hurt him! + +"When will Martin be back?" + +"I don't know," said Joan. "Probably to-morrow. I'm not sure." She +stumbled a little, realized that she was giving herself away,-- +because if a bride is not to know her husband's movements, who is?-- +and made a desperate effort to recover her position. "It all depends +on how long he's kept. But he needed exercise, and golf's such a +good game, isn't it? I sha'n't hurry him back." + +She looked straight into her mother's anxious eyes, saw them clear, +saw a smile come--and took a deep breath of relief. If there was one +thing that she had to put up the most strenuous fight to avoid, in +her present chaotic state of mind, it was a direct question as to +her life with Martin. Of all people, her mother must be left in the +belief that she was happy. Pride demanded that, even to the extent +of lying. It was hard luck to be caught by her mother, at the very +moment when she was standing among all the debris of her kid's +ideas, among all the broken beams of carelessness, and the shattered +panes of high spirits. + +She was thankful that her mother was not one of those aggressive, +close-questioning women, utterly devoid of sensitiveness and +delicacy who are not satisfied until they have forced open all the +secret drawers of the mind and stuck the contents on a bill file,-- +one of those hard-bosomed women who stump into church as they stump +into a department store with an air of "Now then, what can you show +me that's new," who go about with a metaphorical set of burglar's +tools in a large bag with which to break open confidences and who +have no faith in human nature. + +And with a sudden sense of gratitude she turned to the woman whom +she had always accepted as a fact, an institution, and looked at her +with new eyes, a new estimate and a new emotion. The little, loving, +gentle, anxious woman with the capacity of receiving impressions +from external objects that amounted to a gift but with a reticence +of so fine and tender a quality that she seemed always to stand on +tiptoes on the delicate ground of people's feelings, was HERS, was +her mother. The word burst into a new meaning, blossomed into a new +truth. She had been accepted all these years,--loved, in a sort of +way; obeyed, perhaps, expected to do things and provide things and +make things easy, and here she stood more needed, at the moment when +she imagined that the need of her had passed, than at any other time +of her motherhood. + +In a flash Joan understood all this and its paradox, looked all the +way back along the faithful, unappreciated years, and being no +longer a child was stirred with a strange maternal fellow feeling +that started her tears. Nature is merciless. Everything is +sacrificed to youth. Birds build their nests and rear their young +and are left as soon as wings are ready. Women marry and bear +children and bring them up with love and sacrifice, only to be +relegated to a second place at the first moment of independence. +Joan saw this then. Her mother's altered attitude, and her own +feeling of having grown out of maternal possession brought it before +her. She saw the underlying drama of this small inevitable scene in +the divine comedy of life and was touched by a great sympathy and +made sorry and ashamed. + +But pride came between her and a desire to go down on her knees at +her mother's side, make a clean breast of everything and beg for +advice and help. + +And so these two, between whom there should have been complete +confidence, were like people speaking to each other from opposite +banks of a stream, conscious of being overheard. + + + + +X + + +Day after day went by with not a word from Martin. April was +slipping off the calendar. A consistent blue sky hung over a teeming +city that grew warm and dry beneath a radiant sun. Winter forgotten, +spring an overgrown boy, the whole town underwent a subtle change. +Its rather sullen winter expression melted into a smile, and all its +foreign characteristics and color broke out once more under the +influence of sun and blue sky. Alone among the great cities of the +world stands New York for contrariety and contrast. Its architecture +is as various as its citizenship, its manners are as dissimilar as +its accents, its moods as diverse as its climate. Awnings appeared, +straw hats peppered the streets like daisies in long fields, shadows +moved, days lengthened, and the call of the country fell on city +ears like the thin wistful notes of the pipes of Pan. + +Brought up against a black wall Joan left the Roundabout, desisted +from joy-riding, and, spending most of her time with her mother, +tried secretly and without any outward sign, to regain her +equilibrium. She saw nothing of Alice and the set, now beginning to +scatter, in which Alice had placed her. She was consistently out to +Gilbert Palgrave and the other men who had been gathering hotly at +her heels. Her policy of "who cares?" had received a shock and left +her reluctantly and impatiently serious. She had withdrawn +temporarily into a backwater in order to think things over and wait +for Martin to reappear. It seemed to her that her future way of life +was in his hands. If Martin came back soon and caught her in her +present mood she would play the game according to the rules. If he +stayed away or, coming back, persisted in considering her as a kid +and treating her as such, away would go seriousness, life being +short, and youth but a small part of it, and back she would go to +the Merry-go-round, and once more, at twice the pace, with twice the +carelessness, the joy-ride would continue. It was all up to Martin, +little as he knew it. + +And where was Martin? + +There was no letter, no message, no sign as day followed day. +Without allowing herself to send out an S. O. S. to him, which she +well knew that she had the power to do, she waited, as one waits at +crossroads, to go either one way or the other. Although tempted many +times to tap the invisible wire which stretched between them, and to +put an end to a state of uncertainty which was indescribably irksome +to her impulsive and imperative nature, she held her hand. Pride +steeled her, and vanity gave her temporary patience. She even went +so far as to think of him under another name so that no influence of +hers might bring him back. She wanted him to return naturally, on +his own account, because he was unable to keep away. She wanted him, +wherever he was and whatever he was doing, to want her, not to come +in cold blood from a sense of duty, in the spirit of martyrdom. She +wanted him, for her pride's sake, to be again the old eager Marty, +the burning-eyed, inarticulate Marty, who had brought her to his +house and laid it at her feet with all that was his. In no other way +was she prepared to cross what she thought of as the bridge. + +And so, seeing only her mother and George Harley, she waited, saying +to herself confidently "If he doesn't come to-day, he will come to- +morrow. I told him that I was a kid, and he understood. I've hurt +him awfully, but he loves me. He will come to-morrow." + +But to-morrow came and where was Martin? + +It was a curious time for this girl-woman to go through alone, +hiding her crisis from her mother behind smiling eyes, disguising +her anxiety under a cloak of high spirits, herself hurt but +realizing that she had committed a hurt. It made her feel like an +aeroplane voluntarily landed in perfect condition at the start of a +race, waiting for the pilot to get aboard. That he would return at +any moment and take her up again she never doubted. Why should she? +She knew Martin. His eyes won confidence, and there was a heart of +gold behind his smile. She didn't believe that she could have lost +him so soon. He would come back because he loved her. Hadn't he +agreed that she was a kid? And when he did come back she would take +her courage in both hands and tell him that she wanted to play the +game. And then, having been honest, she would hitch on to life again +with a light heart, and neither Alice nor Gilbert could stand up and +flick her conscience. Martin would be happy. + +To-morrow and to-morrow, and no Martin. + +At the end of a week a letter was received by her mother from +Grandmother Ludlow, in which, with a tinge of sarcasm, she asked +that she might be honored by a visit of a few days, always supposing +that trains still ran between New York and Peapack and gasolene +could still be procured for privately owned cars. And there was a +postscript in these words. "Perhaps you have the necessary eloquence +to induce the athletic Mrs. Martin Gray to join you." + +The letter was handed to Joan across the luncheon table at the +Plaza. She read the characteristic effusion with keen amusement. She +could hear the old lady's incisive voice in every word and the tap +of her stick across the hall as she laid the letter in the box. How +good to see the country again and go through the woods to the old +high place where she had turned and found Martin. How good to go +back to that old prison house as an independent person, with the +right to respect and even consideration. It would serve Martin right +to find her away when he came back. She would leave a little note on +his dressing table. + +"No wonder the old lady asks if the trains have broken down," said +Mrs. Harley. "Of course, we ought to have gone out to see her, +Geordie." + +"Of course," said George, "of course"--but he darted a glance at +Joan which very plainly conveyed the hope that she would find some +reason why the visit should not be made. Would he ever forget +standing in that stiff drawing-room before that contemptuous old +dame, feeling exactly like a very small worm? + +The strain of waiting for Martin day after day had told on Joan. She +longed for a change of atmosphere, a change of scene. And what a +joke it would be to be able to face her grandfather and grandmother +without shaking in her shoes! "Of course," said Joan. "Let's drive +out to-day in time for dinner, and send a telegram at once. Nothing +like striking while the iron's hot. Papa Geordie, tell the waiter to +bring a blank, and we'll concoct a message between us. Is that all +right for you, Mother?" + +Mrs. Harley looked rather like a woman being asked to run a quarter +of a mile to catch a train, but she gave a little laugh and said, +"Yes, dear. I think so, although, perhaps, to-morrow--" + +"To-day is a much better word," said Joan. She was sick of to-morrow +and to-morrow. "Packing won't take any time. I'll go home directly +after lunch and set things moving and be here in the car at three +thirty. We can see the trees and smell the ferns and watch the sun +set before we have to change for dinner. I'm dying to do that." + +No arguments or objections were put forward. + +This impetuous young thing must have her way. + +And when the car drove away from the Plaza a few minutes after the +appointed time Joan was as excited as a child, Mrs. Harley quite +certain that she had forgotten her sponge bag and her bedroom +slippers, and George Harley betting on a time that would put more +lines on his face. + +There was certainly more than a touch of irony in Joan's gladness to +go back so soon to the cage from which she had escaped with such +eagerness. + +There had been no word and no sign of Martin. + +But as Joan had run upstairs Gilbert Palgrave had come out from the +drawing-room and put himself deliberately in her way. + +"I can't stay now, Gilbert," she had said. "I'm going into the +country, and I haven't half a second to spare. I'm so sorry." + +He had held his place. "You've got to give me five minutes. You've +got to," and something in his eyes had made her take hold of her +impatience. + +"You don't know what you're doing to me," he had said, with no sign +of his usual style and self-consciousness, but simply, like a man +who had sat in the dark and suffered. "Or if you do know your +cruelty is inhuman. I've tried to see you every day--not to talk +about myself or bore you with my love, but just to look at you. +You've had me turned away as if I were a poor relation. You've sent +your maid to lie to me over the telephone as if I were a West Point +cadet in a primitive state of sloppy sentiment. Don't do it. It +isn't fair. I hauled down my fourth wall to you, and however much +you may scorn what you saw there you must respect it. Love must +always be respected. It's the rarest thing on earth. I'm here to +tell you that you must let me see you, just see you. I've waited for +many years for this. I'm all upheaved. You've exploded me. I'm +different. I'm remade. I'm beginning again. I shall ask for nothing +but kindness until I've made you love me, and then I shall not have +to ask. You will come to me. I can wait. That's all I want you to +know. When you come back ring me up. I'll be patient." + +With that he had stood aside with a curious humbleness, had gripped +the hand that she had given him and had gone downstairs and away. + +The country round Peapack was in its first glorious flush of young +beauty. The green of everything dazzled under the sun. The woods +were full of the echo of fairy laughter. Wild flowers ran riot among +the fields. Delicate-footed May was following on the heels of April +with its slight fingers full of added glory for the earth. + +There was something soft and English in the look of the trees and +fields as they came nearer to the old house. They might have been +driving through the kind garden of Kent. + +Framed in the fine Colonial doorway stood the tall old man with his +white head and fireless eyes, the little distinguished woman still +charged with electricity and the two veteran dogs with their hollow +barks. + +"Not one blushing bride, but two," said Grandmother Ludlow. "How +romantic." She presented her cheek to the nervous Mrs. Harley. "You +look years younger, my dear. Quite fluttery and foolish. How do you +do, Mr. Harley? You are very welcome, Sir." She passed them both on +to the old man and turned to Joan with the kind of smile that one +sees on the faces of Chinese gods. "And here is our little girl in +whose marvellous happiness we have all rejoiced." + +Joan stood up bravely to the little old lady whose sarcasm went home +like the sharp point of a rapier. + +"How do you do, dear Grandmamma," she said. + +"No better than can be expected, my love, but no worse." The queer +smile broadened. "But surely you haven't torn yourself away from the +young husband from whom, I hear, you have never been parted for a +moment? That I can't believe. People tell me that there has never +been such a devoted and love-sick couple. Martin Gray is driving +another car, of course." + +Joan never flicked an eyelash. She would rather die than let this +cunning old lady have the satisfaction of seeing that she had drawn +blood. "No, Grandmamma," she said. "Martin needed exercise and is +playing golf at Shinnecock. He rang me up this morning and asked me +to say how sorry he was not to have the pleasure of seeing you this +time." She went over to her grandfather and held up a marvellously +equable face. + +The old dame watched her with reluctant admiration. The child had +all the thoroughbred points of a Ludlow. All the same she should be +shown that, even in the twentieth century, young girls could not +break away from discipline and flout authority without punishment. +The smile became almost gleeful at the thought of the little +surprise that was in store for her. + +The old sportsman took Joan in his arms and held her tight for a +moment. "I've missed you, my dear," he said. "The house has been +like a mausoleum without you. But I've no reproaches. Youth to +youth,--it's right and proper." And he led her into the lofty hall +with his arm round her shoulder. + +There was a sinister grin on Gleave's poacher-like face when Joan +gave him a friendly nod. And it was with a momentary spasm of +uneasiness that she asked herself what he and her grandmother knew. +It was evident that they had something up their sleeves. But when, +after a tea during which she continued to fence and play the part of +happy bride, she went out into the scented garden that was like an +old and loving friend, this premonition of something evil left her. +With every step she felt herself greeted and welcomed. Young flowers +as guileless as children waved their green hands. Heads nodded as +she passed. The old trees that had watched her grow up rustled their +leaves in affectionate excitement. She had not understood until that +very moment how many true friends she had or how warm a place in her +heart that old house had taken. It was with a curious maternal +emotion that clouded her eyes with tears that she stood for a moment +and kissed her hands to the right and left like a young queen to her +subjects. Then she ran along the familiar path through the woods to +the spot where she had been found by Martin and stood once more +facing the sweep of open country and the distant horizon beyond +which lay the Eldorado of her girl's dreams. She was still a girl, +but she had come back hurt and sorry and ashamed. Martin might have +lost his faith in her. He had gone away without a word or sign. +Gilbert Palgrave held her in such small respect that he waited with +patience for her to come, although married, into his arms. And there +was not a man or a woman on the Round-about, except Alice, who +really cared whether she ever went back again. The greedy squirrel +peeked at her from behind a fern, recognized his old playmate, and +came forward in a series of runs and leaps. With a little cry Joan +bent down and held out her hand. And away in the distance there was +the baying of Martin's hounds. But where was Martin? + + + + +XI + + +"Rather beg than work, wouldn't he? I call him Micawber because he's +always waiting for something to turn up." + +Joan wheeled round. To hear a stranger's voice in a place that was +peculiarly hers and Martin's amazed and offended her. It was +unbelievable. + +A girl was sitting in the long grass, hatless, with her hands +clasped round her knees. The sun lit up her bobbed hair that shone +like brass and had touched her white skin with a warm finger. +Wistful and elfish, sitting like Puck on a toadstool, she might have +slipped out of some mossy corner of the woods to taste the breeze +and speculate about life. She wore a butter-colored sport shirt wide +open at the neck and brown cord riding breeches and puttees. Slight +and small boned and rather thin she could easily have passed for a +delicate boy or, except for something at the back of her eyes that +showed that she had not always lived among trees, for Peter Pan's +brother of whom the world had never heard. + +Few people would have recognized in this spring maid the Tootles of +Broadway and that rabbit warren in West Forty-sixth Street. The dew +of the country had washed her face and lips, and the choir voices of +Martin's big cathedral had put peace and gentleness into her +expression. + +She ran her eyes with frank admiration over the unself-consciously +patrician Joan in her immaculate town clothes and let them rest +finally on a face that seemed to her to be the most attractive that +she had ever seen, for all that its expression made her want to +scramble to her feet and take to her heels. But she controlled +herself and sat tight, summoned her native impertinence to the +rescue and gave a friendly nod. After all, it was a free country. +There were no princesses knocking about. + +"You don't look as if you were a pal of squirrels," she said. + +Joan's resentment at the unexpected presence of this interloper only +lasted a moment. It gave way almost immediately before interest and +curiosity and liking,--even, for a vague reason, sympathy. + +"I've known this one all his life," she said. "His father and mother +were among my most intimate friends and, what's more, his +grandfather and grandmother relied on me to help them out in bad +times." + +The duet of laughter echoed among the trees. + +With a total lack of dignity the squirrel retired and stood, with +erect tail, behind a tuft of coarse grass, wondering what had +happened. + +"It's a gift to be country and look town," said Tootles, with +unconcealed flattery. "It's having as many ancestors as the +squirrels, I suppose. According to the rules I ought to feel +awkward, oughtn't I?" + +"Why?" + +"Well, I'm trespassing. I saw it in your eyes. 'Pon my soul it never +occurred to me before. Shall I try and make a conventional exit or +may I stay if I promise not to pinch the hill? This view is better +than face massage. It rubs out all the lines. My word, but it's good +to be alive up here!" + +The mixture of cool cheek and ecstasy, given forth in the patois of +the London suburbs, amused Joan. Here was a funny, whimsical, +pathetic, pretty little thing, she thought--queerly wise, too, and +with all about her a curious appeal for friendship and kindness. +"Stay, of course," she said. "I'm very glad you like my hill. Use it +as often as you can." She sat down on the flat-topped piece of rock +that she had so often shared with Martin. There was a sense of +humanity about this girl that had the effect of a magnet. She +inspired confidence, as Martin did. + +"Thanks most awfully," said Tootles. "You're kinder than you think +to let me stay here. And I'm glad you're going to sit down for a +bit. I like you, and I don't mind who knows it." + +"And I like you," said Joan. + +And they both laughed again, feeling like children. It was a +characteristic trick of Fate's to bring about this meeting. + +"I don't mind telling you now," went on Tootles, all barriers down, +"that I've come up here every evening for a week. It's a thousand +years since I've seen the sun go to bed and watched the angels light +the stars. It's making me religious. The Broadway electrics have +always been between me and the sky. . . . Gee, but it's goin' to be +great this evening." She settled herself more comfortably, leaned +back against the stump of a tree and began to smile like a child at +the Hippodrome in expectation of one of the "colossal effects." + +Joan's curiosity was more and more piqued, but it was rather to know +what than who this amazingly natural little person was. For all her +youth there were lines round her mouth that were eloquent of a story +begun early. Somehow, with Martin away and giving no sign, Joan was +glad, and in a way comforted, to have stumbled on some one, young +like herself, who had obviously faced uncertainty and stood at the +crossroads. "I'd like to ask you hundreds of questions," she said +impulsively. "Do you mind?" + +"No, dearie. Fire away. I shan't have to tell you any fables to keep +you interested. I broke through the paper hoop into the big ring +when I was ten. Look! See those ducks flyin' home? The first time I +saw them I thought it was a V-shaped bit of smoke running away from +one of the factories round Newark." + +She had told Martin that. His laugh seemed still to be in the air. + +"Are you married?" asked Joan suddenly. + +"Not exactly, dearie," replied Tootles, without choosing her words. +But a look at the young, eager, sweet face bent towards her made her +decide to use camouflage. "What I mean is, no, I'm not. Men don't +marry me when it isn't absolutely necessary. I'm a small part chorus +lady, if you get my point." + +Joan was not quite sure that she did. Her sophistication had not +gone farther up than Sixty-seventh Street or farther down than +Sherry's, and it was bounded by Park Avenue on the one side and +Fifth Avenue on the other. "But would you like to have been +married?" All her thoughts just then were about marriage and Marty. + +Tootles shook her head and gave a downward gesture with an open hand +that hardly needed to be amplified. "No, not up to a few weeks ago. +I've lived by the stage, you see, and that means that the men I've +rnme across have not been men but theatricals. Very different. You +may take my word. When I met my first man I didn't believe it. I +thought he was the same kind of fake. But when I knew that he was a +man alright,--well, I wanted to be married as much as a battered +fishing smack wants to get into harbor." She was thinking of Marty +too, although not of marriage any more. + +"And are you going to be?" + +"No, dearie. He's got a wife, it turns out. It was a bit o' cheek +ever to dream of hitting a streak of such luck as that. All the +same, I've won something that I shall treasure all the days of my +life. . . . Look. Here come some of the mourners." She pointed to +three crows that flapped across a sky all hung with red and gold. + +Joan was puzzled. "Mourners?" + +"Why, yes. Isn't this the death bed of a day?" + +"I never thought of it in that way," said Joan. + +"No," said Tootles, running her eyes again over Joan's well-groomed +young body. "That's easy to see. You will, though, if ever you want +every day to last a year. You're married, anyway." + +"Not exactly," said Joan, unconsciously repeating the other girl's +expression. + +Tootles looked at Martin's ring. "What about that, then?" + +Joan looked at it too, with a curious gravity. It stood for so much +more than she had ever supposed that it would. "But I don't know +whether it's going to bind us, or not." + +"And you so awfully young!" + +"I was," said Joan. + +The girl who had never had any luck darted a keen, examining glance +at the girl who had all the appearance of having been born lucky. +Married, as pretty as a picture, everything out of the smartest +shops, the owner, probably, of this hill and those woods, and the +old house that she had peeped at all among that lovely garden--she +couldn't have come up against life's sharp elbow, surely? She hoped +not, most awfully she hoped not. + +Joan caught the look and smiled back. There was kindness here, and +comradeship. "I've nothing to tell," she said, "yet. I'm just +beginning to think, that's the truth, only just. I've been very +young and thoughtless, but I'm better now and I'm waiting to make up +for it. I'm not unhappy, only a little anxious. Everything will come +right though, because my man's a man, too." + +Tootles made a long arm and put her hand on Joan's. "In that case, +make up for it bigly, dearie," she said earnestly. "Don't be afraid +to give. There are precious few real men about and lots of women to +make a snatch at them. It isn't being young that matters. Most +troubles are brought about, at your time of life, by not knowing +when to stop being young. Good luck, Lady-bird. I hope you never +have anything to tell. Oh, just look, just look!" + +Joan followed the pointing finger, but held the kind hand. And they +sat in silence watching "the fair frail palaces, the fading Alps and +archipelagoes, and great cloud-continents of sunset seas." And as +she sat, enthralled, the whole earth hushed and still, shadows +lurking towards the east, the evening air holding its breath, the +night ready behind the horizon for its allotted work, God's hand on +everything, it was of Marty that Joan thought, Marty whom she must +have hurt so deeply and who had gone away without a word or a sign, +believing that she was still a kid. Yes, she WOULD make up for it, +bigly, bigly, and he should be happy, this boy-man who was a knight. + +And it was of Martin that Tootles, poor, little, unlucky Tootles, +thought also. All her life she would have something to which to look +back, something precious and beautiful, and his name, stamped upon +her heart, would go down with her to the grave. + +And they stayed there, in silence, holding hands, until the last +touch of color had gone out of the sky and the evening air sighed +and moved on and the night climbed slowly over the dim horizon. They +might have been sisters. + +And then Joan rose in a sort of panic. "I must go," she said +nervously, forgetting that she had grown up. "Good night, Fairy." + +Tootles stood up too. "Good night, Lady-bird. Make everything come +right," and held out her hand. + +Joan took it again and went forward and kissed the odd little girl +who was her friend. + +And a moment later Tootles saw her disappearing into the wood, like +a spirit. When she looked up at the watching star and waved her +hand, it seemed all misty. + + + + +XII + + +"And now, Mr. Harley," said Grandmother Ludlow, lashing the +septuagenarian footman with one sharp look because he had spilt two +or three drops of Veuve Cliquot on the tablecloth, "tell me about +the present state of the money market." + +Under his hostess's consistent courtesy and marked attentions George +Harley had been squirming during the first half of dinner. He had +led her into the fine old dining room with all the style that he +could muster and been placed, to his utter dismay, on her right. He +would infinitely rather have been commanded to dine with the Empress +of China, which he had been told was the last word in mental and +physical torture. Remembering vividly the cold and satirical scorn +to which he had been treated during his former brief and nightmare +visit the old lady's change of attitude to extreme politeness and +even deference made him feel that he was having his leg pulled. In a +brand new dinner jacket with a black tie poked under the long points +of a turned-down collar, which, in his innocence, he had accepted as +the mode of gentlemen and not, as he rightly supposed of waiters, he +had done his best to give coherent answers to a rapid fire of +difficult questions. The most uneasy man on earth, he had committed +himself to statements that he knew to be unsound, had seen his +untouched plate whisked away while he was floundering among words, +and started a high temperature beneath what he was perfectly certain +was lurking mockery behind apparently interested attention. + +If any banker at that moment had overheard him describing the state +of the money market he would have won for himself a commission in +the earth's large army of unconfined lunatics. + +The old sportsman, sitting with Joan on his right and his daughter- +in-law on his left, was more nearly merry and bright than any one +had seen him since the two great changes in his household. His +delight in having Joan near him again was pathetic. He had shaved +for the second time that day, a most unusual occurrence. His white +hair glistened with brilliantine, and there was a gardenia in his +buttonhole. Some of the old fire had returned to his eyes, and his +tongue had regained its once invariable knack of paying charming +compliments. In his excitement and delight he departed from his +rigid diet, and, his wife's attention being focussed upon George +Harley, punished the champagne with something of his old vigor, and +revived as a natural result many of the stories which Joan and her +mother had been told ad nauseam over any number of years with so +much freshness as to make them seem almost new. + +Mrs. Harley, wearing a steady smile, was performing the painful feat +of listening with one ear to the old gentleman and with the other to +the old lady. All her sympathy was with her unfortunate and uneasy +husband who looked exactly like a great nervous St. Bernard being +teased by a Pekinese. + +Joan missed none of the underlying humor of the whole thing. It was +amusing and satisfactory to be treated as the guest of honor in a +house in which she had always been regarded as the naughty and +rebellious child. She was happy in being able to put her usually +morose grandfather into such high spirits and moved to a mixture of +mirth and pity at the sight of George Harley's plucky efforts. Also +she had brought away with her from the girl she called the fairy a +strengthened desire to play the game and a good feeling that Marty +was nearer to her than he had been for a long and trying week. It's +true that from time to time she caught in her grandmother's eyes +that queer look of triumphant glee that had disturbed her when they +met and the same expression of malicious spite at the corner of +Gleave's sunken mouth which had made her wonder what he knew, but +these things she waved aside. Instinct, and her complete knowledge +of Mrs. Cumberland Ludlow's temperament, made her realize that if +the old lady could find a way to get even with her for having run +off she would leave no stone unturned, and that she would not +hesitate to use the cunning ex-fighting man to help her. But, after +all, what could they do? It would be foolish to worry. + +Far from foolish, if she had had an inkling of the trap that had +been laid for her and into which she was presently going to fall +without suspicion. + +The facts were that Gleave had seen Martin drive up to his house +with Tootles, had watched them riding and walking together +throughout the week, had reported what he had seen to Mrs. Ludlow +and left it to her fertile imagination to make use of what was to +him an ugly business. And the old lady, grasping her chance, had +written that letter to Mrs. Harley and having achieved her point of +getting Joan into her hands, had discovered that she did not know +where Martin was and had made up her mind to show her. Revenge is +sweet, saith the phrasemonger, and to the old lady whose discipline +had been flouted and whose amour propre had been rudely shaken it +was very sweet indeed. Her diabolical scheme, conceived in the +mischievous spirit of second childhood, was to lead Joan on to a +desire to show off her country house to her relations at the moment +when the man she had married and the girl with whom he was amusing +himself on the sly were together. "How dramatic," she chuckled, in +concocting the plan. "How delightfully dramatic." And she might have +added, "How hideously cruel." + +But it was not until some little time after they had all adjourned +to the drawing-room, and Joan had played the whole range of her old +pieces for the edification of her grandfather, that she set her +trap. + +"If I had my time over again," she said, looking the epitome of +benevolence, "I would never spend spring in the city." + +"Wouldn't you, dear?" prompted Mrs. Harley, eager to make the +conversation general and so give poor George a rest. + +"No, my love. I would make my winter season begin in November and +end in February--four good months for the Opera, the theatres, +entertaining and so forth. Then on the first of March, the kind- +hearted month that nurses April's violets, I would leave town for my +country place and, as the poets have it watch the changing skies and +the hazel blooms peep through the swelling buds and hear the trees +begin to whisper and the throstles break into song. One loses these +things by remaining among bricks and mortar till the end of April. +Joan, my dear, give this your consideration next year. If your good +husband is anything like his father, whom we knew very slightly and +admired, he is a lover of the country and should be considered." + +"Yes, Grandmamma," said Joan, wondering if Marty had come back and +found her note on his dressing-table. + +"Always supposing, of course, that next year finds you both as much +in love as you are to-day,--the most devoted pair of turtle doves, +as I am told." She laughed a little roguishly to disguise the sting. + +"They will be," said Mrs. Harley quickly. "There is no doubt about +that." + +"None," said Joan, looking full at the old lady with a confident +smile and a high chin. Would her grandmother never forget that +escape from the window? + +"Why suggest the possibility of a break?" asked Mr. Ludlow, with a +touch of anger. "Really, my dear." + +"A little joke, Cumberland, merely a little joke. Joan understands +me, I know." + +"I think so," said Joan, smiling back. Not on her, whatever +happened, would she see the white feather. Some one had told the +tale of her kid's rush into the heart of things and her many +evenings with Palgrave and the others, when "Who cares?" was her +motto. + +The old lady went on, with infinite artfulness. "During the coming +summer, my love, you should look out for a pleasant little house in +some charming part of the country, furnish it, put men to work on +the garden, and have it all ready for the following spring." + +"I know just the place," put in George. "Near a fine golf course and +country club with a view across the Hudson that takes your breath +away." + +"That might necessitate the constant attendance of a doctor," said +Mrs. Ludlow drily, "which would add considerably to the expenses. I +would advise the Shinnecock Hills, for instance, which are swept by +sea breezes and so reminiscent of Scotland. Martin would be within a +stone's throw of his favorite course, there, wouldn't he, Joan?" + +"Yes, Grandmamma," said Joan, still with a high head and a placid +smile, although it came to her in a flash that her statement as to +where Martin was had not been believed. What if Grandmother knew +where Martin had gone? How absurd. How could she? + +And then Mr. Ludlow broke in again, impatiently. The effect of the +champagne was wearing off. He hated feminine conversation in +drawing-rooms, anyhow. "Why go searching about for a house for the +child when she's got one already." + +"Why, so I have," cried Joan. "Here. I'd forgotten all about it!" + +Nothing could have suited the old lady so well. Her husband could +not have said anything more right if he had been prompted. "Of +course you have," she said, with a cackle of laughter. "I had +forgotten it too. Mr. Harley, can you believe our overlooking the +fact that there is a most excellent house in the family a gunshot +from where we are all sitting? It's natural enough for me, who have +never met Joan's young husband. But for you, my love, who spent such +a romantic night there! Where are your wits?" + +Joan's laugh rang out. "Goodness knows, but I really had forgotten +all about it. And although I've only been in it once I've known it +by sight all my life. Martin's father had it built, Papa George, and +it's awfully nice and sporting, with kennels, and tennis courts, and +everything." + +"Yes, and beautifully furnished, I remember. I dined there several +times, years ago before Mr. Gray had--" Mrs. Harley drew up short. + +Mrs. Ludlow finished the sentence. "A little quarrel with me," she +said. "I objected to his hounds scrambling over this property and +wrote pithily to that effect. We never spoke again. My dear, while +we are all together, why not personally conduct us over this country +house of yours and give us an unaccustomed thrill of excitement." + +"Yes, do, darling," said Mrs. Harley. "George would love to see it." + +"I will," said Joan. "I'd adore to. I don't know a bit what it's +like, except the hall and the library. It will come as a perfect +surprise to me." + +"A very perfect surprise," said Mrs. Ludlow. + +Joan sprang to her feet. "Let's go now. No time like the present." + +"Well," said Mrs. Harley cautiously, though equally keen. + +"No, no, not to-night. Bear with your aged grandparents. Besides, +the housekeeper and the other servants will probably be in bed. To- +morrow now, early--" + +"All right," said Joan. "To-morrow then, directly after breakfast. +Fancy forgetting that one possessed a country house. It's almost +alarming." And she put her hands on her grandfather's shoulders. and +bent down and kissed him. She was excited and thrilled. It was her +house because it was Martin's, and soon she would be Martin's too. +And they would spend a real honeymoon in the place in which they had +sat together in the dark and laid their whispered plans for the +great adventure. How good that would be! + +And when she went back to the piano and rattled off a fox trot, +Grandmother Ludlow got up and hobbled out of the room, on her +tapping stick, to hide her glee. + + + + +XIII + + +It was ten o'clock when Joan stood once more in the old, familiar +bedroom in which she had slept all through her childhood and +adolescence. + +Nothing had been altered since the night from which she dated the +beginning of her life. Her books were in the same places. Letters +from her school friends were in the same neat pile on her desk. The +things that she had been obliged to leave on her dressing-table had +not been touched. A framed photograph of her mother, with her hands +placed in the incredible way that is so dear to the photographer's +heart, still hung crooked over a colonial chest of drawers. Her blue +and white bath wrap was in its place over the back of a chair, with +her slippers beneath it. + +She opened the door of the hospitable closet. There were all the +clothes and shoes and hats that she had left. She drew out a drawer +in the chest. Nothing had been disturbed. . . . It was uncanny. She +seemed to have been away for years. And yet, as she looked about and +got the familiar scent of the funny little lavender sachets made by +Mrs. Nye, she found it hard to believe that Marty and Gilbert +Palgrave, the house in New York, all the kaleidoscope of Crystal +rooms and restaurants, all the murmur of voices and music and +traffic were not the elusive memories of last night's dream. But for +the longing for Marty that amounted to an absorbing, ever-present +homesickness, it was difficult to accept the fact that she was not +still the same early-to-bed, early-to-rise country girl, kicking +against the pricks, rebelling against the humdrum daily routine, +spoiling to try her wings. + +"Dear old room," she whispered, suddenly stretching out her arms to +it. "My dear old room. I didn't think I'd miss you a little bit. But +I have. I didn't think I should be glad to get back to you. But I +am. What are you doing to me to make me feel a tiny pain in my +heart? You're crowding all the things I did here and all the things +I thought about like a thousand white pigeons round my head. All my +impatient sighs, and big ambitions, and silly young hopes and fears +are coming to meet me and make me want to laugh and cry. But it +isn't the same me that you see; it isn't. You haven't changed, dear +old room, but I have. I'm different. I'm older. I'm not a kid any +more. I'm grown up. Oh, my dear, dear old room, be kind to me, be +gentle with me. I haven't played the game since I went away or been +honest. I've been thoughtless, selfish and untamed. I've done all +the wrong things. I've attracted all the wrong people. I've sent +Marty away, Marty--my knight--and I want him back. I want to make up +to him bigly, bigly for what I ought to have done. Be kind to me, be +kind to me." + +And she closed her arms as if in an embrace and put her head down as +though on the warm breast of an old friend and the good tears ran +down her cheeks. + +All the windows were open. The air was warm and scented. There was +no sound. The silent voices of the stars sang their nightly anthem. +The earth was white with magic moonshine. Joan looked out. The old +creeper down which she had climbed to go to Martin that night which +seemed so far away was all in leaf. With what exhilaration she had +dropped her bag out. Had ever a girl been so utterly careless of +consequences then as she? How wonderfully and splendidly Martinish +Martin had been when she plunged in upon him, and how jolly and +homelike the hall of his house--her house--had seemed to be. To- +morrow she would explore it all and show it off to her family. To- +morrow. . . . Yes, but to-night? Should she allow herself to be +carried away by a sudden longing to follow her flying footsteps +through the woods, pretend that Martin was waiting for her and take +a look at the outside of the house alone? Why not? No one need know, +and she had a sort of aching to see the place again that was so +essentially a part of Martin. Martin--Martin--he obsessed her, body +and brain. If only she could find Martin. + +With hasty fingers she struggled with the intricate hooks of her +evening frock. Out of it finally, and slipping off her silk +stockings and thin shoes she went quickly to the big clothes closet, +chose a short country skirt, a pair of golf stockings, thick shoes +and a tam-o'-shanter, made for the drawer in which were her sport +shirts and sweaters and before the old round-faced clock on the +mantelpiece could recover from his astonishment became once more the +Joan-all-alone for whom he had ticked away the hours. Then to the +window, and hand over hand down the creeper again and away across +the sleeping garden to the woods. + +The fairies were out. Their laughter was blown to her like +thistledown. But she was a woman now and only Martin called her-- +Martin who had married her for love but was not her husband yet. Oh, +where was Martin? + +And as she went quickly along the winding path through the trees the +moon dropped pools of light in her way, the scrub oaks threw out +their arms to hold her back and hosts of little shadows seemed to +run out to catch at her frock. But on went Joan, just to get a sight +of the house that was Martin's and hers and to cast her spirit +forward to the time when he and she would live there as they had not +lived in the city. + +She marvelled and rejoiced at the change that had come over her,-- +gradually, underminingly,--a change, the seeds of which had been +thrown by Alice, watered by Palgrave and forced by the disappearance +of Martin, and brought to bloom in the silent hours of wakeful +nights when the thought of all the diffidence and deference of +Martin won her gratitude and respect. In the strong, frank and +rather harsh light that had been flung on her way of life it was +Martin, Martin, who stood out clean and tender and lenient--Martin, +who had developed from the Paul of the woods, the boy chum, her +fellow adventurer, her sexless Knight, into the man who had won her +love and whom she needed and ached for and longed to find. She had +been brought up with a round turn, found herself face to face with +the truth of things and, deaf to the incessant jangle of the Merry- +go-round, had discovered that Martin was not merely the gallant and +obliging boy, playing a game, trifling on the edge of reality, but +the man with the other blade of the penknife who, like his prototype +in the fairy tale, had the ordained right to her as she had to him. + +And as she went on through the silvered trees, with a sort of +dignity, her chin high, her eyes sparkling like stars, her mouth +soft and sweet, it was to see the roof under which she would begin +her married life again, rightly, honestly and as a woman, crossing +the bridge between thoughtlessness and responsibility with a true +sense of its meaning,--not in cold blood. + +She came out to the road, dry and white, bordered by coarse grasses +and wild flowers all asleep, with their petals closed over their +eyes, opened the gate that led into the long avenue, splashed +through the patches of moonlight on the driveway and came finally to +the door under which she had stood that other time with dancing eyes +and racing blood and "Who cares?" ringing in her head. + +There was no light to be seen in any of the front windows. The house +seemed to be fast asleep. How warm and friendly and unpretentious it +looked, and there was all about it the same sense of strength that +there was about Martin. In which window had they stood in the dark, +looking out on to a world that they were going to brave together? +Was it in the right wing? Yes. She remembered that tree whose +branches turned over like a waterfall and something that looked like +a little old woman in a shawl bending to pick up sticks but which +was an old stump covered with creepers. + +She went round, her heart fluttering like a bird, all her femininity +stirred at the thought of what this house must mean and shelter--and +drew up short with a quick intake of breath. A wide streak of yellow +light fell through open French windows across the veranda and on to +the grass, all dew-covered. Some one was there . . . a woman's +voice, not merry, and with a break in it. . . . When the cat's away, +the mice, in the shape of one of the servants . . . + +Joan went on again. What a joke to peep in! She wouldn't frighten +the girl or walk in and ask questions. It was, as yet, too much +Marty's house for that--and, after all, what harm was she doing by +sitting up on such a lovely night? The only thing was it was +Martin's very own room filled with his intimate things and with his +father's message written largely on a card over the fireplace--"We +count it death to falter, not to die." + +But she went on, unsuspecting, her hand unconsciously clasped in the +stern relentless hand of Fate, who never forgets to punish. . . . A +shadow crossed the yellow patch. There was the sound of a pipe being +knocked out on one of the firedogs. A man was there, then. Should +she take one look, or go back? She would go back. It was none of her +business, unfortunately. But she was drawn on and on, until she +could see into the long, low, masculine room. + +A man was sitting on the arm of a sofa, a man with square shoulders +and a deep chest, a man with his strong young face turned to the +light, smiling-- + +"Marty," cried Joan. "Marty!" and went up and across the veranda and +into the room. "Why, Marty," and held out her hand, all glad and +tremulous. + +And Martin got on his feet and stood in amazement, wide-eyed, and +suddenly white. + +"You here!" cried Joan. "I've been waiting and wondering, but I +didn't call because I wanted you to come back for yourself and not +for me. It's been a long week, Marty, and in every hour of it I've +grown. Can't you see the change?" + +And Martin looked at her, and his heart leaped, and the blood blazed +in his veins and he was about to go forward and catch her in his +arms with a great cry . . . + +"Oh, hello, Lady-bird; who'd have expected to see you!" + +Joan wheeled to the left. + +Lying full stretched on the settee, her settee, was a girl with her +hands under her bobbed hair, a blue dress caught up under one knee, +her bare arms agleam, her elfin face all white and a smile round her +too red lips. + +("White face and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle.") + +Martin said something, inarticulately, and moved a chair forward. +The girl spoke again, cheerily, in the spirit of good-fellowship, +astonished a little, but too comfortable to move. + +But a cold hand was laid on Joan's heart, and all that rang in her +brain were the words that Alice had used,--"white face and red lips +and hair that came out of a bottle. . . . Don't YOU be the one to +turn his armor into common broadcloth." + +And for a moment she stood, looking from Marty to the girl and back +to Marty, like one struck dumb, like one who draws up at the very +lip of a chasm. . . . And in that cruel and terrible minute her +heart seemed to break and die. Marty, Marty in broadcloth, and she +had put it in his hands. She had turned him away from her room and +lost him. There's not one thing that any of us can do or say that +doesn't react on some one else to hurt or bless. + +With a little gasp, the sense of all this going home to her, Tootles +scrambled awkwardly off the settee, dropping a book and a +handkerchief. This, then, this beautiful girl who belonged to a +quarter of life of which she had sometimes met the men but never the +women, was Martin's wife--the wife of the man whom she loved to +adoration. + +"Why, then, you're--you're Mrs. Gray," she stammered, her +impertinence gone, her hail-fellow-well-met manner blown like a +bubble. + +Catching sight of the message, "We count it death to falter not to +die," Joan summoned her pride, put up her chin and gave a curious +little bow. "Forgive me," she said, "I'm trespassing," and not +daring to look at Marty, turned and went out. She heard him call her +name, saw his sturdy shadow fall across the yellow patch, choked +back a sob, started running, and stumbled away and away, with the +blood from her heart bespattering the grasses and the wild flowers, +and the fairies whimpering at her heels,--and, at last, climbing +back into the room that knew and loved and understood, threw herself +down on its bosom in a great agony of grief. + +"Be kind to me, old room, be kind to me. It's Joan-all-alone,--all +alone." + + + + +PART THREE + + +THE GREAT EMOTION + +I + + +Mrs. Alan Hosack, bearing a more than ever remarkable resemblance +to those ship's figureheads that are still to be seen in the corners +of old lumber yards, led the way out to the sun porch. Her lavish +charms, her beaming manner, her clear blue eye, milky complexion, +reddish hair, and the large bobbles and beads with which she +insisted upon decorating herself made Howard Cannon's nickname of +Cornucopia exquisitely right. She was followed by Mrs. Cooper Jekyll +and a man servant, whose arms were full of dogs and books and +newspapers. + +"The dogs on the ground, Barrett," she said, "the books and papers +on the table there, my chair on the right-hand side of it and bring +that chair forward for Mrs. Jekyll. We will have the lemonade at +once. Tell Lestocq that I shall not want the car before lunch, ask +Miss Disberry to telephone to Mrs. John Ward Harrison and say that I +will have tea with her this afternoon with pleasure, and when those +two good little Sisters of Mercy finally arrive,--I could see them, +all sandy, struggling along the road from my room, Augusta; dear me, +what a life,--they are to be given luncheon as usual and the +envelope that is on the hall table. That will do, I think." + +The man servant was entirely convinced that it would. + +"And now, make yourself comfortable, dear Augusta, and tell me +everything. So very kind of you to drive over like this on such a +sunny morning. Yes, that's right. Take off that lugubrious Harem +veil,--the mark of a Southampton woman,--and let me see your +beautiful face. Before I try to give you a chance to speak I must +tell you, and I'm sure you won't mind with your keen sense of humor, +how that nice boy, Harry Oldershaw, describes those things. No, +after all, perhaps I don't think I'd better. For one reason, it was +a little bit undergraduate, and for another, I forget." She chuckled +and sat down, wabbling for a moment like an opulent blancmange. + +Minus the strange dark blue thing which had hidden her ears and nose +and mouth and which suggested nothing but leprosy, Mrs. Jekyll +became human, recognizable and extremely good to look at. She wore +her tight-fitting suit of white flannel like a girl and even in that +clear detective light she did not look a day over thirty. She +painted with all the delicacy of an artist. She was there, as a +close friend of Alice Palgrave, to discover why Gilbert had not gone +with her to the Maine coast. + +"I haven't heard from you since we left town," she said, beating +about the bush, "and being in the neighborhood I thought it would be +delightful to catch a glimpse of you and hear your news. I have +none, except that I have just lost the butler who has been with me +for so long, and Edmond is having his portrait painted again for +some club or institution. It's the ninth time, I believe. He likes +it. It's a sort of rest cure." + +"And how did you lose that very admirable butler? Illness or +indiscretion?" + +"Neither. Commerce, I suppose one might call it. It appears that one +of these get-rich-quick munition men offered him double his wages to +leave me, and Derbyshire couldn't resist it. He came to me with +tears in his eyes and told me that he had to make the sacrifice +owing to the increased cost of living. He has a family, you know. He +said that the comic atmosphere of his new place might bring on +neuritis, but he must educate his three boys. Really, there is a +great deal of unsung heroism in the world, isn't there? In the +meantime, I am trying to get accustomed to a Swiss, who's probably a +German spy and who will set up a wireless installation on the roof." +Then she dropped her baited hook. "You have a large house party, I +suppose." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Hosack, swinging her foot to keep the flies away. +The wind was off the land. + +"Primrose is so depressed if the house isn't full. And so the +d'Oylys are here,--Nina more Junoesque than ever and really quite +like an Amazon in bathing clothes; Enid Ouchterlony, a little +bitter, I'm afraid, at not being engaged to any one yet,--men are +horribly scared of an intelligent girl and, after all, they don't +marry for intelligence, do they?--Harry Oldershaw, Frank Milwood and +Courtney Millet, all nice boys, and I almost forgot to add, Joan +Gray, that charming girl. My good man is following at her heels like +a bob-tailed sheep dog. Poor old dear! He's arrived at that pathetic +period of a man's life when almost any really blond girl still in +her teens switches him into a second state of adolescence and makes +him a most ridiculous object--what the novelists call the 'Forty- +nine feeling,' I believe." + +Bennett brought the lemonade and hurried away before his memory +could be put to a further strain. "Tell me about Joan Gray," said +Mrs. jekyil, letting out her line. "There's probably no truth in it, +but I hear that she and Martin have agreed to differ. How quickly +these romantic love matches burn themselves out. I always say that a +marriage made in Heaven breaks up far sooner than one made on earth. +It has so much farther to fall. Whose fault is it, hers or his?" + +Mrs. Hosack bent forward and endeavored to lower her voice. She was +a kind-hearted woman who delighted to see every one happy and +normal. "I'm very worried about those two, my dear," she answered. +"There are all sorts of stories afloat,--one to the effect that +Martin has gone off with a chorus girl, another that Joan only +married him to get away from her grandparents and a third that they +quarreled violently on the way home from church and have not been on +speaking terms since. I daresay there are many others, but whatever +did happen, and something evidently did, Joan is happy enough, and +every man in the house is sentimental about her. Look out there, for +instance." + +Mrs. Jekyll followed her glance and saw a girl in bathing clothes +sitting on the beach under a red and blue striped umbrella encircled +by the outstretched forms of half a dozen men. Beyond, on the fringe +of a sea alive with bursting breakers, several girls were bathing +alone. + +"H'm," said Mrs. Jekyll. "I should think that the second story is +the true one. A tip-tilted nose, chestnut hair and brown eyes are +better to flirt with than marry. Well, I must run away if I'm to be +back to lunch. I wish I could stay, but Edmond and his artist may +kill my new butler unless I intervene. They are both hotly pro-Ally. +By the way, I hear that Alice Palgrave has gone to the Maine coast +with her mother, who is ill again; I wonder where Gilbert is going?" + +"Well, I had a very charming letter from him two days ago, asking me +if he could come and stay with us. He loves this house and the +beach, and I always cheer him up, he said, and he is very lonely +without Alice. Of course I said yes, and he will be here this +afternoon." + +Whereupon, having landed her fish, Mrs. Jekyll rose to go. Gilbert +Palgrave and Joan Gray,--there was truth in that story, as she had +thought. She had heard of his having been seen everywhere with Joan +night after night, and her sister-in-law, who lived opposite to the +little house in East Sixty-seventh Street, had seen him leaving in +the early hours of the morning more than once. A lucky strike, +indeed. Intuition was a wonderful gift. She was highly pleased with +herself. + +"Good-by, my dear," she said. "I will drive over again one day this +week and see how you are all getting on in this beautiful corner of +the world. My love to Prim, please, and do remember me to the little +siren." + +And away she went, leaving Mrs. Hosack to wonder what was the +meaning of her rather curious smile. Only a hidebound prejudice on +the part of the Ministries of all the nations has precluded women +from the Diplomatic Service. + + + + +II + + +"Ah, here you are," said Hosack, scrambling a little stiffly out of +a hammock. "Well, have you had a good ride?" + +Joan came up the steps with Harry Oldershaw, the nice boy. She was +in white linen riding kit, with breeches and brown top boots. A +man's straw hat sat squarely on her little head and there was a +brown and white spotted tie under her white silk collar. Color +danced on her cheeks, health sparkled in her eyes and there was a +laugh of sheer high spirits floating behind her like the blown +petals of a daisy. + +"Perfectly wonderful," she said. "I love the country about here, +with the little oaks and sturdy ferns. It's so springy. And aren't +the chestnut trees in the village a sight for the blind? I don't +wonder you built a house in Easthampton, Mr. Hosack. Are we too late +for tea?" + +Hosack ran his eyes over her and blinked a little as though he had +looked at the sun. "Too late by an hour," he said, with a sulky +glance at young Oldershaw. "I thought you were never coming back." +His resentment of middle age and jealousy of the towering youth of +the sun-tanned lad who had been Joan's companion were a little +pitiful. + +Harry caught his look and laughed with the sublime audacity of one +who believes that he ranks among the Immortals. To him forty-nine +seemed to be a colossal sum of years, almost beyond belief. It was +pathetic of this old fellow to imagine that he had any right to the +company of a girl so springlike as Joan. "If we hadn't worn the +horses to a frazzle," he said, "we shouldn't have been back till +dark. Have a drink, Joan?" + +"Yes, water. Buckets of it. Hurry up, Harry." + +The boy, triumphant at being in favor, swung away, and Joan flung +her crop on to a cane sofa. "Where's everybody?" she asked. + +"What's it matter," said Hosack. "Sit here and talk to me for a +change. I've hardly had a word with you all day." He caught her hand +and drew her into the swinging hammock. "What a pretty thing you +are," he added, with a catch in his breath. "I know," said Joan. +"Otherwise, probably, I shouldn't be here, should I?" She forgot all +about him, and an irresistible desire to tease, at the sight of the +sea which, a stone's throw from the house, pounded on the yellow +sweep of sand and swooped up in large half circles of glistening +water. "I've a jolly good mind to have another dip before changing. +What do you say?" + +"No, don't," said Hosack, a martyr to the Forty-nine-feeling. +"Concentrate on me for ten minutes, if only because, damn it, I'm +your host." + +Joan pushed his hand away. "I've given up concentrating," she said. +"I gave it a turn a little while ago, but it led nowhere, so why +worry? I'm on the good old Merry-go-round again, and if it doesn't +whack up to the limit of its speed I'll know the reason why. There's +a dance at the Club to-night, isn't there?" + +"Yes, but we don't go." + +She was incredulous. "Don't go,--to a dance? Why?" + +"It's rather a mixed business," he said. "The hotel pours its crowd +out. It isn't amusing. We can dance here if you want to." + +But her attention was caught by young Oldershaw who came out +carrying a glass and a jug of iced water. She sprang up and went to +meet him, the dance forgotten, Hosack forgotten. Her mood was that +of a bird, irresponsible, restless. "Good for you," she said, and +drank like a thirsty plant. "Nothing like water, is there?" She +smiled up at him. + +He was as pleased with himself as though he owned the reservoir. +"Have another ?" + +"I should think so." And she drank again, put the glass down on the +first place that came to hand, relieved him of the jug, put it next +to the glass, caught hold of his muscular arm, ran him down the +steps, and along the board path to the beach. "I'll race you to the +sea," she cried, and was off like a mountain goat. He was too young +to let her beat him and waited for her with the foam frothing round +his ankles and a broad grin on his attractive face. + +He was about to cheek her when she held up a finger and with a +little exclamation of delight pointed to the sky behind the house. +The sun was setting among a mass of royal clouds. A golden wand had +touched the dunes and the tips of the scrub and all over the green +of the golf course, still dotted with scattered figures, waves of +reflected lusters played. To the left of the great red ball one +clear star sparkled like an eye. Just for a moment her lips trembled +and her young breasts rose and fell, and then she threw her head up +and wheeled round and went off at a run. Not for her to think back, +or remember similar sights behind the woods near Marty's place. Life +was too short for pain. "Who Cares?" was her motto once more, and +this time joy-riding must live up to its name. + +Harry Oldershaw followed, much puzzled at Joan's many quick changes +of mood. Several times during their irresponsible chatter on the +beach between dips her laughter had fallen suddenly, like a dead +bird, and she had sat for several minutes as far away from himself +and the other men as though they were cut off by a thick wall. +Yesterday, in the evening after dinner, during which her high +spirits had infected the whole table, he had walked up and down the +board path with her under the vivid white light of a full moon, and +she had whipped out one or two such savage things about life that he +had been startled. During their ride that afternoon, too, her +bubbling chatter of light stuff about people and things had several +times shifted into comments as to the conventions that were so +careless as to make him ask himself whether they could really have +come from lips so fresh and young. And why had that queer look of +almost childlike grief come into her eyes a moment ago at the sight +of ah everyday sunset? He was mightily intrigued. She was a queer +kid, he told himself, as changeable and difficult to follow as some +of the music by men with such weird names as Rachmaninoff and +Tschaikowsky that his sister was so precious fond of playing. But +she was unattached and frightfully pretty and always ready for any +fun that was going, and she liked him more than the others, and he +liked being liked, and although not hopelessly in love was ready and +willing and even anxious to be walked on if she would acknowledge +his existence in no other way. It was none of his business, he told +himself, to speculate as to what she was trying to hide away in the +back of her mind, from herself as well as from everybody else. This +was his last vacation as a Yale man, and he was all out to make the +most of it. + +As soon as he was at her side she ran her hand through his arm and +fell into step. The shadow had passed, and her eyes were dancing +again. "It appears that the Hosacks turn up their exclusive noses at +the club dances," she said. "What are we going to do about it?" + +"There's one to-night, isn't there? Do you want to go?" + +"Of course I do. I haven't danced since away back before the great +wind. Let's sneak off after dinner for an hour without a word to a +soul and get our fill of it. There's to be a special Jazz band to- +night, I hear, and I simply can't keep away. Are you game, Harry? " + +"All the way," said young Oldershaw, "and it will be the first time +in the history of the Hosacks that any members of their house +parties have put in an appearance at the club at night. No wonder +Easthampton has nicknamed the place St. James's Palace, eh?" + +Joan shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, my dear boy," she said, "life's +too short for all that stuff, and there's no hobby so painful as +cutting off one's nose to spite one's face. And, after all, what's +the matter with Easthampton people? I'd go to a chauffeurs' ball if +the band was the right thing. Wouldn't you?" + +"With you," said Harry. "Democracy forever!" + +"Oh, I'm not worrying about democracy. I'm out for a good time under +any conditions. That's the only thing that matters. Now let's go +back and change. It's too late to bathe. I'll wear a new frock to- +night, made for fox-trotting, and if Mrs. Hosack wants to know where +we've been when we come back as innocent as spring lambs, leave it +to me. Men can't lie as well as women can." + +"It won't be Mrs. Hosack who'll ask," said Harry. "Bridge will do +its best to rivet her ubiquitous mind. It's the old man who'll be +peeved. He's crazy about you, you know." + +Joan laughed. "He's very nice and means awfully well and all that," +she said, "but of course he isn't to be taken seriously. No men of +middle age ought to be. They all say the same things with the same +expressions as though they got them from the same books, and their +gambolling makes their joints creak. It's all like playing with a +fire of damp logs. I like something that can blaze and scorch. The +game counts then." + +"Then you ought to like me," said Harry, doing his best to look the +very devil of a fellow. Even he had to join in Joan's huge burst of +merriment. He had humor as well as a sense of the ridiculous, and +the first made it possible for him to laugh at himself,--a rare and +disconcerting gift which would utterly prevent his ever entering the +Senate. + +"You might grow a moustache and wax the tips, Harry," she said, when +she had recovered sufficiently well to be able to speak. "Curl your +hair with tongs and take dancing lessons from a tango lizard or go +in for a course of sotto voce sayings from a French portrait +painter, but you'd still remain the Nice Boy. That's why I like you. +You're as refreshing and innocuous as a lettuce salad, and you may +glare as much as you like. I hope you'll never be spoilt. Come on. +We shall be late for dinner." And she made him quicken his step +through the dry sand. + +Being very young he was not quite sure that he appreciated that type +of approval. He had liked to imagine that he was distinctly one of +the bold bad boys, a regular dog and all that. He had often talked +that sort of thing in the rooms of his best chums whose mantelpieces +were covered with the photographs of little ladies, and he hoarded +in his memory two episodes at least of jealous looks from engaged +men. But, after all, with Joan, who was married, although it was +difficult to believe it, it wouldn't be wise to exert the whole +force of the danger that was in him. He would let her down lightly, +he told himself, and grinned as he said it. She was right. He was +only a nice boy, and that was because he had had the inestimable +luck to possess a mother who was one in a million. + +The rather pretentious but extremely civilized house that stood +alone in all its glory between the sea and the sixth hole was +blazing with lights as they returned to it. The color had gone out +of the sky and other twinkling eyes had appeared, and the breeze, +now off the sea, had a sting to it. Toad soloists were trying their +voices for their evening concert in near-by water and crickets were +at work with all their well-known enthusiasm. Bennett, with a +sunburned nose, was tidying up the veranda, and some one with a nice +light touch was playing the rhythmic jingles of Jerome Kern on the +piano in the drawing-room. + +Still with her hand on Harry Oldershaw's arm, Joan made her way +across the lofty hall, caught sight of Gilbert Palgrave coming +eagerly to meet her, and waved her hand. + +"Oh, hello, Gilbert," she cried out. "Welcome to Easthampton," and +ran upstairs. + +With a strange contraction of the heart, Palgrave watched her out of +sight. She was his dream come to life. All that he was and hoped to +be he had placed forever at her feet. Dignity, individualism, +egoism,--all had fallen before this young thing. She was water in +the desert, the north star to a man without a compass. He had seen +her and come into being. + +Good God, it was wonderful and awful! + +But who was that cursed boy? + + + + +III + + +Six weeks had dropped off the calendar since the night at Martin's +house. + +Facing Grandmother Ludlow in the morning with her last handful of +courage Joan had told her that she had been called back to town. She +had left immediately after breakfast in spite of the protests and +entreaties of every one, including her grandfather, down whose +wrinkled cheeks the tears had fallen unashamed. With a high head and +her best wilful manner she had presented to them all in that old +house the bluff of easy-mindedness only to burst like a bubble as +soon as the car had turned the corner into the main road. She had +gone to the little house in New York, and with a numbed heart and a +constant pain in her soul, had packed some warm-weather clothes and, +leaving her maid behind, hidden herself away in the cottage, on the +outskirts of Greenwich, of an old woman who had been in the service +of her school. As a long-legged girl of twelve she had stayed there +once with her mother for several days before going home for the +holidays. She felt like a wounded animal, and her one desire was to +drag herself into a quiet place to die. + +It seemed to her then, under the first stupendous shock of finding +that Marty was with that girl, that death was the next certain +thing. Day after day and night after night, cut to the quick, she +waited for it to lay its cold hand upon her and snuff her out like a +tired candle, whose little light was meaningless in a brutal world. +Marty, even Marty, was no longer a knight, and she had put him into +broadcloth. + +Not in the sun, but in the shadow of a chestnut all big with bloom, +her days had passed in lonely suffering. Death was in the village, +that was certain. She had seen a little procession winding along the +road to the cemetery the morning after her arrival. She was ready. +Nothing mattered now that Marty, even Marty, had done this thing +while she had been waiting for him to come and take her across the +bridge, anxious to play the game to the very full, eager to prove to +him that she was no longer the kid that he thought her who had +coolly shown him her door. "I am here, Death," she whispered, "and I +want you. Come for me." + +All her first feelings were that she ought to die, that she had +failed and that her disillusion as to Marty had been directly +brought about by herself. She saw it all honestly and made no +attempt to hedge. By day, she sat quietly, big-eyed, amazingly +childlike, waiting for her punishment, watched by the practical old +woman, every moment of whose time was filled, with growing +uneasiness and amazement. By night she lay awake as long as she +could, listening for the soft footstep of the one who would take her +away. At meals, the old woman bullied for she was of the school that +hold firmly to the belief that unless the people who partake of food +do not do so to utter repletion a personal insult is intended. At +other times she went out into the orchard and sat with Joan and, +burning with a desire to cheer her up, gave her, in the greatest +detail, the story of all the deaths, diseases and quarrels that had +ever been known to the village. And every day the good sun warmed +and encouraged the earth, drew forth the timid heads of plants and +flowers, gave beauty even to the odd corners once more and did his +allotted task with a generosity difficult to praise too highly. And +Death paid visits here and there but passed the cottage by. At the +beginning of the second week, Nature, who has no patience with any +attempt to refute her laws, especially on the part of those who are +young and vigorous, took Joan in hand. "What is all this, my girl?" +she said, "sitting here with your hands in your lap while everybody +and everything is working and making and preparing. Stir yourself, +bustle up, get busy, there's lots to be done in the springtime if +the autumn is to bear fruit. You're sound and whole for all that +you've been hurt. If you were not, Death would be here without your +calling him. Up you get, now." And, with good-natured roughness, she +laid her hand under Joan's elbow, gave a hoist and put her on her +feet. + +Whereupon, in the natural order of things, Joan turned from self- +blame to find a victim who should be held responsible for the pain +that she had suffered, and found the girl with the red lips and the +white face and the hair that came out of a bottle. Ah, yes! It was +she who had caught Marty when he was hurt and disappointed. It was +she who had taken advantage of his loneliness and dragged him clown +to her own level, this girl whom she had called Fairy and who had +had the effrontery to go up to the place on the edge of the woods +that was the special property of Marty and herself. And for the rest +of the week, with the sap running eagerly in her veins once more, +she moved restlessly about the orchard and the garden, heaping coals +of fire on to the all too golden head of Tootles. + +Then came the feeling of wounded pride, the last step towards +convalescence. Marty had chosen between herself and this girl. +Without giving her a real chance to put things right he had slipped +away silently and taken Tootles with him. Not she, but the girl with +the red lips and the pale face and the hair that came out of a +bottle had stripped Marty of his armor, and the truth of it was that +Marty, yes, even Marty, was not really a knight but a very ordinary +man. + +Out of the orchard and the garden she went, once she had arrived at +this stage, and tramped the countryside with her ears tuned to catch +the alluring strains of the mechanical music of the Round-about. She +had not only been making a fool of herself but had been made to look +a fool, she thought. Her pain and suffering and disillusion had been +wasted. All these dull and lonely days had been wasted and thrown +away. Death must have laughed to see her sitting in the shadow of +the apple trees waiting for a visit that was undeserved. Marty could +live and enjoy himself without her. That was evident. Very well, +then, she could live and enjoy herself without Marty. The earth was +large enough for them both, and if he could find love in the person +of that small girl she coul surely find it in one or other of the +men who had whispered in her ear. Also there was Gilbert Palgrave, +who had gone down upon his knees. + +And that was the end of her isolation, her voluntary retirement. +Back she went to the City of Dreadful Nonsense, bought clothes and +shoes and hats, found an invitation to join a house party at +Southampton, made no effort to see or hear from Marty, and sprang +back into her seat in the Merry-go-round. "Who Cares?" she cried +again. "Nobody," she answered. "What I do with my life matters to no +one but myself. Set the pace, my dear, laugh and flirt and play with +fire and have a good time. A short life and a merry one." + +And then she joined the Hosacks, drank deep of the wine of +adulation, and when, at odd times, the sound of Marty's voice echoed +in her memory, she forced it out and laughed it away. "Who Cares?" +was his motto too,--red lips and white face and hair that came out +of a bottle! + +And now here was Gilbert Palgrave with the fire of love in his eyes. + + + +IV + + + +When Mrs. Hosack rose from the dinner table and sailed Olympically +into the drawing-room, surrounded by graceful light craft in the +persons of Primrose and her girl friends, the men, as usual, +followed immediately. The house was bridge mad, and the tables +called every one except Joan, the nice boy, and Gilbert Palgrave. + +During the preliminaries of an evening which would inevitably run +into the small hours, Joan went over to the piano and, with what was +a quite unconscious touch of irony, played one of Heller's +inimitable "Sleepless Nights," with the soft pedal down. The large +imposing room, a chaotic mixture of French and Italian furniture +with Flemish tapestries and Persian rugs, which accurately typified +the ubiquitous mind of the hostess, was discreetly lighted. The +numerous screened windows were open and the soft warm air came in +tinged with the salt of the sea. + +Palgrave, refusing to cut in, stood about like a disembodied spirit, +with his eyes on Joan, from whom, since his arrival, he had received +only a few fleeting glances. He watched the cursed boy, as he had +labelled him, slip over to her, lean across the piano and talk +eagerly. He went nearer and caught, "the car in half an hour," and +"not a word to a soul." After which, with jealousy gnawing at his +vitals, he saw Harry Oldershaw moon about for a few minutes and then +make a fishlike dart out of the room. He had been prepared to find +Joan amorously surrounded by the men of the party but not on terms +of sentimental intimacy with a smooth-faced lad. In town she had +shown preference for sophistication. He went across to the piano and +waited impatiently for Joan to finish the piece which somehow fitted +into his mood. "Come out," he said, then, "I want to speak to you." + +But Joan let her fingers wander into a waltz and raised her +eyebrows. "Do I look so much like Alice that you can order me +about?" she asked. + +He turned on his heel with the look of a dog at which a stone had +been flung by a friend, and disappeared. + +Two minutes later there was a light touch on his arm, and Joan stood +at his side on the veranda. "Well, Gilbert," she said, "it's good to +see you again." + +"So good that I might be a man touting for an encyclopedia," he +answered angrily. + +She sat upon the rough stone wall and crossed her little feet. Her +new frock was white and soft and very perfectly simple. It demanded +the young body of a nymph,--and was satisfied. The magic of the moon +was on her. She might have been Spring resting after a dancing day. + +"If you were," she said, taking a delight in unspoiling this +immaculate man, "I'm afraid you'd never get an order from me. Of all +things the encyclopedia must be accompanied by a winning smile and +irresistible manners. I suppose you've done lots of amusing things +since I saw you last." + +He went nearer so that her knees almost touched him. "No," he said. +"Only one, and that was far from amusing. It has marked me like a +blow. I've been waiting for you. Where have you been, and why +haven't you taken the trouble to write me a single letter?" + +"I've been ill," she said. "Yes, I have. Quite ill. I deliberately +set out to hurt myself and succeeded. It was an experiment that I +sha'n't repeat. I don't regret it. It taught me something that I +shall never forget. Never too young to learn, eh? Isn't it lovely +here? Just smell the sea, and look at those lights bobbing up and +down out there. I never feel any interest in ships in the daytime, +but at night, when they lie at anchor, and I can see nothing but +their lonely eyes, I would give anything to be able to fly round +them like a gull and peep into their cabins. Do they affect you like +that?" + +Palgrave wasn't listening to her. It was enough to look at her and +refresh his memory. She had been more than ever in his blood all +these weeks. She was like water in a desert or sunlight to a man who +comes up from a mine. He had found her again and he thanked whatever +god he recognized for that, but he was forced to realize from her +imperturbable coolness and unaffected ease that she was farther away +from him than ever. To one of his temperament and schooling this was +hard to bear with any sort of self-control. The fact that he wanted +her of all the creatures on earth, that she, alone among women, had +touched the fuse of his desire, and that, knowing this, she could +sit there a few inches from his lips and put a hundred miles between +them, maddened him, from whom nothing hitherto had been impossible. + +"Have I got to begin all over again?" he asked, with a sort of +petulance. + +"Begin what, Gilbert?" There was great satisfaction in playing with +one who thought that he had only to touch a bell to bring the moon +and the sun and the stars to his bidding. + +"Good God," he cried out. "You're like wet sand on which a man +expects to find yesterday's footmarks. Hasn't anything of me and the +things I've said to you remained in your memory?" + +"Of course," she said. "I shall never forget the night you took me +to the Brevoort, for instance, and supplied the key to all the +people with unkempt hair and comic ties." + +Some one on the beach below shot out a low whistle. + +A little thrill ran through Joan. In ten minutes, perhaps less, she +would be dancing once more to the lunatic medley of a Jazz band, +dancing with a boy who gave her all that she needed of him and asked +absolutely nothing of her; dancing among people who were less than +the dust in the scheme of things, so far as she was concerned, +except to give movement and animation to the room and to be steered +through. That was the right attitude towards life and its millions, +she told herself. As salt was to an egg so was the element of false +romance to this Golf Club dance. In a minute she would get rid of +Palgrave, yes, even the fastidious Gilbert Palgrave, who had never +been able quite to disguise the fact that his love for her was +something of a condescension; she would fly in the face of the +unwritten law of the pompous house on the dunes and mingle with what +Hosack had called the crowd from the hotel. It was all laughable and +petty, but it was what she wanted to do. It was all in the spirit of +"Who Cares?" that she had caught at again. Why worry as to what Mrs. +Hosack might say or Palgrave might feel? Wasn't she as free as the +air to follow her whims without a soul to make a claim upon her or +to hold out a hand to stop? + +Through these racing thoughts she heard Palgrave talking and +crickets rasping and frogs croaking and a sudden burst of laughter +and talk in the drawing-room,--and the whistle come again. + +"Yes," she said, because yes was as good as any other word. "Well, +Gilbert, dear, if you're not an early bird you will see me again +later,"--and jumped down from the wall. + +"Where are you going?" + +"Does that matter?" + +"Yes, it does. I want you here. I've been waiting all these weeks." + +She laughed. "It's a free country," she said, "and you have the +right to indulge in any hobby that amuses you. Au revoir, old +thing." And she spread out her arms like wings and flew to the steps +and down to the beach and away with some one who had sent out a +signal. + +"That boy," said Palgrave. "I'm to be turned down for a cursed boy! +By God, we'll know about that." + +And he followed, seeing red. + +He saw them get into a low-lying two-seater built on racing lines, +heard a laugh flutter into the air, watched the tail light sweep +round the drive and become smaller and smaller along the road. + +So that was it, was it? He had been relegated to the hangers-on, +reduced to the ranks, put into the position of any one of the number +of extraneous men who hung round this girl-child for a smile and a +word! That was the way he was to be treated, he, Gilbert Palgrave, +the connoisseur, the decorative and hitherto indifferent man who had +refused to be subjected to any form of discipline, who had never, +until Joan had come into his life, allowed any one to put him a +single inch out of his way, who had been triumphantly one-eyed and +selfish,--that was the way he was to be treated by the very girl who +had fulfilled his once wistful hope of making him stand, eager and +startled and love-sick among the chaos of individualism and +indolence, who had shaken him into the Great Emotion! Yes, by God, +he'd know about that. + +Bare-headed and surging with untranslatable anger he started +walking. He was in no mood to go into the drawing-room and cut into +a game of bridge and show his teeth and talk the pleasant inanities +of polite society. All the stucco of civilization fell about him in +slabs as he made his way with long strides out of the Hosacks' +place, across the sandy road and on to the springy turf of the golf +links. It didn't matter where he went so long as he got elbow room +for his indignation, breathing space for his rage and a wide +loneliness for his blasphemy. . . . + +He had stood humble and patient before this virginal girl. He had +confessed himself to her with the tremendous honesty of a man made +simple by an overwhelming love. She was married. So was he. But what +did that matter to either of them whose only laws were self-made? +The man to whom she was not even tied meant as little to her as the +girl he had foolishly married meant or would ever mean to him. He +had placed himself at her beck and call. In order to give her +amusement he had taken her to places in which he wouldn't have been +seen dead, had danced his good hours of sleep away for the pleasure +of seeing her pleased, had revolutionized his methods with women and +paid her tribute by the most scrupulous behavior and, finally, +instead of setting out to turn her head with pearls and diamonds and +carry her by storm while she was under the hypnotic influence of +priceless glittering things for bodily adornment, which render so +many women easy to take, he had recognized her as intelligent and +paid her the compliment of treating her as such, had stated his case +and waited for the time when the blaze of love would set her alight +and bring her to his arms. + +There was something more than mere egotism in all this,--the natural +egotism of a man of great wealth and good looks, who had walked +through life on a metaphorical red carpet pelted with flowers by +adoring women to whom even virtue was well lost in return for his +attention. Joan, like the spirit of spring, had come upon Palgrave +at that time of his life when youth had left him and he had stood at +the great crossroads, one leading down through a morass of self- +indulgence to a hideous senility, the other leading up over the +stones of sacrifice and service to a dignified usefulness. Her fresh +young beauty and enthusiasm, her golden virginity and unself- +consciousness, her unaffected joy in being alive, her superb health +and vitality had shattered his conceit and self-obsession, broken +down his aloofness and lack of scruple and filled the empty frame +that he had hung in his best thoughts with her face and form. + +There was something of the great lover about Palgrave in his new and +changed condition. He had laid everything unconditionally at the +feet of this young thing. He had shown a certain touch of bigness, +of nobility, he of all men, when, after his outburst in the little +drawing-room that night, he had stood back to wait until Joan had +grown up. He had waited for six weeks, going through tortures of +Joan-sickness that were agonizing. He had asked her to do what she +could for him in the way of a little kindness, but had not received +one single line. He was prepared to continue to wait because he knew +his love to be so great that it must eventually catch hold of her +like the licking flame of a prairie fire. It staggered him to arrive +at the Hosacks' place and find her fooling with a smooth-faced lad. +It outraged him to be left cold, as though he were a mere member of +the house party and watch her to whom he had thrown open his soul go +joy-riding with a cursed boy. It was, in a sort of way, heresy. It +proved an almost unbelievable inability to realize the great thing +that this was. Such love as his was not an everyday affair, to be +treated lightly and carelessly. It was, on the contrary, rare and +wonderful and as such to be, at any rate, respected. That's how it +seemed to him, and by God he would see about it. + +He drew up short, at last, on his strange walk across the undulating +course. The light from the Country Club streamed across his feet, +and the jangle of the Jazz band broke into his thoughts. From where +he stood, surprised to find himself in civilization, he could see +the crowd of dancers through the open windows of what resembled a +huge bungalow, at one side of which a hundred motor cars were +parked. He went nearer, drawn forward against his will. He was in no +mood to watch a summer dance of the younger set. He made his way to +the wide veranda and stood behind the rocking chairs of parents and +friends. But not for more than fifty seconds. There was Joan, with +her lovely laughing face alight with the joy of movement, held in +the arms of the cursed boy. Between two chairs he went, into and +across the room in which he was a trespasser, tapped young Oldershaw +sharply on the arm, cut into the dance, and before the boy could +recover from his surprise, was out of reach with Joan against his +heart. + +"Oh, well done, Gilbert," said Joan, a little breathlessly. "When +Marty did that to you at the Crystal Room . . ." + +She stopped, and a shadow fell on her face and a little tremble ran +across her lips. + +Smoking a cigarette on the veranda young Oldershaw waited for the +dance to end. It was encored several times but being a sportsman and +having achieved a monopoly of Joan during all the previous dances, +he let this man enjoy his turn. He was a great friend of hers, she +had said on the way to the club, and was, without doubt, a very +perfect person with his wide-set eyes and well-groomed head, his +smooth moustache and the cleft on his chin. He didn't like him. He +had decided that at a first glance. He was too supercilious and +self-assured and had a way of looking clean through men's heads. He +conveyed the impression of having bought the earth,--and Joan. A +pity he was too old for a year or two of Yale. That would make him a +bit more of a man. + +When presently the Jazzers paused in order to recuperate,--every one +of them deserving first aid for the wounded,--and Joan came out for +a little air with Palgrave, Harry strolled up. This was his evening, +and in a perfectly nice way he conveyed that impression by his +manner. He was, moreover, quite determined to give nothing more +away. He conveyed that, also. + +"Shall we sit on the other side?" he asked. "The breeze off the sea +keeps the mosquitoes away a bit." + +Refusing to acknowledge his existence Palgrave guided Joan towards a +vacant chair. He went on with what he had been saying and swung the +chair round. + +Joan was smiling again. + +Oldershaw squared his jaw. "I advise against this side, Joan," he +said. "Let me take you round." + +He earned a quick amused look and a half shrug of white shoulders +from Joan. Palgrave continued to talk in a low confidential voice. +He regarded Oldershaw's remarks as no more of an interruption than +the chorus of the frogs. Oldershaw's blood began to boil, and he had +a queer prickly sensation at the back of his neck. Whoo, but there'd +have to be a pretty good shine in a minute, he said to himself. This +man Palgrave must be taught. + +He marched up to Joan and held out his arm. "We may as well get +back," he said. "The band's going to begin again." + +But Joan sat down, looking from one man to the other. All the woman +in her revelled in this rivalry,--all that made her long-dead +sisters crowd to the arenas, wave to armored knights in deadly +combat, lean forward in grand stands to watch the Titanic struggles +of Army and Navy, Yale and Harvard on the football field. Her eyes +danced, her lips were parted a little, her young bosom rose and +fell. + +"And so you see," said Palgrave, putting his hand on the back of her +chair, "I can stay as long as the Hosacks will have me, and one day +I'll drive you over to my bachelor cottage on the dune. It will +interest you." + +"The only thing that has any interest at the moment is dancing," +said Oldershaw loudly. "By the way, you don't happen to be a member +of the club, do you, Mr. Palgrave?" + +With consummate impudence Palgrave caught his eye and made a sort of +policeman gesture. "Run away, my lad," he said, "run away and amuse +yourself." He almost asked for death. + +With a thick mutter that sounded like "My God," Oldershaw balanced +himself to hit, his face the color of a beet-root,--and instantly +Joan was on her feet between them with a hand on the boy's chest. + +"No murder here," she said, "please!" + +"Murder!" echoed Palgrave, scoffing. + +"Yes, murder. Can't you see that this boy could take you and break +you like a dry twig? Let's go back, all three of us. We don't want +to become the center of a sight-seeing crowd." And she took an arm +of each shaking man and went across the drive to where the car was +parked. + +And so the danger moment was evaded,--young Oldershaw warm with +pride, Palgrave sullen and angry. They made a trio which had its +prototypes all the way back to the beginning of the world. + +It did Palgrave no good to crouch ignominiously on the step of the +car which Oldershaw drove back hell for leather. + +The bridge tables were still occupied. The white lane was still +across the sea. Frogs and crickets still continued their noisy +rivalry, but it was a different climate out there on the dunes from +that of the village with its cloying warmth. + +Palgrave went into the house at once with a brief "Thank you." Joan +waited while Harry put the car into a garage. Bed made no appeal. +Bridge bored,--it required concentration. She would play the game of +sex with Gilbert if he were to be found. So the boy had to be +disposed of. + +"Harry," she said, when he joined her, chuckling at having come top +dog out of the recent blaze, "you'd better go straight to bed now. +We're going to be up early in the morning, you know." + +"Just what I was thinking," he answered. "By Jove, you've given me a +corking good evening. The best of my young life. You . . . you +certainly are,--well, I don't know how to do you justice. I'd have +to be a poet." He fumbled for her hand and kissed it a little +sheepishly. + +They went in. "You're a nice boy, Harry," she said. There was +something in his charming simplicity and muscular strength that +reminded her of,--but she refused to let the name enter her mind. + +"I could have broken that chap like a dry twig, too, easy. Who does +he think he is?" He would have pawned his life at that moment for +the taste of her lips. + +She stood at the bottom of the stairs and held out her hand. "Good +night, old boy," she said. + +And he took it and hurt it. "Good night, Joany," he answered. + +That pet name hurt her more than his eager grasp. It was Marty's own +word--Marty, who--who-- + +She threw up her head and stamped her foot, and slammed the door of +her thoughts. "Who cares?" she said to herself, challenging life and +fate. "Come on. Make things move." + +She saw Palgrave standing alone in the library looking at the sea. +"You might be Canute," she said lightly. + +His face was curiously white. "I'm off in the morning," he said. "We +may as well say good-by now." + +"Good-by, then," she answered. + +"I can't stay in this cursed place and let you play the fool with +me." + +"Why should you?" + +"There'll be Hosack and the others as well as your new pet." + +"That's true." + +He caught her suddenly by the arms. "Damn you," he said. "I wish to +God I'd never seen you." + +She laughed. "Cave man stuff, eh?" + +He let her go. She had the most perfect way of reducing him to +ridicule. + +"I love you," he said. "I love you. Aren't you going to try, even to +try, to love me back?" + +"No." + +"Not ever?" + +"Never." She went up to him and stood straight and slim and +bewitching, eye to eye. "If you want me to love you, make me. Work +for it, move Heaven and earth. You can't leave it to me. I don't +want to love you. I'm perfectly happy as I am. If you want me, win +me, carry me off my feet and then you shall see what it is to be +loved. It's entirely up to you, understand that. I shall fight +against it tooth and nail, but I give you leave to do your best. Do +you accept the challenge?" + +"Yes," he said, and his face cleared, and his eyes blazed. + + + + +V + + +At the moment when the Nice Boy, as brown as the proverbial berry, +was playing a round of golf with Joan within sound of the sea, +Howard Oldershaw, his cousin, drove up to the little house in East +Sixty-fifth Street to see Martin. + +He, too, had caught the sun, and his round fat face was rounder and +fatter than ever. He, too, had the epitome of health, good nature, +and misdirected energy. He performed a brief but very perfect double +shuffle on the top step while waiting for the door to open, and then +barged past the constitutionally unsurprised man servant, sang out a +loud woo-hoo and blew into the library like an equinoctial gale. + +Pipe in mouth, and wearing a thin silk dressing gown, Martin was +standing under the portrait of his father. He slipped something +quickly into his pocket and turned about. It was a photograph of +Joan. + +"Well, you Jack-o'-Lantern," he said. "It's better late than never, +I suppose." + +Howard sent his straw hat spinning across the room. It landed +expertly in a chair. "My dear chap, your note's been lying in my +apartment for a week, snowed under my bills. I drove back this +morning, washed the bricks out of my eyes and came right around. +What are you grumbling about?" + +"I'm not grumbling. When you didn't show up in answer to my note I +telephoned, and they told me you were away. Where've you been?" + +"Putting in a week at the Field Club at Greenwich," replied Howard, +filling a large cigarette case from the nearest box, as was his most +friendly habit. "Two sweaters, tennis morning, noon and night, no +sugar, no beer, no butter, no bread, gallons of hot water--and look +at me! Martin, it's a tragedy. If I go on like this, it's me for +Barnum's Circus as the world's prize pig. What's the trouble?" + +There was not the usual number of laughter lines round Martin's +eyes, but one or two came back at the sight and sound of his +exuberant friend. "No trouble," he said, lying bravely. "I got here +the day you left and tried to find you. That's all. I wanted you to +come down to Shinnecock and play golf. Everybody else seems to be at +Plattsburg, and I was at a loose end." + +"Golf's no good to me. It wouldn't reduce me any more than playing +the piano with somebody dying in the next room. Been here all the +week?" + +"Yes," said Martin. + +"What? In this fug hole, with the sun shining? Out with it, Martin. +Get it off your chest, old son." + +Just for an instant Martin was hugely tempted to make a clean breast +of everything to this good-hearted, tempestuous person, under whose +tight skin there was an uncommon amount of shrewdness. But it meant +dragging Joan into open discussion, and that was all against his +creed. He had inherited from his father and his father's father an +absolute incapability of saying anything to anybody about his wife. +And so he slammed the door of his soul and presented an enigmatical +front. + +"There's nothing on my chest," he said. "Business downtown has kept +me here,--legal stuff and that sort of thing. But I'm free now. Got +any suggestions?" + +Howard accepted this. If a pal was determined not to confide and get +invaluable advice, what was the use of going for him with a can +opener? But one good look at the face whose every expression he knew +so well convinced him that something was very much the matter. "Why, +good Lord," he said to himself, "the old thing looks as if he'd been +working night and day for an examination and had been plucked. I +wonder which of the two girls is at the back of all this,--the wife +or the other?" Rumors had reached his way about both. + +"What do you want to do?" he asked. + +"I don't care," said Martin. "Any damn thing so long as it's +something with somebody. What's it matter?" + +He didn't quite manage to hide the little quiver in his voice, and +it came to Howard Oldershaw for the first time how young they both +were to be floundering on the main road, himself with several +entanglements and money worries, his friend married and with another +complication. They were both making a pretty fine hash of things, it +seemed, and just for a moment, with something of boyishness that +still remained behind his sophistication, he wished that they were +both back at Yale, unhampered and unencumbered, their days filled +with nothing but honest sport and good lectures and the whole joy of +life. + +"It's like this with me, Martin," he said, with a rather rueful +grin. "I'm out of favor at home just now and broke to the wide. +There are one or two reasons why I should lie low for a while, too. +How about going out to your place in the country? I'll hit the wily +ball with you and exercise your horses, lead the simple life and, +please God, lose some flesh, and guarantee to keep you merry and +bright in my well-known, resilient way. What do you say, old son?" + +Martin heartily appreciated Howard's sound method of swinging +everything round to himself and trying to make out that it was all +on his side to go out to the house in which Joan ought to be. He was +not a horseman or a golfer, and the simple life had few attractions +for him. Well, that was friendship. + +"Thanks, old man," he said. "That's you to the life, but I vote we +get a change from golf and riding. Come down to Devon with me, and +let's do some sailing. You remember Gilmore? I had a letter from him +this morning, asking if I'd like to take his cottage and yawl. Does +that sound good?" + +"Great," cried Howard. "Sailing--that's the game, and by gum, +swimming's the best of all ways of dropping adipose deposit. Wire +Gilmore and fix it. I'll drive you out to-morrow. By the way, I +found a letter from my cousin Harry among the others. He's in that +part of the world. He's frightfully gone on your wife, it appears." + +Martin looked up quickly. "Where is she?" he asked. + +"Why, they're both staying at the Hosacks' place at Easthampton. +Didn't you know that?" He was incredulous. + +"No," said Martin. + +Howard metaphorically clapped his hand over his mouth. Questions +were on the tip of his tongue. If Martin were not in the mood to +take him into his confidence, however, there must be a good reason +for it, but,--not to know where his wife was! What on earth was at +the bottom of all this? "All right," he said. "I've one or two +things I must do, and I'll be round in the morning, or is that too +soon?" + +"The sooner the better," said Martin. "I'll send the cook and Judson +down by the early train. They'll have things in shape by the time we +show up. I'm fed up with New York and can smell the water already. +Will you dine with me to-night and see a show?" + +"I can't," said Howard, and laughed. + +"I see. To-morrow, then." + +"Right. Great work. So long, old son. Get busy and do what you have +to do to-day, then we can leave this frying pan to-morrow with +nothing on our minds." + +"I haven't anything to do," said Martin. + +Howard picked up his hat and caught it with his head in the manner +of a vaudeville artist. But he didn't go. He stood waiting, keyed to +a great sympathy. There was something in Martin's voice and at the +back of his eyes which made him see him plainly and suddenly as a +man standing all alone and wounded. But he waited in vain. There was +a curious silence,--a rather painful and embarrassing silence, +during which these two lads, who had been pretending to be men, +dodged each other's eyes. + +And then Howard, with an uncharacteristic awkwardness, and looking +very young, made a quick step forward, and with a sort of gentle +roughness grasped Martin by the arm. "But you've got something to +say," he said. "Good God, man, have we been pals for nothing? I hide +nothing from you. I can help." + +But Martin shook his head. He tried to speak and failed. There was +something hard in his throat. But he put his hand very warmly on his +friend's shoulder for a moment and turned away abruptly. "Joan, +Joan," he cried in his heart, "what are you doing, what are we both +doing? Why are we killing the days that can never come back?" + +He heard Howard go out. He heard the front door close and the honk +of the horn. And for a long time he stood beneath the portrait of +the man who had gone so far away and who alone could have helped +him. + +The telephone bell rang. + +Martin was spoken to by the girl that lived in the rabbit warren in +West Forty-sixth Street in the rooms below those of Tootles. "Can +you come round at once?" she asked. "It's about Tootles--urgent." + +And Martin answered, "Yes, now, at once." + +After all, then, there might be something to do. + + + + +VI + + +Master of all the sky, the sun fell warmly on the city, making +delicious shadows, gliding giant buildings, streaming across the +park, chasing the endless traffic along the Avenue, and catching at +points of color. It was one of those splendid mornings of full-blown +Tune, when even New York,--that paradox of cities,--had beauty. It +was too early in the year for the trees to have grown blowsy and the +grass worn and burnt. The humidity of midsummer was held back by the +energy of a merry breeze which teased the flags and sent them +spinning against the oriental blue of the spotless sky. + +Martin walked to West Forty-sixth Street. There was an air of half- +time about the Avenue. The ever-increasingly pompous and elaborate +shops, whose window contents never seem to vary, wore a listless, +uninterested expression like that of a bookmaker during the luncheon +hour at the races. Their glittering smile, their enticement and +solicitation, their tempting eye-play were relaxed. The cocottes of +Monte Carlo at the end of the season could not have assumed a +greater indifference. But there were the same old diamonds and +pearls, the same old canvases, the same old photographs, the same +old antiques, the same old frocks and shoes and men's shirtings, the +same old Persian rugs and Japanese ware, the same cold, hard plates +and china, the very same old hats and dinks and dressing-gowns and +cut flowers and clubs, and all the same doormen in the uniforms that +are a cross between those of admirals and generals, the men whose +only exercise during the whole of the year is obtained by cutting +ice and sweeping snow from just their particular patch of pavement. +In all the twists and changes, revolutions and cross currents, +upheavals and in-fallings that affect this world, there is one great +street which, except for a new building here and there, resolutely +maintains its persistent sameness. Its face is like that of a large, +heavily made-up and not unbeautiful woman, veil-less and with some +dignity but only two expressions, enticement and indifference. A man +may be lost at the North Pole, left to die on the west coast of +Africa, married in London, or forcibly detained in Siberia, but, let +him return to life and New York, and he will find that whatever +elsewhere Anno Domini may have defaced and civilization made +different, next to nothing has happened to Fifth Avenue. + +Martin had told Howard of the way he had found Joan on the hill, how +she had climbed out of window that night and come to him to be +rescued and how he had brought her to town to find Alice Palgrave +away and married her. All that, but not one word of his having been +shown the door on the night of the wedding, of her preference for +Palgrave, her plunge into night life, or his own odd hut human +adventure with Susie Capper as a result of the accident. But for the +fact that it wasn't his way to speak about his wife whatever she did +or left undone, Martin would have been thankful to have made a clean +breast of everything. Confession is good for the soul, and Martin's +young soul needed to be relieved of many bewilderments and pains and +questionings. He wished that he could have continued the story to +Howard of the kid's way Joan had treated him,--a way which had left +him stultified,--of how, touched by the tragedy that had reduced the +poor little waif of the chorus to utter grief and despair, he had +taken her out to the country to get healing in God's roofless +cathedral, and of how, treating her, because of his love and +admiration of Joan, with all the respect and tenderness that he +would have shown a sister, it had given him the keenest pleasure and +delight to help her back to optimism and sanity. He would like to +have told Howard all the simple and charming details of that good +week, giving him a sympathetic picture of the elfish Tootles +enjoying her brief holiday out in the open, and of her recovery +under the inspiration of trees and flowers and brotherliness, to all +of which she was so pathetically unaccustomed. He wouldn't have told +of the many efforts made by Tootles to pay him back in the only way +that seemed to her to be possible, even if he had known of them,--he +had not been on the lookout for anything of that sort. Nor would he, +of course, have gone into the fact that Tootles loved him quite as +much as he loved Joan,--he knew nothing of that. But he would have +said much of the joy that turned cold at the sight of Joan's face +when she saw Tootles lying on the sofa in his den, of her rush to +get away, of the short, sharp scene which followed her unexpected +visit, and of his having driven Tootles back to town the following +morning at her urgent request,--a curious, quiet Tootles with the +marks of a sleepless night on her face. Also he would have said +something of his wild despair at having been just ten minutes too +late to find Joan at the house in East Sixty-fifth Street, of his +futile attempts to discover where she had gone, and of the ghastly, +mystifying days back in the country, waiting and wondering and +writing letters that he never posted,--utterly unaware of the +emotion which had prompted Joan to walk into his den that night, but +quite certain of the impression that she had taken away with her. + +It was with a sense of extraordinary isolation that Martin walked +down Fifth Avenue. Two good things had, however, come out of his +talk with Howard Oldershaw. One was the certainty of this man's +friendship. The other the knowledge of the place at which Joan was +staying. This last fact made him all the more anxious to get down to +the cottage. Devon was only a short drive from Easthampton, and that +meant the possibility of seeing and speaking to Joan. Good God, if +only she could understand a little of what she meant to him, and how +he craved and pined for her. + +The dressmaker on the street floor of the rabbit warren had gone out +of business. Failed probably, poor thing. Tootles had once said that +the only people she ever saw in the shop were pressing creditors. A +colored woman of bulbous proportions and stertorous breathing was +giving a catlick to the dirty stairway. A smell of garlic and onions +met Martin on his way to the rooms of Tootles' friend, and on the +first landing he drew back to let two men pass down who looked like +movie actors. They wore violet ties and tight-fitting jackets with +trench belts and short trousers that should have been worn by their +younger brothers. The actor on the next floor, unshaven and +obviously just out of bed, was cooking breakfast in his cubby-hole. +He wore the upper part of his pajamas and a pair of incredibly dirty +flannel trousers. The marks of last night's grease paint were on his +temples and eyebrows. He hummed a little song to the accompaniment +of sizzling bacon. + +When Martin knocked on the door of the apartment of the girl to whom +he had never spoken except over the telephone and whose name he +remembered to be Irene Stanton, a high-pitched, nasal voice cried +out. + +"Come right in." He went right in and was charged at by a half-bred +Chow whose bark was like a gunman's laugh, and a tiny pink beast +which worked itself into a state of hysterical rage. But when a +high-heeled shoe was flung at them from the bedroom, followed by a +volley of fruit-carrier words of the latest brand, they retired, +awed and horror-stricken, to cover. + +Martin found himself in a small, square living room with two windows +looking over the intimate backs of other similar houses. Under the +best of conditions it was not a room of very comfortable +possibilities. In the hands of its present occupant, it was, to +Martin's eyes, the most depressing and chaotic place he had ever +seen. The cheap furniture and the cheaper wall paper went well with +a long-unwhite-washed ceiling and smudged white paint. A line of +empty beer bottles which stood on a mantelpiece littered with +unframed photographs and dog-eared Christmas cards struck a note so +blase that it might almost have been committed for a reason. On the +square mission table in the center there was a lamp with a belaced +pink shade at a cock-eyed angle which resembled the bonnet of a +streetwalker in the early hours of the morning. An electric iron +stood coldly beneath it with its wire attached to a fixture in the +wall. Various garments littered the chairs and sofa, and jagged +pieces of newspaper which had been worried by the dogs covered the +floor. + +But the young woman who shortly made her appearance was very +different from the room. Her frock was neat and clean, her face most +carefully made up, her shoes smart. She had a wide and winning grin, +teeth that should have advertised a toothpaste, and a pair of +dimples which ought to have been a valuable asset to any chorus. +"Why, but you HAVE done a hustle," she said. "I haven't even had +time to tidy up a bit." She cleared a chair and shook a finger at +the dogs, who, sneaking out from under the sofa, were eyeing her +with apprehensive affection. The Chow's mother had evidently lost +her heart to a bulldog. "Excuse the look of this back attic," she +added. "I've got to move, and I'm in the middle of packing." + +"Of course," said Martin, eager to know why he had been sent for. +"It's about Tootles, you said." + +"Very much so." She sat on the edge of the table, crossed her arms, +and deliberately looked Martin over with expert eyes. Knowing as +much about men as a mechanic of a main-road motor-repairing shop +knows about engines, her examination was acute and thorough. + +Martin waited quietly, amused at her coolness, but impatient to come +to cues. She was a good sort, he knew. Tootles had told him so, and +he was certain that she had asked to see him out of friendship for +the girl upstairs. + +Her first question was almost as disconcerting and abrupt as a +Zeppelin bomb. "What did you do to Tootles?" + +Martin held her examining gaze. "Nothing, except give her a bit of a +holiday," he said. + +"I saw you go off with her that morning." She smiled and her eyes +became a little more friendly. "She wrote me a letter from your +place and said she'd found out what song writers meant by the word +heaven." + +"Did she?" said Martin. "I'm glad." + +It came to her in a flash that her little pal had fallen in love +with this boy and instantly she understood the mystery of Tootles' +change of method and point of view--her moping, her relaxed grip on +life. She meant almost nothing to the boy and knew it. + +"But don't you think you might have been to see her since you +brought her back?" she asked. + +"I've been very worried," said Martin simply. + +"Is that so?" and then, after another pause, this girl said a second +astonishing thing. "I wish I didn't see in you a man who tells the +truth. I wish you were just one of the ordinary sort that comes our +way. I should know how to deal with you better." + +"Tell me what you mean," said Martin. + +"Shall I? All right, I will." She stood up with her hands on her +hips. "If you'd played the usual game with little Tootles and +dropped her cold, I wouldn't let you get out of this room without +coming up to scratch. I'd make you cough up a good-sized check. +There's such a thing as playing the game even by us strap-hangers, +you know. As it is, I can see that you were on the square, that +you're a bit of a poet or something and did Tootles a good turn for +nothing, and honestly, I don't know the next move. You don't owe her +anything, you see." + +"Is money the trouble?" asked Martin. + +Irene Stanton shot out an odd, short laugh. "Let me tell you +something," she said. "You know what happened at the dress rehearsal +of 'The Ukelele Girl'? Well, the word's gone around about her +chucking the show at the last minute, and it's thumbs down for +Tootles. She hadn't a nickel when she came back from your place, and +since then she's pawned herself right down to the bone to pay her +rent and get a few eats. She wouldn't take nothing from me because +I'm out too, and this is a bad time to get into anything new. Only +two things can stop her from being put out at the end of the week. +One's going across the passage to the drunken fellow that writes +music, and the other's telling the tale to you. She won't do either. +I've never seen her the way she is now. She sits around, staring at +the wall, and when I try to put some of her usual pep into her she +won't listen. She's all changed since that taste of the country, and +I figure she won't get on her feet again without a big yank up. She +keeps on saying to herself, like a sort of song, 'Oh, Gawd, for a +sight of the trees,' and I've known girls end it quick when they get +that way." + +Martin got up. "Where do you keep your pen and ink?" he asked. Poor +old Tootles. There certainly was something to do. + +Irene bent forward eagerly. "Are you going to see her through this +snag?" + +"Of course I am." + +"Ah, that's the talk. But wait a second. We got to be tricky about +this." She was excited and tremendously in earnest. "If she gets to +know I've been holding out the hat to you, we're wasting time. Give +me the money, see? I'll make up a peach of a story about how it came +to me,--the will of a rich uncle in Wisconsin or something, you +know,--and ask her to come and help me blow it in somewhere on the +coast, see? She gave me three weeks' holiday once. It's my turn now, +me being in luck. . . . But perhaps you don't trust me?" + +"You trust me," said Martin, and gave her one of his honest smiles. + +He caught sight of a bottle of ink on the window sill. There was a +pen of sorts there also. He brought them to the table and made out a +check in the name of his fellow conspirator. He was just as anxious +as she was to put "a bit of pep" into the little waif who had sat +beneath the portrait of his father. There was no blotting paper, so +he waved it in the air before handing it over. + +A rush of tears came to Irene's eyes when she saw what he had +written. She held out her hand, utterly giving up an attempt to find +words. + +"Thank you for calling up," said Martin, doing his best to be +perfectly natural and ordinary. "I wish you'd done so sooner. Poor +old Tootles. Write to the Devon Yacht Club, Long Island, and let me +know how you get on. We've all three been up against some rotten bad +luck, haven't we? Good-by, then. I'll go up to Tootles now." + +"No, no," she said, "don't. That'd bring my old uncle to life right +away. She'd guess you was in on this, all right. Slip off and let me +have a chance with my movie stuff." With a mixture of emotion and +hilarity she suddenly waved the check above her head. "Can you +imagine the fit the receiving teller at my little old bank'll throw +when I slip this across as if it meant nothing to me?" + +And then she caught up one of Martin's hands and did the most +disconcerting thing of all. She pressed it to her lips and kissed +it. + +Martin got as red as a beet. "Well, then, good-by," he said, making +for the door. "Good luck." + +"Good-by and good luck to you. My word, but you've made optimism +sprout all over my garden, and I thought the very roots of it were +dead." + +For a few minutes after Martin was gone, she danced about her +appalling room, and laughed and cried and said the most +extraordinary things to her dogs. The little pink beast became +hysterical again, and the Chow leaped into a bundle of under- +clothing and worried the life out of it. Finally, having hidden the +check in a safe place, the girl ran upstairs to break the good news +of her uncle's death to Tootles. Why, they could do the thing like +ladies, the pair of them. It was immense, marvellous, almost beyond +belief! That old man of Wisconsin deserved a place in Heaven. . . . +Heaven--Devon. + +It was an inspiration. "Gee, but that's the idea!" she said to +herself. "Devon--and the sight of that boy. That'll put the pep +back, unless I'm the original nut. And if he doesn't care about her +now, he may presently. Others have." + +And when she went in, there was Tootles staring at the wall, and +through it and away beyond at the place Martin had called the +Cathedral, and at Martin, with his face dead-white because Joan had +turned and gone. + + + + +VII + + +It was a different Tootles who, ten days later, sat on a bank of dry +ferns that overlooked a superb stretch of water and watched the sun +go down. The little half-plucked bird of the Forty-sixth Street +garret with the pale thin face and the large tired eyes had almost +become the fairy of Joan's hill once more, the sun-tanned little +brother of Peter Pan again. A whole week of the air of Devon and the +smell of its pines, of the good wholesome food provided by the +family with whom she and Irene were lodging, of long rambles through +the woods, of bathing and sleeping, and the joy of finding herself +among trees had performed that "yank" of which her fellow chorus +lady had spoken. + +Tootles was on her feet again. Her old zest to live had been given +back to her by the wonder and the beauty of sky and water and trees. +A child of nature, hitherto forced to struggle for her bread in +cities, she was revived and renewed and refreshed by the sweet +breath and the warm welcome of that simple corner of God's earth to +which Irene had so cunningly brought her. Her starved, city-ridden +spirit had blossomed and become healthy out there in the country +like a root of Creeping Jenny taken from a pot on the window-sill of +a slum house and put back into good brown earth. + +The rough and ready family with whom they were lodging kept a duck +farm, and it was to this white army of restless, greedy things that +Tootles owed her first laugh. Tired and smut-bespattered after a +tedious railway journey she had eagerly and with childish joy gone +at once to see them fed, the old and knowing, the young and +optimistic, and all the yellow babies with uncertain feet and tiny +noises. After that, a setting sun which set fire to the sky and +water and trees, melting and mingling them together, and Tootles +turned the corner. The motherless waif slept that night on Nature's +maternal breast and was comforted. + +The warm-hearted Irene was proud of herself. Devon--Heaven--it was +indeed an inspiration. The only fly in her amber came from the fact +that Martin was away. But when she discovered that he and his friend +had merely gone for a short trip on the yawl she waited with great +content for their return, setting the seeds in Tootles' mind, with +infinite diplomacy and feminine cunning, of a determination to use +all her wiles to win even a little bit of love from Martin as soon +as she saw him again. + +Playing the part of one who had unexpectedly benefited from the will +of an almost-forgotten relative she never, of course, said a word of +why she had chosen Devon for this gorgeous holiday. Temporarily +wealthy it was not necessary to look cannily at every nickel. Before +leaving New York she had bought herself and Tootles some very +necessary clothes and saw to it that they lived on as much of the +fat of the land as could be obtained in the honest and humble house +in which she had found a large two-bedded room. Her cigarettes were +Egyptian now and on the train she had bought half a dozen new novels +at which she looked with pride. Hitherto she had been obliged to +read only those much-handled blase-looking books which went the +round of the chorus. Conceive what that meant! Also she had brought +with her a bottle of the scent that was only, so far as she knew, +within reach of leading ladies. Like the cigarettes and the books, +this was really for Tootles to use, but she borrowed a little from +time to time. + +As for Irene Stanton, then, she was having, and said so, the time of +her young life. She richly deserved it, and if her kindness and +thoughtfulness, patience and sympathy had not been entered in the +big volume of the Recording Angel that everlasting young woman must +have neglected her pleasant job for several weeks. + +And, as for Tootles, it is true that her bobbed hair still owed its +golden brilliance to a bottle, but the white stuff on her face had +been replaced by sunburn, and her lips were red all by themselves. + +She was watching the last of the great red globe when her friend +joined her. There had been a race of sloops that afternoon, and +there was unusual animation on the quay and at the little club +house. A small power boat, on which were the starter and judges and +others, had just put in with a good deal of splutter and fuss. On +the stoop of the club a small band was playing, and a bevy of young +people were dancing. Following in the wake of the last sloop a yawl +with a dingey in tow was coming towards the quay. + +Seeing that Tootles was in one of her ecstatic moods and was deaf to +remarks, Irene saved her words to cool her porridge and watched the +incoming yawl. She did so at first without much interest. It was +merely a sailboat to her city eyes, and her good lines and good +management meant nothing. But as she came nearer something familiar +in the cut of the man at her helm caught her attention. Surely those +broad shoulders and that deep chest and small head could belong only +to Martin Gray? They did, they did. It was that boy at last, that +boy about whom Tootles had gone dippy, that boy whose generosity had +made their holiday possible, that boy the first sight of whom would +put the last touch to Tootles' recovery--that boy who, if her friend +set her mind and feminine charm to work, might, it seemed to the +practical Irene, make her future safe. Strap-hangers had very few +such chances. + +With a tremendous effort she sat wordless and waited, knowing that +Martin must come that way to his cottage. With all her sense of the +dramatic stirred she watched the business of coming to anchor with +some impatience and when finally the dingey was hauled in and the +two men got aboard, loosed off and rowed to shore, excitement sent +the blood tingling through her veins. She heard them laugh and look +up towards the club, now almost deserted; cars were being driven +inland in quick succession. She watched them, hatless and sun- +tanned, come nearer and nearer. She got up as if to go, hesitated, +caught Martin's eye, gave an exclamation of well-acted amazement and +waved her hand. "Well," she cried out, "for Heaven's sake! I never +thought you meant this little old Devon!" + +Howard had long ago caught sight of the two girls and wondered if +they were pretty, hoping they would remain until he could decide the +point for himself. They were, both of them, and Martin knew them. +Good enough. He stood by while Martin greeted the one who spoke and +then saw the other wake suddenly at the sound of his friend's voice, +stumble to her feet and go forward with a little cry. + +"Why, Tootles," said Martin warmly. "I never thought of seeing you +here. How well you look." + +It was like dreaming true. Tootles could only smile and cling to his +hand. + +"By Jove, the other girl," thought Howard, with what, after all, was +only an easy touch of intuition. The girl's face told her story. +"What will this mean?" Then there were introductions, questions and +answers, laughter, jokes, a quick exchange of glances between Martin +and Irene, in which he received and acknowledged her warning, and a +little silence. + +"Come up to the cottage and have dinner with us," said Martin, +breaking it rather nervously. "Can you?" + +Tootles nodded. Devon--Heaven. How perfectly the words rhymed. + +"You couldn't keep us away with a stick," said Irene. This was the +way things should go. Also, the jovial, fat person with the roving +eyes might brighten things considerably for her. + +"Great work!" Said Howard. + +And then, taking Tootle's arm and breaking into enthusiastic details +of the sailing trip, Martin led the way up to the cottage among the +firs. It was good to have been able to put little Tootles into +spirits again. + +Howard followed with Irene. "Gee whiz!" he said to himself, "some +dimples!" + +A few miles away as the crow flies Gilbert Palgrave In his bedroom +in St. James's Palace cursed himself and life because Joan was still +as difficult to win as sunshine was to bottle. + +And up in the sky that hung above them all the angels were lighting +the stars. + + + + +VIII + + +Martin was not given to suspicion. He accepted people at their face +value and believed in human nature. It never occurred to him, then, +that the apparently ingenuous and disarming Irene, with her straight +glance and wide smile, had brought Tootles to Devon except by +accident or for anything but health and peace. He was awfully glad +to see them. They added to the excellent effect upon his spirits +which had been worked by the constant companionship of the +irrepressible Howard, before whose habitual breeziness depression +could stand little chance. + +Also he had youth and health and plenty to do in gorgeous weather, +and so his case, which he had been examining rather morbidly, +assumed a less painful aspect. His love and need of Joan remained +just as strong, but the sense of martyrdom brought about by +loneliness and self-analysis left him. Once more he assured himself +that Joan was a kid and must have her head until she became a woman +and faced facts. Over and over again he repeated to himself the +creed that she had flung into the teeth of fate, and in this he +found more excuse than she deserved for the way in which she had +used him to suit her purpose and put him into the position of a big +elder brother whose duty it was to support her, in loco parentis, +and not interfere with her pastimes. However much she fooled and +flirted, he had an unshakable faith in her cleanness and sweetness, +and if he continued to let her alone, to get fed up with what she +called the Merry-go-round, she would one day come home and begin all +over again. She was a kid, just a kid as she had said, and why, +after all, should she be bullied and bully-ragged before she had had +time to work it off? That's how he argued. + +Meanwhile, he was, thankfully enough, no longer alone. Here were +Howard and the two girls and the yawl and the sun, and he would keep +merry and bright until Joan came back. He was too proud and +sensitive to go to Joan and have it all out with her and thus dispel +what had developed into a double misunderstanding, and too loyal to +go to Joan's mother and tell his story and beg for help. Like Joan +and Howard, and who knows how many other young things in the world, +he was paying the inevitable penalty for believing that he could +face the problems of life unassisted, unadvised and was making a +dreadful hash of it in consequence. He little knew that his kindness +to Tootles had made Joan believe that he had exchanged his armor for +broadcloth and put her in a "who cares?" mood far more dangerous +than the one which had sent her into the night life of New York, or +that, owing to Tootles, she was, at that very moment, for the fun of +the thing, driving Gilbert Palgrave to a state of anger and +desperation which might lead to tragedy. Poor young things, +misguided and falsely proud and at a loose end! What a waste of +youth and spring which a few wise words of counsel would retrieve +and render blessed. + +And as for Tootles, with her once white face and red lips and hair +that came out of a bottle, Martin was to her what Joan was to +Palgrave and for the same reason. Irene's hints and innuendos had +taken root. Caring nothing for the practical side of her friend's +point of view,--the assured future business,--all her energies were +bent to attract Martin, all that was feminine in her was making a +huge effort to win, by hook or crook, somehow soon, an answer, +however temporary, to her love. Never mind what happened after these +summer weeks were over. What matter if she went mad so that she had +her day? She had never come across any man like this young Martin, +with his clean eyes and sensitive soul and honest hands, his, to +her, inconceivable capacity of "being brother," his puzzling +aloofness from the lure of sex. She didn't understand what it meant +to a boy of Martin's type to cherish ideals and struggle to live up +to a standard that had been set for him by his father. In her daily +fight for mere self-preservation, in which joy came by accident, any +such thing as principle seemed crazy. Her street--Arab +interpretation of the law of life was to snatch at everything that +she could reach because there was so much that was beyond her grasp. +Her love for Martin was the one passion of her sordid little life, +and she would be thankful and contented to carry memories back to +her garret which no future rough-and-tumble could ever take away or +blot out. + +For several days after the first of many dinners with the boys, +Tootles played her cards with the utmost care. The foursome became +inseparable, bathing, sailing and motoring from morning to night. If +there was any truth in the power of propinquity, it must have been +discovered then. Howard attached himself to Irene whom he found +something more than merry and amusing,--a girl of indomitable +courage and optimism, in fact. He liked her immensely. And so +Tootles paired off with Martin and had innumerable opportunities of +putting forward the challenge of sex. She took them all, but with +the most carefully considered subtlety. She descended to nothing +obvious, as was to be expected from one of her type, which was not +famous for such a thing as self-restraint. She paid great attention +to her appearance and kept a close watch on her tongue. She played +what she imagined was the part of a little lady, toned down her +usual exuberance, her too loud laugh and her characteristic habit of +giving quick and smart back answers. But in all her long talks with +Martin she hinted ever so lightly that she and he had not been +thrown together from opposite poles without a reason. She tried to +touch his mind with the thought that it was to become what she said +it might the night of the accident,--a romance, a perfectly private +little affair of their own, stolen from their particular routine, +which could be ended at a moment's notice. She tried to wrap the +episode up in a page of poetry which might have been torn from a +little book by Francois Villon and give it a wistfulness and charm +that she thought would appeal to him. But it was not until one more +than usually exquisite night, when the spirit of July lingered in +the air and the warmth of the sun still lay among the stars, that +she made her first step towards her goal. Howard and Irene had +wandered down to the water, and she was left with Martin sitting +elfishly among the ferns on the bank below the cottage and above the +silver lapping water. Martin, very much alive to the magic spell of +the night, with the young sap stirring in his veins, lay at her +feet, and she put her hand caressingly on his head and began to talk +in a half whisper. + +"Boy, oh, boy," she said, "what shall I do without you when this +dream comes to an end?" + +"Dream again," said Martin. + +"Down there in the city, so far away from trees?" + +"Why not? We can take our dreams with us wherever we go. But it +isn't coming to an end yet." + +"How long will it last?" + +"Until the sun gets cold," said Martin, catching her mood, "and +there's a chill in the air." + +She slipped down a little so that he should see the light in her +eyes. There was hardly an inch between their lips, and the only +sound was the beating of her heart. Youth and July and the scent of +honeysuckle. + +"I thought I was dead when you helped me out of that wreck," she +went on in a quivering voice, and her long-fingered hand on his +face. "I think I must be really dead to-night. Surely this is too +sweet to be life." + +"Dear little Tootles," said Martin softly. She was so close that he +could feel the rise and fall of her breasts. "Don't let's talk of +death. We're too young." + +The sap was stirring in his veins. She was like a fairy, this girl, +who ought never to have wandered into a city. + +"Martin," she said, "when the sun gets cold and there's a chill in +the air will you ever come back to this hour in a dream?" + +"Often, Tootles, my dear." + +"And will you see the light in my eyes and feel my hands on your +face and my lips on your lips?" + +She bent forward and put them there and drew back with a shaking sob +and scrambled up and fled. + +She had seen the others coming, but that was not why she had torn +herself away. One flash of sex was enough that night. The next time +he must do the kissing. + +Eve and July and the scent of honeysuckle! + + Breakfast was on the table. To Irene, who came down in her dressing +gown with her hair just bundled up and her face coated with powder, +eight o'clock was an unearthly hour at which to begin the day. In +New York she slept until eleven, read the paper until twelve, cooked +and disposed of a combined breakfast-lunch at one, and if it was a +matinee day, rushed round to the theater, and if it wasn't, killed +time until her work called her in the evening. A boob's life, as she +called it, was a trying business, but the tyranny of the bustling +woman with whom she lodged was such that if breakfast was not eaten +at eight o'clock it was not there to eat. Like an English +undergraduate who scrambles out of bed to attend Chapel simply to +avoid a fine, this product of Broadway theaterdom conformed to the +rule of Mrs. Burrell's energetic house because the good air of Devon +gave her a voracious appetite. Then, too, even if she missed +breakfast, she had to pay for it, "so there you are, old dear." + +Tootles, up with the lark as usual, was down among the ducks, giving +Farmer Burrell a useful hand. She delighted in doing so. From a +country grandfather she had inherited a love of animals and of the +early freshness of the morning that found eager expression, now that +she had the chance of giving it full rein. Then, too, all that was +maternal in her nature warmed at the sight and sound of all those +new, soft, yellow things that waddled closely behind the wagging +tails of their mothers, and it gave her a sort of sweet comfort to +go down on her knees and hold one of these frightened babies against +her cheek. + +Crying out, "Oo-oo, Tootles," from halfway down the cinder path, +Irene, stimulated by the aroma of hot coffee and toast, and eggs and +bacon, returned to the living room and fell to humming, "You're here +and I'm here." + +Tootles joined her immediately, a very different looking little +person from the tired-eyed, yawning girl of the city rabbit warren. +Health was in her eyes and a little smile at the corners of her +mouth. Quick work was made of the meal to the intermittent duck talk +of Mrs. Burrell who came in and out of the kitchen through a +creaking door,--a normal, noisy soul, to whom life was a succession +of laborious days spent between the cooking stove and the washtub +with a regular Saturday night, in her best clothes, at the motion- +picture theater at Sag Harbor to gape at the abnormality of Theda +Bara and scream with uncontrolled mirth at the ingenious antics of +Charlie Chaplin. An ancient Ford made possible this weekly dip into +these intense excitements. + +And then the two girls left the living room with its inevitable +rocking chairs and framed texts and old heating stove with a funnel +through the wall and went out into the sun. + +"Well, dearie," said Irene, sitting on the edge of the stoop, within +sound of the squeaking of a many-armed clothes drier, teased by a +nice sailing wind. "Us for the yawl to-day." + +"You for the yawl," said Tootles. "I'm staying here to help old man +Burrell. It's his busy day." + +Irene looked up quickly. "What's the idea?" + +"Just that,--and something else. I don't want to see Martin till +this evening. I moved things last night, and I want him to miss me a +bit." + +"Ah," said Irene. "I guessed it meant something when you made that +quick exit when we moved up. Have you got him, dearie?" + +Tootles shot out a queer little sigh and nodded. + +"That's fine. He's not like the others, is he? But you've played him +great. Oh, I've seen it all, never you fear. Subtle, old dear, very +subtle. Shouldn't have had the patience myself. Go in and win. He's +worth it." Tootles put her hands over her face and a great sob shook +her. + +In an instant, Irene had her in her arms. "Dear old Tootles," she +said, "it means an awful lot to you, don't it? Don't give way, +girlie. You've done mighty well so far. Now follow it up, hot and +fast. That boy's got a big heart and he's generous and kind, and he +won't forget. I brought you here for this, such a chance as it was, +and if I can see you properly fixed up and happy, my old uncle's +little bit of velvet will have come in mighty useful, eh? Got a plan +for to-night?" + +Tootles nodded again. "If I don't win to-night," she said, "it's all +over. I shall have to own that he cares for me less than the dust. I +shall have to throw up my hands and creep away and hide. Oh, my God, +am I such a rotten little freak as all that, Irene? Tell me, go on, +tell me." + +"Freak? You! For Heaven's sake. Don't the two front rows give nobody +but you the supper signal whenever the chorus is on?" + +"But they're not like Martin. He's,--well, I dunno just what he is. +For one thing there's that butterfly he's married to. He's never +said as much as half a word about her to me, but the look that came +into his eyes when he saw her the night I told you about,--I'd be +run over by a train for it any time. He's a man alright and wants +love as bad as I do. I know that, but sometimes, when I watch his +face, when neither of us is talking, there's a queer smile on it, +like a man who's looking up at somebody, and he sets his jaw and +squares his shoulders just as if he had heard a voice telling him to +play straight. Many times I've seen it, Irene, and after that I have +to begin all over again. I respect him for it, and it makes me love +him more and more. I've never had the luck to meet a man like him. +The world would be a bit less rotten for the likes of you and me if +there were more of him about, I tell you. But it hurts me like the +devil because it makes me feel no better than a shoe with the +buttons off and the heel all worn down, and I ask myself what's the +blooming use. But last night I kissed him, and I saw his eyes glint +for the first time and to-night,--to-night, Irene, I'm going to play +my last card. Yes, that's what I'm going to do, play the last card +in the pack." + +"How?" asked Irene eagerly, sympathy and curiosity bubbling to the +top. + +Tootles shook her head. "It isn't lucky to go talking about it." she +said, with a most wistful smile. "You'll know whether it's the +heights or the depths for me when you see me in the morning." + +"In the morning? Shan't you be . . ." + +"Don't ask. Just wish me luck and go and have a good day with the +boys. I shall be waiting for you at the cottage. And now I'm off +down to the ducks. Say I've got a headache and don't let 'em come +round and try to fetch me. So long, Irene; you've been some pal to +me through this and I shall never forget." + +Whereupon Tootles went off to lend the unloquacious Burrell a +helping hand, and Irene ran up to the bedroom to dress. + +From the pompous veranda of the Hosack place Gilbert Palgrave, sick +with jealousy, watched Joan swimming out to the barrels with that +cursed boy in tow. And he, too, had made up his mind to play his +last card that night. + +Man and woman and love,--the old, inevitable story. + + + + +IX + + +The personnel of the Hosacks' house party had changed. + +Mrs. Noel d'Oyly had led her little husband away to Newport to stay +with Mrs. Henry Vanderdyke, where were Beatrix and Pelham Franklin, +with a bouncing baby boy, the apple of Mr. Vanderdyke's eye. Enid +Ouchterlony had left for Gloucester, Massachusetts, where her aunt, +Mrs. Horace Pallant, entertained in an almost royal fashion and was +eager to set her match-making arts to work on behalf of her only +unmarried niece. Enid had gone to the very edge of well-bred lengths +to land Courtney Millet, but Scots ancestry and an incurable habit +of talking sensibly and rather well had handicapped her efforts. She +had confided to Primrose with a sudden burst of uncharacteristic +incaution that she seemed doomed to become an old man's darling. Her +last words to the sympathetic Primrose were, "Oh, Prim, Prim, pray +that you may never become intellectual. It will kill all your +chances." Miss Hosack was, however, perfectly safe. + +Milwood, fired by a speech at the Harvard Club by Major General +Leonard Wood, had scratched all his pleasant engagements for the +summer, and was at Plattsburg learning for the first time, at the +camp which will some day occupy an inspiring chapter in the history +of the United States, the full meaning of the words "duty" and +"discipline." Their places had been taken by Major and Mrs. Barnet +Thatcher and dog, Regina Waterhouse and Vincent Barclay, a young +English officer invalided out of the Royal Flying Corps after +bringing down eight German machines. A cork leg provided him with +constant amusement. He had a good deal of property in Canada and was +making his way to Toronto by easy stages. A cheery fellow, cut off +from all his cherished sports but free from even the suggestion of +grousing. Of his own individual stunts, as he called them, he gave +no details and made no mention of the fact that he carried the +D.S.O. and the Croix de Guerre in his bag. He had met the Hosacks at +the American Embassy in London in 1913. He was rather sweet on +Primrose. + +The fact that Joan was still there was easily accounted for. She +liked the place, and her other invitations were not interesting. +Hosack didn't want her to go either, but of course that had nothing +to do with it, and so far as Mrs. Hosack was concerned, let the +bedroom be occupied by some one of her set and she was happy enough. +Indeed, it saved her the brain fag of inviting some one else, +"always difficult with so many large houses to fill and so few +people to go round, my dear." + +Harry Oldershaw was such a nice boy that he did just as he liked. If +it suited him he could keep his room until the end of the season. +The case of Gilbert Palgrave was entirely different. A privileged, +spoiled person, who made no effort to be generally agreeable and +play up, he was rather by way of falling into the same somewhat +difficult category as a minor member of the British Royalty. His +presence was an honor although his absence would have been a relief. +He chose to prolong his visit indefinitely and there was an end of +it. + +Every day at Easthampton had, however, been a nightmare to Palgrave. +Refusing to take him seriously, Joan had played with him as a cat +plays with a mouse. Kind to him one minute she had snubbed him the +next. The very instant that he had congratulated himself on making +headway his hopes had been scattered to the four winds by some +scathing remarks and her disappearance for hours with Harry +Oldershaw. She had taken a mischievous delight in leading him on +with winning smiles and charming and appealing ways only to burst +out laughing at his blazing protestations of love and leave him +inarticulate with anger and wounded vanity. "If you want me to love +you, make me," she had said. "I shall fight against it tooth and +nail, but I give you leave to do your best." He had done his best. +With a totally uncharacteristic humbleness, forgetting the whole +record of his former easy conquests, and with this young slim thing +so painfully in his blood that there were times when he had the +greatest difficulty to retain his self-control, he had concentrated +upon the challenge that she had flung at him and set himself to +teach her how to love with all the thirsty eagerness of a man +searching for water. People who had watched him in his too wealthy +adolescence and afterwards buying his way through life and achieving +triumphs on the strength of his, handsome face and unique position +would have stared in incredulous amazement at the sight of this +love-sick man in his intense pursuit of a girl who was able to twist +him around her little finger and make him follow her about as if he +were a green and callow youth. Palgrave, the lady-killer; Palgrave, +the egoist; Palgrave, the superlative person, who, with nonchalant +impertinence, had picked and chosen. Was it possible? + +Everything is possible when a man is whirled off his feet by the +Great Emotion. History reeks with the stories of men whose natures +were changed, whose careers were blasted, whose honor and loyalty +and common sense were sacrificed, whose pride and sense of the +fitness of things were utterly and absolutely forgotten under the +stress of the sex storm that hits us all and renders us fools or +heroes, breaking or making as luck will have it and, in either case, +bringing us to the common level of primevality for the love of a +woman. Nature, however refined and cultivated the man, or rarified +his atmosphere, sees to this. Herself feminine, she has no +consideration for persons. To her a man is merely a man, a creature +with the same heart and the same senses, working to the same end +from the same beginning. Let him struggle and cry "Excelsior!" and +fix his eyes upon the heights, let him devote himself to prayer or +go grimly on his way with averted eyes, let him become cynic or +misogynist, what's it matter? Sooner or later she lays hands upon +him and claims him as her child. Man, woman and love. It is the +oldest and the newest story in the world, and in spite of the sneers +of thin-blooded intellectuals who think that it is clever to speak +of love as the particular pastime of the Bolsheviki and the literary +parasites who regard themselves as critics and dismiss love as "mere +sex stuff," it is the everlasting Story of Everyman. + +Young and new and careless, obsessed only with the one idea of +having a good time,--never mind who paid for it,--Joan knew nothing +of the danger of trifling with the feelings of a high-strung man who +had never been denied, a man over-civilized to the point of moral +decay. If she had paused in her determined pursuit of amusement and +distraction to analyze her true state of mind she might have +discovered an angry desire to pay Fate out for the way in which he +had made things go with Martin by falling really and truly in love +with Gilbert. As it was, she recognized his attraction and in the +few serious moments that forced themselves upon her when she was +alone she realized that he could give her everything that would make +life easy and pleasant. She liked his calm sophistication, she was +impressed, being young, by his utter disregard of laws and +conventions, and she was flattered at the unmistakable proofs of his +passionate devotion. But she would have been surprised to find +beneath her careless way of treating herself and everybody round her +an unsuspected root of loyalty towards Alice and Martin that put up +a hedge between herself and Gilbert. There was also something in the +fine basic qualities of her undeveloped character that unconsciously +made her resent this spoiled man's assumption of the fact that, +married or not, she must sooner or later fall in with his wishes. +She was in no mood for self-analysis, however, because that meant +the renewal of the pain and deep disappointment as to Martin which +was her one object to hide and to forget. So she kept Gilbert in +tow, and supplied her days with the excitement for which she craved +by leading him on and laughing him off. It is true that once or +twice she had caught in his eyes a look of madness that caused her +immediately to call the nice boy to her support and make a mental +note of the fact that it would be wise never to trust herself quite +alone with him, but with a shrug of the shoulders she continued +alternately to tease and charm, according to her mood. + +She did both these things once again when she came up from the sea +to finish the remainder of the morning in the sun. Seeing Gilbert +pacing the veranda like a bear with a sore ear, she told Harry +Oldershaw to leave her to her sun bath and signalled to Gilbert to +come down to the edge of the beach. The others were still in the +sea. He joined her with a sort of reluctance, with a look of gall +and ire in his eyes that was becoming characteristic. There was all +about him the air of a man who had been sleeping badly. His face was +white and drawn, and his fingers were never still. He twisted a +signet ring round and round at one moment and worried at a button on +his coat the next. His nerves seemed to be outside his skin. He +stood in front of Joan antagonistically and ran his eyes over her +slim young form in its wet bathing suit with grudging admiration. He +was too desperately in love to be able to apply to himself any of +the small sense of humor that was his in normal times and hide his +feelings behind it. He was very far from being the Gilbert Palgrave +of the early spring,--the cool, satirical, complete man of the +world. + +"Well?" he asked. + +Joan pretended to be surprised. "Well what, Gilbert dear? I wanted +to have a nice little talk before lunch, that's all, and so I +ventured to disturb you." + +"Ventured to disturb me! You're brighter than usual this morning." + +"Ah I? Is that possible? How sweet of you to say so. Do sit down and +look a little less like an avenging angel. The sand's quite warm and +dry." + +He kicked a little shower of it into the air. "I don't want to sit +down," he said. "You bore me. I'm fed up with this place and sick to +tears of you." + +"Sick to tears of me? Why, what in the world have I done?" + +"Every conceivable and ingenious thing that I might have expected of +you. Loyalty was entirely left out of your character, it appears. +Young Oldershaw and the doddering Hosack measure up to your +standard. I can't compete." + +Joan allowed almost a minute to go by in silence. She felt at the +very tip-top of health, having ridden for some hours and gone hot +into the sea. To be mischievous was natural enough. This man took +himself so seriously, too. She would have been made of different +stuff or have acquired a greater knowledge of Palgrave's curious +temperament to have been able to resist the temptation to tantalize. + +"Aren't you, by any chance, a little on the rude side this morning, +Gilbert?" + +"If you call the truth rude," he said, "yes." + +"I do. Very. The rudest thing I know." + +He looked down at her. She was leaning against the narrow wooden +back of a beach chair. Her hands were clasped round her white knees. +She wore little thin black shoes and no stockings. A tight rubber +bathing cap which came low down on her forehead gave her a most +attractively boyish look. She might have been a young French Pierrot +in a picture by Sem or Van Beers. He almost hated her at that +moment, sitting there in all the triumph of youth, untouched by his +ardor, unaffected by his passion. + +"You needn't worry," he said. "You won't get any more of it from me. +So that you may continue to amuse yourself undisturbed I withdraw +from the baby hunt. I'm off this afternoon." + +He had cried "Wolf!" so many times that Joan didn't believe him. + +"I daresay a change of air will do you good," she said. "Where are +you going?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "What's it matter? Probably to that +cottage of mine to play hermit and scourge myself for having allowed +you to mortify me and hold me up to the ridicule of your fulsome +court of admirers." + +"Yes, that cottage of yours. You've forgotten your promise to drive +me over to see it, haven't you?" + +Palgrave wheeled round. This was too much of a good thing. "Be +careful, or my rudeness will become more truthful than even you will +be able to swallow. Twice last week you arranged for me to take you +over and both times you turned me down and went off with young +Oldershaw." + +"What IS happening to my memory?" asked Joan. + +"It must be the sea air." + +He turned on his heel and walked away. + +In an instant she was up and after him, with her hand on his arm. + +"I'm awfully sorry, Gilbert," she said. "Do forgive me." + +"I'd forgive you if you were sorry, but you're not." + +"Yes, I am." + +He drew his arm away. "No. You're not really anything; in fact +you're not real. You're only a sort of mermaid, half fish, half +girl. Nothing comes of knowing you. It's a waste of time. You're not +for men. You're for lanky youths with whom you can talk nonsense, +and laugh at silly jokes. You belong to the type known in England as +the flapper--that weird, paradoxical thing with the appearance of +flagrant innocence and the mind of an errand boy. Your unholy form +of enjoyment is to put men into false positions and play baby when +they lay hands on you. Your hourly delight is to stir passion and +then run into a nursery and slam the door. You dangle your sex in +the eyes of men and as soon as you've got them crazy, claim chastity +and make them ashamed. One of these days you'll drive a man into the +sort of mad passion that will make him give you a sound thrashing or +seduce you. I don't want to be that man. Oldershaw is too young for +you to hurt and Hosack too old, and apparently Martin Gray has +chucked you and found some human real person. As for me, I've had +enough. Good morning." + +And once more, having delivered himself coldly and clearly of this +brutally frank indictment he went up the steps to the veranda and +into the house. + +There was not even the tail of a smile on Joan's face as she watched +him go. + +Lunch was not quite the usual pleasant, happy-go-lucky affair that +day. The gallant little Major, recently married to the fluffy-minded +Mrs. Edgar Lee Reeves and her peevish little dog, sat on the right +of the overwhelmingly complacent Cornucopia. With the hope of +rendering himself more youthful for this belated adventure with the +babbling widow he had been treated by a hair specialist. The result +was, as usual, farcically pathetic. His nice white hair which had +given him a charming benignity and cleanness had been turned into a +dead and musty black which made him look unearthly and unreal. His +smart and carefully cherished moustache which once had laid upon his +upper lip like cotton wool had been treated with the same ink- +colored mixture. His clothes, once so perfectly suitable, were now +those built for a man of Harry Oldershaw's youthful lines and gave +him the appearance of one who had forced himself into a suit made +for his son. It was of a very blue flannel with white lines,--always +a trying combination. His tie and socks were en suite and his gouty +feet were martyrized to this scheme of camouflage by being pressed +into a pair of tight brown and white shoes. Having been deprived of +his swim for fear that his youthfulness might come off in the water +and with the rather cruel badinage of his old friend Hosack still +rankling in his soul, the poor little old gentleman was not in the +best of tempers. Also he had spent most of the morning exercising +Pinkie-Winkie while his wife had been writing letters, and his +nerves were distinctly jaded. The pampered animal which had taken +almost as solemn a part of his marriage vows as the bride herself +had insisted upon making a series of strategic attacks against Mrs. +Hosack's large, yellow-eyed, resentful Persian Tom, and his +endeavors to read the morning paper and rescue Pinkie from certain +wreckage had made life a bitter and a restless business. He was +unable to prevent himself from casting his mind back to those good +bachelor days of the previous summer when he had taken his swim with +the young people, enjoyed his sunbath at the feet of slim and +beautiful girls, and looked forward to a stiff cocktail in his +bathhouse like a natural and irresponsible old buck. + +Gilbert Palgrave faced him, an almost silent man who, to +Cornucopia's great and continually voiced distress, allowed her +handsomely paid cook's efforts to go by contemptuously untouched. It +rendered her own enthusiastic appetite all the more conspicuous. + +For two reasons Hosack was far from happy. One was because Mrs. +Barnet Thatcher was seated on his right pelting him with brightness +and the other because Joan, on his left, looked clean through his +head whenever he tried to engage her in sentimental sotto voce. + +Gaiety was left to Prim and the wounded Englishman and to young +Oldershaw and the towering Regina who continually threw back her +head to emit howls of laughter at Barclay's drolleries while she +displayed the large red cavern of her mouth and all her wonderful +teeth. After every one of these exhausting paroxysms she said, with +her characteristic exuberance of sociability, "Isn't he the best +thing?" + +"Don't you think he's the most fascinating creature?" to any one +whose eye she caught,--a nice, big, beautiful, insincere girl who +had been taught at her fashionable school that in order to succeed +in Society and help things along she must rave about everything in +extravagant language and make as much noise as her lungs would +permit. + +Joan's unusual lack of spirits was noticed by every one and +especially, with grim satisfaction, by Gilbert Palgrave. With a +return of optimism he told himself that his rudeness expressed so +pungently had had its effect. He congratulated himself upon having, +at last, been able to show Joan the sort of foolish figure that she +cut in his sight and even went so far as to persuade himself that, +after all, she must do something more than like him to be so silent +and depressed. + +His deductions were, however, as hopelessly wrong as usual. His +drastic criticism had been like water on a duck's back. It inspired +amusement and nothing else. It was his remark that Martin Gray had +chucked her and found some human real person that had stuck, and +this, with the efficiency of a surgeon's knife, had cut her sham +complacence and opened up the old wound from which she had tried so +hard to persuade herself that she had recovered. Martin-Martin-what +was he doing? Where was he, and where was that girl with the white +face and the red lips and the hair that came out of a bottle? + +The old overwhelming desire to see Martin again had been +unconsciously set blazing by this tactless and provoked man. It was +so passionate and irresistible that she could hardly remain at the +table until the replete Cornucopia rose, rattling with beads. And +when, after what seemed to be an interminable time, this happened +and the party adjourned to the shaded veranda to smoke and catch the +faint breeze from the sea, she instantly beckoned to Harry and made +for the drawing-room. + +In this furniture be-clogged room all the windows were open, but the +blazing sun of the morning had left it hot and stuffy. A hideous +squatting Chinese goddess, whose tongue, by a mechanical appliance, +lolled from side to side, appeared to be panting for breath, and the +cut flowers in numerous pompous vases hung their limp heads. It was +a gorgeously hot day. + +Young Oldershaw bounded in, the picture of unrealized health. His +tan was almost black, and his teeth and the whites of, his eyes +positively gleamed. He might have been a Cuban. + +"Didn't I hear you tell Prim last night that you'd had a letter from +your cousin?" + +"Old Howard? Yes." He was sorry that she had. + +"Is Martin with him?" It was an inspiration, an uncanny piece of +feminine intuition. + +Young Oldershaw was honest. "He's staying with Gray," he said +reluctantly. + +"Where?" + +"At Devon." + +"Devon? Isn't that the place we drove to the other day--with a +little club and a sort of pier and sailboats gliding about?" + +"Yes. They've got one." + +Ah, that was why she had had a queer feeling of Martinism while she +had sat there having tea, watching the white sails against the sky. +On one of those boats bending gracefully to the wind Martin must +have been. + +"Where are they living?" + +"In a cottage that belongs to a pal of Gray's, so far as I could +gather." + +In a cottage, together! Then the girl whom she had called "Fairy,"-- +the girl who was human and real, according to Gilbert, couldn't be, +surely couldn't be, with them. + +"Will you drive me over?" she asked. + +"When?" + +"Now." + +"Why, of course, Joan, if I--must," he said. It somehow seemed to +him to be wrong and incredible that she had a husband,--this girl, +so free and young and at the very beginning of things, like himself, +and whom he had grown into the habit of regarding as his special- +hardly property, but certainly companion and playmate. + +"If you're not keen about it, Harry, I'll ask Mr. Hosack or a +chauffeur. Pray don't let me take you an inch out of your way." + +In an instant he was off his stilts and on his marrow bones. "Please +don't look like that and say those things. You've only got to tell +me what you want and I'll get it. You know that." + +"Thank you, Harry, the sooner the better, then," she said, with a +smile that lit up her face like a sunbeam. She must see Martin, she +must, she must! The old longing had come back. It was like a pain. +And being with Howard Oldershaw in that cottage he was alone, and +being alone he had got back into his armor. SHE had a clean slate. + +"Hurry, hurry," she said. + +And when Harry hurried, as he did then, though with a curious +misgiving, there were immediate results. Before Joan had chosen a +hat, and for once it was difficult to make a choice, she heard his +whistle and from the window of her bedroom saw him seated, hatless +and sunburnt to the roots of his fair hair, in his low-lying two- +seater. + +It was, at his pace, a short run eastward over sandy roads, lined +with stunted oaks and thick undergrowth of poison ivy, scrub and +ferns; characteristic Long Island country with here a group of small +untidy shacks and there a farm and outhouses with stone walls and +scrap heaps, clothes drying on a line, chickens on the ceaseless +hunt and a line of geese prowling aimlessly, easily set acackle,--a +primitive end-of-everywhere sort of country just there, with +sometimes a mile of half burned trees, whether done for a purpose or +by accident it would be difficult to say. At any rate, no one seemed +to care. It all had the look of No Man's Land,--unreclaimed and +unreclaimable. + +For a little while nothing was said. Out of a clear sky the sun beat +down upon the car and the brown sand of the narrow road. Many times +the boy shot sidelong glances at the silent girl beside him, burning +to ask questions about this husband who was never mentioned and who +appeared to him to be something of a myth and a mystery. He didn't +love Joan, because it had been mutually agreed that he shouldn't. +But he held her in the sort of devoted affection which, when it +exists between a boy and a girl, is very good and rare and even +beautiful and puts them close to the angels. + +Presently, catching one of these deeply concerned glances, she put +her little shoulder against his shoulder in a sisterly way. "Go on, +then, Harry," she said. "Ask me about it. I know you want to know." + +And he did. Somehow he felt that he ought to know, that he had the +right. After all he had stopped himself from loving her at her +urgent request, and their friendship was the best thing that he had +ever known. And he began with, "When did you do it?" + +"Away back in history," she said, "or so it seems. It's really only +a few months." + +"A few months! But you can hardly have been with him any time." + +"I have never really been with him," she said. She wanted him to +know everything. Now that the wound was open again and Martin in +possession of her once more, she felt that she must talk about it +all to some one, and who could be better than Harry, who was so like +a brother? + +The boy couldn't believe that she meant what she implied but would +have bitten off his tongue rather than put a direct question. "Is he +such a rotter?" he asked instead. + +"He's not a rotter. He's just Martin--generous, sensitive, dead +straight and as reliable as a liner. You and he were made in twin +molds." + +He flushed with pleasure--but it was like meeting a new Joan, a +serious, laughterless Joan, with an odd little quiver in her voice +and tears behind her eyes. He felt a new sense of responsibility by +being confided in. Older, too. It was queer--this sudden switch from +thoughtless gaiety to something which was like illness in a house +and which made Joan almost unrecognizable. + +He began again. "But then--" and stopped. + +"I'm the rotter," she said. "It's because of me that he's in Devon +and I'm at Easthampton, that he's sailing with your cousin, and I'm +playing the fool with Gilbert. I was a kid, Harry, and thought I +might go on being a kid for a bit, and everything has gone wrong and +all the blame is mine." + +"You're only a kid now," said Harry, trying to find excuses for her. +He resented her taking all the blame. + +She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm only pretending to be. I came +to Easthampton to pretend to be. All the time you've known me I've +been pretending,--pretending to pretend. I ceased to be a kid before +the spring was over,--when I came face to face with something I had +driven Martin to do and it broke me. I've been bluffing since then,- +-bluffing myself that I didn't care and that it wasn't my fault. I +might have kept it up a bit longer,--even to the end of the summer, +but Gilbert said something this morning that took the lynch pin out +of the sham and brought it all about my ears." + +And there was another short silence,--if it could be called silence +with the whirring of the engine and the boy driving with the +throttle out. + +"You care for him, then?" he asked finally, looking at her. + +She nodded and the tears came. + +It was a great shock to him, somehow; he couldn't quite say why. +This girl had, as she had said, played the fool with Gilbert,--led +the man on and teased him into desperation. He loathed the +supercilious fellow and didn't give a hang how much he suffered. +Anyway, he was married and ought to have known better. But what hit +was the fact that all the while she had loved this Martin of hers,-- +she, by whom he dated things, who had given him a new point of view +about girls and who was his own very best pal. That was not up to +her form and somehow hurt. + +And she saw that it did and was deeply sorry and ashamed. Was she to +have a bad effect on every man she met? "I won't make excuses, +Harry," she said. "They're so hopeless. But I want you to know that +I sprang into marriage before I'd given a thought to what it all +meant, and I took it as a lark, a chapter in my adventure, something +that I could easily stop and look at after I'd seen and done +everything and was a little breathless. I thought that Martin had +gone into it in the same spirit and that for the joke of the thing +we were just going to play at keeping house, as we might have played +at being Indians away in the woods. It was the easiest way out of a +hole I was in and made it possible for me not to creep back to my +grandmother and take a whipping like a dog. Do you understand?" + +The boy nodded. He had seen her do things and heard her say things +on the spur of the moment that were almost as unbelievable. + +His sympathy and quick perception were like water to her. And it was +indescribably good to be believed without incredulous side-looks and +suspicions, half-smiles such as Hosack would have given,--and some +of the others who had lost their fineness in the world. + +"And when Martin,--who was to me then just what you are, Harry +dear,--came up to my room in his own particular natural way, I +thought it was hard luck to be taken so literally and not be left +alone to find my wings for a little. I had just escaped from a long +term of subjection, and I wanted to have the joy of being free-- +quite absolutely free. Still not thinking, I sent him away and like +a brick he went, and I didn't suppose it really mattered to him, any +more than it did to me, and honestly if it had mattered it wouldn't +have made any difference because I had promised myself to hit it up +and work off the marks of my shackles and I was full of the 'Who +Cares?' feeling. And then Gilbert Palgrave came along and helped to +turn my head. Oh, what a perfect little fool I was, what a +precocious, shallow, selfish little fool. And while I was having +what I imagined was a good time and seeing life, Martin was +wandering about alone, suffering from two things that aren't good +for boys,--injustice and ingratitude. And then of course I woke up +and saw things straight and knew his value, and when I went to get +him and begin all over again he wasn't mine. I'd lost him." + +The boy's eyebrows contracted sharply. "What a beastly shame," he +said, "I mean for both of you." He included Martin because he liked +him now, reading between the lines. He must be an awfully decent +chap who had had a pretty bad time. + +"Yes," said Joan, "it is, for both of us." And she was grateful to +him for such complete understanding,--grateful for Martin, too. They +might have been brothers, these boys. "But for you, Easthampton +would have been impossible," she added. "I don't mean the house or +the place or the sea, which is glorious. I mean from what I have +forced myself to do. I came down labelled 'Who Cares?' caring all +the time, and just to share my hurt with some one I've made Gilbert +care too. He's in an ugly mood. I feel that he'll make me pay some +day--in full. But I'm not afraid to be alone now and drop my bluff +because I believe Martin is waiting for me and is back in armor +again with your cousin. And I believe the old look will come into +his eyes when he sees me, and he'll hear me ask him to forgive and +we'll go back and play at keeping house in earnest. Harry, I believe +that. Little as I deserve it I'm going to have another chance given +to me,--every mile we go I feel that! After all, I'm awfully young +and I've kept my slate clean and I ought to be given another chance, +oughtn't I?" + +Harry nodded and presently brought the car to a stop under the +shadow of the little clubhouse. Half a dozen other cars were parked +there, and a colored chauffeur was sitting on the steps of the back +entrance, fast asleep with his chin on his chest. The small but +vigorous orchestra was playing a fox-trot on the far veranda, and +the sound of shuffling feet resembled that of a man cleaning +something with sandpaper. There was an army of flies on the screen +door of the kitchen and on several galvanized iron bins stuffed with +ginger-ale bottles and orange peel. + +"We'll leave the car here," said Harry, "and go and have a look for +the cottage. It'll be easy to find. There aren't many of 'em, if I +remember right." + +Joan took his arm. She had begun to tremble. "Let's go this way +first," she said, going the right way by instinct. + +"If they're in," said Harry, "and I should guess they are.--there's +no wind,--I'll draw old Howard off for an hour or so." + +"Yes, please do, Harry." + +And they went up the sandy incline, over the thick undergrowth, and +the sun blazed down on the shining water, and half a dozen canvas- +covered catboats near the little pier. Several people were sitting +on it in bathing clothes, and some one was teaching a little girl to +swim. The echo of her gurgling laughter and little cries came to +them clearly. The sound of music and shuffling feet grew fainter and +fainter. Gardiner's Island lay up against the horizon like a long +inflated sand bag. There were crickets everywhere. Three or four +large butterflies gamboled in the shimmering air. + +Away out, heading homewards, Martin's yawl, with Irene lying full +stretch on the roof of the cabin, and Howard whistling for a wind, +crept through the water, inch by inch. + +With the tiller under one arm and a pipe in his mouth, long empty, +sat Martin, thinking about Joan. Hearing voices, Tootles looked up +from a book that she was trying to read. She had been lying in the +hammock on the stoop of Martin's cottage for an hour, waiting for +Martin. It had taken her a long time to do her hair and immense +pains to satisfy herself that she looked nice,--for Martin. Her plan +was cut and dried in her mind, and she had been killing time with +all the impatience and throbbing of nerves of one who had brought +herself up to a crisis which meant either success and joy, or +failure and a drab world. She couldn't bear to go through another +day without bringing about a decision. She felt that she had to jog +Fate's elbow, whatever was to be the insult. She had discovered from +a casual remark of Howard's that Martin, those hot nights, had taken +to sleeping on the boat. Her plan, deliberately conceived as a +follow-up to what had happened out under the stars the night before, +was to swim out to it and wait for him in the cabin. She knew, no +one so well, that it was in the nature of a forlorn hope, but she +was desperate. She loved him intransitively, to the utter extinction +of the little light of modesty which her hand-to-mouth existence had +left burning. She wanted love or death, and she was going to put up +this last fight for love with all the unscrupulousness of a lovesick +woman. + +She saw two people coming towards the cottage, a tall, fair, sun- +tanned youth, hatless and frank-eyed like Martin, and-- + +She got up. A cold hand seemed suddenly to have been placed on her +heart. Joan,--it was Joan, the girl who, once before, at Martin's +house, had sent the earth spinning from under her feet and put +Martin suddenly behind barbed wire. What hideous trick was this of +Fate's? Why was this moment the one chosen for the appearance of +this girl,--his wife? This moment,--her moment? + +Fight? With tooth and nail, with all the cunning and ingenuity of a +member of the female species to protect what she regarded as her +own. She and her plan against the world,--that was what it was. +Thank God, Martin was not in sight. She had a free hand. + +She had not been seen. A thick honeysuckle growing up the pillar had +hidden her. She slipped into the house quickly, her heart beating in +her throat. "I'll try Lliis," said Harry. "Wait here." He left Joan +within a few feet of the stoop, went up the two steps, and not +finding a bell, knocked on the screen door. In less than an instant +he saw the girl with bobbed hair come forward. "I'm sorry to trouble +you," he said, with a little bow, "I thought Mr. Gray might live +here," and turned to go. Obviously it was the wrong house. + +Very clearly and distinctly Tootles spoke. "Mr. Gray does live here. +I'm Mrs. Gray. Will you leave a message?" + +Harry wheeled round. He felt that the bullet which had gone through +his back had lodged in Joan's heart. He opened his mouth to speak +but no word came. And Tootles spoke again, even more clearly and +distinctly. She intended that her voice should travel. + +"My husband won't be back for several days," she said, "but I shall +be very glad to tell him that you called if you will leave your +name." + +"It--it doesn't matter," said Harry, stammering. After an +irresolute, unhappy pause, he turned to go-- + +He went straight to Joan. She was standing with her eyes shut and +both hands on her heart, as white as a white rose. She looked like a +young slim tree that had been struck by lightning. + +"Joan," he said, "Joan," and touched her arm. There was no answer. + +"Joan," he said, "Joany." + +And with a little sob she tottered forward. + +He caught her, blazing with anger that she had been so hurt, +inarticulate with indignation and a huge sympathy, and with the one +strong desire to get her away from that place, picked her up in his +arms,--a dead delicious weight,--and carried her down the incline of +sand and undergrowth to his car, put her in ever so gently, got in +himself, backed the machine out, turned it and drove away. + +And Tootles, breathing hard and shaking, stood on the edge of the +stoop, and with tears streaming down her face, watched the car +become a speck and disappear. + + + + +XI + + +The sun had gone down, and the last of its lingering glory had died +before the yawl managed to cajole her way back to her mooring. + +Dinner was ready by the time the hungry threesome, laughing and +talking, arrived at the cottage. Howard, spoiling for a cocktail, +made for the small square dining-room, and Irene, waving her hand to +Tootles, cried out, "Cheero, dearie, you missed a speedy trip, I +don't think," and took her into the house to tidy up in the one +bathroom. Martin drew up short on the edge of the stoop, listened +and looked about, holding his breath. It was most odd, but--there +was something in the still air that had the sense of Joan in it. + +After a moment, during which his very soul asked for a sight of her, +he stumped into the living room and rang the bell impatiently. + +The imperturbable Judson appeared at once, his eyebrows slightly +raised. + +"Has any one been here while I've been away?" asked Martin. + +"No, sir. No one except Miss Capper, who's been reading on the +stoop." + +"You're quite sure?" + +"You never can be quite sure about anything in this life, sir, but I +saw no one." + +"Oh," said Martin. "All right, then." But when he was alone, he +stood again, listening and looking. There was nothing of Joan in the +room. A mixture of honeysuckle and tobacco and the aroma of cooking +that had slipped through the swing door into the the kitchen. That +was all. And Martin sighed deeply and said to himself "Not yet. I +must go on waiting," and went upstairs to his bedroom. He could hear +Irene's voice above the rush of water in the bathroom and Howard's, +outside, raised in song. In the trees outside his window a bird was +piping to its mate, and in the damp places here and there the frogs +had already begun to try their voices for their community chorus. It +was a peaceful earth, thereabouts falsely peaceful. An acute ear +could easily have detected an angry roar of guns that came ever +nearer and nearer, and caught the whisper of a Voice calling and +calling. + +When Martin returned to the wood-lined sitting room with its large +brick chimney, its undergraduate chairs and plain oak furniture, its +round thick blue and white mats and disorderly bookcase, Tootles was +there, a Tootles with a high chin, a half defiant smile, and +honeysuckle at her belt. + +"Tootles." + +"Yes?" + +"Have you been alone all the afternoon?" + +"Yes." (Fight? Tooth and nail.) "Except for the flies. . . . Why, +boy?" + +"Oh, nothing. I thought--I mean, I wondered--but it doesn't matter. +By gum, you have made the room look smart, haven't you? Good old +Tootles. Even a man's room can be made to look like something when a +girl takes an interest in it." + +If she had been a dog she would have wagged her tail and crinkled up +her nose and jumped up to put her nozzle against his hand. As it was +she flushed with pleasure and gave a little laugh. She was a +thousandfold repaid for all her pains. But, during the first half of +a meal made riotous by the invincible Howard and the animated Irene, +Tootles sat very quiet and thoughtful and even a little awed. How +could Martin have sensed the fact that she had been there? . . . +Could she,--could she possibly, even with the ever-ready help of +nature,--hope to win against such a handicap? She would see. She +would see. It was her last card. But during all the rest of the meal +she saw the picture of a muscular sun-tanned youth carrying that +pretty unconscious thing down the incline to a car, and, all against +her will, she was sorry. That girl, pampered as she was, outside the +big ring of hard daily effort and sordid struggle as she always had +had the luck to be, loved, too. Gee, it was a queer world. + +The stoop called them when they left the boxlike dining room. It was +still hot and airless. But the mosquitoes were out with voracious +appetite and discretion held them to the living room. + +Irene flung herself on the bumpy sofa with a cigarette between her +lips and a box near to her elbow. "This's the life," she said. "I +shall never be able to go back to lil' old Broadway and grease paint +and a dog kennel in Chorusland." + +"Sufficient for the day," said Howard, loosening his belt. "If a +miracle man blew in here right now with a million dollars in each +hand and said: 'Howard Guthrie Oldershaw,'--he'd be sure to know +about the Guthrie,--'this is all yours if you'll come to the city,' +I'd . . ." + +Irene leaned forward with her mouth open and her round eyes as big +as headlights. "Well?" + +"Take it and come right back." + +"You disappoint me, Funny-face. Go to the piano and hit the notes. +That's all you're fit for." + +t was a baby grand, much out of tune, but Howard, bulging over the +stool, made it sound like an orchestra,--a cabaret orchestra, and +ran from Grieg to Jerome Kern and back to Gounod, syncopating +everything with the gusto and the sense of time that is almost +peculiar to a colored professional. Then he suddenly burst into song +and sang about a baby in the soft round high baritone of all men who +run to fat and with the same quite charming sympathy. A useful, +excellent fellow, amazingly unself-conscious and gifted. + +Martin was infinitely content to listen and lie back in a deep straw +chair with a pipe between his teeth, the memories of good evenings +at Yale curling up in his smoke. And Tootles, thinking and thinking, +sat, Puck-like, at his feet, with her warm shoulders against his +knees. Not in her memory could she delve for pleasant things, not +yet. Eh, but some day she might be among the lucky ones, if--if her +plan went through-- + +Howard lit another cigarette at the end of the song, but before he +could get his hands on the notes again Irene bounded to her feet and +went over to the piano. "Say, can you play 'Love's Epitome'?" she +pronounced it "Eppy-tomy." + +"Can a duck swim?" asked Howard, resisting a temptation to emit a +howl of mirth. She was too good a sort to chaff about her frequent +maltreatment of the language. + +"Go ahead, then, and I'll give you all a treat." He played the +sentimental prelude of this characteristic product of the vaudeville +stage, every note of which was plagiarized from a thousand +plagiarisms and which imagined that eternity rhymed with serenity +and mother with weather. With gestures that could belong to no other +school than that of the twice-dailies and the shrill nasal voice +that inevitably goes with them, Irene, with the utmost solemnity, +went solidly through the whole appalling thing, making the frequent +yous "yee-ooo" in the true "vawdville" manner. + +To Tootles it was very moving, and she was proud of her friend. +Martin almost died of it, and Howard was weak from suppressed +laughter. It was the first time that Irene had shown the boys what +she could do, and she was delighted at their enthusiastic applause. +She would have rendered another of the same sort gladly enough,--she +knew dozens of them, if Tootles had not given her a quick look and +risen to her feet. + +"Us for the downey," she said, and put the palm of her hand on +Martin's lips. He kissed it. + +"Not yet," said Howard. "It's early." + +"Late enough for those who get up at dawn, old dear. Come on, +Irene." + +And Irene, remembering what her friend had said that morning, played +the game loyally, although most reluctant to leave that pleasant +atmosphere, and said "Good night." And she was in such good voice +and Howard played her accompaniment like a streak. Well, well. + +Tootles took her hand away gently, gave Martin a little disturbing +smile, put her arm round the robust shoulders of her chum, opened +the screen door and was gone. + +Howard immediately left the piano. He had only played to keep things +merry and bright. "Me for a drink," he said. "And I think I've +earned it." + +Martin's teeth gleamed as he gave one of his silent laughs. + +"How well you know me, old son," he said. + +"Of course. But--why?" + +"I like Tootles awfully. She's one in a million. But somehow it's-- +oh, I dunno,--mighty difficult to talk to her." + +"Poor little devil," said Howard involuntarily. + +"But she's having a real good time--isn't she?" + +"Is she?" He helped himself to a mild highball in reluctant +deference to his weight. + +"I've never seen her look so well," said Martin. + +Wondering whether to tell the truth about her state of mind, which +his quick sophisticated eyes had very quickly mastered, Howard +drank, and decided that he wouldn't. It would only make things +uncomfortable for Martin and be of no service to Tootles. If she +loved him, poor little soul, and he was not made of the stuff to +take advantage of it, well, there it was. He, himself, was +different, but then he had no Joan as a silent third. No, he would +let things alone. Poor old Tootles. + +"Great weather," he said, wrenching the conversation into a harmless +generality. "Are you sleeping on the yawl to-night?" + +"Yes," replied Martin. "It's wonderful on the water. So still. I can +hear the stars whisper." + +"Most of the stars I know get precious noisy at night," said Howard, +characteristically unable to let such a chance go by. Then he grew +suddenly grave and sat down. "Martin, I'm getting frightfully fed up +with messing about in town. I'm going to turn a mental and physical +somersault and get a bit of self-respect." + +"Oh? How's that, old man." + +"It's this damn war, I think. I've been reading a book in bed by a +man called Philip Gibbs. Martin, I'm going to Plattsburg this August +to see if they can make something of me." + +Martin got up. "I'm with you," he said. "If ever we get into this +business I'm going to be among the first bunch to go. So we may as +well know something. Well, how about turning in now? There'll be a +wind to-morrow. Hear the trees?" He filled his pocket with +cigarettes and slung a white sweater over his shoulder. + +"All right," said Howard. "I shall read down here a bit. I won't +forget to turn out and lock up." He had forgotten one night and +Judson had reported him. + +"Good night, old son." + +"Good night, old man." + + + + +XII + + +He was not given much to reading, but when Martin left the cottage +and stood out in the liquid silver of the moon under the vast dome +which dazzled with stars, and he caught the flash of fireflies among +the undergrowth that were like the lanterns of the fairies a line +came into his mind that he liked and repeated several times, rather +whimsically pleased with himself for having found it at exactly the +right moment. It was "the witching hour of night." + +He remained on top of the incline for a little while, moved to that +spirit of the realization of God which touches the souls of +sensitive men when they are awed by the wonder and the beauty of the +earth. He stood quite still, disembodied for the moment, uplifted, +stirred, with all the scents and all the whisperings about him, +humble, childlike, able, in that brief flight of ecstasy, to +understand the language of another world. + +And then the stillness was suddenly cut by a scream of vacuous +laughter, probably that of an exuberant Irish maid-servant, to whom +silences are made to break, carrying on, most likely, a rough +flirtation with a chauffeur. + +It brought Martin back to earth like the stick of a rocket. But he +didn't go down immediately to the water. He sat there and nursed his +knees and began to think. Whether it was Howard's unexpected talk of +Plattsburg and of being made something of or not he didn't know. +What he did know was that he was suddenly filled with a sort of +fright. . . ."Good God," he said to himself, "time's rushing away, +and I'm nearly twenty-six. I'm as old as some men who have done +things and made things and are planted on their feet. What have I +done? What am I fit to do? Nearly twenty-six and I'm still playing +games like a schoolboy! . . . What's my father saying? 'We count it +death to falter not to die' . . . I've been faltering--and before I +know anything about it I shall be thirty--half-time. . . . This +can't go on. This waiting for Joan is faltering. If she's not coming +to me I must go to her. If it's not coming right it must end and I +must get mended and begin again. I can't stand in father's shoes +with all he worked to make in my hands like ripe plums. It isn't +fair, or straight. I must push up a rung and carry things on for +him. Could I look him in the face having slacked? My God, I wish I'd +watched the time rush by! I'm nearly twenty-six . . . Joan--to- +morrow. That's the thing to do." He got up and strode quickly down +to the water. "If she's going to be my wife, that's a good step on. +And she can help me like no one but my father. And then I'll make +something of myself. If not . . . if not,--no faltering, Gray,--then +I'll do it alone for both their sakes." + +He chucked his sweater into the dingey, shoved it off the beach and +sprang in and rowed strongly towards the yawl. Somehow he felt +broader of back and harder of muscle for this summing up of things, +this audit of his account. He was nearly twenty-six and nothing was +done. That was the report he had to make to his conscience, that was +what he had to say to the man who smiled down upon him from his +place in the New York house. . . . Good Lord, it was about time that +he pulled himself together. + +The yawl was lying alone, aloof from the other small craft anchored +near the pier. Her mast seemed taller and her lines more graceful +silhouetted against the sky, silvered by the moon. It was indeed the +witching hour of night. + +He got aboard and tied up the dingey, cast a look round to see that +everything was shipshape, took in a deep breath and went into the +cabin. He was not tired and never felt less like sleep. His brain +was clear as though a fog had risen from it, and energy beat in him +like a running engine. He would light the lamp, get into his pajamas +and think about to-morrow and Joan. He was mighty glad to have come +to a decision. + +Stooping, he lit the lamp, turned and gave a gasp of surprise. + +There, curled up like a water sprite on the unmade bunk lay Tootles +in bathing clothes, holding a rubber cap in her hand, her head, with +its golden bobbed hair, dented into a cushion. + +For a moment she pretended to be asleep, but anxiety to see how +Martin was looking was too much for her. Also her clothes were wet +and not very comfortable. She opened her eyes and sat up. + +"My dear Tootles!" said Martin, "what's the idea? You said you were +going home to bed." She would rather that he had been angry than +amused. "It was the night," she said, "and something in the air. I +just had to bathe and swam out here. I didn't think you'd be coming +yet. I suppose you think I'm bug-house." + +"No, I don't. If I hadn't taken my bathing suit to the cottage to be +mended I'd have a dip myself. Cigarette?" He held one out. + +But she shook her head. How frightfully natural and brotherly this +boy was, she thought. Was her last desperate card to be as useless +as all the rest of the pack? How could it be! They might as well be +on a desert island out there on the water and she the only woman on +it. + +"Feel a bit chilly? You'd better put on this sweater." + +She took it from him but laid it aside. "No. The air's too warm," +she said. "Oh, ho, I'm so sleepy," and she stretched herself out +again with her hands under her head. + +"I'm not," said Martin. "I'm tremendously awake. Let's talk if +you're not in a hurry to get back." + +"I'm very happy here," she answered. "But must we have that lamp? It +glares and makes the cabin hot." + +"The moon's better than all the lamps," said Martin, and put it out. +He sat on his bunk and the gleam of his cigarette came and went. It +was like a big firefly in the half dark cabin. "To-morrow," he said +to himself, with a tingle running through his blood, "to-morrow--and +Joan." + +Tootles waited for him to speak. She might as well have been miles +away for all that she affected him. He seemed to have forgotten that +she was alive. + +He had. And there was a long silence. + +"To-morrow,--and Joan. That's it. I'll go over to Easthampton and +take her away from that house and talk to her. This time I'll break +everything down and tell her what she means to me. I've never told +her that." + +"He doesn't care," thought Tootles. "I'm no more than an old shoe to +him." + +"If I'd told her it might have made a difference. Even if she had +laughed at me she would have had something to catch hold of if she +wanted it. By Jove, I wish I'd had the pluck to tell her." + +"He even looks at me and doesn't see me," she went on thinking, her +hopes withering like cut flowers, her eagerness petering out and a +great humiliation creeping over her. "What's the matter with me? +Some people think I'm pretty. Irene does . . . and last night, when +I kissed him there was an answer. . . . Has that girl come between +us again?" + +And so they went on, these two, divided by a thousand miles, each +absorbed in individual thought, and there was a long queer silence. + +But she was there to fight, and having learned one side of men +during her sordid pilgrimage and having an ally in Nature, she got +up and sat down on the bunk at his side, snuggling close. + +"You are cold, Tootles," he said, and put his arm round her. + +And hope revived, like a dying fire licked by a sudden breeze, and +she put her bobbed head on his broad shoulder. + +But he was away again, miles and miles away, thinking back, +unfolding all the moments of his first companionship with Joan and +looking at them wistfully to try and find some tenderness; thinking +forward, with the picture of Joan's face before him and wondering +what would come into her eyes when he laid his heart bare for her +gaze. + +Waiting and waiting, on the steady rise and fall of his chest,--poor +little starved Tootles, poor little devil,--tears began to gather, +tears as hot as blood, and at last they broke and burst in an awful +torrent, and she flung herself face down upon the other bunk, crying +incoherently to God to let her die. + +And once more the boy's spirit, wandering high in pure air, fell +like the stick of a rocket, and he sprang up and bent over the +pitiful little form,--not understanding because Joan held his heart +and kept it clean. + +"Tootles," he cried out. "Dear old Tootles. What is it? What's +happened?" + +But there was only brotherliness in his kind touch, only the same +solicitude that he had shown her all along. Nothing else. Not a +thing. And she knew it, at last, definitely. This boy was too +different, too much the other girl's--curse her for having all the +luck. + +For an instant, for one final desperate instant, she was urged to +try again, to fling aside control and restraint and with her +trembling body pressed close and her eager arms clasped about his +neck, pour out her love and make a passionate stammering plea for +something,--just something to put into her memory, her empty +loveless memory,--but suddenly, like the gleam of a lamp in a +tunnel, her pride lit up, the little streak of pride which had taken +her unprofaned through all her sordid life, and she sat up, choked +back her sobs, and dried her face with the skirt of her bathing +dress. + +"Don't mind me," she said. "It's the night or something. It got on +my nerves, I suppose, like--like the throb of an organ. I dunno. I'm +all right now, anyway." And she stood in front of him bravely, with +her chin up, but her heart breaking, and her attempt to make a laugh +must surely have been entered in the book of human courage. + +But before Martin could say anything, she slipped into the cockpit, +balanced herself on the ledge of the cabin house, said "Good night, +old dear," and waved her hand, dived into the silver water and swam +strongly towards the beach. + + + + +XIII + + +It began to dawn upon Hosack that Joan had slipped away with Harry +Oldershaw from the fact that Palgrave first became restless and +irritable, then had a short sharp spat with Barclay about the length +of the line on the Western front that was held by the British and +finally got up and went into the house and almost immediately +prowled out alone for a sulky walk along the beach. + +Chortling as he watched him, although annoyed that he, himself, was +not going to have an opportunity of saying soft things to Joan for +some hours, Hosack made himself comfortable, lit another cigar and +pondered sleepily about what he called "the infatuation of Gilbert +the precious." + +"I can sympathize with the feller's being gone on the girl," he said +to himself, undisturbed by Regina's frequent bursts of loud laughter +at young Barclay's quiet but persistent banter, "but dammit, why +make a conspicuous ass of himself? Why make the whole blessed house +party, including his hostess, pay for his being turned down in favor +of young Harry? Bad form, I call it. Any one would imagine that he +was engaged to be married to Joan and therefore had some right to a +monopoly by the way he goes on, snarling at everybody and showing +the whites of his eyes like a jealous collie. Everybody's talking, +of course, and making jokes about him, especially as it's perfectly +obvious that the harder he hunts her the more she dodges him. . . . +Curious chap, Gilbert. He goes through life like the ewe lamb of an +over-indulgent mother and when he takes a fancy to a thing he can't +conceive why everybody doesn't rush to give it him, whatever the +cost or sacrifice. . . . If young Harry hadn't been here to keep her +amused and on the move I wonder if Joan would have been a bit kinder +to our friend G. P.? She's been in a weird mood, as perverse as +April. I don't mind her treating me as if I was a doddering old +gentleman so long as she keeps Gilbert off. . . . A charming, +pretty, heart-turning thing. I'd give something to know the real +reason why that husband of hers lets her run loose this way. And +where's her mother, and why don't those old people step in?--such a +child as she is. Well, it's a pretty striking commentary on the way +our young people are brought up, there's no doubt about it. If she +was my daughter, now--but I suppose she'd tell me to go and hang +myself if I tried to butt in. Divorce and a general mess-up-the +usual end, I take it." + +He shook his head, and his ash dropped all over his clothes and he +began to nod. He would have given a great deal to put his feet on a +chair and a handkerchief over his face and sink into a blissful nap. +The young people had gone off somewhere, and there were only his +wife, the Major, and the bride on the veranda. And, after all, why +shouldn't he? Cornucopia could always be relied upon to play up--her +conversational well was inexhaustible, and as for Mrs. Thatcher-- +nothing natural ever stopped the incessant wagging of her tongue. + +But it was not to be. He heard a new voice, the squeak of a cane +chair suddenly pushed back, looked up to see the Major in an +attitude of false delight and out came Mrs. Cooper Jekyll followed,- +-as he inwardly exclaimed,--"by the gentle Alice Palgrave, by all +that's complicating! Well, I'm jiggered." + +"Well," cried Cornucopia, extending her ample hand. "This IS a +surprise." + +"Yes, I intended it to be," said Mrs. Jekyll, more than ever +Southampton in her plague veil and single eyeglass, "just to break +the aloofness of your beach life." + +"And dear Alice, too,--neater than ever. How very nice to see you, +my dear, and how's your poor mother?" + +Her little hand disappearing between Mrs. Hosack's two podgy members +like the contents of a club sandwich, Alice allowed herself to be +kissed on both cheeks, murmured an appropriate response, greeted the +Thatchers, waved to Hosack who came forward as quickly as he could +with pins and needles in one leg and threw a searching glance about +for Gilbert. + +Every one caught it and gathered instinctively that Mrs. Jekyll had +been making mischief. She had certainly succeeded in her desire to +break the aloofness. The presence of Alice at that moment, with +Gilbert behaving like a madman, was calculated to set every +imagination jumping. + +"Um, this won't make G. P. any better tempered," thought Hosack, not +without a certain sense of glee. + +Mrs. Jekyll disclosed her nose and mouth, which, it seemed, were +both there and in perfect condition. "I was in town yesterday +interviewing butlers,--that Swiss I told you about refused to be +glared at by Edmond and left us on the verge of a dinner party, +summing us all up in a burst of pure German,--and there was Alice +having a lonely lunch at the Ritz, just back from her mother's +convalescent chair. I persuaded her to come to me for a few days and +what more natural than that she should want to see what this +wonderful air has done for Gilbert--who has evidently become one of +the permanent decorative objects of your beautiful house." + +"Cat," thought Mrs. Thatcher. + +"And also for the pleasure of seeing so many old friends," said +Alice. "What a gorgeous stretch of sea!" She bent forward and +whispered congratulations to the Major's bride. Her quiet courage in +the face of what she knew perfectly well was a universal knowledge +of the true state of Gilbert's infatuation was good to watch. With +his one brief cold letter in her pocket and Mrs. Jekyll's +innuendoes,--"all in the friendliest spirit,"--raking her heart, her +self-control deserved all the admiration that it won from the +members of the house party. To think that Joan, her friend and +schoolfellow in whose loyalty she had had implicit faith should be +the one to take Gilbert away from her. + +With shrewd eyes, long accustomed to look below the surface of the +thin veneer of civilization that lay upon his not very numerous set, +Hosack observed and listened for the next half an hour, expecting at +any moment to see Joan burst upon the group or Gilbert make his +appearance, sour, immaculate and with raised eyebrows. He studied +Mrs. Jekyll, with her brilliantly made-up face, her apparent lack of +guile, and her ever-watchful eye. He paid tribute to his copious +wife for her determined babble of generalities, well-knowing that +she was bursting with suppressed excitement under the knowledge that +Alice had come to try and patch up a lost cause. He chuckled at the +feline manners of the little lady whom they had all known so long as +Mrs. Edgar Lee Reeves, her purring voice, her frequent over-emphasis +of exuberant adjectives, her accidental choice of the sort of verb +that had the effect of smashed crockery, her receptiveness to the +underlying drama of the situation and the cunning with which she +managed to hide her anxiety to be "on" in the scene which must +inevitably come. He examined his old friend, Thatcher, under whose +perfect drawing-room manners, felicitous quips and ready laughter +there was an almost feminine curiosity as to scandal and the +inadvertent display of the family wash. And, having a certain amount +of humor, he even turned an introspective eye inwards and owned up +to more than a little excitement as to what was going to happen when +Gilbert realized that Mrs. Jekyll had brought his wife over to +rescue him. Conceive Gilbert being rescued! "All of us as near the +primeval as most of us are to lunacy," he told himself. "Education, +wealth, leisure and all the shibboleths of caste and culture,--how +easily they crack and gape before a touch of nature. Brooks Brothers +and Lucile do their derndest to disguise us, but we're still Adam +and Eve in a Turkish bath. . . . Somehow I feel,--I can't quite say +why,--that this comedy of youth in which the elements of tragedy +have been dragged in by Gilbert, is coming to a head, and unless +things run off at a sudden tangent I don't see how the curtain can +fall on a happy ending for Joan and the husband who never shows +himself and the gentle Alice. Spring has its storms and youth its +penalties. I'm beginning to believe that safety is only to be found +in the dull harbor of middle-age, curse it, and only then with a +good stout anchor." + +It was at the exact moment that Joan and Harry went together up the +incline towards Martin's cottage at Devon, eyed by Tootles through +the screen door, that Gilbert came back to the veranda and drew up +short at the sight of his wife. + + + + +XIV + + +It was when Gilbert, after a most affectionate greeting and ten +minutes of easy small talk, led her away from the disappointed +group, that Alice made her first mistake. + +"You don't look at all well, Gilbert," she said anxiously. + +The very fact that he knew himself to be not at all well made him +hate to be told so. An irritable line ran across his forehead. "Oh, +yes, I'm well," he said, "never better. Come along to the summer +house and let's put a dune between us and those vultures." + +He led her down a flight of stone steps and over a stretch of +undulating dry sand to the place where Hosack invariably read the +morning paper and to which his servants led their village beaux when +the moon was up, there to give far too faithful imitations of the +hyena. And there he sat her down and stood in front of her, +enigmatically, wondering how much she knew. "If it comes to that," +he said, "you look far from well yourself, Alice." + +And she turned her pretty, prim face up to him with a sudden +trembling of the lips. "What do you expect," she asked, quite +simply, "when I've only had one short letter from you all the time +I've been away." + +"I never write letters," he said. "You know that. How's your +mother?" + +"But I wrote every day, and if you read them you'd know." + +He shifted one shoulder. These gentle creatures could be horribly +disconcerting and direct. As a matter of fact he had failed to open +more than two of the collection. They were too full of the vibration +of a love that had never stirred him. "Yes, I'm glad she's better. +I'm afraid you've been rather bored. Illness is always boring." + +"I can only have one mother," said Alice. + +Palgrave felt the need of a cigarette. Alice, admirable as she was, +had a fatal habit, he thought, of uttering bromides. + +And she instantly regretted the remark. She knew that way of his of +snapping his cigarette case. Was that heavily be-flowered church a +dream and that great house in New York only part of a mirage? He +seemed to be the husband of some other girl, barely able to tolerate +this interruption. She had come determined to get the truth, however +terrible it might be. But it was very difficult, and he was +obviously not going to help her, and now that she saw him again, +curiously worn and nervous and petulant, she dreaded to ask for +facts under which her love was to be laid in waste. + +"No wonder you like this place," she said, beating about the bush. + +"I don't. I loathe it. The everlasting drumming of the sea puts me +on edge. It's as bad as living within sound of the elevated railway. +And at night the frogs on the land side of the house add to the +racket and make a row like a factory in full blast. I'd rather be +condemned to a hospital for incurables than live on a dune." He said +all this with the sort of hysteria that she had never noticed in him +before. He was indeed far from well. Hardly, in fact, recognizable. +The suave, imperturbable Gilbert, with the quiet air of patronage +and the cool irony of the polished man of the world,--what had +become of him? Was it possible that Joan had resisted him? She +couldn't believe such a thing. + +"Then why have you stayed so long?" she asked, with this new point +of view stirring hope. + +"There was nowhere else to go to," he answered, refusing to meet her +eyes. + +This was too absurd to let pass. "But nothing has happened to the +house at Newport, and the yacht's been lying in the East River since +the first of June and you said in your only letter that the two +Japanese servants have been at the cottage near Devon for weeks!" + +"I'm sick of Newport with all its tuft-hunting women, and the yacht +doesn't call me. As for the cottage, I'm going there to-morrow, +possibly to-night." + +Alice got up quickly and stood in front of him. There was a spot of +color on both her cheeks, and her hands were clasped together. +"Gilbert, let's both go there. Let's get away from all these people +for a time. I won't ask you any questions or try and pry into what's +happened to you. I'll be very quiet and help you to find yourself +again." + +She had made another mistake. His sensitiveness gave him as many +quills as a porcupine. "Find myself," he said, quoting her +unfortunate words with sarcasm. "What on earth do you mean by that, +my good child?" + +She forced back her rising tears. Had she utterly lost her rights as +a wife? He was speaking to her in the tone that a man uses to an +interfering sister. "What's to become of me?" she asked. + +"Newport, of course. Why not? Fill the house up. I give you a free +hand." + +"And will you join me there, Gilbert?" + +"No. I'm not in the mood." + +He turned on his heel and went to the other side of the summer +house, and flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the scrub below. A +frog took a leap. When he spoke again it was with his back to her. +"Don't you think you'd better rejoin Mrs. Jekyll? She may be +impatient to get off." + +But Alice took her courage in both hands. If this was to be the end +she must know it. Uncertainty was not to be endured any longer. All +her sleepless nights and fluctuations of hope and despair had marked +her, perhaps for life. Hers was not the easily blown away +infatuation of a debutante, the mere summer love of a young girl. It +was the steady and devoted love of a wife, ready to make sacrifices, +to forgive inconstancies, to make allowances for temporary +aberrations and, when necessary, to nurse back to sanity, without +one word or look of reproach, the husband who had slipped into +delinquency. Not only her future and his were at stake, but there +were the children for whom she prayed. They must be considered. + +And so, holding back her emotion, she followed him across the +pompous summer house in which, with a shudder, she recognized a +horrible resemblance to a mausoleum, and laid her little hand upon +his arm. + +"Gilbert," she said, "tell me the truth. Be frank with me. Let me +help you, dear." + +Poor little wife. For the third time she had said the wrong thing. +"Help"--the word angered him. Did she imagine that he was a callow +youth crossed in love? + +He drew his arm away sharply. There was something too domestic in +all this to be borne with patience. Humiliating, also, he had to +confess. + +"When did I ever give you the right to delve into my private +affairs?" he asked, with amazing cruelty. "We're married,--isn't +that enough? I've given you everything I have except my +independence. You can't ask for more than that,--from me." + +He added "from me" because the expression of pain on her pretty face +made him out to be a brute, and he was not that. He tried to hedge +by the use of those two small words and put it to her, without +explanation, that he was different from most men,--more careless and +callous to the old-fashioned vows of marriage, if she liked, but +different. That might be due to character or upbringing or the times +to which he belonged. He wasn't going to argue about it. The fact +remained. "I'll take you back," he added. + +But she blocked the way. "I only want your love," she said. "If +you've taken that away from me, nothing else counts." + +He gave a sort of groan. Her persistence was appalling, her courage +an indescribable reproach. For a moment he remained silent, with a +drawn face and twitching fingers, strangely white and wasted, like a +man who had been through an illness,--a caricature of the once easy- +going Gilbert Palgrave, the captain of his fate and the master of +his soul. + +"All right then," he said, "if you must know, you shall, but do me +the credit to remember that I did my best to leave things vague and +blurred." He took her by the elbow and put her into a chair. With a +touch of his old thoughtfulness and rather studied politeness he +chose one that was untouched by the sun that came low over the dune. +Then he sat down and bent forward and looked her full in the eyes. + +"This is going to hurt you," he said, "but you've asked for the +truth, and as everything seems to be coming to a head, you'd better +have it, naked and undisguised. In any case, you're one of the women +who always gets hurt and always thrives on it. You're too earnest +and sincere to be able to apply eye-wash to the damn thing we call +life, aren't you?" + +"Yes, Gilbert," she answered, with the look of one who had been +placed in front of a firing squad, without a bandage over her eyes. + +There was a brief pause, filled by what he had called the +everlasting drumming of the sea. + +"One night, in Paris, when I was towering on the false confidence of +twenty-one,"--curious how, even at that moment, he spoke with a +certain self-consciousness,--"I came out of the Moulin Rouge alone +and walked back to the Maurice. It was the first time I'd ever been +on the other side, and I was doing it all in the usual way of the +precocious undergraduate. But the 'gay Paree' stuff that was +specially manufactured to catch the superfluous francs of the +pornographic tourist and isn't really in the least French, bored me, +almost at once. And that night, going slowly to the hotel, sickened +by painted women, chypre and raw champagne I turned a mental +somersault and built up a picture of what I hoped I should find in +life. It contained a woman, of course--a girl, very young, the very +spirit of spring, whose laugh would turn my heart and who, like an +elusive wood nymph, would lead me panting and hungry through a maze +of trees. I called it the Great Emotion and from that night on I +tried to find the original of that boyish picture, looking +everywhere with no success. At twenty-nine, coming out of what +seemed to be the glamor of the impossible, I married you to oblige +my mother,--you asked for this,--and imagined that I had settled +into a conventional rut. Do you want me to go on with it?" + +"Please, Gilbert," said Alice. + +He shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, "Well, if you enjoy the +Christian martyr business it's entirely your lookout." + +But he dropped his characteristic habit of phrase making and became +more jerky and real. "I respected you, Alice," he went on. "I didn't +love you but I hoped I might, and I played the game. I liked to see +you in my house. You fitted in and made it more of a home than that +barrack had ever been. I began to collect prints and first editions, +adjust myself to respectability and even to look forward with pride +to a young Gilbert." + +Alice gave a little cry and put her hand up to her breast. But he +was too much obsessed by his own pain to notice hers. + +"And then,--it's always the way,--I saw the girl. Yes, by God, I saw +the girl, and the Great Emotion blew me out of domestic content and +the pleasant sense of responsibility and turned me into the panting +hungry youth that I had always wanted to be." He stopped and got up +and walked up and down that mausoleum, with his eyes burning and the +color back in his face. + +"And the girl is Joan?" asked Alice in a voice that had an oddly +sharp note for once. + +"Yes," he said. "Joan. . . . She's done it," he added, no longer +choosing his words. "She's got me. She's in my blood. I'm insane +about her. I follow her like a dog, leaping up at a kind word, +slinking away with my tail between my legs when she orders me to +heel. My God, it's hell! I'm as near madness as a poor devil of a +dope fiend out of reach of his joy. I wish I'd never seen her. She's +made me loathe myself. She's put me through every stage of +humiliation. I'd rather be dead than endure this craving that's +worse than a disease. You were right when you said that I'm ill. I +am ill. I'm horribly ill. I'm . . . I'm . . ." + +He stammered and his voice broke, and he covered his face with his +hands. + +And instantly, with the maternal spirit that goes with all true +womanly love ablaze in her heart, Alice went to him and put her arms +about his neck and drew his head down on her shoulder. + +And he left it there, with tears. + +A little later they sat down again side by side, holding hands. + +As Hosack had told himself, and Gilbert had just said, things seemed +to be coming to a head. At that moment Tootles was strung up to play +her last card, Joan was being driven back by Harry from the cottage +of "Mrs. Gray" and Martin, becalmed on the water, with an empty pipe +between his teeth, was thinking about Joan. + +Palgrave was comforted. The making of his confession was like having +an abscess lanced. In his weakness, in his complete abandonment of +affectation, he had never been so much of a man. + +There was not to Alice, who had vision and sympathy, anything either +strange or perverse in the fact that Gilbert had told his story and +was not ashamed. Love had been and would remain the one big thing in +her own life, the only thing that mattered, and so she could +understand, even as she suffered, what this Great Emotion meant to +Gilbert. She adopted his words in thinking it all over. They +appealed to her as being exactly right. + +She too was comforted, because she saw a chance that Gilbert, with +the aid of the utmost tact and the most tender affection, might be +drawn back to her and mended. She almost used Hosack's caustic +expression "rescued." The word came into her mind but was instantly +discarded because it was obvious that Joan, however impishly she had +played with Gilbert, was unaffected. Angry as it made her to know +that any girl could see in Gilbert merely a man with whom to fool +she was supremely thankful that the complication was not as tragic +as it might have been. So long as Joan held out. the ruin of her +marriage was incomplete. Hope, therefore, gleamed like a distant +light. Gilbert had gone back to youth. It seemed to her that she had +better treat him as though he were very young and hurt. + +"Dearest," she said, "I'm going to take you away." + +"Are you, Alice?" + +"Yes. We will go on the yacht, and you shall read and sleep and get +your strength back." + +He gave a queer laugh. "You talk like a mother," he said, with a +catch in his voice. + +She went forward and kissed him passionately. + +"I love you like a mother as well as a wife, my man," she whispered. +"Never forget that." + +"You're,--you're a good woman, Alice; I'm not worthy of you, my +dear." + +It pained her exquisitely to see him so humble. . . . Wait until she +met Joan. She should be made to pay the price for this! "Who cares?" +had been her cry. How many others had she made to care? + +"I'll go back to Mrs. Jekyll now," she went on, almost afraid that +things were running too well to be true, "and stay at Southampton +to-night. To-morrow I'll return to New York and have everything +packed and ready by the time you join me there. And I'll send a +telegram to Captain Stewart to expect us on Friday. Then we'll go to +sea and be alone and get refreshment from the wide spaces and the +clean air." + +"Just as you say," he said, patting her hand. He was terribly like a +boy who had slipped and fallen. + +Then she got up, nearer to a breakdown than ever before. It was such +a queer reversal of their old positions. And in order that he +shouldn't rise she put her hands on his shoulders and stood close to +him so that his head was against her breast. + +"God bless you, dearest boy," she said softly. "Trust in me. Give +all your troubles to me. I'm your wife, and I need them. They belong +to me. They're mine. I took them all over when you gave me my ring." +She lifted his face that was worn as from a consuming fire and +kissed his unresponsive lips. "Stay here," she added, "and I'll go +back. To-morrow then, in New York." + +He echoed her. "To-morrow then, in New York," and held her hand +against his forehead. + +Just once she looked back, saw him bent double and stopped. A +prophetic feeling that she was never to hear his voice again seized +her in a cold grip,--but she shook it off and put a smile on her +face with which to stand before the scandal-mongers. + +And there stood Joan, looking as though she had seen a ghost. + + + + +XV + + +Alice marched up to her, blazing with anger and indignation. She +was not, at that moment, the gentle Alice, as everybody called her, +Alice-sit-by-the-fire, equable and pacific, believing the best of +people. She was the mother-woman eager to revenge the hurt that had +been done to one who had all her love. + +"Ah," she said, "you're just in time for me to tell you what I think +of you." + +"Whatever you may think of me," replied Joan, "is nothing to what I +think of myself." + +But Alice was not to be diverted by that characteristic way of +evading hard words, as she thought it. She had seen Joan dodge the +issues like that before, many times, at school. They were still +screened from the veranda by a scrub-supported dune. She could let +herself go. + +"You're a thief," she blurted out, trembling and out of all control +for once. "Not a full-blown thief because you don't steal to keep. +But a kleptomaniac who can't resist laying hands on other women's +men. You ought not to be allowed about loose. You're a danger, a +trap. You have no respect for yourself and none for friendship. +Loyalty? You don't know the meaning of the word. You're not to be +trusted out of sight. I despise you and never want to see you +again." + +Could this be Alice,--this little fury, white and tense, with +clenched hands and glinting eyes, animal-like in her fierce +protectiveness? + +Joan looked at her in amazement. Hadn't she already been hit hard +enough? But before she could speak Alice was in breath again. "You +can't answer me back,--even you, clever as you are. You've nothing +to say. That night at my house, when we had it out before, you said +that you were not interested in Gilbert. If that wasn't a cold- +blooded lie what was it? Your interest has been so great that you've +never let him alone since. You may not have called him deliberately, +but when he came you flaunted your sex in his face and teased him +just to see him suffer. You were flattered, of course, and your +vanity swelled to see him dogging your heels. There's a pretty +expressive word for you and your type, and you know it as well as I +do. Let me pass, please." + +Joan moved off the narrow board-walk without a word. + +And Alice passed, but piqued by this unexpected silence, turned and +went for her once most intimate friend again. If she was callous and +still in her "Who Cares?" mood words should be said that could never +be forgotten. + +"I am Mrs. Gray. My husband won't be back for several days," These +were the only words that rang in Joan's ears now. Alice might as +well have been talking to a stone. + +"Things are coming to a head," Alice went on, unconsciously using +Gilbert's expression and Hosack's. + +"And all the seeds that you've carelessly sown have grown into great +rank weeds. Ask Mrs. Jekyll what you've driven Martin into doing if +you're curious to know. She can tell you. Many people have seen. But +if you still don't care, don't trouble, because it's too late. Go a +few yards down there and look at that man bent double in the summer +house. If you do that and can still cry out 'Who Cares?' go on to +the hour when everything will combine to make you care. It can't be +far away." + +"I'm Mrs. Gray. My husband won't be back for several days." Like the +song of death the refrain of that line rose above the sound of the +sea and of Alice's voice. Joan could listen to nothing else. + +And Alice caught the wounded look in the eyes of the girl in whom +she had once had faith and was recompensed. And having said all that +she had had in her mind and more than she had meant to say, she +turned on her heel, forced herself back into control and went +smiling towards the group on the veranda. And there Joan remained +standing looking as though she had seen a ghost,--the ghost of +happiness. + +"Mrs. Gray,--and her husband Martin. . . . But what have I got to +say,--I, who refused to be his wife? It only seemed half true when I +found them together before, although that was bad enough. But this +time, now that my love for Martin has broken through all those days +of pretending to pretend and that girl is openly in that cottage, +nothing could be truer. It isn't Martin who has taken off his armor. +It's I who have cut the straps and made it fall from his shoulders +Oh, my God, if only I hadn't wanted to finish being a kid." + +She moved away, at last, from the place where Alice had left her +and without looking to the right or left walked slowly down to the +edge of the sea. Vaguely, as though it was something that had +happened in a former life, she remembered the angry but neat +figure of Alice and a few of the fierce words that had got through +to her. "Rank weeds . . . driven Martin . . . too late. . . . Who +Cares?" Only these had stuck. But why should Alice have said them? +It was all unnecessary. She knew them. She had said them all on +the way back from Devon, all and many more, seated beside that nice +boy, Harry, in his car. . . . She had died a few feet from the stoop +of the cottage, in the scent of honeysuckle and Come back to +something that wasn't life to be tortured with regrets. All the way +back she had said things to herself that Alice, angry and bitter as +she had seemed to be, never could have invented. But they too were +unnecessary. Saying things now was of no more use than throwing +stones into the sea at any time. Rank weeds . . . driven +Martin . . . too late . . . who cares--only who cares should +have come first because everything else was the result. + +And for a little while, with the feeling that she was on an island, +deserted and forgotten, she stood on the edge of the sea, looking at +a horizon that was utterly blank. What was she to do? Where was she +to go? . . . Not yet a woman, and all the future lay about her in +chaos. . . . Once more she went back in spirit to that room of +Martin's which had been made the very sanctum of Romance by young +blood and moonlight and listened to the plans they had made together +for the discovery of a woild out of which so many similar explorers +had crept with wounds and bitterness. + +"I'm going to make my mark," she heard Martin cry. "I'm going to +make something that will last. My father's name was Martin Gray, and +I'll make it mean something out here for his sake." + +"And I," she heard herself say, "will go joy-riding on that huge +Round-about. I've seen what it is to be old and useless, and so I +shall make the most of every day and hour while I'm young. I can +live only once, and I shall make life spin whichever way I want it +to go. If I can get anybody to pay my whack, good. If not, I'll pay +it myself,--whatever it costs. My motto's going to be a good time as +long as I can get it and who cares for the price!" + +Young fool, you young fool! + +The boy followed her to the window, and the moonlight fell upon them +both. + +"Yes, you'll get a bill all right. How did you know that?" + +And once more she heard her answer. "I haven't lived with all those +old people so long for nothing. But you won't catch me grumbling if +I get half as much as I'm going out for. Listen to my creed, Martin, +and take notes if you want to keep up with me. . . . I shall open +the door of every known Blue Room, hurrying out if there are ugly +things inside. I shall taste a little of every known bottle, feel +everything there is to feel except the thing that hurts, laugh with +everybody whose laugh is catching, do everything there is to do, go +into every booth in the big Bazaar, and when I'm tired and there's +nothing left, slip out of the endless procession with a thousand +things stored in my memory. Isn't that the way to live?" + +"Young fool, you young fool," she cried, with the feeling of being +forgotten and deserted, with not one speck on the blank horizon. +"You've failed--failed in everything. You haven't even carried out +your program. Others have paid,--Martin and Gilbert and Alice, but +the big bill has come in to you . . . Who cares? You do, you do, you +young fool, and you must creep out of the procession with only one +thing stored in your memory,--the loss of Martin, Martin." + +It was a bad hour for this girl-child who had tried her wings too +young. + +And when Gilbert straightened up and gave thanks to God for the +woman who had never stirred him, but whose courage and tenderness +had added to his respect, he too turned towards the sea with its +blank horizon,--the sea upon which he was to be taken by his good +wife for rest and sleep, and there was Joan . . . young, and slight +and alluring, with her back to him and her hands behind her back, +and the mere sight of her churned his blood again, and set his dull +fire into flames. Once more the old craving returned, the old +madness revived, as it always would when the sight and sound of her +caught him, and all the common sense and uncommon goodness of the +little woman who had given him comfort rose like smoke and was blown +away. . . . To win this girl he would sacrifice Alice and barter his +soul. She was in his blood. She was the living picture of his +youthful vision. She only could satisfy the Great Emotion. . . . +There was the plan that he had forgotten,--the lunatic plan from +which, even in his most desperate moment, he had drawn back, +afraid,--to cajole her to the cottage away from which he would send +his servants; make, with doors and windows locked, one last +passionate appeal, and then, if mocked and held away, to take her +with him into death and hold her spirit in his arms. + +To own himself beaten by this slip of a girl, to pack his traps and +leave her the field and sneak off like a beardless boy,--was that +the sort of way he did things who had had merely to raise his voice +to hear the approach of obsequious feet? . . . Alice and the yacht +and nothing but sea to a blank horizon? He laughed to think of it. +It was, in fact, unthinkable. + +He would put it to Joan in a different way this time. He would hide +his fire and be more like that cursed boy. That would be a new way. +She liked new things. + +He left the summer house, only the roof of which was touched by the +last golden rays of the sun, and with curious cunning adopted a sort +of caricature of his old light manner. There was a queer jauntiness +in his walk as he made his way over the sand, carrying his hat, and +a flippant note in his voice when he arrived at her side. + +"Waiting for your ship to come home?" he asked. + +"It's come," she said. + +"You have all the luck, don't you?" + +She choked back a sob. + +He saw the new look on her face. Something,--perhaps boredom,-- +perhaps the constant companionship of that cursed boy,--had brought +her down from her high horse. This was his chance! . . . + +"You thought I had gone, I suppose?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"To-morrow suits me best. I'm off to-morrow,--I've not decided +where. A long journey, it may be. If you're fed up with these people +what do you say to my driving you somewhere for dinner? A last +little dinner to remind us of the spring in New York?" + +"Would you like me to very much?" + +He steadied his voice. "We might be amused, I think." + +"That doesn't answer my question," she said. + +"I'd love you to," he answered. "It would be fair, too. I've not +seen much of you here." + +Yes, it would be fair. Let her try, even at that late stage of the +game, to make things a little even. This man had paid enough. + +"Very well," she said. "Let's go." It would be good to get away from +prying eyes and the dull ache of pain for a few hours. + +He could hardly believe his ears. Joan,--to give him something! It +was almost incredible. + +She turned and led the way up. The sun had almost gone. "I'll get my +hat at once," she said, "I'll be ready in ten minutes." + +His heart was thumping. "I'll telephone to a place I know, and be +waiting in the car." + +"Let me go in alone," she said. "We don't want to be held up to +explain and argue. You're sure you want me to come?" She drew up and +looked at him. + +He bowed to hide his face. "Of all things on earth," he said. + +She ran on ahead, slipped into the house and up to her room. + +Exultant and full of hope, Gilbert waited for a moment before +following her in. Going straight to the telephone room he shut the +door, asked for the number of his cottage and drummed the instrument +with his fingers. + +At last! + +"Is that you, Itrangi? . . . Lay some sort of dinner for two,--cold +things with wine. It doesn't matter what, but at once. I shall be +over in about an hour. Then get out, with the cook. I want the place +to myself to-night. Put the door key on the earth at the left-hand +corner of the bottom step. Telephone for a car and go to the hotel +at Sag Harbor. Be back in the morning about nine. Do these things +without fail. I rely upon you." + +He hardly waited for the sibilant assurance before putting back the +receiver. He went round to the garage himself. This was the first +time he had driven Joan in his car. It might be the last. + +Harry was at the bottom of the stairs as Joan came down. + +"You're not going out?" he asked. She was still in day clothes, +wearing a hat. + +"Yes, I am, Harry." + +"Where? Why?" + +She laid her hand on his arm. "Don't grudge Gilbert one evening,-- +his last. I've been perfectly rotten to him all along." + +"Palgrave? Are you going out with Palgrave?" + +"Yes, to dine somewhere. I want to, Harry, oh, for lots of reasons. +You know one. Don't stop me." Her voice broke a little. + +"But not with Palgrave." + +"Why?" + +"I saw him dodge out of the telephone room a minute ago. He looked-- +queer. Don't go, Joan." + +"I must," she said and went to the door. He was after her and caught +hold of her arm. + +"Joan, don't go. I don't want you to." + +"I must," she said again." Surely you can understand? I have to get +away from myself." + +"But won't I do?" + +"It's Gilbert's turn," she said. "Let go, Harry dear." It was good +to know that she hadn't hurt this boy. + +"I don't like it. Please stay," but he let her go, and watched her +down the steps and into the car, with unaccountable misgiving. He +had seen Gilbert's face. + +And he saw it again under the strong light of the entrance-- +triumphant. + +For minutes after the car had gone, with a wave from Joan, he stood +still, with an icy hand on his heart. + +"I don't like it," he repeated. "I wish to God I'd had the right to +stop her." + +She thought that he didn't love her, and he had done his best to +obey. But he did love her, more than Martin, it seemed, more than +Gilbert, he thought, and by this time she was well on her way to-- +what? + + + + +PART FOUR + + +THE PAYMENT + +I + + +It was one of those golden evenings that sometimes follows a hot +clear day--one of those rare evenings which linger in the memory +when summer has slipped away and which come back into the mind like +a smile, an endearment or a broad sweet melody, renewing optimism +and replenishing faith. The sun had gone, but its warm glow lingered +in a sky that was utterly unspotted. The quiet unruffled trees in +all the rich green of early maturity stood out against it almost as +though they were painted on canvas. The light was so true that +distances were brought up to the eye. Far-away sounds came closely +to the ear. The murmur from the earth gathered like that of a +multitude of voices responding to prayers. + +Palgrave drove slowly. The God-given peace and beauty that lay over +everything quieted the stress and storm of his mind. Somehow, too, +with Joan at his side on the road to the cottage in which he was to +play out the second or the last act of the drama of his Great +Emotion, life and death caught something of the truth and dignity of +that memorable evening--the sounds of life and the distance of +death. If he was not to live with Joan he would die with her. There +was, to him, in the state of mind into which this absorbing passion +had worked him, no alternative. Love, that he had made his lodestar +in early youth and sought in vain, had come at last. Marriage, +convention, obligations, responsibility, balance and even sanity +mattered nothing. They were swept like chaff before this sex-storm. +Ten years of dreams were epitomized in Joan. She was the ideal that +he had placed on the secret altar of his soul. She struck, all +vibrant with youth, the one poetic note that was hidden in his +character behind vanity and sloth, cynicism and the ingrained belief +that whatever he desired he must have. And as he drove away from +Easthampton and the Hosack house he left behind him Alice and all +that she was and meant. She receded from his mind like the white +cliffs of a shore to which he never intended to return. He was +happier than he had ever been. In his curious exaltation, life, with +its tips and downs, its pettiness, its monotony, lay far below him, +as the moving panorama of land does to a flying man. His head was +clear, his plan definite. He felt years younger--almost boyish. +Laughter came easy--the sort of reasonless laughter that comes to +tired men as they start out on a holiday. He saw the strangeness of +it all with some wonder and much triumph. The Gilbert Palgrave who +had been molded by money and inertia and autocracy was discarded, +and the man with Joan at his side was the young Gilbert whom he had +caught sight of that night in Paris, when, on his way home under the +stars, Joan, with her brown hair and laughing eyes, tip-tilted nose +and the spirit of spring in her breath, had come out of his inner +consciousness and established herself like a shape in a dream. + +His heart turned when he looked at Joan's face. Was its unusual +gravity due to the fact that she had come to the end of fooling-- +that she, too, had sensed the finality or the beginning? He thought +so. He believed so. She looked younger than ever, but sweeter, less +flippant, less triumphantly irresponsible. She sat, like a child, +with her hands in her lap, her mouth soft, an odd wistfulness in her +eyes with their long curling lashes. A black straight-brimmed straw +hat sat well down on her small head and put a shadow on her face. +The slim roundness of her arms showed through the white silk shirt, +and her low collar proved all the beauty of her throat and neck. She +looked more than ever unplucked, untouched, like a rosebud. + +On the tip of his tongue there were words of adoration, not +fastidious and carefully chosen, but simple, elemental words such as +a farmhand might blunder out in the deep shadow of a lane, after +dark. But he held them back. He would wait until after they had +dined together and all round them there were silence and solitude. +He drove still more slowly in order to give the two Japanese +servants time to carry out his instructions and remove themselves. +That cottage, which he had bought on the spur of the moment, fitted +out with elaborate care and used only twice, for two weeks since, +was to justify itself, after all. Who knows? He might have bought it +two years before under an inspiration. Even then, months and months +before he met Joan or knew of her existence, this very evening might +have been mapped out He was a fatalist, and it fell into his creed +to think so. + +He didn't wonder why Joan was silent or ask himself jealously of +what she was thinking. He chose to believe that she had arrived at +the end of impishness, had grown weary of Harry Oldershaw and his +cubbish ways and had turned to himself naturally and with relief, +choosing her moment with the uncanny intuition that is the gift of +women. She was only just in time. To-morrow would have found him +following the faithful Alice on her forlorn hope--the incurable man. + +It was only when they turned into the narrow sandy road that was +within a quarter of a mile of the club at Devon that Joan came out +of the numbness that had settled upon her and recognized things that +were stamped with the marks of an afternoon that was never to be +forgotten. Martin--Martin--and it was all her fault. + +"But why are you coming this way?" she asked, drawing back into her +seat. + +"Because my cottage is just here," said Gilbert. + +"At Devon?" + +"Yes. Why not? I had a fancy for playing hermit from time to time. I +saw the sun set behind the water,--a Byron sunset,--and in the hope +of seeing just such another I bought this shack. I did those things +once for want of something better. Look at it," he said, and turned +the car through a rustic gate, alive with honeysuckle. + +It was a bungalow, put up on a space cleared among a wood of young +trees that was carpeted with ferns. It might have been built for a +poet or a novelist or just an ordinary muscular man who loved the +water and the silences and the sense of being on the edge of the +world. It was a bungalow of logs, roughly constructed and saved from +utter banality by being almost completely clothed in wisteria. It +was admirably suited to two men who found amusement in being +primitive or to a romantic honeymoon couple who wanted to fancy +themselves on a desert island. Better still, it might have been +built for just that night, for Palgrave and the girl who had taken +shape in his one good dream. + +Joan got out of the opulent car and watched Gilbert run it round to +the side of the house. There was no garage and not even a shed to +give it cover. Gilbert left it in the open, where it remained sulky +and supercilious, like a grand piano in an empty kitchen. + +Joan had noticed this place twice that day--on the way out to find +Martin, and again on the way back from having heard the voice of the +girl with the white face and the red lips and the hair that came out +of a bottle. Martin--Martin--and it was all her fault. + +She wondered for a moment why no one came to open the door. Some one +was there because smoke was coming out of a chimney. But she refused +to be impatient. She had decided to give Gilbert one evening--to be +nice to him for one evening. He was terribly humble. Fate had dealt +her a smashing blow on the heart, and she had returned to +consciousness wistfully eager to make up at least to this man as +well as she could for the pain that she had caused. There was only +this one evening in which to do so because to-morrow she was going +back to the old house, the old people, the old servants and the old +days, a failure, having fallen off the Round-about, of which she had +spoken so much. She was going back a sort of cripple to the place +from which she had escaped to put the key into life; once more to +read to her grandfather, to obey the orders of her grandmother, to +sleep in the warm kind arms of her old bedroom, to go among the +flowers and trees among which she had grown up, herself old and +tired and ashamed and broken-hearted, with her gold ring burning +into her finger and the constant vision of Martin's shining armor +lying bent and rusty before her eyes. What an end to her great +adventure! + +Gilbert came up. He walked without his usual affectation of never +permitting anything to hurry him. All about him there was still a +sort of exaltation. His eyes were amazingly bright. His face had +lost its cynicism. Ten years seemed to have fallen from his +shoulders like a pack. He was a youth again, like Martin and Harry +and Howard. Joan noticed all this and was vaguely surprised--and +glad, because obviously she was giving him pleasure. He deserved it +after her impish treatment of him. What a fool she had been. + +He said, bending down, "We keep the key here," and picked it up, +unlocked the door and stood back for her to pass. + +"Oh, isn't this nice!" said Joan. + +"Do you like it? It amused me to make it comfortable." + +"Comfortable! But it's like a picture." + +Gilbert laughed boyishly. Her enthusiasm delighted him. To make the +long low living room with its big brick chimney and open fireplace +absolutely right had dispelled his boredom--little as he had +intended to use it. The whole thing was carried out on the lines of +the main room in an English shooting box. The walls were +matchboarded and stained an oak color, and the floor was polished +and covered with skins. Old pewter plates and mugs, and queer ugly +delightful bits of pottery were everywhere--on shelves, on the wide +mantelpiece, and hanging from the beams. Colored sporting prints +covered the walls, among stuffed fish and heads of deer with royal +antlers and beady eyes with a fixed stare. The furniture was +Jacobean--the chairs with ladder backs and cane seats; a wide +dresser, lined with colored plates; a long narrow table with rails +and bulging legs. Two old oak church pews were set on each side of +the fireplace filled with cushions covered with a merry chintz. +There were flowers everywhere in big bowls--red rambler roses, +primula, sweet williams, Shasta daisies, and scarlet poppies. All +the windows were open, and there was nothing damp or musty in the +smell of the room. On the contrary, the companionable aroma of +tobacco smoke hung in the air mixed with the sweet faint scent of +flowers. The place seemed "lived-in"--as well it might. The two Japs +had played gentlemen there for some weeks. The table was laid for +two, and appetizing dishes of cold food, salad and fruit were spread +out on the dresser and sideboard, with iced champagne and claret +cup. + +"The outside of the cottage didn't suggest all this comfort," said +Joan. + +"Comfort's the easiest thing in the world when you can pay for it. +There's one bedroom half the size of this and two small ones. A +bathroom and kitchen beyond. There's water, of course, and electric +light, and there's a telephone. I loathe the telephone, the +destroyer of aloofness, the missionary that breaks into privacy." He +switched on the lights in several old lanterns as he spoke. The day +had almost disappeared. + +He went over to her and stood smiling. + +"Well, isn't this better than a road-house reeking of food and flies +and made hideous by a Jazz band?" + +"Much better," she said. + +The delightful silence was broken by the crickets. + +"Martin--Martin," she thought," and it was all my fault." + +A sort of tremble ran over Gilbert as he looked at her. Agony and +joy clashed in his heart. He had suffered, gone sleepless, worn +himself out by hard, grim exercise in order, who knew how many +times, to master his almost unendurable passion. He had killed long +nights, the very thought of which made him shudder, by reading books +of which he never took in a word. He had stood up in the dark, +unmanned, and cursed himself and her and life. He had denounced her +to himself and once to her as a flapper, a fool-girl, an empty- +minded frivolous thing encased in a body as beautiful as spring. He +had thrown himself on his knees and wept like a young boy who had +been hurt to the very quick by a great injustice. He had faced +himself up, and with the sort of fear that comes to men in moments +of physical danger, recognized madness in his eyes. But not until +that instant, as she stood before him unguarded in his lonely +cottage, so slight and sweet and unexpectedly gentle, her eyes as +limpid as the water of a brook, her lips soft and kind and unkissed, +her whole young body radiating virginity, did he really know how +amazingly and frighteningly he loved her. But once again he held +back a rush of adoring words and a desire to touch and hold and +claim. The time had not come yet. Let her warm to him. Let him live +down the ugliness of the mood that she had recently put him into, do +away with the impression he must have given her of jealousy and +petulance and scorn. Let her get used to him as a man who had it in +him to be as natural and impersonal, and even as cubbish, as some of +the boys she knew. Later, when night had laid its magic on the +earth, he would make his last bid for her kisses--or take her with +him across the horizon. + +"How do you like that?" he asked, and pointed to a charmingly +grotesque piece of old Staffordshire pottery which made St. George a +stunted churchwar den with the legs of a child, his horse the kind +of animal that would be used in a green grocer's cart and the dragon +a cross between a leopard and a half-bred bulldog. + +"Very amusing," she said, going over to it. + +And the instant her back was turned, he opened a drawer in a +sideboard and satisfied himself that the thing which might have to +put them into Eternity together lay there, loaded. + + + + +II + + +"And now," he said gayly, "let's dine and, if you don't mind, I +will buttle. I hate servants in a place like this." He went to the +head of the table and drew back a chair. + +Joan sat down, thanking him with a smile. It was hard to believe +that, with the words of that girl still ringing in her ears and the +debris of her hopes lying in a heap about her feet, she was going +through the process of being nice to this man who had his claims. It +was unreal, fantastic. It wasn't really happening. She must be lying +face down on some quiet corner of Mother Earth and watering its +bosom with tears of blood. Martin--Martin! It was all her fault. + +Tomorrow she would be back again in the old house, with the old +people and the old dogs and the old trees and follow her old +routine--old, old. That was the price she must pay for being a kid +when she should have been a woman. + +Palgrave stood at the sideboard and carved a cold chicken decorated +with slips of parsley. "Have you ever gone into a room in which +you've never been before and recognized everything in it or done +some thing for the first time that you suddenly realize isn't new to +you?" + +"Yes, often," replied Joan. "Why?" + +"You've never sat in that chair until this minute and this chicken +was probably killed this morning. But I've seen you sitting in just +that attitude at that table and cut the wing of this very bird and +watched that identical smile round your lips when I put the plate in +front of you." He put it in front of her and the scent of her hair +made him catch his breath. "Oh, my God!" he said to himself. "This +girl--this beautiful, cool, bewitching thing--the dew of youth upon +her, as chaste as unsunned snow--Oh, my God. . . ." + +But Joan had caught the scent of honeysuckle, and back into her +brain came that cottage splashed with sun, the lithe figure of Harry +Oldershaw with his face tanned the color of mahogany and the clear +voice of "Mrs. Gray." + +Gilbert filled her glass with champagne cup, carved for himself and +sat at the foot of the table. "The man from whom I bought this +place," he said, saying anything to make conversation and keep +himself rig idly light and, as he hoped, like Oldershaw, "owns a +huge ready-made clothes store on Broadway--appalling things with +comic belts and weird pockets." + +"Oh!" said Joan. Always, for ever, the scent of honeysuckle would +bring that picture back. Martin--Martin. + +"He makes any amount of money by dressing that portion of young +America which sells motors and vacuum cleaners and gramaphone +records and hangs about stage doors smoking cheap cigarettes." + +"Yes?" Joan listened but heard nothing except that high clear voice +coming through the screen door. + +"He built this cottage as an antidote and spent his week-ends here +entirely alone with the trees and crickets, trying to write poetry. +He was very pleased with it and believed that this atmosphere was +going to make him immortal." + +"I see,"--but all she saw was a porch covered with honeysuckle, a +hammock with an open book face downwards in it and the long shadow +of Harry Oldershaw flung across the white steps. + +Gilbert went on--pathetically unable to catch the unaffected young +stuff of the nice boy and his kind. He had never been young. + +"He had had no time during his hard struggle to read the masters, +and when, without malice, I quoted a chunk of Grey's 'Elegy' to him, +the poor devil's jaw fell, he withdrew his blank refusal to sell the +place to me, pocketed my cheque, packed his grip, and slouched off +then and there, looking as if a charge of dynamite had blown his +chest away. His garments, I notice, are as comic as ever, and I +suppose he is now living in a turretted house with stucco walls and +stone lions at New Rochelle, wedded to Commerce and a buxom girl who +talks too much and rag-times through her days." + +Joan joined in his laugh. She was there to make up for her +unkindness. She would do her best under the circumstances. She hoped +he would tell lots of long stories to cover her wordlessness. + +Gilbert emptied his glass and filled it again. He was half conscious +of dramatizing the episode as it unrolled itself and thrilled to +think that this might be the last time that he would eat and drink +in the only life that he knew. Death, upon which he had looked +hitherto with horror, didn't scare him if he went into it hand in +hand with Joan. With Alice trying, in her per sistently gentle way, +to cure him, life was unthinkable. Life with Joan--there was that to +achieve. Let the law unravel the knots while he and she wandered in +France and Italy, she triumphantly young, and he a youth again, his +dream come true. . . . Would she have come with him to-night if she +hadn't grown weary of playing flapper? She knew what she meant to +him. He had told her often enough. Too often, perhaps. He had taken +the surprise of it away, discounted the romance.. + +He got up and gave her some salad and stood by her for a moment. He +was like a moth hovering about a lamp. + +She smiled up at him again--homesick for the old bedroom and the old +trees, eager to sit in her grand father's room and read the paper to +him. He was old and out of life and so was she. Oh, Martin, Martin. +Why couldn't he have waited a little while longer? + +The shock of touching her fingers as she took the salad plate sent +the blood to Gilbert's brain. But he reined himself in. He was +afraid to come to the point yet. Life was too good like this. The +abyss yawned at their feet. He would turn his back to it and see +only the outstretched landscape of hope. + +They ate very little, and Joan ignored her glass. Gilbert frequently +filled his own, but he might just as well have been drinking water. +He was already drunk with love. + +Finally, after a long silence, Joan pushed her chair back and got +up. + +Instantly he was in front of her, with his back to the door. "Joan," +he said, and held out his hands in supplication. + +"Don't you think we ought to drive home now?" she asked. + +"Home?" + +"Yes. It must be getting late." + +"Not yet," he said, steadying his voice. "Time is ours. Don't +hurry." + +He went down suddenly on to his knees and kissed her feet. + +At any other time, in any other mood, the action would have stirred +her sense of the ridiculous. She would have laughed and whipped him +with sarcasm. He had done exuberant things before and left her +unmoved except to mirth. But this time she raised him up without a +word, and he answered her touch with curious unresistance, like a +man hypnotized and stood speechless, but with eyes that were filled +with eloquence. + +"Be good to-night, Gilbert," she said. "I've . . . I've been awfully +hurt to-day and I feel tired and worn--not up to fencing with you." + +The word "fencing" didn't strike home at first, nor did he gather at +once from her simple appeal that she had not come in the mood that +he had persuaded himself was hers. + +"This is the first time that you've given me even an hour since you +drew me to the Hosacks," he said. "Be generous. Don't do things by +halves." + +She could say nothing to that. She was there only because of a +desire to make up ever so little for having teased him. He had been +consistently generous to her. She had hoped, from his manner, that +he was simply going to be nice and kind and not indulge in +romantics. She was wrong, evidently. It was no new thing, though. +She was well accustomed to his being dramatic and almost foreign. He +had said many amazing things but always remained the civilized man, +and never attempted to make a scene. She liked him for that, and she +had tried him pretty high, she knew. She did wish that he would be +good that night, but there was nothing to say in reply to his +appeal. And so she went over to one of the pews and sat down among +the cushions. + +"I'll give you another hour, then," she said. + +But the word had begun to rankle. "Fencing!--Fencing! . . ." + +He repeated it several times. + +She watched him wander oddly about the room, thinking aloud rather +than speaking to her. How different he had become. For the first +time it dawned upon her that the whole look of the man had undergone +a change. He held himself with less affectation. His petulance had +gone. He was like a Gilbert Palgrave who had been ill and had come +out of it with none of his old arrogance. + +He took up a cigarette and began wandering again, muttering her +unfortunate word. She was sorry to have hurt his feelings. It was +the very last thing that she had wanted to do. "Aren't there any +matches?" she asked. "Ring for some." + +She was impatient of indecision. + +He drew up and looked at her. "Ring? Why? No one will come." + +"Are we the only people in the house, then?" + +"Yes," he said. "That's part of my plan." + +"Plan?" She was on her feet. "What do you mean? Have you thought all +this out and made a scheme of it?" + +"Yes; all out," he said. "The moment has come, Joan." + +No longer did the scent of honeysuckle take Joan back to the sun- +bathed cottage and the voice behind the door. No longer did she feel +that all this wasn't really happening, that it was fantastic. Stark +reality forced itself upon her and brought her into the present as +though some one had turned up all the lights in a dark room. She was +alone with the man whom she had driven to the limit of his patience. +No one knew that she was there. It was a trick into which she had +fallen out of a new wish to be kind. A sense of self-preservation +scattered the dire effects of everything that had happened during +the afternoon. She must get out, quickly. She made for the door. + +But Gilbert was there first. He locked it, drew out the key, put it +in his pocket and before she could turn towards the door leading to +the other rooms, he was there. He repeated the process with peculiar +deftness and when he saw her dart a look at the windows, he shook +his head. + +"You can't jump through those screens," he said. + +"It isn't fair," she cried. + +"Have you been fair?" + +"I shall shout for help." + +"The nearest cottage is too far away for any one to hear you." + +"What are you going to do?" + +He went back to her. He was far too quiet and dignified and unlike +himself. She could have managed the old vain Gilbert. A scoffing +laugh, and he would have withered. But this new Gilbert, who looked +at her with such a curious, exalted expression--what was she to do +with him? + +"Joan," he said, "listen. This is the end or the beginning. I +haven't locked the doors and sent the servants away to get you into +a vulgar trap. I might have done it a few weeks ago, but not as I am +now. This is my night, my beautiful Joan. You have given it to me. +After all this fencing, as you call it, you are here with me alone, +as far away from the old foolishness as if you were out at sea. What +I have to say is so much a private thing, and what I may have to do +so much a matter to be treated with the profoundest solemnity that +we must run no risk of disturbance. Do you begin to understand, +little Joan?" + +"No," she said. + +"I will explain it to you, then. You are very young and have been +very thoughtless. You haven't stopped to think that you have been +playing with a soul as well as a heart. I have brought you here to- +night to face things up simply and quietly and finally, and leave it +to you to make a choice." + +"A choice?" + +"Yes, between life with me or death in my arms." + + + + +III + + +All that was healthy and normal in Joan broke into revolt. There +was something erotic, uncanny about all this. Life or death? What +was he talking about? Her pride, too, which had never been put to +such a test, was up in arms against the unfairness and cunning of +the way in which she had been taken advantage of. She had meant to +be kind and pay something of her debt to this man, and it was a +vulgar trap, whatever he said in excuse. Let him dare to touch her. +Let him dare. She would show him how strong she was and put up such +a fight as would amaze him. Just now she had placed herself among +those old people and old trees, because she had suffered. But she +was young, tingling with youth, and her slate was clean, +notwithstanding the fool game that she had played, and she would +keep it clean, if she had to fight her way out. + +She took up her stand behind the table, alert and watchful. + +"I don't get you when you go in for melodrama," she said. "I much +prefer your usual way of talking. Translate for me." She spoke +scornfully because hitherto she had been able to turn him off by +scorn. + +But it didn't work this time. It was not anger that came into his +eyes, only an unexpected and disconcerting reproach. He made no +attempt to go near her. He looked extraordinarily patient and +gentle. She had never seen him like this before. "Don't stand +there," he said. "Come and sit down and let's go into this sensibly, +like people who have emerged from stupidity. In any case you are not +going back to Easthampton to-night." + +She began to be frightened. "Not going back to Easthampton?" + +"No, my dear." + +She left her place behind the table and went up to him. Had all the +world gone wrong? Had her foolishness been so colossal that she was +to be broken twice on the same day? "Gilbert," she said. "What is +it? What do you mean? Why do you say these odd things in this queer +way? You're--you're frightening me, Gilbert." + +Young? She was a child as she stood there with her lovely face +upturned. It was torture to keep his hands off her and not take her +lips. But he did nothing. He stood steady and waited for his brain +to clear. "Odd things in a queer way? Is that how I strike you?" + +"Yes. I've never seen you in this mood before. If you've brought me +here to make me say I'm sorry, I will, because I am sorry. I'd do +anything to have all these days over again--every one since I +climbed out of my old bedroom window. If you said hard things to me +all night I should deserve them all and I'll pay you what I can of +my debt, but don't ask me to pay too much. I trusted you by coming +here alone. Don't go back on me, Gilbert." + +He touched her cheek and drew his hand away. + +"But I haven't brought you here to make you humble yourself," he +said. "There's nothing small in this. What you've done to me has +left its marks, of course, deep marks. I don't think you ever really +understood the sort of love mine is. But the hour has gone by for +apologies and arguments and regrets. I'm standing on the very edge +of things. I'm just keeping my balance on the lip of eternity. It's +for you to draw me back or go tumbling over with me. That's why +you're here. I told you that. Are you really so young that you don't +understand?" + +"I'm a kid, I'm a kid," she cried out, going back to her old excuse. +"That's the trouble." + +"Then I'll put it into plain words," he said, with the same +appalling composure. "I've had these things in my mind to say to you +for hours. I can repeat them like a parrot. If the sort of +unimaginative people who measure everybody by themselves were to +hear what I'm going to say, I suppose they would think I'm insane. +But you won't. You have imagination. You've seen me in every stage +of what I call the Great Emotion. But you've not treated me well, +Joan, or taken me seriously, and this is the one serious thing of my +life." + +He was still under control, although his voice had begun to shake +and his hands to tremble. She could do nothing but wait for him to +go on. The crickets and the frogs filled in the short silence. + +"And now it's come to this. I can be played with no longer. I can't +wait for you any more. Either you love me, or you don't. If you do, +you must be as serious as I am, tear up your roots such as they are +and come away with me. Your husband, who counts for as little as my +wife, will set the law in action. So will Alice. We will wander +among any places that take your fancy until we can be married and +then if you want to come back, we will. But if you don't and won't +love me, I can't live and see you love any other man. I look upon +you as mine. I created you for myself ten years ago. Not being able +to live without you, I am not made of the stuff to leave you behind +me. I shall take you and if there's another life on the other side, +live it with you. If not, then we'll snuff out together. Like all +great lovers, I'm selfish, you see. That's what I meant when I +talked just now about choice." + +He moved away, quietly, and piled several cushions into a corner of +one of the pews. The look of exaltation was on his face again. + +"Sit here, my dream girl," he added, with the most wonderful +tenderness, "and think it over. Don't hurry. The night belongs to +us." He found a match and lit a cigarette and stood at one of the +windows looking out at the stars. + +But Joan was unable to move. Her blood was as cold as ice. As though +a searchlight had suddenly been thrown on to Gilbert, she saw him as +he was. "Unimaginative people will think I'm insane." . . . SHE +didn't think he was insane, imaginative as he said she was. She KNEW +it. If she had been able to think of one thing but Martin and that +girl and her own chaos, she must have guessed it at Easthampton from +the look in his eyes when he helped her into his car. . . . He had +lost his balance, gone over the dividing hue between soundness and +unsoundness. And it was her fault for having fooled with his +feelings. Everything was her fault, everything. And now she stood on +what Gilbert had called the lip of Eternity. "Who Cares?" had come +back at her like a boomerang. And as to a choice between giving +herself to Gilbert or to death, what was the good of thinking that +over? She didn't love this man and never could. She loved Martin, +Martin. She had always loved Martin from the moment that she had +turned and found him on the hill. She had lost him, that was true, +He had been unable to wait. He had gone to the girl with the white +face and the red lips and the hair that came out of a bottle. She +had sent him to her, fool that she had been. Already she had decided +to creep back to the old prison house and thus to leave life. +Without Martin nothing mattered. Why put up a fight for something +that didn't count? Why continue mechanically to live when living +meant waiting for death? Why not grasp this opportunity of leaving +it actually, at once, and urge Gilbert on to stop the beating of her +wounded and contrite heart? . . . Death, the great consoler. Sleep, +endless sleep and peace. + +But as she stood there, tempted, with the weight of Martin's +discarded armor on her shoulders and the sense of failure hanging +like a millstone round her neck, she saw the creeper bursting into +buds on the wall beneath the window of her old room, caught the +merry glint of young green on the trees below her hill, heard the +piping of birds to their nesting mates, the eager breeze singing +among the waving grasses and the low sweet crooning of baby voices-- +felt a tiny greedy hand upon her breast, was bewildered with a +sudden overwhelming rush of mother-longing . . . young, young? Oh, +God, she was young, and in the springtime with its stirring sap, its +call to life and action, its urge to create, to build, its ringing +cry to be up and doing, serving, sowing, tending--the pains of +winter forgotten, hope in the warming sun. + +She must live. Even without Martin she must live. She was too young +for death and sleep and peace. Life called and claimed and demanded. +It had need of the young for a good spring, a ripe summer, a golden +autumn. She must live and work and justify. + +But how? + +There was Gilbert watching the stars with a smile, calmly and +quietly and horribly waiting for her to make a choice, having +slipped over on the other side of the dividing line. A scream of +fear and terror rose to her throat. This quiet, exalted man, so +gentle and determined, with the look in his eyes of one who intended +to own one way or the other--Live? How was she to live? He had given +her a choice between something that was impossible and something +that all Nature held her back from. She was locked into a lonely +house as far away from help as though they were out at sea. + +"We hold it death to falter not to die." The words seemed suddenly +to stand out in blazing letters over the mantelpiece, as they did in +Martin's room--Martin, Martin. . . . With a mighty effort she wound +the reins round her hands and pulled herself up. In this erotic and +terrible position she must not falter or show fear or exaggerate +this man's sudden derangement by cries or struggles. He must be +humored, kept gentle and quiet, and she must pray for heip. God +loved young things, and if she had forgotten Him until the very +moment of great danger, He might forgive. She must, with courage and +practicality, gain time so that some one might be sent. The servants +might return. Harry Oldershaw might have followed them. He hadn't +liked the look of Gilbert. He had said so. But if that was too good, +there was Martin, Martin . . . + +She saw herself sitting in a dressing gown on the arm of a chair in +Martin's room in the little New York house. She heard Martin come +along the passage with his characteristic light tread and saw him +draw up short. He looked anxious. "You wanted me?" she heard him +say. + +"I did and do, Marty. But how did you guess?" + +"I didn't guess. I knew." + +"Isn't that wonderful? Do you suppose I shall always be able to get +you when I want you very much?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Why?" + +"I dunno. It's like that. It's something that can't be explained. . +. ." + +Gilbert turned and smiled at her. She smiled back. Martin was not +far away, Martin. "How quiet the night is," she said, and went over +to a window. Hope gleamed like a star. And then, with all her +strength and urgency she gave a silent cry. "Martin, Martin. I want +you, so much, oh, so much. Come to me, quickly, quickly. Martin, +Martin." + + + + +IV + + +The crickets and the frogs vied with each other to fill the silence +with sound. The moon was up and had laid a silver carpet under the +trees. Fireflies flashed their little lights among the undergrowth +like fairies signalling. + +Joan had sent her S. O. S. into the air and with supreme confidence +that it would reach Martin wherever he might be, left the window, +went to the pew in which Gilbert had arranged the cushions and sat +down . . . Martin had grown tired of waiting for her. She had lost +him. But twice before he had answered her call, and he would come. +She knew it. Martin was like that. He was reliable. And even if he +held her in contempt now, he had loved her once. Oh, what it must +have cost him to leave her room that night--it seemed so long ago-- +she had clung to being a kid and had conceived it to be her right to +stay on the girlhood side of the bridge. To be able to live those +days over again--how different she would be. + +Without permitting Gilbert to guess what she was doing, she must +humor him and gain time. She gave thanks to God that he was in this +gentle, exalted mood, and was treating her with a sort of reverence. +Behind the danger and the terror of it all she recognized the wonder +of his love. + +"Gilbert," she said softly. + +"Well, my little spring girl?" + +"Come and sit here, where I can see you." + +"You have only to tell me what I'm to do," he said and obeyed at +once. + +How different from the old affected Gilbert--this quiet man with the +burning eyes who sat with his elbows on his knees and his back bent +towards her and the light of one of the lanterns on his handsome +face. She had played with a soul as well as with a heart, and also, +it appeared, with a brain. How fatal had been her effect upon men-- +Martin out of armor and Gilbert on the wrong side of the thin +dividing line. Men's love--it was too big and good a thing to have +played with, if she had only stopped to think, or some one had been +wise and kind enough to tell her. Who cares? These two men cared and +so did she, bitterly, terribly, everlastingly. + +Would Martin hear--oh, would he hear? Martin, Martin! + +There was a long, strange silence. + +"Well, my little Joan?" + +"Well, Gilbert?" + +He picked up her hand and put his lips to it. "Still thinking?" he +asked, with a curious catch in his voice. + +"Yes, Gilbert, give me time." + +He gave back her hand. "The night is ours," he said, but there was +pain in his eyes. + +And there they sat, these two, within an arm's reach, on the edge of +the abyss. And for a little while there was silence--broken only by +the crickets and the frogs and the turning of many leaves by the +puffs of a sudden breeze. + +Was she never going to hear the breaking of twigs and the light +tread outside the window? Martin, Martin. + +And then Gilbert began to speak. "I can see a long way to-night, +Joan," he said, in a low voice. "I can see all the way back to the +days when I was a small boy--years away. It's a long stretch." + +"Yes, Gilbert," said Joan. (Martin, Martin, did you hear?) + +"It's not good for a boy to have no father, my sweet. No discipline, +no strong hand, no man to imitate, no inspiration, no one to try and +keep step with. I see that now. I suffered from all that." + +"Did you, Gilbert?" Oh, when would the twigs break and the light +step come? Martin, Martin. + +"A spoilt boy, a mother's darling, unthrashed, unled. What a cub at +school with too much money! What a conceited ass at college, buying +deference and friends. I see myself with amazement taking to life +with an air of having done it all, phrase-making and paying +deference to nothing but my excellent profile. God, to have those +years over again! We'd both do things differently given another +chance, eh, Joan?" + +"Yes, Gilbert." He wasn't coming. He wasn't coming. Martin, Martin. + +She strained her ears to catch the sound of breaking twigs. The +crickets and the frogs had the silence to themselves. She got up and +went to the window, with Gilbert at her elbow. She felt that he was +instantly on his feet. Martin's face was not pressed against the +screen. He had heard. She knew that he had heard, because she was +always able to make him hear. But he didn't care. When he had come +before it was for nothing. She had lost him. She was un-Martined. +She was utterly without help. She must give up. What was the good of +making a fight for it now that Martin cared so little as to turn a +deaf ear to her call? He had even forgotten that he had loved her +once. Death was welcome then. Yes, welcome. But there was one way to +make some sort of retribution--just one. She would remain true to +Martin. + +Gilbert touched her on the arm. "Come, Joan," he said. "The night's +running away. Is it so hard to decide?" + +But against her will Nature, to whom life is so precious, put words +into her mouth. "I want you to try and understand something more +about me," she said eagerly. + +"The time has gone for arguing," he replied, stiffening a little. + +"I'm not going to argue," she went on quickly, surprised at herself, +deserted as she was. "I only want you to think a little more deeply +about all this." + +He drew his hand across his forehead. "Think? I've thought until my +brain's hot, like an overheated engine." + +She leaned forward. Spring was fighting her battle. "I'm not worth a +love like yours," she said. "I'm too young, too unserious. I'm not +half the woman that Alice is." + +"You came to me in spirit that night in Paris. I placed yuu m my +heart. I've waited all these years." + +"Yes, but there's Alice--no, don't turn away. Let me say what's in +my mind. This is a matter of life or death, you said." + +He nodded. "Yes, life or death, together." + +"Alice doesn't disappoint," she went on, the words put upon her +lips. "I may, I shall. I already have, remember. This is your night, +Gilbert, not mine, and whichever step we decide to take matters more +to you than to me. Let it be the right one. Let it be the best for +you." + +But he made a wild sweeping gesture. His patience was running out. +"Nothing is best for me if you're not in it. I tell you you've got +me, whatever you are. You have your choice. Make it, make it. The +night won't last for ever." + +Once more she listened for the breaking twig and the light step. +There was nothing but the sound of the crickets and the frogs. +Martin had forgotten. He had heard, she was sure of that, but he +didn't care. Nature had its hand upon her arm, but she pushed it +away. Her choice was easy, because she wouldn't forget. She would be +true to Martin. + +"I've made my choice," she said. + +"Joan, Joan--what is it?" + +"I don't love you." + +He went up to her, with his old note of supplication. "But I can +teach you, Joan, I can teach you, my dear." + +"No. Never. I love Martin. I always have and always shall." + +"Oh, my God," he said. + +"That's the truth. . . . Please be quick. I'm very tired!" She drew +herself up like a young lily. + +For a moment he stood irresolute, swaying. Everything seemed to be +running past him. He was spinning like a top. He had hoped against +hope, during her silence and her argument. But now to be told not +only that she would never love him but that she loved another man. . +. . + +He staggered across the room to the sideboard, opened the drawer, +and the thing glistened in his hand. + +Joan was as cold as ice. "I will be true," she whispered to herself. +"I will be true. Martin, oh, Martin." + +With a superhuman effort Gilbert caught hold of himself. The cold +thing in his hand helped him to this. His mouth became firm again +and his face gentle and tender. And he stood up with renewed dignity +and the old strange look of exaltation. "I claim you then," he said. +"I claim you, Joan. Here, on this earth, we have both made mistakes. +I with Alice. You with Martin Gray. In the next life, whatever it +may be, we will begin again together. I will teach you from the +beginning. Death and the Great Emotion. It will be very beautiful. +Shut your eyes, my sweet, and we will take the little step +together." The thing glistened in his grasp. + +And Joan shut her eyes with her hands to her breast. "I love you, +Martin," she whispered. "I love you. I will wait until you come." + +And Gilbert cried out, in a loud ringing voice, "Eternity, oh, God!" +and raised his hand. + +There was a crash, a ripping of window screen. Coatless, hatless, +his shirt gaping at the neck, his deep chest heaving, Martin swept +into the room like a storm, flung himself in front of Joan, +staggered as the bullet hit him, cried out her name, crumpled into a +heap at her feet. + +And an instant later lay beneath the sweet burden of the girl whose +call he had answered once again and to whom life broke like a glass +ball at the sight of him and let her through into space. + + + + +V + + +"You may go in," said the doctor. + +And Joan, whiter than a lily, rose from the corner in which she had +been crouching through all the hours of the night and went to the +doorway of the room to which Martin had been carried by the Nice Boy +and Gilbert, the man who had been shocked back to sanity. + +On a narrow bed, near a window through which a flood of sunlight +poured, lay Martin from whom Death had turned away,--honest, normal, +muscular, reliable Martin, the bullet no longer in his shoulder. His +eyes, eager and wistful, lit up as he saw her standing there and the +brown hand that was outside the covers opened with a sort of quiver. + +With a rush Joan went forward, slipped down on her knees at the side +of the bed, broke into a passion of weeping and pressed her lips to +that outstretched hand. + +Making no bones about it, being very young and very badly hurt, +Martin cried too, and their tears washed the bridge away and the +barriers and misunderstandings and criss-crosses that had sprung up +between them during all those adolescent months. + +"Martin, Martin, it was all my fault." + +"No, it wasn't, Joany. It was mine. I wasn't merely your pal, ever. +I loved and adored you from the very second that I found you out on +the hill. You thought it was a game, but it wasn't. It was the real +thing, and I was afraid to say so." + +She crept a little nearer and put her head on his chest. "I was all +wrong, Marty, from the start. I was a fool and a cheat, and you and +Gilbert and Alice have paid my bill. I've sent Gilbert back to +Alice, and they'll forget, but it will take me all my life to earn +my way back to you." She flung her arm across his body, and her +tears fell on his face. + +"Oh, God," he cried out, "don't you understand that I love you, +Joany? Send all your bills to me. They're mine, because I'm yours, +my baby, just all yours. You were so young and you had to work it +off. I knew all that and waited. Didn't you know me well enough to +be dead sure that I would wait?" + +The burden on her shoulders fell with a crash, and with a great cry +of pent-up gratitude and joy her lips went down to his lips. + +But the doctor was not so old that he had forgotten love and youth, +and he left those two young clinging things alone again and went +back into the sun. + + + + + +End Project Gutenberg Etext of WHO CARES?, by COSMO HAMILTON + diff --git a/old/cares10.zip b/old/cares10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3369b8b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cares10.zip |