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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:11 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:11 -0700 |
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diff --git a/37528-h/37528-h.htm b/37528-h/37528-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49e8144 --- /dev/null +++ b/37528-h/37528-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11273 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/strict.dtd"> + +<html> + +<head> + + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> + + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Quick Action, by Robert W. Chambers. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + blockquote { + text-align:justify; + } + + body { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + } + + #booktitle { + letter-spacing:3px; + } + + .centered { + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + } + + div.centered { + text-align:center; + } + + div.centered table { + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + text-align:left; + } + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .figcenter { + padding:1em; + text-align:center; + font-size:0.8em; + border:none; + margin:auto; + text-indent:1em; + } + + .h1 { + font-size:2em; + margin:.67em 0; + } + + .h1, + .h2, + .h3, + .h4, + .h5 { + font-weight:bolder; + text-align:center; + text-indent:0; + } + + h1, + h2, + h3, + h4, + h5, + hr { + text-align:center; + } + + .h2 { + font-size:1.5em; + margin:.75em 0; + } + + .h3 { + font-size:1.17em; + margin:.83em 0; + } + + .h4 { + margin:1.12em 0 ; + } + + .h5 { + font-size:.83em; + margin:1.5em 0 ; + } + + h5 { + margin-bottom:1%; + margin-top:1%; + } + + hr.chapter { + margin-top:6em; + margin-bottom:4em; + } + + hr.tb { + margin:2em 25%; + width:50%; + } + + p { + text-align:justify; + margin-top:.75em; + margin-bottom:.75em; + text-indent:0; + } + + p.author { + text-align:right; + margin-right:10%; + } + + p.caption { + text-indent:0; + text-align:center; + font-weight:bold; + margin-bottom:2em; + } + + p.spacer { + margin-top:2em; + margin-bottom:3em; + } + + p.tb { + margin-top:2em; + } + + .pagenum { +/* visibility:hidden; remove comment out to hide page numbers */ + position:absolute; + right:2%; + font-size:75%; + color:gray; + background-color:inherit; + text-align:right; + text-indent:0; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; + font-variant:normal; + } + + .pagenumsmall { +/* visibility:hidden; remove comment out to hide page numbers */ + position:absolute; + right:2%; + font-size:60%; + color:gray; + background-color:inherit; + text-align:right; + text-indent:0; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; + font-variant:normal; + } + + .poem { + margin-left:30%; + margin-right:10%; + margin-bottom:1em; + text-align:left; + } + + .poem .stanza { + margin:1em 0em 1em 0em; + } + + .poem br { + display:none; + } + + .poem p { + margin:0; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i0 { + display:block; + margin-left:0em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i2 { + display:block; + margin-left:2em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .poem span.i4 { + display:block; + margin-left:4em; + padding-left:3em; + text-indent:-3em; + } + + .sc, + .smcap { + font-variant:small-caps; + } + + .tdl { + padding-top: 0; + padding-bottom: 0; + font-weight:normal; + text-align:left; + } + + .tdr { + text-align:right; + padding-right:1em; + } + + .tdrfirst { + text-align:right; + padding-right:1em; + font-size:80%; + } + + .topbox { + margin-left:auto; + margin-right:auto; + margin-top:5%; + margin-bottom:5%; + padding:1em; + color:black; + border:2px solid black; + } + + td { + margin-top:0; + margin-bottom:0 + } + + div.bigfont { + font-size:125%; + } + + </style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Quick Action, by Robert W. Chambers + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Quick Action + +Author: Robert W. Chambers + +Illustrator: Edmund Frederick + +Release Date: September 25, 2011 [EBook #37528] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUICK ACTION *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Matthew Wheaton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div> + +<br> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="603" alt="Cover" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h1">QUICK ACTION</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="gs01" id="gs01"></a> +<img src="images/gs01.jpg" width="400" height="672" alt=""'Are you preaching?' asked Athalie, raising her eyes +from the Green God."" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="caption">"'Are you preaching?' asked Athalie, raising her eyes +from the Green God." <a href="#Page_252">[Page 252]</a></p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter topbox" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/tp.png" width="400" height="649" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h1 id="booktitle">QUICK ACTION</h1> + +<p class="h3"><i>By</i></p> + +<p class="h2">ROBERT W. CHAMBERS</p> + +<p class="h5">ILLUSTRATED BY</p> + +<p class="h4">EDMUND FREDERICK</p> +<br> +<p class="h3">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br> +NEW YORK AND LONDON: MCMXIV</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h5 smcap">Copyright, 1914, by</p> + +<p class="h4">ROBERT W. CHAMBERS</p> + +<p class="h5">Copyright, 1913, by Harper's Bazaar, Inc.<br> +Copyright, 1914, by The Star Co.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h5">Printed in the United States of America</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="poem"> + +<p class="h4 poem">TO</p> +<p class="h4 poem">PENELOPE SEARS</p> +<p class="h4 poem">DEBUTANTE</p> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>To rhyme your name</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With something lovely, fresh and young,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And sing the same</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In measures heretofore unsung,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Is far beyond me, I'm afraid;</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I'll not attempt it, dearest maid.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>No, not in verse,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Synthetic, stately, classic, chaste,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Shall I rehearse—</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Although in perfectly good taste—</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>A catalogue of every grace</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That you inherit from your race.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Gracious and kind,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The gods your beauty gave to you,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And with a mind</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>These same kind gods endowed you, too;</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That charming union is, I fear,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Somewhat uncommon on this sphere.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>I have no doubt</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That scores of poets chant your fame;</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>No doubt, about</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A million suitors press their claim;</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And fashion, elegance and wit</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Are at your feet inclined to sit.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Penelope,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The fire-light flickers to and fro:</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>In you I see</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The winsome child I used to know—</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>My little Maiden of Romance</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Still whirling in your Shadow Dance.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Though woman-grown,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To my unreconciled surprise</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I gladly own</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The same light lies within your eyes—</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The same sweet candour which beguiled</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Your rhymster when you were a child.</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>And so I come,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With limping verse to you again,</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Amid the hum</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of that young world wherein you reign—</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Only a moment to appear</i></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And say: "Your rhymster loves you, dear."</i></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"><i>R. W. C.</i></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + +<p>Always animated by a desire to contribute in a +small way toward scientific investigation, the +author offers this humble volume to a more serious +audience than he has so far ventured to address.</p> + +<p>For all those who have outgrown the superficial +amusement of mere fiction this volume, replete +with purpose, is written in hopes that it may +stimulate students to original research in certain +obscure realms of science, the borderlands of +which, hitherto, have been scarcely crossed.</p> + +<p>There is perhaps no division of science as important, +none so little understood, as the science +of Crystal Gazing.</p> + +<p>A vast field of individual research opens before +the earnest, patient, and sober minded investigator +who shall study the subject and discover those +occult laws which govern the intimate relations +between crystals, playing cards, cigarettes, soiled +pink wrappers, and the Police.</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<p class="h4">Amor nihil est celerius!</p> + +<p class="spacer"> </p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<p class="h3">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td class="tdl"> </td><td class="tdrfirst">FACING PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">"'Are you preaching?' asked Athalie, raising her eyes from the green god"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#gs01"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">"They inspected each other, apparently bereft of the power of speech"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#gs02">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">"The magnificent realism of it fascinated the Lady Alene"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#gs03">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">"'I am in possession of the dog and you merely claim possession'"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#gs04">157</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<p class="h1">QUICK ACTION</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/ch01.jpg" width="550" height="417" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<div class="bigfont"> + +<h2>I</h2> + +<p>There was a new crescent moon in the west +which, with the star above it, made an +agreeable oriental combination.</p> + +<p>In the haze over bay and river enough rose and +purple remained to veil the awakening glitter of +the monstrous city sprawling supine between river, +sound, and sea. And its incessant monotone pulsated, +groaning, dying, ceaseless, interminable +in the light-shot depths of its darkening streets.</p> + +<p>The sky-drawing-room windows of the Countess +Athalie were all wide open, but the only light in<span class="pagenumsmall">[2]</span> +the room came from a crystal sphere poised on +a tripod. It had the quality and lustre of moon-light, +and we had never been able to find out its +source, for no electric wires were visible, and one +could move the tripod about the room.</p> + +<p>The crystal sphere itself appeared to be luminous, +yet it remained perfectly transparent, whatever +the source of its silvery phosphorescence.</p> + +<p>At any rate, it was the only light in the room +except the dulled glimmer of our cigarettes, and +its mild, mysterious light enabled us to see one +another as through a glass darkly.</p> + +<p>There were a number of men there that evening. +I don't remember, now, who they all were. +Some had dined early; others, during the evening, +strolled away into the city to dine somewhere or +other, drifting back afterward for coffee and +sweetmeats and cigarettes in the sky-drawing-room +of the Countess Athalie.</p> + +<p>As usual the girl was curled up by the open +window among her silken cushions, one smooth +little gem-laden hand playing with the green jade +god, her still dark eyes, which slanted a little, +fixed dreamily upon infinite distance—or so it always +seemed to us.</p> + +<p>Through the rusty and corrugated arabesques +of the iron balcony she could see, if she chose,<span class="pagenumsmall">[3]</span> +the yellow flare where Sixth Avenue crossed the +shabby street to the eastward. Beyond that, +and parallel, a brighter glow marked Broadway. +Further east street lamps stretched away into +converging perspective, which vanished to a point +in the faint nebular radiance above the East +River.</p> + +<p>All this the Countess Athalie could see if she +chose. Perhaps she did see it. We never seemed +to know just what she was looking at even when +she turned her dark eyes on us or on her crystal +sphere cradled upon its slender tripod.</p> + +<p>But the sphere seemed to understand, for sometimes, +under her still gaze, it clouded magnificently +like a black opal—another thing we never understood, +and therefore made light of.</p> + +<p>"They have placed policemen before several +houses on this street," remarked the Countess +Athalie.</p> + +<p>Stafford, tall and slim in his evening dress, relieved +her of her coffee cup.</p> + +<p>"Has anybody bothered you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>Young Duane picked up a pack of cards at his +elbow and shuffled them, languidly.</p> + +<p>"Where is the Ace of Diamonds, Athalie?" he +asked.<span class="pagenumsmall">[4]</span></p> + +<p>"Any card you try to draw will be the Ace of +Diamonds," replied the girl indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Can't I escape drawing it?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>We all turned and looked at Duane. He quickly +spread the pack, fan-shaped, backs up. After +a moment's choosing he drew a card, looked at it, +held it up for us to see. It was the Ace of +Diamonds.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind trying that again, Athalie?" +I asked. And Duane replaced the card and shuffled +the pack.</p> + +<p>"But it's gone, now," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"I replaced it in the pack," explained Duane.</p> + +<p>"No, you gave it to me," she said.</p> + +<p>We all smiled. Duane searched through the +pack in his hands, once, twice; then he laughed. +The girl held up one empty hand. Then, somehow +or other, there was the Ace of Diamonds between +her delicate little thumb and forefinger.</p> + +<p>She held it a moment or two for our inspection; +then, curving her wrist, sent it scaling out into +the darkness. It soared away above the street, +tipped up, and describing an aerial ellipse, returned +straight to the balcony where she caught +it in her fingers.</p> + +<p>Twice she did this; but the third time, high in<span class="pagenumsmall">[5]</span> +the air, the card burst into violet flame and +vanished.</p> + +<p>"That," remarked Stafford, "is one thing which +I wish to learn how to do."</p> + +<p>"Two hundred dollars," said the Countess +Athalie, "—in two lessons; also, your word of +honour."</p> + +<p>"Monday," nodded Stafford, taking out a note-book +and making a memorandum, "—at five in +the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Monday and Wednesday at five," said the girl, +lighting a cigarette and gazing dreamily at +nothing.</p> + +<p>From somewhere in the room came a voice.</p> + +<p>"Did they ever catch that crook, Athalie?"</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"The Fifty-ninth Street safe-blower?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did <i>you</i> find him?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"How? In your crystal?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was there."</p> + +<p>"It's odd," mused Duane, "that you can never +do anything of advantage to yourself by gazing +into your crystal."</p> + +<p>"It's the invariable limit to clairvoyance," she +remarked.<span class="pagenumsmall">[6]</span></p> + +<p>"A sort of penalty for being super-gifted," +added Stafford.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps.... We can't help ourselves."</p> + +<p>"It's too bad," I volunteered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care," she said, with a slight shrug +of her pretty shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Come," said somebody, teasingly, "wouldn't +you like to know how soon you are going to fall +in love, and with whom?"</p> + +<p>She laughed, dropped her cigarette into a silver +bowl, stretched her arms above her head, straightened +her slender figure, turned her head and looked +at us.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I do not wish to know. Light +is swift; Thought is swifter; but Love is the +swiftest thing in Life, and if it is now travelling +toward me, it will strike me soon enough to suit +me."</p> + +<p>Stafford leaned forward and arranged the cushions +for her; she sank back among them, her dark +eyes still on us.</p> + +<p>"Hours are slow," she said; "years are slower, +but the slowest thing in Life is Love. If it is now +travelling toward me, it will reach me soon enough +to suit me."</p> + +<p>"I," said Duane, "prefer quick action, O +Athalie, the Beautiful!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[7]</span></p> + +<p>"Athalie, lovely and incomparable," said Stafford, +"I, also, prefer quick action."</p> + +<p>"Play <i>Scheherazade</i> for us, Athalie," I said, +"else we slay you with our compliments."</p> + +<p>A voice or two from distant corners repeated +the menace. A match flared and a fresh cigarette +glowed faintly.</p> + +<p>Somebody brought the tripod with its crystal +sphere and set it down in the middle of the room. +Its mild rays fell on the marble basin of the tiny +fountain,—Duane's offering. The goldfish which +I had given her were floating there fast asleep.</p> + +<p>When we had placed sweetmeats and cigarettes +convenient for her, we all, in turn, with +circumstance and ceremony, bent over her left +hand where it rested listlessly among the cushions, +saluting the emerald on her third finger with +our lips.</p> + +<p>Then the dim circle closed around her, nearer.</p> + +<p>"Of all the visions which have passed before +your eyes within the depths of that crystal +globe," said Duane, "—of all the histories of men +and women which, unsuspected by them, you have +witnessed, seated here in this silent, silk-hung +place, we desire to hear only those in which Fate +has been swiftest, Opportunity a loosened arrow, +Destiny a flash of lightning."<span class="pagenumsmall">[8]</span></p> + +<p>"But the victims of quick action must be nameless, +except as I choose to mask them," she said, +looking dreamily into her crystal.</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence Duane said in a low +voice:</p> + +<p>"Does anybody notice the odour of orange +blossoms?"</p> + +<p>We all noticed the fragrance.</p> + +<p>"I seem to catch a whiff of the sea, also," ventured +Stafford. "Am I right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she nodded, "you will notice the odour +of the semi-tropics, even if you miss the point of +everything I tell you."</p> + +<p>"In other words," said I, "we are but a material +bunch, Athalie, and may be addressed and +amused only through our physical senses. Very +well: transpose from the spiritual for us if you +please a little story of quick action which has +happened here in the crystal under your matchless +eyes!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[9]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/ch02.jpg" width="450" height="325" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>II</h2> + +<p>With her silver tongs she selected a +sweetmeat. When it had melted in +her sweeter mouth, she lighted a cigarette, +saluted us with a gay little gesture and +smilingly began:</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me how I know what these people +said; that is <i>my</i> concern, not yours. Don't ask +me how I know what unspoken thoughts animated +these people; that is <i>my</i> affair. Nor how I seem +to be perfectly acquainted with their past histories; +for <i>that</i> is part of my profession."</p> + +<p>"And still the wonder grew," commented the +novelist tritely, "that one small head could +carry all she knew!"</p> + +<p>"Why," asked Stafford, "do you refuse to +reveal your secret? Do you no longer trust us, +Athalie?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[10]</span></p> + +<p>She answered: "<i>Comment prétendons-nous qu'un +autre garde notre secret, si nous n'avons pas +pu le garder nous-même?</i>"</p> + +<p>Nobody replied.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said, laughingly, "I will tell you +all that I know about the <i>Orange Puppy</i>."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Plans for her first debut began before her birth. +When it became reasonably certain that she was +destined to decorate the earth, she was entered +on the waiting lists of two schools—The Dinglenook +School for Boys, and The Idlebrook Institute +for Young Ladies—her parents taking no +chances, but playing both ends coming and going.</p> + +<p>When ultimately she made her first earthly appearance, +and it was apparent that she was destined +to embellish the planet in the guise of a +girl, the process of grooming her for her second +debut, some eighteen years in the future, began. +She lived in sanitary and sterilized seclusion, eating +by the ounce, sleeping through accurately +measured minutes, every atom of her anatomy +inspected daily, every pore of her skin explored, +every garment she wore weighed, every respiration, +pulse beat, and fluctuation of bodily temperature +carefully noted and discussed.<span class="pagenumsmall">[11]</span></p> + +<p>When she appeared her hair was black. After +she shed this, it came in red; when she was eight +her hair was coppery, lashes black, eyes blue, and +her skin snow and wild-strawberry tints in agreeably +delicate nuances. Several millions were set +aside to grow up with her and for her. Also, +the list of foreign and aristocratic babyhood was +scanned and several dozen possibilities checked +off—the list running from the progeny of down-and-out +monarchs with a sporting chance for a +crown, to the more solid infant aristocracy of +Britain.</p> + +<p>At the age of nine, the only symptom of intellect +that had yet appeared in her was a superbly +developed temper. That year she eluded a governess +and two trained nurses in the park, and +was discovered playing with some unsterilized children +near the duck-pond, both hands full of slime +and pollywogs.</p> + +<p>It was the only crack in the routine through +which she ever crawled. Lessons daily in riding, +driving, dancing, fencing, gymnastics, squash, +tennis, skating, plugged every avenue of escape +between morning school and evening sleep, after +a mental bath in sterilized literature. Once, out +of the window she saw a fire. This event, with +several runaways on the bridle-path, included the<span class="pagenumsmall">[12]</span> +sensations of her life up to her release from special +instructors, and her entry into Idlebrook Institute.</p> + +<p>Here she did all she could to misbehave in a +blind and instinctive fashion, but opportunities +were pitiably few; and by the time she had graduated, +honest deviltry seemed to have been +starved out of her; and a half year's finishing +abroad apparently eliminated it, leaving only a +half-confused desire to be let alone. But solitude +was the luxury always denied her.</p> + +<p>Unlike the usual debutante, who is a social +veteran two years before her presentation, and +who at eighteen lacks no experience except intellectual, +Miss Cassillis had become neither a judge +of champagne nor an expert in the various cabaret +steps popular at country houses and the more +exclusive dives.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said calmly, on her eighteenth +birthday, "do you know that I am known among +my associates as a dead one?" At which that fat +and hard-eyed matron laughed, surveying her +symmetrical daughter with grim content.</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you something," she said. "America, +socially, is only one vast cabaret, mostly consisting +of performers. The spectators are few. +You're one. Conditions are reversed across the<span class="pagenumsmall">[13]</span> +water; the audience is in the majority.... How +do you like young Willowmere?"</p> + +<p>The girl replied that she liked Lord Willowmere. +She might have added that she was prepared +to like anything in trousers that would +give her a few hours off.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," said her mother, "you can +be trusted to play in the social cabaret all next +winter, and then marry Willowmere?"</p> + +<p>Said Cecil: "I am perfectly ready to marry +anybody before luncheon, if you will let me."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish you to feel <i>that</i> way."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I <i>do</i>! All I want is to be let alone +long enough to learn something for myself."</p> + +<p>"What do you not know? What have you <i>not</i> +learned? What accomplishment do you lack, +little daughter? What is it you wish?"</p> + +<p>The girl glanced out of the window. A young +and extremely well-built man went striding down +the avenue about his business. He looked a little +like a man she had seen playing ball on the Harvard +team a year ago. She sighed unconsciously.</p> + +<p>"I've learned about everything there is to +learn, I suppose.... Except—where do men +go when they walk so busily about their business?"</p> + +<p>"Down town," said her mother, laughing.<span class="pagenumsmall">[14]</span></p> + +<p>"What do they do there?"</p> + +<p>"A million things concerning millions."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see how there's anything left for +them to do after their education is completed. +What is there left for me to do, except to marry +and have a few children?"</p> + +<p>"What do you want to do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing.... I'd like to have something to +do which would make me look busy and make me +walk rather fast—like that young man who was +hurrying down town all by himself. Then I'd like +to be let alone while I'm busy with my own +affairs."</p> + +<p>"When you marry Willowmere you'll be busy +enough." She might have added: "And lonely +enough."</p> + +<p>"I'll be occupied in telling others how to busy +themselves with my affairs. But there won't be +anything for <i>me</i> to do, will there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear child; it will be one steady fight to +better a good position. It will afford you constant +exercise."</p> + +<p>The tall young girl bit her lip and shook her +pretty head in silence. She felt instinctively that +she knew how to do that. But that was not the +exercise she wanted. She looked out into the +February sunshine and saw the blue shadows on<span class="pagenumsmall">[15]</span> +the snow and the sidewalks dark and wet, and the +little gutter arabs throwing snow-balls, and a +yellow pup barking blissfully. And, apropos of +nothing at all, she suddenly remembered how she +had run away when she was nine; and a rush of +blind desire surged within her. What it meant +she did not know, did not trouble to consider, but +it stirred her until the soft fire burned in her +cheeks, and left her twisting her white fingers, +lips parted, staring across the wintry park into +the blue tracery of trees. To Miss Cassillis +adolescence came late.</p> + +<p>They sang <i>Le Donne Curiose</i> at the opera that +evening; she sat in her father's box; numbers of +youthful, sleek-headed, white-shirted young men +came between the acts. She talked to all with +the ardor of the young and unsatisfied; and, mentally +and spiritually still unsatisfied, buried in +fur, she was whirled back through snowy streets +to the great grey mansion of her nativity, and +the silence of her white-hung chamber.</p> + +<p>All through February the preparatory régime +continued, with preliminary canters at theatre +and opera, informal party practice, and trial +dinners. Always she gave herself completely to +every moment with a wistful and unquenched +faith, eager novice in her quest of what was lacking<span class="pagenumsmall">[16]</span> +in her life; ardent enthusiast in her restless +searching for the remedy. And, unsatisfied, lingering +mentally by the door of Chance, lest she +miss somewhere the magic that satisfies and quiets—lest +the gates of Opportunity swing open after +she had turned away—reluctantly she returned +to the companionship of her own solitary mind +and undeveloped soul, and sat down to starve +with them in spirit, wondering wherein might lie +the reason for this new hunger that assailed her, +mind and body.</p> + +<p>She ran up her private flag the next winter, +amid a thousand other gay and flaunting colours +breaking out all over town. The newspapers +roared a salute to the wealthiest debutante; and +an enthusiastic press, not yet housebroken but +agile with much exercise in leaping and fawning, +leaped now about the debutante's slippers, grinning, +slavering and panting. Later, led by instinct +and its Celebrated Nose, it bounded toward +young Lord Willowmere, jumped and fawned +about him, slightly soiling him, until in midwinter +the engagement it had announced was corroborated, +and a million shop-girls and old women were +in a furor.</p> + +<p>He was a ruddy-faced young man who wore his +bowler hat toward the back of his head, a small,<span class="pagenumsmall">[17]</span> +pointed moustache, and who walked always as +though he were shod in riding boots.</p> + +<p>He would have made a healthy studgroom for +any gentleman's stable. Person and intellect +were always thoroughly scrubbed as with saddle-soap. +Had he been able to afford it, his stables +would have been second to none in England.</p> + +<p>Soon he would be able to afford it.</p> + +<p>To his intimates, including his fiancée, he was +known as "Stirrups." All day long he was in the +saddle or on the box, every evening at the Cataract +Club or at a cabaret. Between times he +called upon Miss Cassillis—usually finding her +out. When he found her not at home, he called +elsewhere, very casually.</p> + +<p>Two continents were deeply stirred over the +impending alliance.<span class="pagenumsmall">[18]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/ch03.jpg" width="270" height="486" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<p>Young Jones, in wildest Florida, had never +heard of it or of her, or of her income. +His own fortune amounted to six hundred +dollars, and he had been born in Brooklyn, +and what his salary might be only he and the +Smithsonian Institution knew.</p> + +<p>He was an industrious young man, no better +than you or I, accepting thankfully every opportunity +for mischief which the Dead Lake region +afforded. No opportunities of that kind ever +presenting themselves in that region, he went once +a month to Miami in the <i>Orange Puppy</i>, and +drank too many swizzles and so forth, et cetera.<span class="pagenumsmall">[19]</span></p> + +<p>Having accomplished this, he returned to the +wharf, put the <i>Orange Puppy</i> into commission, +hoisted sail, and squared away for Matanzas Inlet, +finding himself too weak-minded to go home +by a more direct route.</p> + +<p>He had been on his monthly pilgrimage to Miami, +and was homeward bound noisily, using his +auxiliary power so that silence should not descend +upon him too abruptly. He had been, for half +an hour now, immersed in a species of solitaire +known as The Idiot's Delight, when he caught +himself cheating himself, and indignantly scattered +the pack to the four winds—three of which, +however, were not blowing. One card, the deuce +of hearts, fluttered seaward like a white butterfly. +Beyond it he caught sight of another white +speck, shining like a gull's breast.</p> + +<p>It was a big yacht steaming in from the open +sea; and her bill of lading included Miss Cassillis +and Willowmere. But Jones could not know that. +So he merely blinked at the distant <i>Chihuahua</i>, +yawned, flipped the last card overboard, and +swung the <i>Orange Puppy</i> into the inlet, which +brimmed rather peacefully, the tide being nearly +at flood.</p> + +<p>Far away on the deck of the <i>Chihuahua</i> the +quick-fire racket of Jones's auxiliary was amazingly<span class="pagenumsmall">[20]</span> +audible. Miss Cassillis, from her deck-chair, +could see the <i>Orange Puppy</i>, a fleck of glimmering +white across a sapphire sea. How was she +to divine that one Delancy Jones was aboard of +her? All she saw when the two boats came near +each other was a noisy little craft progressing +toward the lagoon, emitting an earsplitting +racket; and a tall, lank young man clad in flannels +lounging at the tiller and smoking a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Around her on the snowy deck were disposed +the guests of her parents, mostly corpulent, swizzles +at every elbow, gracefully relaxing after a +morning devoted to arduous idleness. The Victor +on deck, which had furnished the incentive to +her turkey-trotting with Lord Willowmere, was +still exuding a syncopated melody. Across the +water, Jones heard it and stood looking at the +great yacht as the <i>Orange Puppy</i> kicked her way +through the intensely blue water under an azure +sky.</p> + +<p>Willowmere lounged over to the rail and gazed +wearily at the sand dunes and palmettos. Presently +Miss Cassillis slipped from her deck-chair +to her white-shod feet, and walked over to where +he stood. He said something about the possibilities +of "havin' a bit of shootin'," with a vague<span class="pagenumsmall">[21]</span> +wave of his highly-coloured hand toward the palmetto +forests beyond the lagoon.</p> + +<p>If the girl heard him she made no comment. +After a while, as the distance between the <i>Chihuahua</i> +and the <i>Orange Puppy</i> lengthened, she levelled +her sea glasses at the latter craft, and found +that the young man at the helm was also examining +her through his binoculars.</p> + +<p>While she inspected him, several unrelated ideas +passed through her head; she thought he was +very much sunburned and that his hatless head +was attractive, with its short yellow hair crisped +by the sun. Without any particular reason, apparently, +she recollected a young man she had +seen the winter before, striding down the wintry +avenue about his business. He might have been +this young man for all she knew. Like the other, +this one wore yellow hair. Then, with no logic in +the sequence of her thoughts, suddenly the memory +of how she had run away when she was nine +years old set her pulses beating, filling her heart +with the strange, wistful, thrilling, overwhelming +longing which she had supposed would never again +assail her, now that she was engaged to be married. +And once more the soft fire burned in her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Stirrups," she said, scarcely knowing what she<span class="pagenumsmall">[22]</span> +was saying, "I don't think I'll marry you after +all. It's just occurred to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" protested Willowmere languidly, +never for a moment mistrusting that the point +of her remark was buried in some species of +American humour. He always submitted to +American humour. There was nothing else to do, +except to understand it.</p> + +<p>"Stirrups, dear?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"You're very pink and healthy, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his accustomed shrug of resignation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say—come, now——" he murmured, +lighting a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"What a horrid smash there would be if I +didn't make good, wouldn't there, Stirrups?" +She mused, her blue eyes resting on him, too +coldly.</p> + +<p>"Rather," he replied, comfortably settling his +arms on the rail.</p> + +<p>"It might happen, you know. Suppose I fell +overboard?"</p> + +<p>"Fish you out, ducky."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I—ran away?"</p> + +<p>"Ow."</p> + +<p>"What would you do, Stirrups? Why, you'd<span class="pagenumsmall">[23]</span> +go back to town and try to pick another winner. +Wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>He laughed.</p> + +<p>"Naturally that is what you would do, isn't +it?" She considered him curiously for a moment, +then smiled. "How funny!" she said, almost +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Rather," he murmured, and flicked his cigarette +overboard.</p> + +<p>The <i>Orange Puppy</i> had disappeared beyond the +thicket of palmettos across the point. The air +was very warm and still.</p> + +<p>Her father waddled forward presently, wearing +the impressive summer regalia of a commodore in +the Siwanois Yacht Club. His daughter's blue +eyes rested on the portly waistline of her parent—then +on his fluffy chop-whiskers. A vacant, +hunted look came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said almost listlessly, "I'm going +to run away again."</p> + +<p>"When do you start?" inquired that facetious +man.</p> + +<p>"Now, I think. What is there over there?"—turning +her face again toward the distant lagoon, +with its endless forests of water-oak, cedar, and +palmetto.</p> + +<p>"Over there," said her father, "reside several<span class="pagenumsmall">[24]</span> +species of snakes and alligators. Also other reptiles, +a number of birds, and animals, and much +microbic mud."</p> + +<p>She bit her lip. "I see," she said, nodding.</p> + +<p>Willowmere said: "We should find some shootin' +along the lagoon. Look at the ducks."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cassillis yawned; he had eaten too heavily +of duck to be interested. Very thoughtfully +he presented himself with a cigar, turned it over +and over between his soft fingers, and yawned +again. Then, nodding solemnly as though in emphasis +of a profound idea of which he had just +been happily delivered, he waddled slowly back +along the deck.</p> + +<p>His daughter looked after him until he disappeared; +gazed around her at the dawdling assortment +of guests aboard, then lifted her quiet eyes +to Willowmere.</p> + +<p>"Ducky," she said, "I can't stand it. I'm going +to run away."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then," he said, linking his arm in +hers.</p> + +<p>The Victor still exuded the Tango.</p> + +<p>She hesitated. Then freeing herself:</p> + +<p>"Oh, not with you, Stirrups! I wish to go +away somewhere entirely alone. Could you understand?" +she added wistfully.<span class="pagenumsmall">[25]</span></p> + +<p>He stifled a yawn. American humour bored him +excessively.</p> + +<p>"You'll be back in a day or two?" he inquired. +And laughed violently when the subtlety of his +own wit struck him.</p> + +<p>"In a day or two or not at all. Good-bye, Stirrups."</p> + +<p>"Bye."</p> + +<p>The sun blazed on her coppery hair and on +the white skin that never burned, as she walked +slowly across the yacht's deck and disappeared +below.</p> + +<p>While she was writing in her cabin, the <i>Chihuahua</i> +dropped her anchors. Miss Cassillis listened +to the piping, the thud of feet on deck, the rattle +and distant sound of voices. Then she continued +her note:</p> + +<blockquote><p>I merely desire to run away. I don't know why, +Mother, dear. But the longing to bolt has been incubating +for many years. And now it's too strong to +resist. I don't quite understand how it came to a +crisis on deck just now, but I looked at Stirrups, +whose skin is too pink, and at Father, who had +lunched too sumptuously, and at the people on deck, +all digesting in a row—and then at the green woods +on shore, and the strip of white where a fairy surf +was piling up foam into magic castles and snowy bat<span class="pagenumsmall">[26]</span>tlements, +ephemeral, exquisite. And all at once it +came over me that I must go.</p> + +<p>Don't be alarmed. I shall provision a deck canoe, +take a tent, some rugs and books, and paddle into +that lagoon. If you will just let me alone for two +or three days, I promise I'll return safe and sound, +and satisfied. For something has got to be done in +regard to that longing of mine. But really, I think +that if you and Father <i>won't</i> understand, and if you +send snooping people after me, I won't come back at +all, and I'll never marry Stirrups. Please understand +me, Mother, dear.</p> + +<p class="author smcap">Cecil.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>This effusion she pinned to her pillow, then +rang for the steward and ordered the canoe to +be brought alongside, provisioned for a three +days' shooting trip.</p> + +<p>So open, frank, and guileless were her orders +that nobody who took them suspected anything +unusual; and in the full heat and glare of the +afternoon siesta, when parents, fiancé, and assorted +guests were all asleep and in full process of +digestion and the crew of the <i>Chihuahua</i> was +drowsing from stem to stern, a brace of sailors +innocently connived at her escape, aided her into +the canoe, and, doubting nothing, watched her +paddle away through the inlet, and into the<span class="pagenumsmall">[27]</span> +distant lagoon, which lay sparkling in golden +and turquoise tints, set with palms like a stupid +picture in a child's geography.</p> + +<p>Later, the <i>Chihuahua</i> fired a frantic gun. +Later still, two boats left the yacht, commanded +respectively by one angry parent and one fiancé, +profoundly bored.<span class="pagenumsmall">[28]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 580px;"> +<img src="images/ch04.jpg" width="580" height="292" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<p>When Miss Cassillis heard the gun, it +sounded very far away. But it irritated +as well as scared her. She +pushed the canoe energetically through a screen +of foliage overhanging the bank of the lagoon, +it being merely her immediate instinct to hide herself.</p> + +<p>To her surprise and pleasure, she discovered +herself in a narrow, deep lead, which had been entirely +concealed by the leaves, and which wound +away through an illimitable vista of reeds, widening +as she paddled forward, until it seemed like +a glassy river bordered by live-oak, water-oak, +pine, and palmetto, curving out into a flat and +endless land of forests.</p> + +<p>Here was liberty at last! No pursuit need +now be feared, for the entrance to this paradise<span class="pagenumsmall">[29]</span> +which she had forced by a chance impulse could +never be suspected by parent or fiancé.</p> + +<p>A little breeze blew her hair and loosened it; +silently her paddle dipped, swept astern in a +swirl of bubbles, flashed dripping, and dipped +again.</p> + +<p>Ahead of her a snake-bird slipped from a dead +branch into the water; a cormorant perched on +the whitened skeleton of a mango, made hideous +efforts to swallow a mullet before her approach +disorganized his manœuvres.</p> + +<p>So silently the canoe stole along that the fat +alligators, dozing in the saw-grass, dozed on until +she stirred them purposely with a low tap of her +paddle against the thwarts; then they rose, great +lumbering bodies propped high on squatty legs, +waddled swiftly to the bank's edge, and slid headlong +into the water.</p> + +<p>Everywhere dragon-flies glittered over the saw-grass; +wild ducks with golden eyes and heads like +balls of brown plush swam leisurely out of the +way; a few mallard, pretending to be frightened, +splashed and clattered into flight, the sunlight +jewelling the emerald heads of the drakes.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful, wonderful," her heart was singing +to itself, while her enchanted eyes missed nothing—neither +the feebly flying and strangely<span class="pagenumsmall">[30]</span> +shaped, velvety black butterflies, the narrow wings +of which were striped with violent yellow; nor the +metallic blue and crestless jays that sat on saplings, +watching her; nor the pelicans fishing with +nature's orange and iridescent net in the shallows; +nor the tall, slate-blue birds that marched in dignified +retreat through the sedge, picking up their +stilt-like legs with the precision of German foot-soldiers +on parade.</p> + +<p>These and other phenomena made her drop +her paddle at intervals and clap her hands softly +in an ecstasy beyond mere exclamation. How +restfully green was the world; how limpid the +water; how royally blue the heavens! Listening, +she could hear the soft stirring of palmetto fronds +in the forests; the celestial song of a little bird +that sat on a sparkle-berry bush, its delicate long-curved +bill tilted skyward. Then the deep note +of splendour flashed across the scheme of sound +and colour as a crimson cardinal alighted near +her, crest erect.</p> + +<p>But more wonderful than all was that at last, +after eighteen years, she was utterly alone; and +liberty was showering its inestimable gifts upon +her in breathless prodigality—liberty to see with +her own eyes and judge with her own senses; liberty +to linger capriciously amid mental fancies, to +<span class="pagenumsmall">[31]</span>move on impulsively to others; liberty to reflect +unurged and unrestricted; liberty to choose, to +reject, to ignore.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="gs02" id="gs02"></a> +<img src="images/gs02.jpg" width="400" height="615" alt=""They inspected each other, apparently bereft of +the power of speech."" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="caption">"They inspected each other, apparently bereft of +the power of speech."</p> + +<p>Now and then a brilliant swimming snake filled +her with interest and curiosity. Once, on a flat, +low bush, she saw a dull, heavy, blunt-bodied serpent +lying asleep in the sun like an old and swollen +section of rubber hose. But when she ventured +to touch the bush with her paddle, the snake +reared high and yawned at her with jaws which +seemed to be lined in white satin. Which fortunately +made her uneasy, and she meddled no more +with the Little Death of the southern swamps.</p> + +<p>She was now passing very close to the edge of +the "hammock," where palmettos overhung the +water; and as the cool, dim woodlands seemed to +invite her, she looked about her leisurely for an +agreeable landing place. There were plenty to +choose from; and she selected a little sandy point +under a red cedar tree, drove her canoe upon it, +and calmly stepped ashore. And found herself +looking into the countenance of Jones.</p> + +<p>For a full minute they inspected each other, apparently +bereft of the power of speech.</p> + +<p>She said, finally: "About a year ago last February, +did you happen to walk down Fifth Avenue—very +busily? Did you?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[32]</span></p> + +<p>It took him an appreciable time to concentrate +for mental retrospection.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I did."</p> + +<p>"You were going down town, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"On business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said timidly, "if you would tell +me what that business was? Do you mind? Because, +really, I don't mean to be impertinent."</p> + +<p>He made an effort to reflect. It was difficult +to reflect and to keep his eyes on her but also it +is impolite to converse with anybody and look +elsewhere. This he had been taught at his mother's +knee—and sometimes over it.</p> + +<p>"My business down town," he said very slowly, +"was with an officer of the Smithsonian Institution +who had come on from Washington to see +something which I had brought with me from +Florida."</p> + +<p>"Would you mind telling me what it was you +brought with you from Florida?" she asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>"No. It was malaria."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"It was malaria," he repeated politely.<span class="pagenumsmall">[33]</span></p> + +<p>"I—I don't see how you could—could show it +to him," she murmured, perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you how I showed it to him. I +made a little incision in my skin with a lancet; +he made a smear or two——"</p> + +<p>"A—what?"</p> + +<p>"A smear—he put a few drops of my blood +on some glass plates."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"To examine them under the microscope."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"So that he might determine what particular +kind of malaria I had brought back with me."</p> + +<p>"Did he find out?" she asked, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jones, displaying mild symptoms +of enthusiasm, "he discovered that I was fairly +swarming with a perfectly new and undescribed +species of bacillus. That bacillus," he added, +with modest diffidence, "is now named after me."</p> + +<p>She looked at him very earnestly, dropped her +blue eyes, raised them again after a moment:</p> + +<p>"It must be—pleasant—to give one's name to +a bacillus."</p> + +<p>"It is an agreeable and exciting privilege. +When I look into the culture tubes I feel an intimate +relationship with those bacilli which I have +never felt for any human being."<span class="pagenumsmall">[34]</span></p> + +<p>"You—you are a——" she hesitated, with a +slight but charming colour in her cheeks, "a naturalist, +I presume?" And she added hastily, "No +doubt you are a famous one, and my question +must sound ignorant and absurd to you. But as +I do not know your name——"</p> + +<p>"It is Jones," he said gloomily, "—and I am +not famous."</p> + +<p>"Mine is Cecil Cassillis; and neither am I," she +said. "But I thought when naturalists gave their +names to butterflies and microbes that everything +concerned immediately became celebrated."</p> + +<p>Jones smiled; and she thought his expression +very attractive.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "fame crowns the man who, celebrated +only for his wealth, names hotels, tug-boats, +and art galleries after himself. Thus are +Immortals made."</p> + +<p>She laughed, standing there gracefully as a +boy, her hands resting on her narrow hips. She +laughed again. A tug-boat, a hotel, and a cigar +were named after her father.</p> + +<p>"Fame is an extraordinary thing," she said. +"But liberty is still more wonderful, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Liberty is only comparative," he said, smiling. +"There is really no such thing as absolute +freedom."<span class="pagenumsmall">[35]</span></p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> have all the freedom you desire, haven't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well—I enjoy the only approach to absolute +liberty I ever heard of."</p> + +<p>"What kind of liberty is that?"</p> + +<p>"Freedom to think as I please, no matter what +I'm obliged to do."</p> + +<p>"But you do what you please, too, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" he said smiling. "The man was never +born who did what he pleased."</p> + +<p>"Why not? You choose your own work, don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But once the liberty of choice is exercised, +freedom ends. I choose my profession. +There my liberty ends, because instantly I am +enslaved by the conditions which make my choice +a profession."</p> + +<p>She was deeply interested. A mossy log lay +near them; she seated herself to listen, her elbow +on her knee, and her chin cupped in her hand. +But Jones became silent.</p> + +<p>"Were you not in that funny little boat that +passed the inlet about three hours ago?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Orange Puppy</i>? Yes."</p> + +<p>"What an odd name for a boat—the <i>Orange +Puppy</i>!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[36]</span></p> + +<p>"An orange puppy," he explained, "is the name +given in the Florida orange groves to the caterpillar +of a large swallow-tail butterfly, which +feeds on orange leaves. The butterfly it turns +into is known to entomologists as <i>Papilio cresphontes</i> +and <i>Papilio thoas</i>. The latter is a misnomer."</p> + +<p>She gazed upon this young man in undisguised +admiration.</p> + +<p>"Once," she said, "when I was nine years old, I +ran away from a governess and two trained +nurses. They found me with both hands full of +muddy pollywogs. It has nothing to do with +what you are saying, but I thought I'd tell +you."</p> + +<p>He insisted that the episode she recalled was +most interesting and unusual, considered purely +as a human document.</p> + +<p>"Would you tell me what you are doing down +here in these forests?" she asked, "—as we are +discussing human documents."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I am investigating several +thousand small caterpillars which are feeding on +the scrub-palmetto."</p> + +<p>"Is that your <i>business</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. If you will remain very still for a +moment and listen very intently you can hear the<span class="pagenumsmall">[37]</span> +noise which these caterpillars make while they are +eating."</p> + +<p>She thought of the <i>Chihuahua</i>, and it occurred +to her that she had rather tired of seeing things +eat. However, except in Europe, she had never +<i>heard</i> things eat. So she listened.</p> + +<p>He said: "These caterpillars are in their third +moult—that is, they have changed their skin +three times since emerging from the egg—and are +now busily chewing the immature fruit of the +scrub-palmetto. You can hear them very +plainly."</p> + +<p>She sat silent, spellbound; and presently in the +woodland stillness, all around her she heard the +delicate and continuous sound—the steady, sustained +noise of thousands of tiny jaws, all crunching, +all busily working together. And when she +realized what the elfin rustle really meant, she +turned her delighted and grateful eyes on Jones. +And the beauty of them made him exceedingly +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Will you explain to me," she whispered, "why +you are studying these caterpillars, Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Because they are spreading out over the forests. +Until recently this particular species of +caterpillar, and the pretty little moth into which +it ultimately turns, were entirely confined to a<span class="pagenumsmall">[38]</span> +narrow strip of jungle, only a few miles long, +lying on the Halifax River. Nowhere else in all +the world could these little creatures be found. +But recently they have been reported from the +Dead Lake country. So the Smithsonian Institution +sent me down here to study them, and find +out whither they were spreading, and whether any +natural parasitic enemies had yet appeared to +check them."</p> + +<p>She gazed at him, fascinated.</p> + +<p>"Have any appeared?" she asked, under her +breath.</p> + +<p>"I have not yet found a single creature that +preys upon them."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a very arduous and difficult task to +watch these thousands of little caterpillars all day +long?"</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible for me to do it thoroughly +all alone."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to have me help you?" she +asked innocently.</p> + +<p>Which rather bowled him over, but he said:</p> + +<p>"I'd b-b-be d-d-delighted—only you haven't +time, have you?"</p> + +<p>"I have three days. I've brought a tent, you +see, and everything necessary—rugs, magazines, +blankets, toilet articles, bon-bons, books—everything,<span class="pagenumsmall">[39]</span> +in fact, to last three days.... I wonder +how that tent is put up. Do you know?"</p> + +<p>He went over to the canoe and gazed at the +tent.</p> + +<p>"I think I could pitch it for you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks so much! May I help you? I think +I'll put it here on this pretty stretch of white +sand by the water's edge."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that wouldn't do," he said, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because the lagoon is tidal. You'd be awash +sooner or later."</p> + +<p>"I see. Well, then, anywhere in the woods will +do——"</p> + +<p>"Not <i>anywhere</i>," he said, smiling. "High water +leaves few dry places in this forest; in fact—I'm +afraid that my shack is perched on the only spot +which is absolutely dry at all times. It is a shell +mound—the only one in the Dead Lake region."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there room for my tent beside yours?" +she asked, a trifle anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Y-es," he said, in a voice as matter of fact +as her own. "How many will there be in your +party?"</p> + +<p>"In my <i>party</i>! Why, only myself," she said, +with smiling animation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see!" But he didn't.<span class="pagenumsmall">[40]</span></p> + +<p>They lugged the tent back among the trees to +the low shell mound, where in the centre of a +ring of pines and evergreen oaks his open-faced +shack stood, thatched with palmetto fans. She +gazed upon the wash drying on the line, upon a +brace of dead ducks hanging from the eaves, upon +the smoky kettle and the ashes of the fire. Purest +delight sparkled in her blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Erecting her silk tent with practiced hands, +he said carelessly:</p> + +<p>"In case you cared to send any word to the +yacht——"</p> + +<p>"Did I say that I came from the yacht?" she +asked; and her straight eyebrows bent a trifle +inward.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me something, Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>The things he was prepared to promise her +choked him for a second, but when he regained +control of his vocal powers he said, very pleasantly, +that he would gladly promise her anything.</p> + +<p>"Then don't ask me where I came from. Let +me stay three days. Then I'll go very quietly +away, and never trouble you again. Is it a promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, not looking at her. His face<span class="pagenumsmall">[41]</span> +had become very serious; she noticed it—and how +well his head was set on his shoulders, and how +his clipped hair was burned to the color of crisp +hay.</p> + +<p>"You were Harvard, of course," she said, unthinkingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes." He mentioned the year.</p> + +<p>"Not crew?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Baseball?"</p> + +<p>"'Varsity pitcher," he nodded, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Then this is the third time I've seen you.... +I wonder what it is about you——" She remained +silent, watching him burying her water bottles +in the cool marl.</p> + +<p>When all was in order, he smiled, made her a +little formal bow, and evinced a disposition to +retire and leave her in possession.</p> + +<p>"I thought we were going to work at once!" +she said uneasily. "I am quite ready." And, +as he did not seem to comprehend, "I was going +to help you to examine the little caterpillars, one +by one; and the minute I saw anything trying to +bite them I was going to call you. Didn't you +understand?" she added wistfully.</p> + +<p>"That will be fine!" he said, with an enthusiasm +very poorly controlled.<span class="pagenumsmall">[42]</span></p> + +<p>"You will show me where the little creatures +are hiding, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will! Here they are, all about us!" +He made a sweeping gesture over the low undergrowth +of scrub-palmetto; and the next moment:</p> + +<p>"I see them!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Oh, +what funny, scrubby, busy little creatures! They +are everywhere—<i>everywhere</i>! Why, there seem +to be thousands and thousands of them! And +all are eating the tiny green bunches of fruit!"</p> + +<p>They bent together over a group of feeding +larvæ; he handed her a pocket microscope like +his own; and, enchanted, she studied the tiny +things while he briefly described their various +stages of development from the little eggs to the +pretty, pearl-tinted moth so charmingly striped +with delicate, brown lines—a rare prize in the +cabinet of any collector.<span class="pagenumsmall">[43]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 280px;"> +<img src="images/ch05.jpg" width="280" height="231" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>V</h2> + +<p>Through the golden forest light of afternoon, +they moved from shrub to shrub; +and he taught her to be on the watch for +any possible foes of the neat and busy little caterpillars, +warning her to watch for birds, spiders, +beetles, ichneumon flies, possibly squirrels or even +hornets. She nodded her comprehension; he went +one way, she the other. For nearly ten minutes +they remained separated, and it seemed ages to +one of them anyway.</p> + +<p>But the caterpillars appeared to be immune. +Nothing whatever interfered with them; wandering +beetles left them unmolested; no birds even +noticed them; no gauzy-winged and parasitic flies +investigated them.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jones!" she called.<span class="pagenumsmall">[44]</span></p> + +<p>He was at her side in an instant.</p> + +<p>"I only wanted to know where you were," she +said happily.</p> + +<p>The sun hung red over the lagoon when they +sauntered back to camp. She went into her tent +with a cheerful nod to him, which said:</p> + +<p>"I've had a splendid time, and I'll rejoin you in +a few moments."</p> + +<p>When she emerged in fresh white flannels, she +found him writing in a blank-book.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I might see?" she said. "If it's +scientific, I mean."</p> + +<p>"It is, entirely."</p> + +<p>So she seated herself on the ground beside him, +and read over his shoulder the entries he was +making in his field book concerning the day's +doings. When he had finished his entry, she said:</p> + +<p>"You have not mentioned my coming to you, +and how we looked for ichneumon flies together."</p> + +<p>"I——" He was silent.</p> + +<p>She added timidly: "I know I count for absolutely +nothing in the important experiences of a +naturalist, but—I did look very hard for ichneumon +flies. Couldn't you write in your field book +that I tried very hard to help you?"</p> + +<p>He wrote gravely:</p> + +<p>"Miss Cassillis most generously volunteered her<span class="pagenumsmall">[45]</span> +invaluable aid, and spared no effort to discover +any possible foe that might prove to be parasitic +upon these larvæ. But so far without success."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, in a very low voice. +And after a short silence: "It was not mere vanity, +Mr. Jones. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I know it was not vanity, even if I do not +entirely understand."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Please."</p> + +<p>"It was the first thing that I have ever been +permitted to do all by myself. It meant so much +to me.... And I wished to have a little record of +it—even if you think it is of no scientific importance."</p> + +<p>"It is of more importance than——" But he +managed to stop himself, slightly startled. She +had lifted her head from the pages of the field +book to look at him. When his voice failed, and +while the red burned brilliantly in his ears, she +resumed her perusal of his journal, gravely. +After a while, though she turned the pages as if +she were really reading, he concluded that her +mind was elsewhere. It was.</p> + +<p>Presently he rose, mended the fire, filled the kettle, +and unhooked the brace of wild ducks from<span class="pagenumsmall">[46]</span> +the eaves where they swung, and marched off with +them toward the water.</p> + +<p>When he returned, the ducks were plucked and +split for broiling. He found her seated as he +had left her, dreaming awake, idle hands folded +on the pages of his open field book.</p> + +<p>For dinner they had broiled mallard, coffee, +ash-cakes, and bon-bons. After it she smoked a +cigarette with him.</p> + +<p>Later she informed him that it was her first, +and that she liked it, and requested another.</p> + +<p>"Don't," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It spoils a girl's voice, ultimately."</p> + +<p>"But it's very agreeable."</p> + +<p>"Will you promise not to?" he asked, lightly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her blue eyes became serious.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "if you wish."</p> + +<p>The woods grew darker. Far across the lagoon +a tiger-owl woke up and began to yelp like a +half-strangled hobgoblin.</p> + +<p>She sat silent for a little while, then very +quietly and frankly put her hand on Jones's. It +was shaking.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid of that sound," she said calmly.</p> + +<p>"It is only a big owl," he reassured her, retaining +her hand.<span class="pagenumsmall">[47]</span></p> + +<p>"Is that what it is? How <i>very</i> dark the woods +are! I had no idea that there could be such utter +darkness. I am not sure that I care for it."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to harm you in these woods."</p> + +<p>"No bears and wolves and panthers?"</p> + +<p>"There are a few—and all very anxious to keep +away from anything human."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if I leave my hand where it is?"</p> + +<p>It appeared that he had no insurmountable objections.</p> + +<p>After the seventh tiger-owl had awakened and +the inky blackness quivered with the witch-like +shouting and hellish tumult, he felt her shoulder +pressing against his. And bending to look into +her face saw that all the colour in it had fled.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be frightened," he said earnestly.</p> + +<p>"But I am. I'm sorry.... I'll try to accustom +myself to it.... The darkness is a—a trifle terrifying—isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"It's beautiful, too," he said, looking up at the +firelit foliage overhead. She looked up also, her +slender throat glimmering rosy in the embers' +glare. After a moment she nodded:</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> wonderful.... If I only had a little time +to accustom myself to it I am sure I should love<span class="pagenumsmall">[48]</span> +it.... Oh! What was that very loud splash out +there in the dark?"</p> + +<p>"A big fish playing in the lagoon; or perhaps +wild ducks feeding."</p> + +<p>After a few minutes he felt her soft hand +tighten within his.</p> + +<p>"It sounds as though some great creature were +prowling around our fire," she whispered. "Do +you hear its stealthy tread?"</p> + +<p>"Noises in the forest are exaggerated," he said +carelessly. "It may be a squirrel or some little +furry creature out hunting for his supper. Please +don't be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Then it <i>isn't</i> a bear?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear," he said, so naturally and unthinkingly +that for a full second neither realised the +awful break of Delancy Jones.</p> + +<p>When they did they said nothing about it. But +it was some time before speech was resumed. She +was the first to recover. Perhaps the demoralisation +was largely his. It usually is that way.</p> + +<p>She said: "This has been the most perfect day +of my entire life. I'm even glad I am a little +scared. It is delicious to be a trifle afraid. But +I'm not, now—very much.... Is there any established<br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">hour for bedtime in the woods?"</span><br> + +<p>"Inclination sounds the hour."<span class="pagenumsmall">[49]</span></p> + +<p>"Isn't that wonderful!" she sighed, her eyes +on the fire. "Inclination rules in the forest.... +And here I am."</p> + +<p>The firelight on her copper-tinted hair masked +her lovely eyes in a soft shadow. Her shoulder +stirred rhythmically as she breathed.</p> + +<p>"And here you live all alone," she mused, half +to herself.... "I once saw you pitch a game +against Yale.... And the next time I saw you +walking very busily down Fifth Avenue.... And +now—you are—here.... That is wonderful.... +Everything seems to be wonderful in this place.... +Wh-what <i>is</i> that flapping noise, please?"</p> + +<p>"Two herons fighting in the sedge."</p> + +<p>"You know everything.... That is the most +wonderful of all. And yet you say you are not +famous?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody ever heard of me outside the Smithsonian."</p> + +<p>"But—you <i>must</i> become famous. To-morrow I +shall look very hard for an ichneumon fly for +you——"</p> + +<p>"But your discovery will make <i>you</i> famous, +Miss Cassillis——"</p> + +<p>"Why—why, it's for <i>you</i> that I am going to +search so hard! Did you suppose I would dream +of claiming any of the glory!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[50]</span></p> + +<p>He said, striving to speak coolly:</p> + +<p>"It is very generous and sweet of you.... And, +after all, I hardly suppose that you need any +added lustre or any additional happiness in a life +which must be so full, so complete, and so care-free."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a while, then:</p> + +<p>"Is <i>your</i> life then so full of care, Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," he said; "I get on somehow."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"What am I to tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Why it is that your life is care-ridden."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't——"</p> + +<p>"Tell me!"</p> + +<p>He said, gaily enough: "To labour for others +is sometimes a little irksome.... I am not discontented.... +Only, if I had means—if I had +barely sufficient—there are so many fascinating +and exciting lines of independent research to follow—to +make a name in——" He broke off with +a light laugh, leaned forward and laid another +log on the fire.</p> + +<p>"You can not afford it?" she asked, in a low +voice; and for the moment astonishment ruled her +to discover that this very perfect specimen of +intelligent and gifted manhood was struggling +under such an amazingly trifling disadvantage.<span class="pagenumsmall">[51]</span> +Only from reading and from hearsay had she +been even vaguely acquainted with the existence of +poverty.</p> + +<p>"No," he said pleasantly, "I can not yet afford +myself the happiness of independent research."</p> + +<p>"When will you be able to afford it?"</p> + +<p>Neither were embarrassed; he looked thoughtfully +into the fire; and for a while she watched +him in his brown study.</p> + +<p>"Will it be soon?" she asked, under her breath.</p> + +<p>"No, dear."</p> + +<p>That time a full minute intervened before either +realised how he had answered. And both remained +exceedingly still until she said calmly:</p> + +<p>"I thought you were the very ideal embodiment +of personal liberty. And now I find that wretched +and petty and ignoble circumstances fetter even +such a man as you are. It—it is—is heartbreaking."</p> + +<p>"It won't last forever," he said, controlling his +voice.</p> + +<p>"But the years are going—the best years, Mr. +Jones. And your life's work beckons you. And +you are equipped for it, and you can not take +it!"</p> + +<p>"Some day——" But he could say no more +then, with her hand tightening in his.<span class="pagenumsmall">[52]</span></p> + +<p>"To—to rise superior to circumstances—that +is god-like, isn't it?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes." He laughed. "But on six hundred dollars +a year a man can't rise very high above circumstances."</p> + +<p>The shock left her silent. Any gown of hers +cost more than that. Then the awfulness of it +all rose before her in its true and hideous proportions. +And there was nothing for her to do +about it, nothing, absolutely nothing, except to +endure the degradation of her wealth and remember +that the merest tithe of it could have made +this man beside her immortally famous—if, perhaps, +no more wonderful than he already was in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>Was there no way to aid him? She could look +for ichneumon flies in the morning. And on the +morning after that. And the next morning she +would say good-bye and go away forever—out of +this enchanted forest, out of his life, back to the +<i>Chihuahua</i>, and to her guests who ate often and +digested all day long—back to her father, her +mother—back to Stirrups——</p> + +<p>He felt her hand close on his convulsively, and +turned to encounter her flushed and determined +face.</p> + +<p>"You like me, don't you?" she said.<span class="pagenumsmall">[53]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes." After a moment he said: "Yes—absolutely."</p> + +<p>"Do you like me enough to—to let me help you +in your research work—to be patient enough to +teach me a little until I catch up with you?... +So we can go on together?... I know I am presumptuous—perhaps +importunate—but I thought—somehow—if +you did like me well enough—it +would be—very agreeable——"</p> + +<p>"It would be!... And I—like you enough for—anything. +But you could not remain here——"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean here."</p> + +<p>"Where, then?"</p> + +<p>"Where?" She looked vaguely about her in +the firelight. "Why, everywhere. Wherever you +go to make your researches."</p> + +<p>"Dear, I would go to Ceylon if I could."</p> + +<p>"I also," she said.</p> + +<p>He turned a little pale, looking at her in silence. +She said calmly: "What would you do in Ceylon?"</p> + +<p>"Study the unknown life-histories of the rarer +Ornithoptera."</p> + +<p>She knew no more than a kitten what he meant. +But she wanted to know, and, moreover, was perfectly +capable of comprehending.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you desire to study," she said,<span class="pagenumsmall">[54]</span> +"would prove delightful to me.... If you want +me. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Want you!" Then he bit his lip.</p> + +<p>"Don't you? Tell me frankly if you don't. +But I think, somehow, you would not make a mistake +if you did want me. I really am intelligent. +I didn't know it until I talked with you. Now, +I know it. But I have never been able to give +expression to it or cultivate it.... And, somehow, +I know I would not be a drag on you—if you +would teach me a little in the beginning."</p> + +<p>He said: "What can I teach <i>you</i>, Cecil? Not +the heavenly frankness that you already use so +sweetly. Not the smiling and serene nobility +which carries your head so daintily and so fearlessly. +Not the calm purity of thought, nor the +serene goodness of mind that has graciously included +a poor devil like me in your broad and generous sympathies——"</p> + +<p>"Please!" she faltered, flushing. "I am not +what you say—though to hear you say such +things is a great happiness—a pleasure—very intense—and +wonderful—and new. But I am nothing, +<i>nothing</i>—unless I should become useful to +you. I <i>could</i> amount to something—with—you——" +She checked herself; looked at him as +though a trifle frightened. "Unless," she added<span class="pagenumsmall">[55]</span> +with an effort, "you are in love with somebody +else. I didn't think of that. <i>Are</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Are you?"</p> + +<p>"No.... I have never been in love.... This is +the nearest I have come to it."</p> + +<p>"And I."</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"If we——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said, calmly, "if we are to pass +the balance of our existence in combined research, +it would be rather necessary for us to marry."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. Do you really mean it? It +wouldn't be disagreeable, would it? You are +above marrying for mere sentiment, aren't you? +Because, somehow, I seem to know you like me.... +And it would be death for me—a mental death—to +go back now to—to Stirrups——"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"To—why do you ask? Couldn't you take me +on faith?"</p> + +<p>He said, unsteadily: "If you rose up out of the +silvery lagoon, just born from the starlight and +the mist, I would take you."</p> + +<p>"You—you are a poet, too," she faltered. +"You seem to be about everything desirable."<span class="pagenumsmall">[56]</span></p> + +<p>"I'm only a man very, very deep in—love."</p> + +<p>"In love!... I thought——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you need think no more. You <i>know</i> +now, Cecil."</p> + +<p>She remained silent, thinking for a long while. +Then, very quietly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know.... It is that way with me also. +For I no sooner find my liberty than I lose it—in +the same moment—to you. We must never +again be separated.... Do you feel as I do?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely.... But it must be so."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked, troubled.</p> + +<p>"For one thing, I shall have to work harder +now."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know we can not marry on what +I have?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Is <i>that</i> the reason?" She laughed, +sprang lightly to her feet, stood looking down +at him. He got up, slowly.</p> + +<p>"I bring you," she said, "six hundred dollars +a year. And a <i>little</i> more. Which sweeps away +that obstacle. Doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I could not ask you to live on that——"</p> + +<p>"I can live on what you live on! I should wish +to. It would make me utterly and supremely +happy."<span class="pagenumsmall">[57]</span></p> + +<p>Her flushed, young face confronted his as she +took a short, eager step toward him.</p> + +<p>"I am not making love to you," she said, "—at +least, I don't think I am. All I desire is to help—to +give you myself—my youth, energy, ambition, +intelligence—and what I have—which is of +no use to me unless it is useful to you. Won't +you take these things from me?"</p> + +<p>"Do you give me your heart, too, Cecil?"</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly, knowing now that she had +already given it. She did not answer, but her +under lip trembled, and she caught it between her +teeth as he took her hands and kissed them in +silence.<span class="pagenumsmall">[58]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch06.jpg" width="600" height="536" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<p>"Miami is not very far, is it?" she asked, as +she sprang aboard the <i>Orange Puppy</i>.</p> + +<p>"Not very, dear."</p> + +<p>"We could get a license immediately, couldn't +we?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"And then it will not take us very long to get +married, will it?"</p> + +<p>"Not very."</p> + +<p>"What a wonderful night!" she murmured, +looking up at the stars. She turned toward the<span class="pagenumsmall">[59]</span> +shore. "What a wonderful place for a honeymoon!... +And we can continue business, too, +and watch our caterpillars all day long! Oh, it +is all too wonderful, wonderful!" She kissed her +hand to the unseen camp. "We will be back to-morrow!" +she called softly. Then a sudden +thought struck her. "You never can get the +<i>Orange Puppy</i> through that narrow lead, can +you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is an easier way out," he said, taking +the tiller as the sail filled.</p> + +<p>Her head dropped back against his knees. Now +and then her lips moved, murmuring in sheerest +happiness the thoughts that drifted through her +enchanted mind.</p> + +<p>"I wonder when it began," she whispered, "—at +the ball-game—or on Fifth Avenue—or when I +saw you here? It seems to me as if I always had +been in love with you."</p> + +<p>Outside in the ocean, the breeze stiffened and +the perfume was tinged with salt.</p> + +<p>Lying back against his knees, her eyes fixed +dreamily on the stars, she murmured:</p> + +<p>"Stirrups <i>will</i> be surprised."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about down there all by +yourself?" he whispered, bending over her.</p> + +<p>She looked up into his eyes. Suddenly her own<span class="pagenumsmall">[60]</span> +filled; and she put up both arms, linking them +around his neck.</p> + +<p>And so the <i>Orange Puppy</i> sailed away into +the viewless, formless, starry mystery of all romance.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>After a silence the young novelist, who had +been poking the goldfish, said slowly: "That's +pretty poor fiction, Athalie, but, as a matter of +simple fact and inartistic truth, recording sentimental +celerity, it stands unequalled."</p> + +<p>"Straight facts make poor fiction," remarked +Duane.</p> + +<p>"It all depends on who makes the fiction out of +them," I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Not always," said Athalie. "There are facts +which when straightly told are far stranger than +fiction. I noticed a case of that sort in my crystal +last winter." And to the youthful novelist +she said: "Don't try to guess who the people +were if I tell it, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No," he promised.</p> + +<p>"Please fix my cushions," she said to nobody +in particular. And after the stampede was over +she selected another cigarette, thoughtfully, but +did not light it.<span class="pagenumsmall">[61]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ch07.jpg" width="400" height="382" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<p>"You are queer folk, you writers of fiction," +she mused aloud. "No monarch ordained +of God takes himself more seriously; no +actor lives more absolutely in a world made out +of his imagination."</p> + +<p>She lighted her cigarette: "You often speak +of your most 'important' book,—as though any +fiction ever written were important. Painters +speak of their most important pictures; sculptors, +composers, creative creatures of every species +employ the adjective. And it is all very +silly. Facts only can be characterised as important; +figments of the creative imagination are +as unimportant——" she blew a dainty ring of +smoke toward the crystal globe—"as that! '<i>Tout +ce qu'ont fait les hommes, les hommes peuvent le</i><span class="pagenumsmall">[62]</span> +<i>détruire. Il n'y a de caractères inéffaçables que +ceux qu' imprime la nature.</i>' There has never +been but one important author."</p> + +<p>I said smilingly: "To quote the gentleman you +think important enough to quote, Athalie, '<i>Tout +est bien sortant des mains de l'Auteur des choses: +tout dégénere entre les mains de l'homme</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Said the novelist simply: "Imagination alone +makes facts important. '<i>Cette superbe puissance, +ennemie de la raison!</i>'"</p> + +<p>"O Athalie," whispered Duane, "night-blooming, +exquisite blossom of the arid municipal desert, +recount for us these facts which you possess +and which, in your delightful opinion, are +stranger than fiction, and more important."</p> + +<p>And Athalie, choosing another sweetmeat, +looked at us until it had dissolved in her fragrant +mouth. Then she spoke very gravely, while her +dark eyes laughed at us:</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When young Lord Willowmere's fiancée ran +away from him and married Delancy Jones, that +bereaved nobleman experienced a certain portion +of the universal shock which this social seismic +disturbance spread far and wide over two hemispheres.<span class="pagenumsmall">[63]</span></p> + +<p>That such a girl should marry beneath her +naturally disgusted everybody. So both Jones +and his wife were properly damned.</p> + +<p>England read its morning paper, shrugged its +derision, and remarked that nobody ought to be +surprised at anything that happened in the +States. "The States" swallowed the rebuke and +squirmed.</p> + +<p>Now, among the sturdy yeomanry, gentry, and +nobility of those same British and impressive Isles +there was an earnest gentleman whose ample waist +and means and scholarly tastes inclined him to a +sedentary life of research. The study of human +nature in its various native and exotic phases had +for forty years obsessed his insular intellect. +Philologist, anthropologist, calm philosopher, and +benignant observer, this gentleman, who had never +visited the United States, determined to do so +now. For, he reasoned—and very properly—a +country where such a thing could happen to a +British nobleman and a Peer of the Realm must +be worth exploring, and its curious inhabitants +merited, perhaps, the impersonally judicial inspection +of an F. R. B. A. whose gigantic work +on the folk manners of the world had now reached +its twentieth volume, without as yet including the +United States. So he determined to devote several<span class="pagenumsmall">[64]</span> +chapters in the forthcoming and twenty-first +volume to the recent colonies of Great Britain.</p> + +<p>Now, when the Duke of Pillchester concluded +to do anything, that thing was invariably and +thoroughly done. And so, before it entirely realised +the honour in store for it, the United States +was buttoning its collar, tying its white tie, and +rushing down stairs to open its front door to the +Duke of Pillchester, the Duchess of Pillchester, +and the Lady Alene Innesly, their youthful and +ornamental daughter.</p> + +<p>For a number of months after its arrival, the +Ducal party inspected the Yankee continent +through a lens made for purposes of scientific +investigation only. The massed wealth of the +nation met their Graces in solid divisions of social +worth. The shock was mutual.</p> + +<p>Then the massed poverty of the continent was +exhibited, leaving the poverty indifferent and +slightly bored, and the Ducal party taking +notes.</p> + +<p>It was his Grace's determination to study the +folk-ways of Americans; and what the Duke +wished the Duchess dutifully desired. The Lady +Alene Innesly, however, was dragged most reluctantly +from function to function, from palace +to purlieu, from theatre to cathedral, from Coney<span class="pagenumsmall">[65]</span> +Island to Newport. She was "havin' a rotten +time."</p> + +<p>All day long she had nothing to look at but +an overdressed and alien race whose voices distressed +her; day after day she had nothing to say +except, "How d'y do," and "Mother, shall we have +tea?" Week after week she had nothing to think +of except the bare, unkempt ugliness of the cities +she saw; the raw waste and sordid uglification +of what once had been matchless natural resources; +dirty rivers, ruined woodlands, flimsy +buildings, ignorant architecture. The ostentatious +and wretched hotels depressed her; the poor +railroads and bad manners disgusted her.</p> + +<p>Listless, uninterested, Britishly enduring what +she could not escape, the little Lady Alene had +made not the slightest effort to mitigate the circumstances +of her temporary fate. She was civilly +incurious concerning the people she met; their +social customs, amusements, pastimes, duties, various +species of business or of leisure interested her +not a whit. All the men looked alike to her; all +the women were over-gowned, tiresomely pretty, +and might learn one day how to behave themselves +after they had found out how to make their +voices behave.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, requiring summer clothing—tweeds<span class="pagenumsmall">[66]</span> +and shooting boots being not what the climate +seemed to require in July—she discovered with +languid surprise that for the first time in her +limited life she was well gowned. A few moments +afterward another surprise faintly thrilled her, +for, chancing to glance at herself after a Yankee +hairdresser had finished her hair, she discovered +to her astonishment that she was pretty.</p> + +<p>For several days this fact preyed upon her +mind, alternately troubling and fascinating her. +There were several men at home who would certainly +sit up; Willowmere among others.</p> + +<p>As for considering her newly discovered beauty +any advantage in America, the idea had not entered +her mind. Why should it? All the men +looked alike; all wore sleek hair, hats on the backs +of their heads, clothing that fitted like a coster's +trousers. She had absolutely no use for them, +and properly.</p> + +<p>However, she continued to cultivate her beauty +and to adorn it with Yankee clothing and headgear +befitting; which filled up considerable time +during the day, leaving her fewer empty hours +to fill with tea and three-volumed novels from +the British Isles.</p> + +<p>Now, it had never occurred to the Lady Alene +Innesly to read anything except British fact and<span class="pagenumsmall">[67]</span> +fiction. She had never been sufficiently interested +even to open an American book. Why should +she, as long as the three props of her national +literature endured intact—curates, tea, and +thoroughbred horses?</p> + +<p>But there came a time during the ensuing +winter when the last of the three-volumed novels +had been assimilated, the last serious tome digested; +and there stretched out before her a bookless +prospect which presently began to dismay +her with the aridness of its perspective.</p> + +<p>The catastrophe occurred while the Ducal +party was investigating the strange folk-customs +of those Americans who gathered during the +winter in gigantic Florida hotels and lived there, +uncomfortably lodged, vilely fed, and shamelessly +robbed, while third-rate orchestras play cabaret +music and enervating breezes stir the cabbage-palmettos +till they rustle like bath-room rubber +plants.</p> + +<p>It was a bad place and a bad time of year for +a young and British girl to be deprived of her +native and soporific fiction; for the livelier and +Frenchier of British novelists were self-denied +her, because somebody had said they were not +unlike Americans.</p> + +<p>Now she was, in the uncouth vernacular of the<span class="pagenumsmall">[68]</span> +country, up against it for fair! She didn't know +what it was called, but she realised how it felt +to be against something.</p> + +<p>Three days she endured it, dozing in her room, +half awake when the sea-breeze rattled the Venetian +blinds, or the niggers were noisy at baseball.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day she arose, went to the window, +gazed disgustedly out over the tawdry villas +of Verbena Inlet, then rang for her maid.</p> + +<p>"Bunn," she said, "here are three sovereigns. +You will please buy for me one specimen of every +book on sale in the corridor of this hotel. And, +Bunn!——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady."</p> + +<p>"What was it you were eating the other day?"</p> + +<p>"Chewing-gum, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Is it—agreeable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Is it nourishing?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lady. It is not intended to be eaten; +it is to be chewed."</p> + +<p>"Then one does not swallow it when one supposes +it to be sufficiently masticated?"</p> + +<p>"No, my lady."</p> + +<p>"What does one do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, my lady—one spits it out."</p> + +<p>"Ow," said the girl.<span class="pagenumsmall">[69]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch08.jpg" width="600" height="206" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<p>She was lying on the bed when a relay of +servants staggered in bearing gaudy piles +of the most recent and popular novels, and +placed them in tottering profusion upon the adjacent +furniture.</p> + +<p>The Lady Alene turned her head where it lay +lazily pillowed on her left arm, and glanced indifferently +at the multi-coloured battlement of +books. The majority of the covers were embellished +with the heads of young women, all endowed +with vaudeville-like beauty—it having been +discovered by intelligent publishers that a girl's +head on any book sells it.</p> + +<p>On some covers were displayed coloured pictures +of handsome and athletic American young +men, usually kissing beautiful young ladies who +wore crowns, ermines, and foreign orders over dinner +dresses. Sometimes, however, they were kicking +Kings. That seemed rather odd to the Lady<span class="pagenumsmall">[70]</span> +Alene, and she sat up on the bed and reached out +her hand. It encountered a book on which rested +a small, oblong package. She took book and +package. On the pink wrapper of the latter she +read this verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why are my teeth so white and bright?<br></span> +<span class="i0">Because I chew with all my might<br></span> +<span class="i0">The gum that fills me with delight<br></span> +<span class="i0">And keeps me healthy day and night.<br></span> +<span class="i4">Five cents.<br></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Lady Alene's unaccustomed fingers became +occupied with the pink wrapper. Presently +she withdrew from it a thin and brittle object, +examined it, and gravely placed it in her mouth.</p> + +<p>For a while the perplexed and apprehensive expression +remained upon her face, but it faded +gradually, and after a few minutes her lovely features +settled into an expression resembling contentment. +And, delicately, discreetly, at leisurely +intervals, her fresh, sweet lips moved as though +she were murmuring a prayer.</p> + +<p>All that afternoon she perused the first American +novel she had ever read. And the cumulative +effect of the fiction upon her literal mind was +amazing as she turned page after page, and, gradually +gathering mental and nervous speed,<span class="pagenumsmall">[71]</span> +dashed from one chapter, bang! into another, +only to be occultly adjured to "take the car +ahead"—which she now did quite naturally, and +on the run.</p> + +<p>Never, never had she imagined such things +could be! Always heretofore, to her, fiction had +been a strict reflection of actuality in which a +dull imagination was licensed to walk about if it +kept off the grass. And it always did in the only +novels to which she had been accustomed.</p> + +<p>But good heavens! Here was a realism at work +in these pages so astonishing yet so convincing, +so subtle yet so natural, so matter of fact yet +so astoundingly new to her that the book she was +reading was already changing the entire complexion +of the Yankee continent for her.</p> + +<p>It had to do with a young, penniless, and athletic +American who went to Europe, tipped a king +off his throne, pushed a few dukes, counts, and +barons out of the way, reorganized the army, and +went home taking with him a beautiful and exclusive +princess with honest intentions.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants of several villages wept at his +departure; the abashed nobility made unsuccessful +attempts to shoot him; otherwise the trip to +the Cunard Line pier was uneventful, and diplomatic +circles paid no attention to the incident.<span class="pagenumsmall">[72]</span></p> + +<p>When the Lady Alene finished the story her +oval face ached; but this was no time to consider +aches. So with a charming abandon she relieved +her pretty teeth of the morceau, replaced it with +another, helped herself to a second novel, settled +back on her pillow, and opened the enchanted +pages.</p> + +<p>And zip! Instantly she became acquainted with +another athletic and penniless American who was +raising the devil in the Balkans.</p> + +<p>Never in her life had she dreamed that any nation +contained such fearless, fascinating, resourceful, +epigrammatic, and desirable young +men! And here she was in the very midst of +them, and never had realised it until now.</p> + +<p>Where were they? All around her, no doubt. +When, a few days later, she had read some baker's +dozen novels, and in each one of them had discovered +similar athletic, penniless, and omniscient +American young men, her opinion was confirmed, +and she could no longer doubt that, like the fiction +of her own country, the romances of American +novelists must have a substantial foundation +in solid fact.</p> + +<p>There could be no use in quibbling. The situation +had become exciting. Her youthful imagination +was now fired; her Saxon blood thoroughly<span class="pagenumsmall">[73]</span> +stirred. She knew perfectly well that there were +in her own country no young men like these she +had read about—not a man-jack among them who +would ever dream of dashing about the world cuffing +the ears of reprehensible monarchs, meting +out condign punishment to refractory nobility, +reconstructing governments and states and armies, +and escaping with a princess every time.</p> + +<p>Not that she actually believed that such episodes +were of common occurrence. Young as she +was she knew better. But somehow it seemed very +clear to her that a race of writers who were so +unanimous on the subject and a nation which so +complacently read of these events without denying +their plausibility, must within itself harbour +germs and seeds of romance and reckless deeds +which no doubt had produced a number of young +men thoroughly capable of doing a few of the exciting +things she had read about.</p> + +<p>Now she regretted she had not noticed the men +she had met; now she was indeed sorry she had +not at least taken pains to learn to distinguish +them one from the other. She wished that she had +investigated this reckless, chivalrous, energetic, +and distinguishing trait of the American young +man.</p> + +<p>It seemed odd, too, that Pa-<i>pa</i> had never investigated<span class="pagenumsmall">[74]</span> +it; that Ma-<i>ma</i> had never appeared to +notice it.</p> + +<p>She mentioned it at dinner carelessly, in the +midst of a natural and British silence. Neither +parent enlightened her. One said, "Fancy!" +And the other said, "Ow."</p> + +<p>And so, as both parents departed the following +morning to investigate the tarpon fishing at Miami, +the little Lady Alene made private preparations +to investigate and closely observe the astonishing, +reckless, and romantic tendencies of the +American young man. Her tour of discovery she +scheduled for five o'clock that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Just how these investigations were to be accomplished +she did not see very clearly. She had +carefully refrained from knowing anybody in the +hotel. So how to go about it she did not know; +but she knew enough after luncheon to have her +hair done by somebody besides her maid, selected +the most American gown in her repertoire, took a +sunshade hitherto disdained, and glanced in the +mirror at a picture in white, with gold hair, violet +eyes, and a skin of snow and roses.</p> + +<p>Further she did not know how to equip herself, +except by going out doors at five o'clock. And +at five o'clock she went.</p> + +<p>From the tennis courts young men and girls<span class="pagenumsmall">[75]</span> +looked at her. On the golf links youth turned to +observe her slim and dainty progress. She was +stared at from porch and veranda, from dock and +deck, from garden and walk and orange grove +and hedge of scarlet hibiscus.</p> + +<p>From every shop window in the village, folk +looked out at her; from automobile, wheeled chair, +bicycle, and horse-drawn vehicle she was inspected. +But she knew nobody; not one bright +nod greeted her; not one straw hat was lifted; +not one nigger grinned. She knew nobody. And, +alas! everybody knew her. A cold wave seemed +to have settled over Verbena Inlet.</p> + +<p>Yet her father was not unpopular, nor was +her mother either; and although they asked too +many questions, their perfectly impersonal and +scientific mission in Verbena Inlet was understood.</p> + +<p>But the Lady Alene Innesly was not understood, +although her indifference was noted and +her exclusiveness amusedly resented. However, +nobody interfered with her or her seclusion. The +fact that she desired to know nobody had been +very quickly accepted. Youth and the world at +Verbena Inlet went on without her; the sun continued +to rise and set as usual; and the nigger +waiters played baseball.</p> + +<p>She stood watching them now for a few minutes,<span class="pagenumsmall">[76]</span> +her parasol tilted over her lovely shoulders. Tiring +of this, she sauntered on, having not the +slightest idea where she was going, but very +calmly she made up her mind to speak to the first +agreeable looking young man she encountered, as +none of them seemed at all inclined to speak to +her.</p> + +<p>Under her arm she had tucked a novel written +by one Smith. She had read it half through. +The story concerned a young and athletic and +penniless man from Michigan and a Balkan +Princess. She had read as far as the first love +scene. The young man from Michigan was still +kissing the Princess when she left off reading. +And her imagination was still on fire.</p> + +<p>She had wandered down to the lagoon without +finding anybody sufficiently attractive to speak +to. The water was blue and pretty and very inviting. +So she hired a motor-boat, seated herself +in the stern, and dabbled her fingers in the water +as the engineer took her whizzing across the lagoon +and out into the azure waste, headed +straight for the distant silvery inlet.<span class="pagenumsmall">[77]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/ch09.jpg" width="200" height="497" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>IX</h2> + +<p>She read, gazed at the gulls and wild ducks, +placed a bit of gum between her rose-leaf +lips, read a little, glanced up to mark the +majestic flight of eight pelicans, sighed discreetly, +savoured the gum, deposited it in a cunning corner +adjacent to her left and snowy cheek, and +spoke to the boatman.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever read this book?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Me! No, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"It is very interesting. Do you read much?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"This is a very extraordinary book," she said. +"I strongly advise you to read it."<span class="pagenumsmall">[78]</span></p> + +<p>The boatman glanced ironically at the scarlet +bound volume which bore the portrait of a pretty +girl on its covers.</p> + +<p>"Is it that book by John Smith they're sellin' +so many of down to the hotel?" he inquired +slowly.</p> + +<p>"I believe it was written by one Smith," she +said, turning over the volume to look. "Yes, John +Smith is the author's name. No doubt he is very +famous in America."</p> + +<p>"He lives down here in winter."</p> + +<p>"Really!" she exclaimed with considerable animation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I take him shooting and fishing. He +has a shack on the Inlet Point."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Over there, where them gulls is flying."</p> + +<p>The girl looked earnestly at the point. All she +saw were snowy dunes and wild grasses and seabirds +whirling.</p> + +<p>"He writes them books over there," remarked +the boatman.</p> + +<p>"How extremely interesting!"</p> + +<p>"They say he makes a world o' money by it. +He's rich as mud."</p> + +<p>"Really!"</p> + +<p>"Yaas'm. I often seen him a settin' onto a<span class="pagenumsmall">[79]</span> +camp chair out beyond them dunes a-writing +pieces like billy-bedam. Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he is there now?" she asked with +a slight catch in her breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, we kin soon find out——" He swung +the tiller; the little boat rushed in a seething +circle toward the point, veered westward, then +south.</p> + +<p>"Yaas'm," said the boatman presently. "Mr. +Smith he's reclinin' out there onto his stummick. +I guess he's just a thinkin'. He thinks more'n +five million niggers, he does. Gor-a-mighty! <i>I</i> +never see such a man for thinkin'! He jest lies +onto his stummick an' studies an' ruminates like +billy-bedam. Yaas'm. Would you want I should +land you so's you can take a peek at him?"</p> + +<p>"Might I?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Miss. Go up over them dunes and take +a peek at him. He won't mind. Ten to nothin' +he won't even see ye."</p> + +<p>There was a little dock built of coquina. A +power boat, a sloop, several row-boats, and a canoe +lay there, riding the little, limpid, azure-tinted +wavelets. Under their keels swam gar-pike, +their fins and backs also shimmering with blue +and turquoise green.</p> + +<p>Lady Alene rose; her boatman aided her, and<span class="pagenumsmall">[80]</span> +she sprang lightly to the coquina dock and walked +straight over the low dune in front of her.</p> + +<p>There was nothing whatever in sight except +beach-grapes and scrubby tufts of palmetto, and +flocks of grey, long-legged, long-billed birds running +to avoid her. But they did not run very +fast or very far, and she saw them at a little distance +loitering, with many a bright and apparently +friendly glance at her.</p> + +<p>There was another dune in front. She mounted +it. Straight ahead of her, perhaps half a mile +distant, stood a whitewashed bungalow under a +cluster of palms and palmettos.</p> + +<p>From where she stood she could see a cove—merely +a tiny crescent of sand edged by a thin +blade of cobalt water, and curtained by the palmetto +forest. And on this little crescent beach, +in the shade of the palms, a young man lay at full +length, very intent upon his occupation, which +was, apparently, to dig holes in the sand with a +child's toy shovel.</p> + +<p>He was clad in white flannels; beside him she +noticed a red tin pail, such as children use for +gathering shells. Near this stood two camp-chairs, +one of which was piled with pads of yellow +paper and a few books. She thought his +legs very eloquent. Sometimes they lay in picturesque<span class="pagenumsmall">[81]</span> +repose, crossed behind him; at other moments +they waved in the air or sprawled widely, +appearing to express the varying emotions which +possessed his deep absorption in the occult task +under his nose.</p> + +<p>"Now, what in the world can he be doing?" +thought Lady Alene Innesly, watching him. And +she remained motionless on top of the dune for +ten minutes to find out. He continued to sprawl +and dig holes in the sand.</p> + +<p>Learning nothing, and her interest increasing +inversely, she began to walk toward him. It was +her disposition to investigate whatever interested +her. Already she was conscious of a deep interest +in his legs.</p> + +<p>From time to time low dunes intervened to hide +the little cove, but always when she crossed them, +pushing her way through fragrant thickets of +sweet bay and sparkle-berry shrub, cove and occupant +came into view again. And his legs continued +to wave. The nearer she drew the less she +comprehended the nature of his occupation, and +the more she decided to find out what he could be +about, lying there flat on his stomach and digging +and patting the sand.</p> + +<p>Also her naturally calm and British heart was +beating irregularly and fast, because she realised<span class="pagenumsmall">[82]</span> +the fact that she was approaching the vicinity of +one of those American young men who did things +in books that she never dreamed could be done +anywhere. Nay—under her arm was a novel +written by this very man, in which the hero was +still kissing a Balkan Princess, page 169. And +it occurred to her vaguely that her own good +taste and modesty ought to make an end of such +a situation; and that she ought to finish the page +quickly and turn to the next chapter to relieve +the pressure on the Princess.</p> + +<p>Confused a trifle by a haunting sense of her own +responsibility, by the actual imminence of such +an author, and by her intense curiosity concerning +what he was now doing, she walked across the +dunes down through little valleys all golden with +the flowers of a flat, spreading vine. The blossoms +were larger and lovelier than the largest golden +portulacca, but she scarcely noticed their +beauty as she resolutely approached the cove, +moving forward under the cool shadow of the border +forest.</p> + +<p>He did not seem to be aware of her approach, +even when she came up and stood by the camp-chairs, +parasol tilted, looking down at him with +grave, lilac-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>But she did not look at him as much as she<span class="pagenumsmall">[83]</span> +gazed at what he was doing. And what he was +doing appeared perfectly clear to her now.</p> + +<p>With the aid of his toy shovel, his little red +pail, and several assorted shells, he had constructed +out of sand a walled city. Houses, +streets, squares, market place, covered ways, curtain, +keep, tower, turret, crenelated battlement, +all were there. A driftwood drawbridge bridged +the moat, guarded by lead soldiers in Boznovian +uniform.</p> + +<p>And lead soldiers were everywhere in the miniature +city; the keep bristled with their bayonets; +squads of them marched through street and +square; they sat at dinner in the market place; +their cannon winked and blinked in the westering +sun on every battlement.</p> + +<p>And after a little while she discovered two lead +figures which were not military; a civilian wearing +a bowler hat; a feminine figure wearing a crown +and ermines. The one stood on the edge of the +moat outside the drawbridge: the other, in crown +and ermines, was apparently observing him of the +bowler hat from the top of a soldier-infested +tower.</p> + +<p>It was plain enough to her now. This amazing +young man was working out in concrete detail +some incident of an unwritten novel. And the<span class="pagenumsmall">[84]</span> +magnificent realism of it fascinated the Lady +Alene. Genius only possesses such a capacity for +detail.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="gs03" id="gs03"></a> +<img src="images/gs03.jpg" width="400" height="607" alt=""The magnificent realism of it fascinated the Lady Alene."" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="caption">"The magnificent realism of it fascinated the Lady Alene."</p> + +<p>Without even arousing young Smith from his +absorbed preoccupation, she seated herself on the +unincumbered camp-chair, laid her book on her +knees, rested both elbows on it, propped her chin +on both clasped hands, and watched the proceedings.</p> + +<p>The lead figure in the bowler hat seemed to be +in a bad way. Several dozen Boznovian soldiers +were aiming an assortment of firearms at him; +cavalry were coming at a gallop, too, not to mention +a three-gun battery on a dead run.</p> + +<p>The problem seemed to be how, in the face of +such a situation, was the lead gentleman in the +bowler hat to get away, much less penetrate the +city?</p> + +<p>Flight seemed hopeless, but presently Smith +picked him up, marched him along the edge of +the moat, and gave him a shove into it.</p> + +<p>"He's swimming," said Smith, aloud to himself. +"Bang! Bang! But they don't hit him.... +Yes, they do; they graze his shoulder. It is the +only wound possible to polite fiction. There is +consequently a streak of red in the water. Bang—bang—bang! +Crack—crack! The cavalry +<span class="pagenumsmall">[85]</span>empty their pistols. Boom! A field piece +opens—— Where the devil is that battery——"</p> + +<p>Smith reached over, drew horses, cannoniers, +gun and caisson over the drawbridge, galloped +them along the moat, halted, unlimbered, trained +the guns on the bowler hatted swimmer, and remarked, +"Boom!"</p> + +<p>"The shell," he murmured with satisfaction, +"missed him and blew up in the casemates. Did +it kill anybody? No; that interferes with the +action.... He dives, swims under water to an +ancient drain." Smith stuck a peg where the supposed +drain emptied into the moat.</p> + +<p>"That drain," continued Smith thoughtfully, +"connects with the royal residence.... Where's +that Princess? Can she see him dive into it? Or +does she merely suspect he is making for it? Or—or—doesn't +she know anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't know anything about it!" exclaimed +Lady Alene Innesly. The tint of excitement +glowed in her cheeks. Her lilac-tinted eyes +burned with a soft, blue fire.<span class="pagenumsmall">[86]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/ch10.jpg" width="550" height="186" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>X</h2> + +<p>Slowly as a partly paralysed crab, Smith +raised himself to a sitting posture and +looked over his shoulder into the loveliest +face that he had ever beheld, except on the paper +wrappers of his own books.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said the Lady Alene. "Shouldn't +I have spoken?"</p> + +<p>The smoke and turmoil of battle still confused +Smith's brain; visualisation of wall and tower and +crowns and ermines made the Lady Alene's fresh, +wholesome beauty very unreal to him for a moment +or two.</p> + +<p>When his eyes found their focus and his mind +returned to actuality, he climbed to his feet, hat +in hand, and made his manners to her. Then, +tumbling books and pads from the other camp-chair, +he reseated himself with a half smiling, half +shamed glance at her, and a "May I?" to which +she responded, "Please! And might I talk to you +for a few moments?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[87]</span></p> + +<p>Smith shot a keen glance at the book on her +knees. Resignation and pride altered his features, +but when again he looked at the Lady +Alene he experienced a pleasure in his resignation +which hitherto no curious tourist, no enterprising +reporter had ever aroused. Smilingly he +composed himself for the impending interview.</p> + +<p>"Until now," said the girl earnestly, "I think I +have not been entirely convinced by your novels. +Somehow or other I could not bring myself to +comprehend the amazing realism of your plots. +But now I understand the basis of great and fundamental +truth on which you build so plausibly +your splendid novels of love and life."</p> + +<p>"What?" said Smith.</p> + +<p>"To see you," she continued, "constructing the +scenes of which later you are to write, has been +a wonderful revelation to me. It has been a privilege +the importance of which I can scarcely estimate. +Your devotion to the details of your art, +your endless patience, your almost austere absorption +in truth and realism, have not only astounded +me but have entirely convinced me. The +greatest thing in the world is Truth. <i>Now</i> I realise +it!"</p> + +<p>She made a pretty gesture of enthusiasm:</p> + +<p>"What a wonderful nation of young men is<span class="pagenumsmall">[88]</span> +yours, Mr. Smith! What qualities! What fearlessness—initiative—idealism—daring—! +What +invention, what recklessness, what romance——"</p> + +<p>Her voice failed her; she sat with lips parted, a +soft glow in her cheeks, gazing upon Smith with +fascinated eyes. And Smith gazed back at her +without a word.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe," she said, "that in all England +there exists a single man capable even of +conceiving the career for which so many young +Americans seem to be equipped."</p> + +<p>After a moment Smith said very quietly:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, but do you know I don't quite understand +you?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," she said, "that you Americans have +a capacity for conceiving, understanding, and +performing everything you write about."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think so?" asked Smith, a trifle +red.</p> + +<p>"Because if Englishmen could understand and +do such things, our novelists would write about +them. They never write about them. But you +Americans do. You write thousands of most delightful +novels about young men who do things +unheard of, undreamed of, in England. Therefore, +it is very clear to me that you Americans +are quite capable of doing what you write<span class="pagenumsmall">[89]</span> +about, and what your readers so ardently admire."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Smith calmly. His ear-tips still +burned.</p> + +<p>"No doubt," said the girl, "many of the astonishing +things you Americans write about are +really done. Many astounding episodes in fiction +are of not uncommon occurrence in real life."</p> + +<p>"What kind of episodes?" asked Smith gravely.</p> + +<p>"Why, any of them you write about. They +all are astonishing enough. For example, your +young men do not seem to know what fear +is."</p> + +<p>"No," said Smith, "they don't."</p> + +<p>"And when they love," said the girl, "nothing +can stop them."</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" she repeated, the soft glow coming +into her cheeks again. "—Nothing! Neither +rank nor wealth nor political considerations nor +family prejudices, nor even the military!"</p> + +<p>Smith bit his lip in silence. He had heard of +irony; never had he dreamed it could be so crushing: +he had heard of sarcasm; but the quiet sarcasm +of this unknown young girl was annihilating +him. Critics had carved him in his time; but the +fine mincemeat which this pretty stranger was<span class="pagenumsmall">[90]</span> +making of him promised to leave nothing more +either to carve or to roast.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind my talking to you?" she asked, +noting the strained expression of his features.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "go ahead."</p> + +<p>"Because if I am tiring you——"</p> + +<p>He said he was not tired.</p> + +<p>"—or if it bores you to discuss your art with a +foreigner who so truly admires it——"</p> + +<p>He shot a glance at her, then forced a laugh.</p> + +<p>"I am not offended," he said. "What paper +do you represent?"</p> + +<p>"I?" she said, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You are a newspaper woman, are you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean a reporter?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally."</p> + +<p>"No," she said very seriously, "I am not a reporter. +What an odd idea!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think it odd?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Do not many admirers of your +works express their pleasure in them to you?"</p> + +<p>He studied her lovely face coolly and in detail—the +dainty arch of the questioning eyebrows, +the sensitive curve of the mouth, the clear, sweet +eyes. Could it be possible that such candour +masked irony? Could all this be the very essence<span class="pagenumsmall">[91]</span> +of the art of acting, concealing the most murderous +sarcasm ever dreamed of by a terrified +author?</p> + +<p>And suddenly his face went red all over, and +he understood that the essence of this young girl +was a candour so utterly free of self-consciousness—a +frankness so absolutely truthful, that the +simplicity of her had been a miracle too exquisite +for him to comprehend.</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> like what I write!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Her blue eyes widened: "Of course I do," +she said, amazed. "Didn't you understand +me?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, cooling his burning face in the +rising sea-wind. "I thought you were laughing at +me."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry if I was stupid," she said.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> was stupid."</p> + +<p>"You!" She laughed a little.</p> + +<p>The sinking sun peered through the palm forest +behind them and flung a beam of blinding +light at her.</p> + +<p>"Am I interrupting your work, Mr. Smith? I +mean, I know I am, but——"</p> + +<p>"Please don't go away."</p> + +<p>"Thank you.... I have noticed what agreeable +manners you Americans have in novels.<span class="pagenumsmall">[92]</span> +Naturally you are even more kindly and polite in +real life."</p> + +<p>"Have you met many Americans?"</p> + +<p>"No, only you. In the beginning I did not feel +interested in Americans."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"The young men all seemed to resemble one +another," she said frankly, "like Chinese. But +now that I really know an American I am intensely +interested."</p> + +<p>"You notice no Mongolian monotony in me?" +he inquired gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no——" She coloured; then discovering +that he was laughing, she laughed, too, rather +faintly.</p> + +<p>"That was a joke, wasn't it?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was a joke."</p> + +<p>"Because," she said, "there is no Mongolian +uniformity about <i>you</i>. On the contrary, you +remind me in every way of one of your own +heroes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, really now!" he protested; but she insisted +with serious enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"You are the counterpart of the hero in this +book," she repeated, resting one hand lightly on +the volume under her elbow. "You wear white +flannels, you are tall, well built, straight, with<span class="pagenumsmall">[93]</span> +very regular features and a fasci—— a smile," +she corrected herself calmly, "which one naturally +associates with your features."</p> + +<p>"Also," she continued, "your voice is cultivated +and modulated with just enough of the American +accent to make it piquantly agreeable. And +what you say is fasci—— is well expressed and interesting. +Therefore, as I have said, to me you +resemble one of your own heroes."</p> + +<p>There was enough hot colour in his face to make +it boyishly bashful.</p> + +<p>"And you appear to be as modest as one of +your own heroes," she added, studying him. +"That is truly delightful."</p> + +<p>"But really, I am nothing like any of my +heroes," he explained, terribly embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that, Mr. Smith?"</p> + +<p>"Because it's true. I don't even resemble 'em +superficially."</p> + +<p>She made a quick, graceful gesture: "Why do +you say that, when here you are before me, the +exact and exciting counterpart of the reckless +and fasci—— the reckless and interesting men you +write about?"</p> + +<p>He said nothing. She closed the parasol and +considered him in silence for a moment or two. +Then:<span class="pagenumsmall">[94]</span></p> + +<p>"And I have no doubt that you are capable of +doing the very things that your heroes do so +adroitly and so charmingly."</p> + +<p>"What, for example?" he asked, reddening to +his temples.</p> + +<p>"Reconstructing armies, for instance."</p> + +<p>"Filibustering?"</p> + +<p>"Is that what it is called?"</p> + +<p>"It's called that in the countries south of the +United States."</p> + +<p>"Well, would you not be capable of overturning +a government and of reconstructing the army, +Mr. Smith?"</p> + +<p>"Capable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well," he said cautiously, "if it was the thing +I wanted to do, perhaps I might have a try at +it."</p> + +<p>"I knew it," she exclaimed triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"But," he explained, "I never desired to overturn +any government."</p> + +<p>"You probably have never seen any that you +thought worth while overturning."</p> + +<p>Her confident rejoinder perplexed him and he +remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Also," she continued, still more confidently, "I +am certain that if you were in love, no obstacles<span class="pagenumsmall">[95]</span> +would prove too great for you to surmount. +Would they?"</p> + +<p>"Really," he said, "I don't know. I'm not +very enterprising."</p> + +<p>"That is the answer of a delightfully modest +man. Your own hero would return me such an +answer, Mr. Smith. But I—and your heroine +also—understand you—I mean your hero."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" he asked gravely.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I, as well as your heroine, understand +that no obstacles could check you if you +loved her—neither political considerations, diplomatic +exigencies, family prejudices, nor her own +rank, no matter what it might be. Is not that +true?"</p> + +<p>Eager, enthusiastic, impersonally but warmly +interested, she leaned a little toward him, intent +on his reply.</p> + +<p>He looked into the lovely, flushed face in silence +for a while. Then:</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "it is true. If I loved, nothing +could check me except——" he shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Death?" She nodded, fascinated.</p> + +<p>He nodded. He had meant to say the police.</p> + +<p>She said exultantly: "I knew it, Mr. Smith! +I was certain that you are the living embodiment +of your own heroes! The moment I set eyes on<span class="pagenumsmall">[96]</span> +you playing in the sand with your lead soldiers, I +was sure of it!"</p> + +<p>Thrilled, she considered him, her soft eyes brilliant +with undisguised admiration.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could actually <i>see</i> it!" she said under +her breath.</p> + +<p>"See what?"</p> + +<p>"See you, in real life, as one of your own heroes—doing +some of the things they do so cleverly, so +winningly—careless of convention, reckless of +consequences, oblivious to all considerations except +only the affair in hand. That," she said +excitedly, "would be glorious, and well worth a +trip to the States!"</p> + +<p>"How far," he asked, "have you read in that +book of mine?"</p> + +<p>"In this book?" She opened it, impulsively, +ran over the pages, hesitated, stopped.</p> + +<p>"He was—was kissing the Balkan Princess," +she said. "I left them—<i>in statu quo</i>."</p> + +<p>"I see.... Did he do <i>that</i> well?"</p> + +<p>"I—suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Have you no opinion?"</p> + +<p>"I think he did it—very—thoroughly, Mr. +Smith."</p> + +<p>"It ought to be done thoroughly if done at +all," he said reflectively.<span class="pagenumsmall">[97]</span></p> + +<p>"Otherwise," she nodded, "it would be offensive."</p> + +<p>"To the reader?"</p> + +<p>"To her, too. Wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"You know better than I."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know. A nice girl can not imagine +herself being kissed—except under very extraordinary +circumstances, and by a very extraordinary man.... +Such a man as you have +drawn in this book."</p> + +<p>"Had you been that Balkan Princess, what +would you have done?" he asked, rather pale.</p> + +<p>"I?" she said, startled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you."</p> + +<p>She sat considering, blue eyes lost in candid +reverie. Then the faintest smile curved her +lips; she looked up at Smith with winning simplicity.</p> + +<p>"In your story, Mr. Smith, does the Balkan +Princess return his kiss?"</p> + +<p>"Not in that chapter."</p> + +<p>"I think I would have returned it—in that—chapter." +Then, for the first time, she blushed.</p> + +<p>The naïve avowal set the heart and intellect of +Mr. Smith afire. But he only dropped his well-shaped +head and didn't look at her. Which was +rather nice of him.<span class="pagenumsmall">[98]</span></p> + +<p>"Romance," he said after a moment or two, "is +all well enough. But real life is stranger than +fiction."</p> + +<p>"Not in the British Isles," she said with decision. +"It <i>is</i> tea and curates and kennels and +stables—as our writers depict it."</p> + +<p>"No, you are mistaken! Everywhere it is +stranger than fiction," he insisted—"more surprising, +more charming, more wonderful. Even +here in America—here in Florida—here on this +tiny point of sand jutting into the Atlantic, life +is more beautiful, more miraculous than any fiction +ever written."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I can't tell you why I say +it."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Only in books could what I might have to tell +you be logically told—and listened to——"</p> + +<p>"Only in books? But books in America reflect +actual life," she said. "Therefore, you can tell +me what you have to tell. Can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Can I?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes...." Far in the inmost recesses of +her calm and maiden heart something stirred, and +her breath ceased for a second.... Innocent, +not comprehending why her breath missed, she<span class="pagenumsmall">[99]</span> +looked at him with the question still in her blue +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you why real life is stranger than +fiction?" he asked unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"Tell me—yes—if——"</p> + +<p>"It is stranger," he said, "because it is often +more headlong and romantic. Shall we take ourselves, +for example?"</p> + +<p>"You and me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. To illustrate what I mean."</p> + +<p>She inclined her head, her eyes fixed on +his.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "Even in the most skillfully +constructed story—supposing that you and +I were hero and heroine—no author would have +the impudence to make us avow our love within a +few minutes of our first meeting."</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"In the first chapter," he continued, "certain +known methods of construction are usually followed. +Time is essential—the lapse of time. How +to handle it cleverly is a novelist's business. But +even the most skillful novelist would scarcely dare +make me, for example, tell you that I am in love +with you. Would he?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"And in real life, even if a man does fall in<span class="pagenumsmall">[100]</span> +love so suddenly, he does not usually say so, does +he?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<p>"But he <i>does</i> fall in love sometimes more suddenly +than in fiction. And occasionally he declares +himself. In real life this actually happens. +And <i>that</i> is stranger than any fiction. +Isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"One kind of fiction," he continued very unsteadily, +"is that in which, when he falls in love—he +doesn't say so—I mean in such a case as ours—supposing +I had already fallen in love with +you. I could not say so to you. No man could +say it to any girl. He remains mute. He observes +very formally every convention. He smiles, +hat in hand, as the girl passes out of his life forever.... +Doesn't he? And that is one kind of +fiction—the tragic kind."</p> + +<p>She had been looking down at the book in her +lap. After a moment she lifted her troubled eyes +to his.</p> + +<p>"I do—not know what men do—in real life," +she said. "What would they do in the—<i>other</i> +kind of fiction?"</p> + +<p>"In the other kind of fiction there would be +another chapter."<span class="pagenumsmall">[101]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes.... You mean that for us there is +only this one chapter."</p> + +<p>"Only one chapter."</p> + +<p>"Or—might it not be called a short story, Mr. +Smith?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—one kind of short story."</p> + +<p>"Which kind?"</p> + +<p>"The kind that ends unhappily."</p> + +<p>"But this one is not going to end unhappily, +is it?"</p> + +<p>"You are about to walk out of the story when +it ends."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but——" She bit her lip, flushed and +perplexed, already dreadfully confused between +the personal and the impersonal—between fact +and fancy.</p> + +<p>"You see," he said, "the short story which +deals with—love—can end only as ours is going +to end—or the contrary."</p> + +<p>"How is ours going to end?" she asked with +candid curiosity.</p> + +<p>"It must be constructed very carefully," he +said, "because this is realism."</p> + +<p>"You must be very skillful, too," she said. +"I do not see how you are to avoid——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"A—an—unhappy—ending."<span class="pagenumsmall">[102]</span></p> + +<p>He looked gravely at his sand castle. "No," +he said, "I don't see how it can be avoided."</p> + +<p>After a long silence she murmured, half to herself:</p> + +<p>"Still, this is America—after all."</p> + +<p>He shrugged, still studying his sand castle.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had somebody to help me work it +out," he said, half to himself.</p> + +<p>"A collaborator?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry that I could not be useful."</p> + +<p>"Would you try?"</p> + +<p>"What is the use? I am utterly unskilled and +inexperienced."</p> + +<p>"I'd be very glad to have you try," he repeated.<span class="pagenumsmall">[103]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<img src="images/ch11.jpg" width="375" height="464" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XI</h2> + +<p>After a moment she rose, went over and +knelt down in the sand before the miniature +city, studying the situation. All +she could see of the lead hero in the bowler hat +were his legs protruding from the drain.</p> + +<p>"Is this battery of artillery still shelling him?" +she inquired, looking over her shoulder at Smith.</p> + +<p>He went over and dropped on his knees beside +her.</p> + +<p>"You see," he explained, "our hero is still under +water."</p> + +<p>"All this time!" she exclaimed in consternation. +"He'll drown, won't he?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[104]</span></p> + +<p>"He'll drown unless he can crawl into that +drain."</p> + +<p>"Then he must crawl into it immediately," she +said with decision.</p> + +<p>So he of the bowler was marched along a series +of pegs indicating the subterranean drain, and +set down in the court of the castle.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed the Lady Alene. +"We can't leave him here! They will know him +by his bowler hat!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Smith gloomily, "we can't leave him +here. But what can we do? If he runs out +they'll fire at him by platoons."</p> + +<p>"<i>Couldn't</i> they miss him?" pleaded the girl.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. He has already lived through +several showers of bullets."</p> + +<p>"But he can't die <i>here</i>!—here under the very +eyes of the Princess!" she insisted.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Smith, "the Princess will have to +pull him through. It's up to her now."</p> + +<p>The girl knelt there in excited silence, studying +the problem intently.</p> + +<p>It was bad business. The battlements bristled +with bayonets; outside, cavalry, infantry, artillery +were massed to destroy the gentleman in the +bowler hat.</p> + +<p>Presently the flush deepened on the girl's<span class="pagenumsmall">[105]</span> +cheeks; she took the bowler hat between her gloved +fingers and set its owner in the middle of the +moat again.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he crawl into the drain?" asked Smith +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No. But the soldiers in the castle think he +does. So," she continued with animation, "the +brutal commander rushes downstairs, seizes a +candle, and enters the drain from the castle court +with about a thousand soldiers!"</p> + +<p>"But——"</p> + +<p>"With about ten thousand soldiers!" she repeated +firmly. "And no sooner—<i>no sooner</i>—does +their brutal and cowardly commander enter that +drain with his lighted candle than the Princess +runs downstairs, seizes a hatchet, severs the gas +main with a single blow, and pokes the end of the +pipe into the drain!"</p> + +<p>"B-but——" stammered Smith, "I think——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> wait! You don't understand what +is coming."</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> is coming?" ventured Smith timidly, instinctively +closing both ears with his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Bang!" said Lady Alene triumphantly. And +struck the city of sand with her small, gloved +hand.</p> + +<p>After a silence, still kneeling there, they turned<span class="pagenumsmall">[106]</span> +and looked at each other through the red sunset +light.</p> + +<p>"The explosion of gas killed them both," said +Smith, in an awed voice.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"No. The explosion killed everybody in the +city except those two young lovers," she said.</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"Because!"</p> + +<p>"By what logic——"</p> + +<p>"I desire it to be so, Mr. Smith." And she +picked up the bowler hat and the Princess and +calmly set them side by side amid the ruins.</p> + +<p>After a moment Smith reached over and turned +the two lead figures so that they faced each other.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. The red sunset light +faded from the sand.</p> + +<p>Then, very slowly, the girl reached out, took +the bowler hat between her small thumb and forefinger, +and gently inclined the gentleman forward +at the slightest of perceptible angles.</p> + +<p>After a moment Smith inclined him still farther +forward. Then, with infinite precaution, he +tipped forward the Princess, so that between her +lips and the lips of the bowler hat only the width +of a grass blade remained.<span class="pagenumsmall">[107]</span></p> + +<p>The Lady Alene looked up at him over her left +shoulder, hesitated, looked at bowler hat and at +the Princess. Then, supporting her weight on one +hand, with the other she merely touched the Princess—delicately—so +that not even a blade of +grass could have been slipped between their +painted lips.</p> + +<p>She was a trifle pale as she sank back on her +knees in the sand. Smith was paler.</p> + +<p>After both her gloved hands had rested across +his palm for five full minutes, his fingers closed +over them, tightly, and he leaned forward a little. +She, too, swayed forward a trifle. Her eyes were +closed when he kissed her.</p> + +<p>Now, whatever misgivings and afterthoughts +the Lady Alene Innesly may have had, she was +nevertheless certain that to resist Smith was to +fight against the stars in their courses. For not +only was she in the toils of an American, but more +hopeless still, an American who chronicled the +most daring and headlong idiosyncrasies of the +sort of young men of whom he was very certainly +an irresistible example.</p> + +<p>To her there was something Shakespearean +about the relentless sequence of events since the +moment when she had first succumbed to the small, +oblong pink package, and her first American novel.<span class="pagenumsmall">[108]</span></p> + +<p>And, thinking Shakespeareanly as she stood in +the purple evening light, with his arm clasping +her waist, she looked up at him from her charming +abstraction:</p> + +<p>"'If 'twere done,'" she murmured, "'when 'tis +done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.'" +And then, gazing deep into his eyes, a noble idiom +of her adopted country fell from her lips:</p> + +<p>"Dearest," she said, "my father won't do a +thing to you."</p> + +<p>And so she ran away with him to Miami where +the authorities, civil and religious, are accustomed +to quick action.</p> + +<p>It was only fifty miles by train, and preliminary +telephoning did the rest.</p> + +<p>The big chartered launch that left for Verbena +Inlet next morning poked its nose out of the rainbow +mist into the full glory of the rising sun. +Her golden head lay on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Sideways, with delicious indolence, she glanced +at a small boat which they were passing close +aboard. A fat gentleman, a fat lady, and a boatman +occupied the boat. The fat gentleman was +fast to a tarpon.</p> + +<p>Up out of the dazzling Atlantic shot three hundred +pounds of quivering silver. Splash!</p> + +<p>"Why, Dad!" exclaimed the girl.<span class="pagenumsmall">[109]</span></p> + +<p>Her father and mother looked over their shoulders +at her in wooden amazement.</p> + +<p>"We are married——" called out their pretty +daughter across the sunlit water. "I will tell you +all about it when you land your fish. Look sharp, +Dad! Mind your reel!"</p> + +<p>"Who is that damned rascal?" demanded the +Duke.</p> + +<p>"My husband, Dad! Don't let him get away!—the +fish, I mean. Put the drag on! Check!"</p> + +<p>Said his Grace of Pillchester in a voice of mellow +thunder:</p> + +<p>"If I were not fast to my first tarpon——"</p> + +<p>"Reel in!" cried Smith sharply, "reel or you +lose him!"</p> + +<p>The Duke reeled with all the abandon of a +squirrel in a wheel.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," said Mrs. John Smith to her petrified +mother, "we will see you soon at Verbena. +And <i>don't</i> let Dad over-play that fish. He always +over-plays a salmon, you know."</p> + +<p>The Duchess folded her fat hands and watched +her departing offspring until the chartered +launch was a speck on the horizon. Then she +looked at her husband.</p> + +<p>"Fancy!" she said.<span class="pagenumsmall">[110]</span></p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," remarked the youthful novelist, +coldly, "there is nothing on earth as ignoble as a +best-seller."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," ventured Duane, "whether you +know which books actually do sell the best."</p> + +<p>"Or which books of bygone days were the best-sellers?"</p> + +<p>"Some among them are still best-sellers," added +Athalie.</p> + +<p>"A truly important book——" began the novelist, +but Athalie interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"O solemn child," she said, "write on!—and +thank the gods for their important gifts to you +of hand and mind! So that you keep tired eyes +awake that otherwise would droop to brood on +pain or sorrow you have done well; and what you +have written to this end will come nearer being +important than anything you ever write."</p> + +<p>"True, by the nine muses!" exclaimed Stafford +with emphasis. Athalie glanced at him out +of sweetly humourous eyes.</p> + +<p>"There is a tenth muse," she said. "Did you +never hear of her?"</p> + +<p>"Never! Where did you discover her, Athalie?"</p> + +<p>"Where I discover many, many things, my +friend."</p> + +<p>"In your crystal?" I said. She nodded slowly<span class="pagenumsmall">[111]</span> +while the sweetmeat was dissolving in her mouth.</p> + +<p>Through the summer silence a bell here and +there in the dusky city sounded the hour.</p> + +<p>"The tenth muse," she repeated, "and I believe +there are other sisters, also. Many a star is suspected +before its unseen existence is proven.... +Please—a glass of water?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[112]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;"> +<img src="images/ch12.jpg" width="525" height="319" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XII</h2> + +<p>She sipped the water pensively as we all returned +to our places. Then, placing the +partly empty glass beside her jar of sweetmeats, +she opened her incomparable lips.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It is a fine thing when a young man, born to +travel the speedway of luxury, voluntarily leaves +it to hew out a pathway for himself through life. +Brown thought so, too. And at twenty-four he +resolutely graduated from Harvard, stepped out +into the world, and looked about him very sternly.</p> + +<p>All was not well with the world. Brown knew +it. He was there to correct whatever was wrong. +And he had chosen Good Literature as the vehicle +for self expression.</p> + +<p>Now, the nine sister goddesses are born flirts;<span class="pagenumsmall">[113]</span> +and every one of them immediately glanced sideways +at Brown, who was a nice young man with +modesty, principles, and a deep and reverent belief +in Good Literature.</p> + +<p>The nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne +seemed very attractive to him until the tenth and +most recent addition to the Olympian family +sauntered by with a flirt of her narrow skirt—the +jade!</p> + +<p>One glance into the starry blue wells of her +baby eyes bowled him over. Henceforth she was +to be his steady—Thalomene, a casual daughter of +Zeus, and muse of all that is sacredly obvious in +the literature of modern realism.</p> + +<p>From early infancy Brown's had been a career +of richest promise. His mother's desk was full +of his earlier impressions of life. He had, in +course of time, edited his school paper, his college +paper; and, as an undergraduate, he had appeared +in the contributor's columns of various +periodicals.</p> + +<p>His was not only a wealthy but a cultivated +lineage as well. The love of literature was born +in him.</p> + +<p>To love literature is all right in its way; to +love it too well is to mistake the appreciative for +the creative genius. Reverence and devotion are<span class="pagenumsmall">[114]</span> +no equipment for creative authorship. It is not +enough to have something to say about what other +people have said. And the inspiration which +comes from what others have done is never the +true one. But Brown didn't know these things. +They were not revealed unto him at Harvard; no +inward instinct made them plain to him.</p> + +<p>He began by foregathering with authors. +Many, many authors foregather, from various +causes—tradition, inclination, general shiftlessness. +When they do that they produce a sort of +serum called literary atmosphere, which is said to +be delightful. And so Brown found it. However, +there are authors who seem to be too busy with +their profession to foregather and exhale atmosphere. +But these are doubtless either literary +hacks or the degraded producers of best-sellers. +They are not authors, either; they are merely +writers.</p> + +<p>Now, in all the world there is only one thing +funnier than an author; and that is a number of +them. But Brown didn't know that, either.</p> + +<p>All authors are reformers. Said one of them +to Brown in the Empyrean Club:</p> + +<p>"When an author in his own heart ceases to be +a reformer he begins to be a menace!"</p> + +<p>It was a fine sentiment, and Brown wrote it in<span class="pagenumsmall">[115]</span> +his note-book. Afterward, the more he analyzed +it the less it seemed to mean.</p> + +<p>Another author informed him that the proper +study for man is man. He'd heard that before, +but the repetition steeled his resolve. And his +resolve was to reproduce in literature exactly +what he observed about him; nothing more, nothing +less.</p> + +<p>There was to be no concession to imagination, +none to convention, none to that insidious form +of human weakness known as good taste. As for +art, Brown already knew what Art really was.</p> + +<p>There was art enough for anybody in sheer +truth, enough in the realism made up of photographic +detail, recorded uncompromisingly in ordered +processional sequence. After all, there was +really no beauty in the world except the beauty +of absolute truth. All other alleged beauty was +only some form of weakness. Thus Brown, after +inhaling literary atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Like the majority of young men, Brown realised +that only a man, and a perfectly fearless, +honest, and unprejudiced one, was properly equipped +to study woman and tell the entire +truth about her in literature.</p> + +<p>So he began his first great novel—"The Unquiet +Sex"—and he made heavy weather of it that autumn—what<span class="pagenumsmall">[116]</span> +with contributing to the literary atmosphere +every afternoon and evening at various +clubs and cafés—not to mention the social purlieus +into which he ventured with the immortal +lustre already phosphorescent on his brow. +Which left him little time for mere writing. It +is hard to be an author and a writer, too.</p> + +<p>The proper study for man being woman, Brown +studied her solemnly and earnestly. He studied +his mother and his sisters, boring them to the +verge of distraction; he attempted to dissect the +motives which governed the behaviour of assorted +feminine relatives, scaring several of the more +aged and timorous, agitating others, and infuriating +one or two—until his father ordered him to +desist.</p> + +<p>House-maids, parlour-maids, ladies'-maids, waitresses, +all fought very shy of him; for true to his +art, he had cast convention aside and had striven +to fathom the souls and discover the hidden motives +imbedded in Milesian, Scandinavian and +Briton.</p> + +<p>"The thing for me to do," said Brown rather +bitterly to his father, "is to go out into the world +and investigate far and wide."</p> + +<p>"Investigate what?" asked his father.</p> + +<p>"Woman!" said Brown sturdily.<span class="pagenumsmall">[117]</span></p> + +<p>"There's only one trouble about that."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Woman," said his father, "is likely to do the +investigating. This household knows more about +you than you do about it."</p> + +<p>Brown smiled. So did his father.</p> + +<p>"Son," said the latter, "what have you learned +about women without knowing anything about +them?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, naturally," said Brown.</p> + +<p>"Then you will never have anything more than +<i>that</i> to say about them," remarked Brown senior.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because the only thing possible for a man to +say about them is what his imagination dictates. +He'll never learn any more concerning women +than that."</p> + +<p>"Imagination is not literature," said Brown +junior, with polite toleration.</p> + +<p>"Imagination is often the truer truth," said the +old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Father, that is rot."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my son—and it is almost Good Literature, +too. Go ahead, shake us if you like. But, +if you do, you'll come back married."<span class="pagenumsmall">[118]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch13.jpg" width="600" height="309" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XIII</h2> + +<p>So Brown, who was nourishing a theory, shook +his family and, requiring mental solitude to +develop his idea, he went to Verbena Inlet. +Not to the enormous and expensive caravansary +swarming with wealth, ennui, envy, and fashion; +not even to its sister hotel similarly infested. But +to West Verbena, where for a mile along the white +shell road modest hotels, boarding houses, and cottages +nestled behind mosquito screens under the +dingy cabbage-palmettos.</p> + +<p>Here was stranded the winter driftwood from +the North—that peculiar flotsam and jetsam +which summered in similar resorts in the North, +rocked in rocking chairs on dreary rural verandas, +congregated at the village post-office, +awaited its men folk every week-end from the +filthy and sweltering metropolis.</p> + +<p>It was at a shabby but pretentious hostelry<span class="pagenumsmall">[119]</span> +called the Villa Hibiscus that Brown took up his +quarters. Several rusty cabbage-palmettos waved +above the whitish, sandy soil surrounding it; one +or two discouraged orange trees fruited despondently +near the veranda. And the place swarmed +with human beings from all over the United +States, lured from inclement climes, into the land +of the orange and the palm—wistfully seeking in +the land of advertised perpetual sunshine what +the restless world has never yet discovered anywhere—surcease +from care, from longing, from +the unkindliness of its fellow seekers.</p> + +<p>Dowdiness filled the veranda rocking chairs; +unlovely hands were folded; faded eyes gazed vacantly +at the white road, at the oranges; enviously +at the flashing wheels and fluttering lingerie from +the great Hotel Verbena.</p> + +<p>Womanhood was there in all its ages and average +phases; infancy, youth, middle age, age—all +were there in the rusty villas and hotels ranged +for a mile along the smooth shell road.</p> + +<p>The region, thought Brown to himself, was +rich in material. And the reflection helped him +somewhat with his dinner, which needed a fillip +or two.</p> + +<p>In his faultless dinner jacket he sauntered out +after the evening meal; and the idea which possessed<span class="pagenumsmall">[120]</span> +and even thrilled him aided him to forget +what he had eaten.</p> + +<p>The lagoon glimmered mysteriously in the starlight; +the royal palms bordering it rustled high +in the night breeze from the sea. Perfume from +oleander hedges smote softly the olfactories of +Brown; the southern whip-poor-wills' hurried +whisper thrilled the darkness with a deeper mystery.</p> + +<p>Here was the place to study woman. There +could be no doubt about that. Here, untrammelled, +uninterrupted, unvexed by the jarring of +the world, he could place his model, turn her +loose, and observe her.</p> + +<p>To concentrate all his powers of analytical observation +upon a single specimen of woman was +his plan. Painters and sculptors used models. +He meant to use one, too.</p> + +<p>It would be simple. First, he must discover +what he wanted. This accomplished, he had decided +to make a plain business proposition to her. +She was to go about her own affairs and her pleasure +without embarrassment or self-consciousness—behave +naturally; do whatever it pleased her to +do. But he was to be permitted to observe her, +follow her, make what notes he chose; and, as a +resumé of each day, they were to meet in some<span class="pagenumsmall">[121]</span> +quiet spot in order that he might question her as +he chose, concerning whatever interested him, or +whatever in her movements or behaviour had +seemed to him involved or inexplicable.</p> + +<p>Thus and thus only, he had decided, could +light be shed upon the mysterious twilight veiling +the inner woman! Thus only might carefully concealed +motives be detected, cause and effect co-ordinated, +the very source of all feminine logic, +reason, and emotion be laid bare and dissected at +leisure.</p> + +<p>Never had anybody written such a novel as he +would be equipped to write. The ultimate word +concerning woman was about to be written.</p> + +<p>Inwardly excited, outwardly calm, he had +seated himself on the coquina wall which ran along +the lagoon under the Royal Palms. He was about +to study his subject as the great masters studied, +coolly, impersonally, with clear and merciless intelligence, +setting down with calm simplicity nothing +except facts.</p> + +<p>All that was worthy and unworthy should be +recorded—the good with the evil—nothing should +be too ephemeral, too minute, to escape his searching +analysis.</p> + +<p>And all the while, though Brown was not aware +of it, the memory of a face he had seen in the<span class="pagenumsmall">[122]</span> +dining-room grew vaguely and faded, waxing and +waning alternately, like a phantom illustration accompanying +his thoughts.</p> + +<p>As for the model he should choose to study, she +ought to be thoroughly feminine, he thought; +young, probably blonde, well formed, not very +deeply experienced, and with every human capacity +for good and bad alike.</p> + +<p>He would approach her frankly, tell her what +he required, offer her the pay of an artist's model, +three dollars a day; and, if she accepted, she +could have her head and do what she liked. All +that concerned him was to make his observations +and record them.</p> + +<p>In the blue starlight people passed and re-passed +like ghosts along the shell-road—the white +summer gowns of young girls were constantly appearing +in the dusk, taking vague shape, vanishing. +On the lagoon, a guitar sounded very far +away. The suave scent of oleander grew sweeter.</p> + +<p>Spectral groups passed in clinging lingerie; +here and there a ghost lingered to lean over the +coquina wall, her lost gaze faintly accented by +some level star. One of these, a slender young +thing, paused near to Brown, resting gracefully +against the wall.</p> + +<p>All around her the whip-poor-wills were calling<span class="pagenumsmall">[123]</span> +breathlessly; the perfume of oleander grew +sweeter.</p> + +<p>As for the girl herself, she resembled the tenth +muse. Brown had never attempted to visualise +his mistress; it had been enough for him that she +was Thalomene, daughter of Zeus, and divinely +fair.</p> + +<p>But now, as he recognised the face he had noticed +that evening in the dining-room, somehow +he thought of his muse for the first time, concretely. +Perhaps because the girl by the coquina +wall was young, slim, golden haired, and Greek.</p> + +<p>His impulse, without bothering to reason, was +to hop from the wall and go over to where she +was standing.</p> + +<p>She looked around calmly as he approached, +gave him a little nod in recognition of his lifted +hat.</p> + +<p>"I'm John Brown, 4th," he said. "I'm stopping +at the Villa Hibiscus. Do you mind my saying +so?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't mind," she said.</p> + +<p>"There is a vast amount of nonsense in formality +and convention," said Brown. "If you +don't mind ignoring such details, I have something +important to say to you."</p> + +<p>She looked at him unsmilingly. Probably it<span class="pagenumsmall">[124]</span> +was the starlight in her eyes that made them +glimmer as though with hidden laughter.</p> + +<p>"I am," said Brown, pleasantly, "an author."</p> + +<p>"Really," she said.</p> + +<p>"When I say that I am an author," continued +Brown seriously, "I mean in the higher sense."</p> + +<p>"Oh. What is the higher sense, Mr. Brown?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"The higher sense does not necessarily imply +authorship. I do not mean that I am a mere +writer. I have written very little."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said.</p> + +<p>"Very little," repeated Brown combatively. +"You will look in vain among the crowded counters +piled high with contemporary fiction for anything +from my pen."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps I had better not look," she said +so simply that Brown was a trifle disappointed +in her.</p> + +<p>"Some day, however," he said, "you may search, +and, perhaps, not wholly in vain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are writing a book!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I am, so to speak, at work on +a novel."</p> + +<p>"Might one, with discretion, make further inquiry +concerning your novel, Mr. Brown?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> may."<span class="pagenumsmall">[125]</span></p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, apparently a trifle disconcerted +by the privilege so promptly granted.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> may," repeated Brown. "Shall I explain +why?"</p> + +<p>"Please."</p> + +<p>"You will not mistake me, I am sure. Will +you?"</p> + +<p>She turned her pretty face toward him.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," she said after a moment. +The starlight was meddling with her eyes again.<span class="pagenumsmall">[126]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/ch14.jpg" width="550" height="259" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XIV</h2> + +<p>So Brown told her about his theory; how he +desired to employ a model, how he desired +to study her; what were his ideas of the +terms suitable.</p> + +<p>He talked fluently, earnestly, and agreeably; and +his pretty audience listened with so much apparent +intelligence and good taste that her very attitude +subtly exhilarated Brown, until he became +slightly aware that he was expressing himself eloquently.</p> + +<p>He had, it seemed, much to say concerning the +profession and practice of good literature. It +seemed, too, that he knew a great deal about it, +both theoretically and practically. His esteem +and reverence for it were unmistakable; his enthusiasm +worthy of his courage.</p> + +<p>He talked for a long while, partly about literature,<span class="pagenumsmall">[127]</span> +partly about himself. And he was at intervals +a trifle surprised that he had so much to +say, and wondered at the valuable accumulations +of which he was unburdening himself with such +vast content.</p> + +<p>The girl had turned her back to the lagoon and +stood leaning against the coquina wall, facing +him, her slender hands resting on the coping.</p> + +<p>Never had he had such a listener. At the +clubs and cafés other literary men always wanted +to talk. But here under the great southern stars +nobody interrupted the limpid flow of his long +dammed eloquence. And he ended leisurely, as +he had begun, yet auto-intoxicated, thrillingly +conscious of the spell which he had laid upon +himself, upon his young listener—conscious, too, +of the spell that the soft air and the perfume and +the stars had spun over a world grown suddenly +and incredibly lovely and young.</p> + +<p>She said in a low voice: "I need the money +very much.... And I don't mind your studying +me."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean it?" he exclaimed, enchanted.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But there is one trouble."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> have my mornings to myself."<span class="pagenumsmall">[128]</span></p> + +<p>He said: "Under the terms I must be permitted +to ask you any questions I choose. You understand +that, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then—why must you have your mornings to +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I have work to do."</p> + +<p>"What work? What are you?"</p> + +<p>She flushed a trifle, then, accepting the rules of +the game, smiled at Brown.</p> + +<p>"I am a school-teacher," she said. "Ill health +from overwork drove me South to convalesce. I +am trying to support myself here by working in +the mornings."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said gently. Then, aware of +his concession to a very human weakness, he +added with businesslike decision: "What is the +nature of your morning's work?"</p> + +<p>"I—write," she admitted.</p> + +<p>"Stories?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Fiction?"</p> + +<p>"Anything, Mr. Brown. I send notes to fashion +papers, concerning the costumes at the Hotel Verbena; +I write for various household papers special +articles which would not interest you at all. +I write little stories for the women's and children's<span class="pagenumsmall">[129]</span> +columns in various newspapers. You see +what I do is not literature, and could not interest +you."</p> + +<p>"If you are to act for me in the capacity of a +model," he said firmly, "I am absolutely bound to +study every phase of you, every minutest detail."</p> + +<p>"Oh."</p> + +<p>"Not one minute of the day must pass without +my observing you," he said. "Unless you are +broad-minded enough to comprehend me you may +think my close and unremitting observation impertinent."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to be impertinent, I am sure," +she faltered, already surprised, apprehensive, and +abashed by the prospect.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't mean to be impertinent," he +said smilingly, "but all great observers pursue +their studies unremittingly day and night——"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> couldn't do <i>that</i>!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No," he admitted, troubled, "that would not +be feasible. You require, of course, a certain +amount of slumber."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," she said.</p> + +<p>"I ought," he said thoughtfully, "to study that +phase of you, also."</p> + +<p>"What phase, Mr. Brown?"</p> + +<p>"When you are sleeping."<span class="pagenumsmall">[130]</span></p> + +<p>"But that is impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Convention," he said disdainfully, "makes it +so. A literary student is fettered.</p> + +<p>"But it is perfectly possible for you to imagine +what I look like when I'm asleep, Mr. +Brown."</p> + +<p>"Imagination is to play no part in my literary +work," he said coldly. "What I set down are +facts."</p> + +<p>"But is that art?"</p> + +<p>"There is more art in facts than there are facts +in art," he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what you mean."</p> + +<p>He didn't, either, when he came to analyse +what he had said; and he turned very red and +admitted it.</p> + +<p>"I mean to be honest and truthful," he said. +"What I just said sounded clever, but meant nothing. +I admit it. I mean to be perfectly pitiless +with myself. Anything tainted with imagination; +anything hinting of romance; any weak concession +to prejudice, convention, good taste, I refuse +to be guilty of. Realism is what I aim at; +raw facts, however unpleasant!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you will find anything very +unpleasant about me," she said.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think I shall. But I mean to<span class="pagenumsmall">[131]</span> +detect every imperfection, every weakness, every +secret vanity, every unworthy impulse. That is +why I desire to study you so implacably. Are +you willing to submit?"</p> + +<p>She bit her lip and looked thoughtfully at the +stars.</p> + +<p>"You know," she said, "that while it may be +all very well for you to say 'anything for art's +sake,' <i>I</i> can't say it. I can't <i>do</i> it, either."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I can't. You know perfectly well +that you can't follow me about taking notes <i>every</i> +minute of the twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>He said very earnestly: "Sir John Lubbock sat +up day and night, never taking his eyes off the +little colony of ants which he had under observation +in a glass box!"</p> + +<p>"Do you propose to sit up day and night to +keep me under observation?" she asked, flushed +and astounded.</p> + +<p>"Not at first. But as my studies advance, and +you become accustomed to the perfectly respectful +but coldly impersonal nature of my observations, +your mind, I trust, will become so broadened +that you will find nothing objectionable in +what at first might scare you. An artist's model, +for example——"<span class="pagenumsmall">[132]</span></p> + +<p>"But I am not an artist's model!" she exclaimed, +with a slight shiver.</p> + +<p>"To be a proper model at all," he said, "you +must concede all for art, and remain sublimely +unconscious of self. <i>You</i> do not matter. <i>I</i> do +not matter. Only my work counts. And that +must be honest, truthful, accurate, minute, exact—a +perfect record of a woman's mind and personality."</p> + +<p>For a few moments they both remained silent. +And after a little the starlight began to play +tricks with her eyes again, so that they seemed +sparkling with hidden laughter. But her face +was grave.</p> + +<p>She said: "I really do need the money. I will +do what I can.... And if in spite of my courage +I ever shrink—our contract shall terminate +at once."</p> + +<p>"And what shall I do then?" inquired Brown.</p> + +<p>The starlight glimmered in her eyes. She said +very gravely:</p> + +<p>"In case the demands of your realism and your +art are too much for my courage, Mr. Brown—you +will have to find another model to study."</p> + +<p>"But another model might prove as conventional +as you!"</p> + +<p>"In that case," she said, while her sensitive<span class="pagenumsmall">[133]</span> +lower lip trembled, and the starlight in her eyes +grew softly brilliant, "in that case, Mr. Brown, I +am afraid that there would be only one course to +pursue with that <i>other</i> model."</p> + +<p>"What course is that?" he asked, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you'd have to marry her."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he said. "I can't marry every +girl I mean to study!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Do you mean to study very many?"</p> + +<p>"I have my entire life and career before me."</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is true. But—women are much +alike. One model, thoroughly studied, might serve +for them all—with a little imagination."</p> + +<p>"I have no use for imagination in fiction," said +Brown firmly. After a moment's silence, he added: +"Is it settled, then?"</p> + +<p>"About our—contract?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She considered for a long while, then, looking +up, she nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's fine!" exclaimed Brown, with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>They walked back to the Villa Hibiscus together, +slowly, through the blue starlight. Brown +asked her name, and she told him.</p> + +<p>"No," he said gaily, "your name is Thalomene,<span class="pagenumsmall">[134]</span> +and you are the tenth muse. For truly I think I +have never before been so thoroughly inspired by +a talk with anyone."</p> + +<p>She laughed. He had done almost all the talking. +And he continued it, very happily, as by +common consent they seated themselves on the +veranda.<span class="pagenumsmall">[135]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch15.jpg" width="600" height="311" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XV</h2> + +<p>The inhabitants of the Villa Hibiscus retired. +But Brown talked on, quite unconscious +that the low-voiced questions +and softly modulated replies were magic which +incited him to a perfect ecstasy of self-revelation.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he thought he was studying her—for +the compact by mutual consent was already in +force—and certainly his eyes were constantly +upon her, taking, as no doubt he supposed, a cold +and impersonal measure of her symmetry. +Calmly, and with utter detachment, he measured +her slender waist, her soft little hands; noting the +fresh, sweet lips, the clear, prettily shaped eyes, +the delicate throat, the perfect little Greek head +with its thick, golden hair.</p> + +<p>And all the while he held forth about literature +and its true purpose; about what art really is;<span class="pagenumsmall">[136]</span> +about his own art, his own literature, and his own +self.</p> + +<p>And the girl was really fascinated.</p> + +<p>She had seen, at a distance, such men. When +Brown had named himself to her, she had recognised +the name with awe, as a fashionable and +wealthy name known to Gotham.</p> + +<p>Yet, had Brown known it, neither his eloquence +nor his theories, nor his aims, were what fascinated +her. But it was his boyish enthusiasm, his +boyish intolerance, his immaturity, his happy certainty +of the importance of what concerned himself.</p> + +<p>He was so much a boy, so much a man, such a +candid, unreasonable, eager, selfish, impulsive, portentous, +and delightfully illogical mixture of boy +and man that the combination fascinated every +atom of womanhood in her—and at moments as +the night wore on, she found herself listening +perilously close to the very point of sympathy.</p> + +<p>He appeared to pay no heed to the flight of +time. The big stars frosted Heaven; the lagoon +was silvered by them; night winds stirred the +orange bloom; oleanders exhaled a bewitching perfume.</p> + +<p>As he lay there in his rocking chair beside her, +it seemed to him that he had known her intimately<span class="pagenumsmall">[137]</span> +for years—so wonderfully does the charm of self-revelation +act upon human reason. For she had +said almost nothing about herself. Yet, it was +becoming plainer to him every moment that never +in all his life had he known any woman as he +already knew this young girl.</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful," he said, lying back in his +chair and looking up at the stars, "how subtle is +sympathy, and how I recognise yours. I think I +understand you perfectly already."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feel sure I do. Somehow, I know that +secretly and in your own heart you are in full +tide of sympathy with me and with my life's +work."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had no imagination," she said.</p> + +<p>"I haven't. Do you mean that I only imagine +that you are in sympathy with me?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I am."</p> + +<p>After a few moments she laughed deliciously. +He never knew why. Nor was she ever perfectly +sure why she had laughed, though they discussed +the matter very gravely.</p> + +<p>A new youth seemed to have invaded her, an exquisite +sense of lightness, of power. Vaguely she +was conscious of ability, of a wonderful and undreamed +of capacity. Within her heart she seemed<span class="pagenumsmall">[138]</span> +to feel the subtle stir of a new courage, a certainty +of the future, of indefinable but splendid things.</p> + +<p>The manuscript of the novel which she had +sent North two weeks ago seemed to her a winged +thing soaring to certain victory in the empyrean. +Suddenly, by some magic, doubt, fear, distress, +were allayed—and it was like surcease from a +steady pain, with all the blessed and heavenly +languor relaxing her mind and body.</p> + +<p>And all the while Brown talked on.</p> + +<p>Lying there in her chair she listened to him +while the thoughts in her eased mind moved in +delicate accompaniment.</p> + +<p>Somehow she understood that never in her life +had she been so happy—with this boy babbling +beside her, and her own thoughts responding almost +tenderly to his youth, his inconsistencies, to +the arrogance typical of his sex. He was <i>so</i> +wrong!—so far from the track, so utterly astray, +so pitiably confident! Who but she should know, +who had worked and studied and failed and +searched, always <i>writing</i>, however—which is the +only way in the world to learn how to write—or +to learn that there is no use in writing.</p> + +<p>Her hand lay along the flat arm of her rocking-chair; +and once, when he had earnestly sustained +a perfectly untenable theory concerning<span class="pagenumsmall">[139]</span> +success in literature, unconsciously she laid her +fresh, smooth hand on his arm in impulsive protest.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "don't think that way. You are +quite wrong. That is the road to failure!"</p> + +<p>It was her first expression of disagreement, and +he looked at her amazed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you think I don't know anything +about real literature and realism," she said, "but +I do know a little."</p> + +<p>"Every man must work out his salvation in +his own way," he insisted, still surprised at her +dissent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but one should be equipped by long practice +in the art before definitely choosing one's +final course."</p> + +<p>"I am practiced."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean theoretically," she murmured.</p> + +<p>He laughed: "Oh, you mean mere writing," he +said, gaily confident. "That, according to my +theory, is not necessary to real experience. Literature +is something loftier."</p> + +<p>In her feminine heart every instinct of womanhood +was aroused—pity for the youth of him, +sympathy for his obtuseness, solicitude for his +obstinacy, tenderness for the fascinating combination +of boy and man, which might call itself<span class="pagenumsmall">[140]</span> +by any name it chose—even "author"—and go +blundering along without a helping hand amid +shrugs and smiles to a goal marked "Failure."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said almost timidly, "whether +you could ever listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Always," he said, bending nearer to see her +expression. Which having seen, he perhaps forgot +to note in his little booklet, for he continued +to look at her.</p> + +<p>"I haven't very much to say," she said. "Only—to +learn any art or trade or profession it is +necessary to work at it unremittingly. But to +discuss it never helped anybody."</p> + +<p>"My dear child," he said, "I know that what +you say was the old idea. But," he shrugged, +"I do not agree with it."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," she said.</p> + +<p>"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know.... Perhaps because I like +you."</p> + +<p>It was not very much to say—not a very significant +declaration; but the simplicity and sweetness +of it—her voice—the head bent a little in +the starlight—all fixed Brown's attention. He +sat very still there in the luminous dusk of the +white veranda; the dew dripped steadily like rain; +the lagoon glittered.<span class="pagenumsmall">[141]</span></p> + +<p>Then, subtly, taking Brown unawares, his most +treacherous enemy crept upon him with a stealth +incredible, and, before Brown knew it, was in full +possession of his brain. The enemy was Imagination.</p> + +<p>Minute after minute slipped away in the scented +dusk, and found Brown's position unchanged, +where he lay in his chair looking at her.</p> + +<p>The girl also was very silent.</p> + +<p>With what wonderful attributes his enemy, Imagination, +was busily endowing the girl beside +him in the starlight, there is no knowing. His +muse was Thalomene, slim daughter of Zeus; and +whether she was really still on Olympus or here +beside him he scarcely knew, so perfectly did this +young girl inspire him, so exquisitely did she fill +the bill.</p> + +<p>"It is odd," he said, after a long while, "that +merely a few hours with you should inspire me +more than I have ever been inspired in all my +life."</p> + +<p>"That," she said unsteadily, "is your imagination."</p> + +<p>At the hateful word, imagination, Brown +seemed to awake from the spell. Then he sat up +straight, rather abruptly.</p> + +<p>"The thing to do," he said, still confused by<span class="pagenumsmall">[142]</span> +his awakening, "is to consider you impersonally +and make notes of everything." And he fumbled +for pencil and note-book, and, rising, stepped +across to the front door, where a light was +burning.</p> + +<p>Standing under it he resolutely composed his +thoughts; but to save his life he could remember +nothing of which to make a memorandum.</p> + +<p>This worried him, and finally alarmed him. +And so long did he stand there, note-book open, +pencil poised, and a sickly expression of dismay +imprinted upon his otherwise agreeable features, +that the girl rose at last from her chair, glanced +in through the door at him, and then came forward.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"The matter is," said Brown, "that I don't +seem to have anything to write about."</p> + +<p>"You are tired," she said. "I think we both +are a little tired."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am not. Anyway, I have something to +write about now. Wait a moment till I make a +note of how you walk—the easy, graceful, flowing +motion, so exquisitely light and——"</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> don't walk like that!" she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"—Graciously as a youthful goddess," muttered +Brown, scribbling away busily in his note-book.<span class="pagenumsmall">[143]</span> +"Tell me; what motive had you just now +in rising and coming to ask me what was the matter—with +such a sweetly apprehensive expression +in your eyes?"</p> + +<p>"My—my motive?" she repeated, astonished.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You had one, hadn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why—I don't know. You looked worried; so +I came."</p> + +<p>"The motive," said Brown, "was feminine solicitude—an +emotion natural to nice women. Thank +you." And he made a note of it.</p> + +<p>"But motives and emotions are different things," +she said timidly. "I had no motive for coming +to ask you why you seemed troubled."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't your motive to learn why?"</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, I suppose so."</p> + +<p>He laid his head on one side and inspected her +critically.</p> + +<p>"And if anything had been amiss with me you +would have been sorry, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Because—one is sorry when a friend—when +anyone——"</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> your friend," he said. "So why not say +it?"</p> + +<p>"And I am yours—if you wish," she said.<span class="pagenumsmall">[144]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I do." He began to write: "It's +rather odd how friendship begins. We both seem +to want to be friends." And to her he said: "How +does it make you feel—the idea of our being +friends? What emotions does it arouse in you?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him in sorrowful surprise. "I +thought it was real friendship you meant," she +murmured, "not the sort to make a note about."</p> + +<p>"But I've got to make notes of everything. +Don't you see? Certainly our friendship is real +enough—but I've got to study it minutely and +make notes concerning it. It's necessary to make +records of everything—how you walk, stand, +speak, look, how you go upstairs——"</p> + +<p>"I am going now," she said.</p> + +<p>He followed, scribbling furiously; and it is +difficult to go upstairs, watch a lady go upstairs, +and write about the way she does it all at the +same time.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she said, opening her door.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he said, absently, and so intent +on his scribbling that he followed her through +the door into her room.<span class="pagenumsmall">[145]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;"> +<img src="images/ch16.jpg" width="325" height="321" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XVI</h2> + +<p>"She goes upstairs as though she were floating +up," he wrote, with enthusiasm; "her +lovely figure, poised on tip-toe, seems to +soar upward, ascending as naturally and gracefully +as the immortals ascended the golden stairs +of Jacob——"</p> + +<p>In full flood of his treacherous imagination he +seated himself on a chair beside her bed, rested +the note-book on his knees, and scribbled madly, +utterly oblivious to her. And it was only when +he had finished, for sheer lack of material, that he +recollected himself, looked up, saw how she had +shrunk away from him against the wall—how the +scarlet had dyed her face to her temples.</p> + +<p>"Why—why do you come—into my bedroom?" +she faltered. "Does our friendship count for no +more than that with you?"</p> + +<p>"What?" he said, bewildered.<span class="pagenumsmall">[146]</span></p> + +<p>"That you do what you have no right to do. +Art—art is <i>not</i> enough to—to—excuse—disrespect——"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the tears sprang to her eyes, and she +covered her flushed face with both hands.</p> + +<p>For a moment Brown stood petrified. Then a +deeper flush than hers settled heavily over his +features.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said.</p> + +<p>She made no response.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to hurt you. I <i>do</i> respect you," +he said.</p> + +<p>No response.</p> + +<p>Brown gazed at her, gazed at his note-book.</p> + +<p>Then he hurled the note-book across the room +and walked over to her as she lifted her lovely +head, startled and tearful.</p> + +<p>"You are right," he said, swallowing nothing +very desperately. "You can not be studied this +way. Will you—marry me?"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Because I—want to study you."</p> + +<p>"No!" she said, looking him straight in the +eyes.</p> + +<p>Brown thought hard for a full minute.<span class="pagenumsmall">[147]</span></p> + +<p>"Would you marry me because I love you?" he +asked timidly.</p> + +<p>The question seemed to be more than she could +answer. Besides, the tears sprang to her blue +eyes again, and her under lip began to tremble, +and she covered her face with both hands. Which +made it impossible for him to kiss her.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it wonderful?" he said earnestly, trembling +from head to foot. "Isn't it wonderful, +dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered. The word, uttered +against his shoulder, was stifled. He bent his +head nearer, murmuring:</p> + +<p>"Thalomene—Thalomene—embodiment of +Truth! How wonderful it is to me that at last I +find in you that absolute Truth I worship."</p> + +<p>"I am—the embodiment—of your—imagination," +she said. "But you will never, never believe +it—most adorable of boys—dearest—dearest +of men."</p> + +<p>And, lifting her stately and divine young head, +she looked innocently at Brown while he imprinted +his first and most chaste kiss upon the fresh, sweet +lips of the tenth muse, Thalomene, daughter of Zeus.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Athalie," said the youthful novelist more in<span class="pagenumsmall">[148]</span> +sorrow than in anger, "you are making game of +everything I hold most important."</p> + +<p>"Provide yourself with newer and truer gods, +dear child," said the girl, laughing. "After +you've worshipped them long enough somebody will +also poke fun at them. Whereupon, if you are +fortunate enough to be one of those who continues +to mature until he matures himself into the +Ewigkeit, you will instantly quit those same over-mauled +and worn out gods for newer and truer +ones."</p> + +<p>"And so on indefinitely," I added.</p> + +<p>"In literature," began the novelist, "the great +masters must stand as parents for us in our first +infantile steps——"</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl, "all worthy aspirants enter +the field of literature as orphans. Opportunity +and Fates alone stand for them <i>in loco parentis</i>. +And the child of these is known as Destiny."</p> + +<p>"No cubist could beat that, Athalie," remarked +Duane. "I'm ashamed of you—or proud—I don't +know which."</p> + +<p>"Dear child," she said, "you will never know +the true inwardness of any sentiment you entertain +concerning me until I explain it to you."</p> + +<p>"Smitten again hip and thigh," said Stafford.<span class="pagenumsmall">[149]</span> +"Fair lady, I am far too wary to tell you what I +think of the art of incoherence as practised +occasionally by the prettiest Priestess in the +Temple."</p> + +<p>Athalie looked at me as the sweetmeat melted +on her tongue.</p> + +<p>"You promised me a dog," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"I've picked him out. He'll be weaned in another +week."</p> + +<p>"What species of pup is he?" inquired Duane.</p> + +<p>"An Iceland terrier," I answered. "They use +them for digging out walrus and seals."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Duane pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"After all," observed the girl, lifting her glass +of water, "it does not concern Mr. Duane what +sort of a dog you have chosen for me."</p> + +<p>She sipped it leisurely, looking over the delicate +crystal rim at Duane.</p> + +<p>"You are young," she said. "'<i>L'enfance est +le sommeil de la raison.</i>'"</p> + +<p>"How would you like to have an Angora kitten?" +he asked, reddening slightly.</p> + +<p>"But infancy," she added, "is always adorable.... +I think I might like a white one with +blue eyes."</p> + +<p>"Puppies, kittens, children," remarked Stafford—"they're +all tolerable while they're young."<span class="pagenumsmall">[150]</span></p> + +<p>"All of these," said the girl softly, "I should +like to have."</p> + +<p>And she gazed inquiringly at the crystal. But +it could tell her nothing of herself or of her hopes. +She turned and looked out into the dark city, a +trifle wearily, it seemed to me.<span class="pagenumsmall">[151]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch17.jpg" width="600" height="287" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XVII</h2> + +<p>After a silence, she lay back among her +cushions and glanced at us with a faint +smile.</p> + +<p>"One day last winter," she said, "after the last +client had gone and office hours were over, I sat +here thinking, wondering what in the world +could be worse for a girl than to have no parents.... +And I happened to glance into my +crystal, and saw there an incident beginning to +evolve that cheered me up, because it was a parody +on my more morbid train of thought. After +all, the same Chance that gives a child to its +parents gives the parents to that child. You +may think this is Tupper," she added, "but it is +Athalie. And that being the case, nobody will +laugh."<span class="pagenumsmall">[152]</span></p> + +<p>Nobody did laugh.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said sweetly. "Now I will +tell you what I saw in my crystal when I happened +to be feeling unusually alone in the world." +And with a pretty nod to us, collectively, she began.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The bulk of the cargo and a few bodies were +coming ashore at the eastern end of the island, +and that is where the throngs were—people from +the Light House, fishermen from the inlet, and +hundreds of winter tourists from St. Augustine, +in white flannels and summer gowns, all attracted +to Ibis Island by the grewsome spectacle of the +wreck.</p> + +<p>The West Indian hurricane had done its terrific +business and had gone, leaving a turquoise sky +untroubled by a cloud, and a sea of snow and +cobalt.</p> + +<p>Nothing living had been washed ashore from +the wreck. As for the brig, she had vanished—if +there had been anything left of her to disappear +except the wreckage, human and otherwise, +that had come tumbling ashore through the surf +all night long.</p> + +<p>So young Gray, seeing that there was nothing<span class="pagenumsmall">[153]</span> +for him to do, and not caring for the spectacle at +the eastern end of the island, turned on his heel +and walked west through thickets of sweet bay, +palmetto, and beach-grape.</p> + +<p>He wore the lightest weight solaro, with a helmet +and close-fitting puttees of the same. Two +straps crossed his breast, the one supporting a +well filled haversack, the other a water bottle. +Except for fire arms he was equipped for darkest +Africa, or for anything else on earth—at least +he supposed so. He was wrong; he was not +equipped for what he was about to encounter on +Ibis Island.</p> + +<p>It happened in this manner: traversing the seaward +dunes, because the beach no longer afforded +him even a narrow margin for a footing, shoulder +deep in a tangle of beach-grapes, he chanced to +glance at the little sandy cove which he was skirting, +and saw there an empty fruit crate tumbling +in the smother of foam, and a very small setter +puppy clinging to it frantically, with every claw +clutching, and his drenched tail between his legs.</p> + +<p>Even while Gray was forcing his eager way +through the tangle, he was aware of somebody else +moving forward through the high scrub just west +of him; and as he sprang out onto the beach and +laid his hand on the stranded fruit crate, another<span class="pagenumsmall">[154]</span> +hand, slimmer and whiter than his, fell on the +crate as he dragged it out of the foamy shallows +and up across the dry sand, just as a tremendous +roller smashed into clouds of foam behind it.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said a breathless voice +at his elbow, "but I think I saw this little dog +first."</p> + +<p>Gray already was reaching for the shivering +little thing, but two other hands deprived him of +the puppy; and he looked up, impatient and annoyed, +into the excited brown eyes of a young +girl.</p> + +<p>She had taken the dripping, clawing little creature +to her breast, where it shivered and moaned +and whined, shoving its cold nose up under her +chin.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Gray, firmly, "but I +am really very certain that I first discovered that +dog."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you think so," she said, clasping +the creature all the tighter.</p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i> think so," insisted Gray. "I <i>know</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," she repeated. Over the +puppy's shivering back her brown eyes gazed upon +Gray. They were very pretty, but hostile.</p> + +<p>"There can be no question about the ownership +of this pup," persisted Gray. "Of course, I am<span class="pagenumsmall">[155]</span> +sorry if you really think you discovered the dog. +Because you didn't."</p> + +<p>"I <i>did</i> discover him," she said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. I was walking through +the beach-grapes——"</p> + +<p>"I beg yours! I also was crossing the sweet-bay +scrub when I happened to glance down at +the cove and saw this poor little dog in the water."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what <i>I</i> did! I happened to +glance down, and there I saw this little dog. Instantly +I sprang——"</p> + +<p>"So did I!—I <i>beg</i> your pardon for interrupting +you!"</p> + +<p>"I was merely explaining that I first saw the +dog, and next I noticed you. But first of all I +saw the dog."</p> + +<p>"That is the exact sequence in my own observations," +she rejoined calmly. "First of all I saw +the dog in the water, then I heard a crash in the +bush, and saw something floundering about in the +tangle."</p> + +<p>"And," continued Gray, much annoyed by her +persistency, "no sooner had I caught hold of the +crate than <i>you</i> came up and laid <i>your</i> hand on it, +also. You surely must remember that I had my +hand on the crate before you did!"</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry you think so. The contrary<span class="pagenumsmall">[156]</span> +was the case. <i>I</i> took firm hold of the crate, and +then you aided me to draw it up out of the +water."</p> + +<p>"It is extraordinary," he said, "how mistaken +you are concerning the actual sequence of events. +Not that I doubt for a moment that you really +suppose you discovered the dog. Probably you +were a little excited——"</p> + +<p>"I was perfectly cool. Possibly <i>you</i> were a +trifle excited."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," he retorted with calm exasperation. +"I never become agitated."</p> + +<p>The puppy continued to shiver and drive its +nose up under the girl's chin.</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing! Poor little shipwrecked +baby!" she crooned. And, to Gray: "I don't +know why this puppy should be so cold. The +water is warm enough."</p> + +<p>"Put it in the hot sand," he said. "We can +rub it dry."</p> + +<p>She hesitated, flushing perhaps at her own suspicions; +but nevertheless she said:</p> + +<p>"You would not attempt to take it if I put it +down, would you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't intend to snatch it," he said with dignity. +"<i>Men</i> don't snatch."</p> + +<p>So they went inland a few paces where the sand +<span class="pagenumsmall">[157]</span>was hot and loose and deep; and there they knelt +down and put the puppy on the sand.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="gs04" id="gs04"></a> +<img src="images/gs04.jpg" width="400" height="554" alt=""'I am in possession of the dog and you merely +claim possession.'"" title=""> +</div> + +<p class="caption">"'I am in possession of the dog and you merely +claim possession.'"</p> + +<p>"Scrub him thoroughly," she suggested, pouring +heaping handfuls of hot, silvery sand over the +little creature.</p> + +<p>Gray did likewise, and together they rubbed and +scrubbed and rolled the puppy about until the +dog began to roll on his back all by himself, twisting +and wriggling and waving his big, padded +paws.</p> + +<p>"What he wants is water," asserted Gray, unstrapping +his haversack and bottle. From the +one he produced an aluminum pannikin; from the +other he filled it with water. The puppy drank +it all while Gray and the brown-eyed girl looked +on intently.</p> + +<p>Then Gray produced some beef sandwiches, and +the famished little creature leaped and whirled +and danced as Gray fed him cautiously, bit by bit.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that is perfectly fair?" asked +the girl gravely.</p> + +<p>"Fair?" repeated Gray guiltily.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Who first feeds a strange dog is recognised +as the reigning authority."</p> + +<p>"Very well, you may feed him, too. But that +does not alter the facts in the case."</p> + +<p>"The facts," said the girl, taking a sandwich<span class="pagenumsmall">[158]</span> +from Gray, "are that I am in possession of the +dog and you merely claim possession."</p> + +<p>They fed him alternately and in silence—until +their opinion became unanimous that it was dangerous, +for the present, to feed him any more.</p> + +<p>The puppy begged and pleaded and cajoled and +danced—a most appealing and bewitching little +creature, silvery white and blue-ticked, with a tiny +tan point over each eye and a black and tan +saddle.</p> + +<p>"Lavarack," observed Gray.</p> + +<p>"English," she nodded.</p> + +<p>It wagged not only its little, whippy tail, but +in doing so wriggled its entire hind quarters, showing +no preference for either of its rescuers, but +bestowing winning and engaging favours impartially.</p> + +<p>The girl could endure it no longer, but snatched +the puppy to her with a soft little cry, and +cuddled it tight. Gray looked on gloomily. Then, +when she released it, he took it and caressed it in +masculine fashion. There was no discernible difference +in its affectionate responses.</p> + +<p>After the dog had lavished enthusiasm and affection +on its saviours to the point of physical +exhaustion, it curled up on the hot sand between +them. At first, when they moved or spoke, the<span class="pagenumsmall">[159]</span> +little, silky head was quickly lifted, and the brown +eyes turned alertly from one to the other of the +two beings most beloved on earth. But presently +only the whippy tail stirred in recognition of their +voices. And finally the little dog slept in the hot +sunshine.<span class="pagenumsmall">[160]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<img src="images/ch18.jpg" width="375" height="286" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XVIII</h2> + +<p>For a long while, seated on either side of +the slumbering puppy, they remained +silent, in fascinated contemplation of +what they had rescued.</p> + +<p>Finally Gray said slowly: "It may seem odd +to you that I should be so firm and uncompromising +concerning my right to a very small dog +which may be duplicated in the North for a few +dollars."</p> + +<p>She lifted her brown eyes to his, then let them +fall again on the dog.</p> + +<p>"The reason is this," said Gray. "The native +dogs I dislike intensely. Dogs imported from the +North soon die in this region. But this little pup +was evidently born on shipboard and on tropical +seas. I think he's very likely to survive the climate. +And as I am obliged to reside here for a<span class="pagenumsmall">[161]</span> +while, and as I am to live all alone, this pup is a +godsend to me."</p> + +<p>The girl, still resting her eyes on the sleeping +puppy, said very quietly:</p> + +<p>"I do not desire to appear selfish, but a girl is +twice as lonely as a man. And as I fortunately +first discovered the dog it seems to me absolutely +right and just that I should keep him."</p> + +<p>Gray sat pouring sand through his fingers and +casting an occasional oblique glance at the girl. +She was not sunburned, so she must be a recent +arrival. She spoke with a northern accent, which +determined her origin.</p> + +<p><i>What</i> was she doing down here on this absurd +island? Why didn't she go back to St. Augustine +where she belonged?</p> + +<p>"You know," he said craftily, "I can buy a +very nice little dog indeed for you in St. Augustine."</p> + +<p>"I am not stopping in St. Augustine. Besides, +there are only horrid little lap-dogs there."</p> + +<p>"Don't you like lap-dogs—Pomms, Pekinese, +Maltese?" he inquired persuasively.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You are unlike the majority of girls then. +What sort of dog do you like?"</p> + +<p>"Setters," she explained with decision.<span class="pagenumsmall">[162]</span></p> + +<p>And as he bit his lip in annoyed silence she +added:</p> + +<p>"Setter puppies are what I adore."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>She added, not heeding his observation: "I am +mad about setter puppies, particularly English +setter puppies. And when I try to realise that I +discovered a shipwrecked one all by myself, and +rescued it, I can scarcely believe in such an adorable +miracle."</p> + +<p>It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to purchase +the pup, but a quick glance at the girl +checked him. She was evidently perfectly sincere, +and the quality of her was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>Already, within these few minutes, her skin had +begun to burn a delicate rose tint from the sun's +fierce reflection on the white sands. Her hair was +a splendid golden brown, her eyes darker, or perhaps +the long, dark lashes made them seem so. +She was daintily and prettily made, head, throat, +shoulders, and limbs; she wore a summer gown so +waistless and limp that it conformed to the corsetless +fashions in vogue, making evident here and +there the contours of her slim and supple figure.</p> + +<p>From the tip of her white shoe to the tip of her +hat she was the futile and exquisite essence of +Gotham.<span class="pagenumsmall">[163]</span></p> + +<p>Gray realised it because he lived there himself. +But he could not understand where all her +determination and obstinacy came from, for she +seemed so young and inexperienced, and there was +about her a childish dewiness of eye and lip that +suggested a blossom's fragrance.</p> + +<p>She was very lovely; and that was all very +well in its way, but Gray had come down there on +stern business, and how long his business might +last, and how long he was to inhabit a palmetto +bungalow above the coquina quarry he did not +know. The coquina quarry was as hot as the infernal +pit. Also, snakes frequented it.</p> + +<p>No black servant—promised him faithfully in +St. Augustine the day before—had yet arrived. +A few supplies had been sent over from St. Augustine, +and he was camping in his little house +of logs, along with wood-ticks, blue lizards, white +ants, gophers, hornets, and several chestnut-colored +scorpions.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't mind yielding the dog to you," he +admitted, "if I were not so horribly lonely on this +miserable island. When evening comes, <i>you</i> will +go back to luxury and comfort somewhere or +other, with dinner awaiting you and servants to do +everything, and a nice bed to retire to. That's +a pleasant picture, isn't it?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[164]</span></p> + +<p>"Very," she replied, with a slight shrug.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "please gaze mentally upon +this other picture. <i>I</i> am obliged to go back to a +shack haunted by every species of creature that +this wretched island harbours.</p> + +<p>"There will be no dinner for me except what +I can scoop out of a tin; no servants to do one +bally thing for me; no bed.</p> + +<p>"Listen attentively," he continued, becoming +slightly dramatic as he remembered more clearly +the horrors of the preceding night—his first on +Ibis Island. "I shall go into that devilish bungalow +and look around like a scared dog, standing +very carefully in the exact centre of the room. +And what will be the first object that my unwilling +eyes encounter? A scorpion! Perhaps +two, crawling out from the Spanish moss with +which the chinks of that miserable abode are +stuffed. I shall slay it—or <i>them</i>—as the case +may be. Then a blue-tailed lizard will frisk over +the ceiling—or perhaps one of those big, heavy +ones with blunt, red heads. Doubtless at that +same instant I shall discover a wood-tick advancing +up one of my trousers' legs. Spiders will begin +to move across the walls. Perhaps a snake +or two will then develop from some shadowy +corner."<span class="pagenumsmall">[165]</span></p> + +<p>He waved his arm impressively and pointed at +the sleeping puppy.</p> + +<p>"Under such circumstances," he said pathetically, +"would you care to deprive me of this little +companion sent by Providence for me to rescue +out of the sea?"</p> + +<p>She, too, had been steadily pouring sand between +her white fingers during the moving recital +of his woes. Now she looked up, controlling a +shudder.</p> + +<p>"Your circumstances, with all their attendant +horrors, are my own," she began. "I, also, since +last night, inhabit a picturesque but most horrid +bungalow not very far from here; and every one +of the creatures you describe, and several others +also, inhabit it with me. Do you wonder I want +<i>some</i> companionship? Do you wonder that I am +inclined to cling to this little dog—whether or +not it may seem ill bred and selfish to you?"</p> + +<p>He said: "I suppose all the houses in this +latitude harbour tarantulas, centipedes, and similar +things, but you must remember that you do +not live alone as I do——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I engaged two black servants in St. +Augustine, but they have not arrived, and I was<span class="pagenumsmall">[166]</span> +obliged to remain all alone in that frightful place +last night."</p> + +<p>"That's very odd," he said uneasily. "Where <i>is</i> +this bungalow of yours?"</p> + +<p>She started to speak, checked herself as at a +sudden and unpleasant thought, looked up at him +searchingly; and found his steel-grey eyes as +searchingly fixed on her.</p> + +<p>"Where is <i>your</i> bungalow?" she asked, watching +him intently.</p> + +<p>"Mine is situated at the west end of a coquina +quarry. Where is yours?"</p> + +<p>"Mine," she answered unsteadily but defiantly, +"is situated on the eastern edge of a coquina +quarry."</p> + +<p>"Why did <i>you</i> choose a quarry bungalow?"</p> + +<p>"Why did <i>you</i> choose one?"</p> + +<p>"Because the coquina quarry happens to belong +to me."</p> + +<p>"The quarry," she retorted, "belongs to <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>He was almost too disgusted to speak, but he +contrived to say, quietly and civilly:</p> + +<p>"You are Constance Leslie, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.... You are Johnson Gray?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," he answered, checking his exasperation +and forcing a smile. "It's rather odd, +isn't it—rather unfortunate, I'm afraid."<span class="pagenumsmall">[167]</span></p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> unfortunate for you, Mr. Gray," she returned +firmly. "I'm sorry—really sorry that this +long journey is in vain."</p> + +<p>"So am I," he said, with lips compressed.</p> + +<p>For a few moments they sat very still, not looking +at each other.</p> + +<p>Presently he said: "It was a fool of a will. +He was a most disagreeable old man."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> never saw him."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. They say he was a terror. But he +had a sense of humour—a grim and acrid one—the +cynic's idea of wit. No doubt he enjoyed +it. No doubt he is enjoying this very scene between +you and me—if he's anywhere within sight +or hearing——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say that!" she exclaimed, almost violently. +"It is horrible enough on this island without +hinting of ghosts."</p> + +<p>"Ghosts? Of course there are ghosts. But +I'd rather have my bungalow full of 'em than full +of scorpions."</p> + +<p>"We differ," she said coldly.</p> + +<p>Silence fell again, and again was broken by +Gray.</p> + +<p>"Certainly the old fellow had a sense of humour," +he insisted; "the will he left was one huge +joke on every relative who had expectations.<span class="pagenumsmall">[168]</span> +Imagine all that buzzard family of his who got +nothing to amount to anything; and all those distant +relatives who expected nothing and got almost +everything!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think that was humourous?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you? And I think what he did +about you and me was really very funny. Don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Why is it funny for a very horrid old man to +make a will full of grim jokes and jests, and take +that occasion to tell everybody exactly what he +thinks of everybody?"</p> + +<p>"He said nothing disagreeable about <i>us</i> that +I recollect," remarked Gray, laughing.</p> + +<p>Pouring sand between her fingers, she said:</p> + +<p>"I remember very well how he mentioned us. +He said that he had never seen either one of us, +and was glad of it. He said that as I was an orphan +with no money, and that as you were similarly +situated, and that as neither you nor I had +brains enough to ever make any, he would leave +his coquina quarry to that one of us who had +brains enough to get here first and stake the claim. +Do you call that an agreeable manner of making +a bequest?"</p> + +<p>Gray laughed easily: "<i>I</i> don't care what he +thought about my intellectual capacity."<span class="pagenumsmall">[169]</span></p> + +<p>"I suppose that I don't either. And anyway +the bequest may be valuable."</p> + +<p>"There is no doubt about that," said Gray.</p> + +<p>She let her brown eyes rest thoughtfully on +the ocean.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, "that I shall dispose of +it at once."</p> + +<p>"The dog?" he asked politely.</p> + +<p>Her pretty, hostile eyes met his:</p> + +<p>"The quarry," she replied calmly.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "Do you think +also that <i>you</i> arrived at the quarry before I arrived?"</p> + +<p>"You will find my stake with its written notice +sticking in the sand on the eastern edge of +the quarry, about a hundred yards south of my +bungalow!"</p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> notice is very carefully staked on the +western edge of the quarry about the same distance +from my bungalow," he said. "I placed it +there yesterday evening."</p> + +<p>"I also placed my notice there yesterday evening!"</p> + +<p>"By what train did you come?"</p> + +<p>"By the Verbena Special. It arrived at St. +Augustine yesterday at four o'clock in the afternoon."<span class="pagenumsmall">[170]</span></p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> also came on that train."</p> + +<p>"I," she said, "waited in St. Augustine only +long enough to telephone for servants, and then +I jumped into a victoria and drove over the causeway +to the eastern end of the quarry."</p> + +<p>"I did exactly the same," he insisted, "only I +drove to the western end of the quarry. What +time did you set your notice?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly. It was just about +dusk."</p> + +<p>"It was just about dusk when I drove in <i>my</i> +stake!"</p> + +<p>After a moment's idling in the sand with her +slim fingers, she looked up at him a trifle pale.</p> + +<p>"I suppose this means a lawsuit."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it does."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. If I wasn't in such desperate need +of money——" But she said no more, and he +also remained silent for a while. Then:</p> + +<p>"I shall write to my attorney to come down," +he said soberly. "You had better do the same +this evening."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"It's got to be settled, of course," he continued; +"because I'm too poor to concede the quarry to +you."</p> + +<p>"It is that way with me also. I do not like<span class="pagenumsmall">[171]</span> +to appear so selfish to you, but what am I to do, +Mr. Gray?"</p> + +<p>"What am <i>I</i> to do? I honestly believe that I +staked the quarry before you did.... And my +financial situation does not permit me to relinquish +my claim on the quarry."</p> + +<p>"What a horrid will that was!" she exclaimed, +the quick tears of vexation springing into her +brown eyes. "If you knew how hard I've worked, +Mr. Gray—all these years having nothing that +other girls have—being obliged to work my way +through college, and then take a position as governess—and +just as it seemed that relief was in +sight—<i>you</i> come into sight!—you!—and you even +try to take away my little dog—the only thing I—I +ever really cared for since I have—have been +alone in the world——"</p> + +<p>Gray sprang up nervously: "I'm sorry—terribly +sorry for you! You may keep the dog anyway."</p> + +<p>She had turned away her face sharply as the +quick tears started. Now she looked around at +him in unfeigned surprise.</p> + +<p>"But—what will <i>you</i> do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can stand being alone. I don't mind. +There's no doubt about it; you must have the +dog——" He glanced down at the little creature<span class="pagenumsmall">[172]</span> +and caught his breath sharply as the puppy +opened one eye and wagged its absurd tail feebly.</p> + +<p>The girl rose lightly and gracefully from the +sand, refusing his assistance, and stood looking +down at the puppy. The little thing was on its +clumsy feet, wagging and wriggling with happiness, +and gazing up adoringly from Gray to Constance +Leslie.</p> + +<p>The girl looked at the dog, then at Gray.</p> + +<p>"It—it seems too cruel," she said. "I can't +bear to take him away from you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right. I'll get on very well +alone."</p> + +<p>"You are generous. You are very generous. +But after the way you expressed yourself concerning +the dog, I don't feel that I can possibly +take him."</p> + +<p>"You really must. I don't blame you at all for +falling in love with him. Besides, one adores +what one rescues, above everything in the world."</p> + +<p>"But—but I thought that you thought <i>you</i> +had rescued him?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"It was a close call. I think perhaps that you +arrived just a fraction of a second sooner than +I did."</p> + +<p>"Do you really? Or do you say that to be kind? +Besides, I am not at all sure. It is perfectly possible—even,<span class="pagenumsmall">[173]</span> +perhaps, probable that you saw him +before I did."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so. I think he's your dog, +Miss Leslie. I surrender all claim to him——"</p> + +<p>"No! I can not permit you to do such a thing! +Forgive me. I was excited and a little vexed.... +I know you would be very unhappy if I took the +little thing——"</p> + +<p>"Please take him. I do love him already, but +that is why it gives me a p-p-peculiar pleasure to +relinquish all claims in y-your favour."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. It is—is charming of you—exceedingly +nice of you—but how can I accept such +a real sacrifice?... You would be perfectly +wretched to-night without him."</p> + +<p>"So would you, Miss Leslie."</p> + +<p>"I shall be wretched anyway. So it doesn't +really matter."</p> + +<p>"It <i>does</i> matter! If this little dog can alleviate +your unhappiness in the slightest degree, I +insist most firmly that you take him!"</p> + +<p>The girl stood irresolute, lifted her brown eyes +to his, lowered them, and gazed longingly at the +puppy.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose he will follow me?"</p> + +<p>"Try!"</p> + +<p>So she walked one way and Gray started in<span class="pagenumsmall">[174]</span> +the opposite direction, and the bewildered puppy, +who at first supposed it was all in play, dashed +from one back to the other, until the widening +distance between them perplexed and finally began +to trouble him.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he continued to run back and +forth from Gray to Constance Leslie as long as +his rather wavering legs held out. Then, unable +to decide, he stood panting midway between +them, whining at moments, until, unable to understand +or endure the spectacle of his two best +beloveds vanishing in opposite directions, he put +up his nose and howled.</p> + +<p>Then both best beloveds came back running, +and Constance snatched him to her breast and +covered him with caresses.</p> + +<p>"What on earth are we to do?" she said in consternation. +"We nearly broke his heart that +time."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> don't know what to do," he admitted, much +perplexed. "This pup seems to be impartial in +his new-born affections."</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said, with an admirable effort +at self-denial, "that he rather showed a preference +for <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because when he was sitting there howling his<span class="pagenumsmall">[175]</span> +little heart out, he seemed to look toward you a +little oftener than he gazed in my direction."</p> + +<p>Gray rose nobly to the self-effacing level of +his generous adversary:</p> + +<p>"No, the balance was, if anything, in your +favour. I'm very certain that he will be happier +with you. T-take him!"</p> + +<p>The girl buried her pretty face in the puppy's +coat as though it had been a fluffy muff.</p> + +<p>"What a pity," she said, in a muffled voice, +"that he is compelled to make a choice. It will +break his heart; I know it will. He is too young."</p> + +<p>"He'll very soon forget me, once he is alone +with you in your bungalow."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head and stood caressing +the puppy. The soft, white hand, resting on the +dog's head, fascinated Gray.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he ventured, "I had better walk as +far as your bungalow with you.... It may +spare the dog a certain amount of superficial +anguish."</p> + +<p>She nodded, dreamy-eyed there in the sunshine. +And of what she might be thinking he could form +no idea.<span class="pagenumsmall">[176]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/ch19.jpg" width="400" height="126" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XIX</h2> + +<p>He fell into step beside her, and they +walked up from the little cover through +the beach-grapes and out among the +scrubby dunes, where in the heated silence the +perfume of sweet-bay and pines mingled with the +odour of the sea.</p> + +<p>Everywhere the great sulphur-coloured butterflies +were flying, making gorgeous combinations +with the smaller, orange butterflies and the great, +velvet-winged Palamedes swallow-tail.</p> + +<p>Lizards frisked and raced away before them, +emerald tinted, green with sky-blue tails, grey +and red; the little gophers scurried into their +burrows along the tangled hammock's edges. Over +the palm-trees' feathery crests sailed a black vulture, +its palmated wing-tips spread like inky +fingers against the blue. Somewhere in the saw-grass +a bittern boomed and boomed; and the seagulls' +clamour rang incessantly above the thunder +of the surf.<span class="pagenumsmall">[177]</span></p> + +<p>"I wonder," she murmured, "whether my sunburn +makes me drowsy."</p> + +<p>"It's the climate. You'll feel sleepy for a week +before you are acclimated," he said.... "Why +don't you put down the puppy and let him follow?"</p> + +<p>She did so; and the little creature frisked and +leaped and padded joyously about among the bayberry +bushes, already possessed with the canine +determination to investigate all the alluring smells +in the world, and miss none of them.</p> + +<p>After a little while they arrived at the bungalow +which Constance had chosen. The girl +pushed open the unlocked door; the puppy +pranced in like a diminutive hobby-horse, flushed +a big lizard, and went into fits of excitement till +the solitary cabin rang with his treble barking.</p> + +<p>They watched him through the doorway, laughingly; +then Gray looked at the claim notice stuck +upright in the sand. Presently he walked to the +edge of the coquina quarry and looked down into +it.</p> + +<p>Thousands of dollars' worth of the shell deposit +lay already exposed. There were great strata of +it; ledges, shelves, vast masses in every direction. +The quarry had been worked very little, and that +little had been accomplished stupidly. Either in<span class="pagenumsmall">[178]</span> +the rough, or merely as lumps of conglomerate for +crushing, the coquina in sight alone was very, +very valuable. There could be no doubt of that.</p> + +<p>Also, he understood that the strata deposited +there continued at least for half a mile to the +westward, where his own bungalow marked its +probable termination.</p> + +<p>He turned after a few minutes' inspection, and +walked slowly back to where Constance was standing +by the open door. A slight constraint, +amounting almost to embarrassment, ensued for a +few minutes, but the puppy dissipated it when he +leaped at a butterfly, fell on his nose with a +thump, and howled dismally until reassured by +his anxious foster-parents, who caught him up and +generously passed him to each other, petting him +vigourously.</p> + +<p>Twice Gray said good-bye to Constance Leslie +and started to go on toward his own bungalow, +but the puppy invariably began a frantic series of +circles embracing them both, and he had to come +back to keep the dog from the demoralisation of +utter exhaustion.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "this is going to be awkward. +I believe that dog thinks we are mar—thinks +we are sister and brother. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>She replied with a slight flush on her fair face,<span class="pagenumsmall">[179]</span> +that the dog undoubtedly cherished some such +idea.</p> + +<p>"Take him inside," said Gray firmly. "Then I'll +beat it."</p> + +<p>So she took the puppy inside and closed the +door, with a smiling nod of adieu to Gray. But +he had not gone very far when he heard her clear, +far call; and, turning, saw her beckon frantically.</p> + +<p>Back he came at top speed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," she exclaimed. "Oh, dear! He's +tearing 'round and 'round the room moaning and +whining and barking. I'm very certain he will +have fits if you don't speak to him."</p> + +<p>Gray opened the door cautiously, and the little +dog came out, projected like a bolt from a catapult, +fairly flinging his quivering little body into +Gray's arms.</p> + +<p>The reunion was elaborate and mutually satisfying. +Constance furtively touched her brown +eyes with a corner of her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"What on earth are we to do?" she asked, unfeignedly +affected. "I would give him to you in +a minute if you think he would be contented without +me."</p> + +<p>"We can try it."</p> + +<p>So Constance started westward, across the +dunes, and Gray went into the bungalow with the<span class="pagenumsmall">[180]</span> +dog. But it required only a second or two to +convince him that it wouldn't do, and he opened +the door and called frantically to Constance.</p> + +<p>"There is no use in trying that sort of thing," +he admitted, when Constance hastened back to a +touching reunion with the imprisoned dog. +"Strategy is our only hope. I'll sit here on the +threshold with you, and as soon as he goes to sleep +I'll slink away."</p> + +<p>So side by side they seated themselves on the +sandy threshold of the bungalow, and the little +dog, happy and contented, curled up on the floor +of the room, tucked his blunt muzzle into his flank, +and took a series of naps with one eye always +open. He was young, but suspicion had already +done its demoralising work with him, and he intended +to keep at least one eye on his best beloveds.</p> + +<p>She in her fresh and clinging gown, with the +first delicate sunmask tinting her unaccustomed +skin, sat silent and distrait, her idle fingers linked +in her lap. And, glancing askance at her now +and then, the droop of her under lip seemed to +him pathetic, like that of a tired child in trouble.</p> + +<p>When he was not looking at her he was immersed +in perplexed cogitation. The ownership +of the dog he had already settled in his mind; the<span class="pagenumsmall">[181]</span> +ownership of the quarry he had supposed he had +settled.</p> + +<p>Therefore, why was he so troubled about it? +Why was he so worried about her, wondering what +she would do in the matter?</p> + +<p>The only solution left seemed to lie in a recourse +to the law—unless—unless——</p> + +<p>But he couldn't—he simply couldn't, merely +for a sentimental impulse, give up to a stranger +what he honestly considered an inheritance. That +would be carrying sentimentalism too far.</p> + +<p>And yet—and yet! He needed the inheritance +desperately. Matters financial had gone all wrong +with him. How <i>could</i> he turn his back on offered +salvation just because a youthful and pretty girl +also required a financial lift in a cold-blooded +and calculating world?</p> + +<p>And yet—and yet! He would sleep over it, +of course. But he honestly saw no prospect of +changing his opinion concerning the ownership of +the quarry.</p> + +<p>As he sat there biting a stem of sweet-bay and +listening to the cardinals piping from the forest, +he looked down into the heated coquina pit.</p> + +<p>A snake was coiled up on one of the ledges, +basking.</p> + +<p>"Miss Leslie!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[182]</span></p> + +<p>She lifted her head and straightened her drooping +shoulders, looking at him from eyes made +drowsy and beautiful by the tropic heat.</p> + +<p>"I only wanted to say," he began gravely, +"that it is not safe for you to go into the quarry +alone—in case you had any such intention."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"There are snakes there. Do you see that one? +Well, he's harmless, I think—a king-snake, if I +am not mistaken. But it's a good place for rattlers."</p> + +<p>"Then you should be careful, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm careful enough, but you might not +know when to be on your guard. This island is +a snaky one. It's famous for its diamond-back +rattlers and the size of them. Their fangs are +an inch long, and it usually means death to be +struck by one of them."</p> + +<p>The girl nodded thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>He said with a new anxiety: "As a matter of +fact, you really ought not to be down here all +alone."</p> + +<p>"I know it. But it meant a race for ownership, +and I had to come at a minute's notice."</p> + +<p>"You should have brought a maid."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Gray, I have no maid."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot," he muttered—"but, somehow,<span class="pagenumsmall">[183]</span> +you <i>look</i> as though you had been born to several."</p> + +<p>"I am the daughter of a very poor professor."</p> + +<p>He fidgetted with his sweet-bay twig, considering +the aromatic leaves with a troubled and concentrated +scowl.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "this wretched island is +celebrated for its unpleasant fauna. Scorpions +and wood-ticks are numerous. The sting of the +one is horribly painful, and might be dangerous; +the villainous habits of the other might throw +you into a fever."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?" she inquired calmly.</p> + +<p>"There are other kinds of snakes, too," he +went on with increasing solicitude for this girl +for whom, suddenly, he began to consider himself +responsible. "There's a vicious snake called a +moccasin; and he won't get out of your way or +warn you. And there's a wicked little serpent +with rings of black, scarlet, and yellow around his +body. He pretends to be harmless, but if he gets +your finger into his mouth he'll chew it full of a +venom which is precisely the same sort of venom +as that of the deadly East Indian cobra."</p> + +<p>"But—what can I do?" she repeated pitifully. +"If I go to St. Augustine and leave you here in +possession, it might invalidate my claim."<span class="pagenumsmall">[184]</span></p> + +<p>He was silent, knowing no more about the law +than did she, and afraid to deny her tentative assertion.</p> + +<p>"If it lay with me," he said, "I'd call a truce +until you could go to St. Augustine and return +again with the proper people to look out for +you."</p> + +<p>"Even if you were kind enough to do that, I +could not afford even a servant under present—and +unexpected—conditions."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it has suddenly developed that I shall +be obliged to engage a lawyer. And I had not +expected that."</p> + +<p>He reddened to his hair but said nothing. After +a while the girl looked over her shoulder. The +puppy slept, this time with both eyes closed.</p> + +<p>When she turned again to Gray, he nodded his +comprehension and rose to his feet cautiously.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to take a walk on the beach and +think this thing all out," he whispered, taking the +slim, half-offered hand in adieu. "Don't go out +in the scrub after sun-down. Rattlers move then. +Don't go near any swamp; moccasins are the +colour of sun-baked mud, and you can't see them. +Don't touch any pretty little snake marked scarlet, +black, and yellow——"<span class="pagenumsmall">[185]</span></p> + +<p>"How absurd!" she whispered. "As though I +were likely to fondle snakes!"</p> + +<p>"I'm terribly worried about you," he insisted, +retaining her hand.</p> + +<p>"Please don't be."</p> + +<p>"How can I help it—what with these bungalows +full of scorpions and——"</p> + +<p>"Yours is, too," she said anxiously. "You will +be very careful, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course.... I'm—I'm uncertain +about you. That's what is troubling me——"</p> + +<p>"Please don't bother about me. I've had to +look out for myself for years."</p> + +<p>"Have you?" he said, almost tenderly. Then +he drew a quick, determined breath.</p> + +<p>"You'll be careful, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Are you armed?"</p> + +<p>"I have a shot-gun inside."</p> + +<p>"That's all right. Don't open your door to +any stranger.... You know I simply hate to +leave you alone this way——"</p> + +<p>"But I have the dog," she reminded him, with +a pretty flush of gratitude.</p> + +<p>He had retained her hand longer than the +easiest convention required or permitted. So he +released it, hesitated, then with a visible effort<span class="pagenumsmall">[186]</span> +he turned on his heel and strode away westward +across the scrub.</p> + +<p>The sun hung low behind the tall, parti-coloured +shaft of the Light House, towering smooth +and round high above the forest.</p> + +<p>He looked up at Ibis Light, at the circling +buzzards above it, then walked on, scarcely knowing +where he was going, until he walked into the +door of his own bungalow, and several large spiders +scattered into flight across the floor.</p> + +<p>"There's no use," he said aloud to an audience +of lizards clinging to the silvery bark of the log-room. +"I can't take that quarry. I can't do it—whether +it belongs to me or not. <i>How</i> can a +big, strong, lumbering young man do a thing like +that? No. No. <i>No!</i>"</p> + +<p>He picked up a pencil and a sheet of paper:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord! I really do need the money, but I +can't do it."</p> + +<p>And he wrote:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Miss Leslie</span>:</p> + +<p>You arrived on the scene before I did. I am now +convinced of this. I shall not dispute the ownership +of the quarry. It is yours. This statement over my +signature is your guarantee that I shall never interfere +with your title to the coquina quarry on Ibis +Island.</p> +<p><span class="pagenumsmall">[187]</span></p> +<p>So now I've got to return to New York and go to +work. I'm going across to Augustine in a few +moments; and while I'm there I'll engage a white +woman as companion for you, and a white servant, +and have them drive over at once so they will reach +your bungalow before evening. With undisputed +title to the quarry, you can easily afford their wages.</p> + +<p>Good-bye. I wish you every happiness and success. +Please give my love to the dog.</p> + +<p class="author"> +Yours very truly, <br> +<span class="smcap">Johnson Gray.</span><br> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"It's the only way out of it," he muttered. "I'll +leave it with her and bolt before she reads it. +There is nothing else to do, absolutely nothing."</p> + +<p>As he came out of his cabin, the sun hung low +and red above the palm forest, and a few bats +were already flying like tiny black devils above +the scrub.</p> + +<p>There was a strip of beach near his cabin, and +he went down to it and began to tramp up and +down with a vague idea of composing himself so +that he might accomplish what he had to do gracefully, +gaily, and with no suspicion of striking an +attitude for gods and men to admire his moral +resignation and his heroic renunciation.</p> + +<p>No; he'd do the thing lightly, smilingly, determined +that she should not think that it was a<span class="pagenumsmall">[188]</span> +sacrifice. No; she must believe that a sense of +fairness alone moved him to an honest recognition +of her claims. He must make it plain to her +that he really believed she had arrived at the +quarry before he had.</p> + +<p>And so he meant to leave her the letter, say +good-bye, and go.</p> + +<p>When this was all settled in his mind he looked +at the ocean very soberly, then turned his back +on the Atlantic and walked back to his cabin to +gather up his effects.</p> + +<p>As he approached the closed door a desolate +howl from the interior greeted him: he sprang to +the door and flung it open; and the puppy rushed +into his arms.</p> + +<p>Then, pinned to the scorpion-infested wall, he +saw a sheet of writing, and he read:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Gray</span>:</p> + +<p>He woke up and howled for you. It was too +tragic for me. I love him but I give him to you. I +give the quarry to you, also. Under the circumstances +it would be impossible for me to enjoy it, +even if the law awarded it to me. Nobody could ever +really know which one of us first arrived and staked +the claim. No doubt you did.</p> + +<p>I am sorry I came into your life and made trouble +for you and for the puppy.</p> +<p><span class="pagenumsmall">[189]</span></p> +<p>So I leave you in peaceful possession. It really +is a happiness for me to do it.</p> + +<p>I am going North at once. Good-bye; and please +give my love to the dog. Poor little darling, he +thought we both stood <i>in loco parentis</i>. But he'll get +over his grief for me.</p> + +<p class="author"> +Yours truly, <br> +<span class="smcap">Constance Leslie</span>.<br> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The puppy at his feet was howling uncomforted +for the best beloved who was so strangely +missing from the delightful combination which he +had so joyously accepted <i>in loco parentis</i>.<span class="pagenumsmall">[190]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<img src="images/ch20.jpg" width="425" height="356" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XX</h2> + +<p>Gray gathered the dog into his arms and +strode swiftly out into the sunshot, purple +light of early evening.</p> + +<p>"What a girl!" he muttered to himself. "What +a girl! What a corking specimen of her sex!"</p> + +<p>Presently he came in sight of her, and the +puppy scrambled violently until set down. Then +he bolted for Constance Leslie, and it was only +when the little thing leaped frantically upon her +that she turned with a soft, breathless little cry. +And saw Gray coming toward her out of the rose +and golden sunset.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke as he came up and looked into +her brown eyes and saw the traces of tears there +still. The puppy leaped deliriously about them. +And for a long while her slim hands lay limply in<span class="pagenumsmall">[191]</span> +his. He looked at the ocean; she at the darkening +forest.</p> + +<p>And after a little while he drew the note from +his pocket.</p> + +<p>"I had written this when I found yours," he +said. And he held it for her while she read it, +bending nearer in the dim, rosy light.</p> + +<p>After she read it she took it from him gently, +folded it, and slipped it into the bosom of her +gown.</p> + +<p>Neither said anything. One of her hands still +remained in his, listlessly at first—then the fingers +crisped as his other arm encircled her.</p> + +<p>They were both gazing vaguely at the ocean +now. Presently they moved slowly toward it +through the fragrant dusk. Her hair, loosened a +little, brushed his sunburned cheek.</p> + +<p>And around them gambolled the wise little dog, +no longer apprehensive, but unutterably content +with what the God of all good little doggies had +so mercifully sent to him <i>in loco parentis</i>.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"That," said the novelist, "is another slice of +fact which would never do for fiction. Besides +I once read a story somewhere or other about a +dog bringing two people together."<span class="pagenumsmall">[192]</span></p> + +<p>"The theme," I observed, "is thousands of years +old."</p> + +<p>"That's the trouble with all truth," nodded +Duane. "It's old as Time itself, and needs a new +suit of clothes every time it is exhibited to instruct +people."</p> + +<p>"What with new manners, new fashions, new +dances, and the moral levelling itself gradually to +the level of the unmoral," said Stafford, "nobody +on the street would turn around to look at the +naked truth in these days."</p> + +<p>"Truth must be fashionably gowned to attract," +I admitted.</p> + +<p>"We of the eccentric nobility understand that," +said the little Countess Athalie, glancing out of +the window; and to me she added: "Lean over +and see whether they have stationed a policeman +in front of the Princess Zimbamzim's residence."</p> + +<p>I went out on the balcony and glanced down +the block. "Yes," I said.</p> + +<p>"Poor old Princess," murmured the girl. "She +detests moving."</p> + +<p>"All frauds do," remarked Duane.</p> + +<p>"She isn't a fraud," said Athalie quietly.</p> + +<p>Our silence indicated our surprise. After a +few moments the girl added:</p> + +<p>"Whatever else she may be she is not a fraud<span class="pagenumsmall">[193]</span> +in her profession. I think I had better give you +an example of her professional probity. It interested +me considerably as I followed it in my +crystal. She knew all the while that I was watching +her as well as the very people she herself +was watching; and once or twice she looked up +at me out of my crystal and grinned."</p> + +<p>"Can she see us now?" I inquired uneasily.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Duane.</p> + +<p>"I shall not tell you why."</p> + +<p>"Not that I care whether she sees me or not," +he added.</p> + +<p>"Do you care, Harry, whether I see you occasionally +in my crystal?" smiled Athalie.</p> + +<p>Duane flushed brightly and reminded her that +she was too honourable to follow the movements +of her personal friends unless requested to do so +by them.</p> + +<p>"That is quite true," rejoined the girl, simply. +"But once I saw you when I did not mean to."</p> + +<p>"Well?" he demanded, redder still.</p> + +<p>"You were merely asleep in your own bed," she +said, laughing and accepting a lighted match +from me. Then as the fragrant thread of smoke +twisted in ghostly ringlets across her smooth +young cheeks she settled back among her cushions.<span class="pagenumsmall">[194]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/ch21.jpg" width="250" height="529" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXI</h2> + +<p>"This," she said, "will acquaint you in a +measure with the trustworthiness of the +Princess Zimbamzim. And, if the policeman +in front of her house could hear what I am +going to tell you, he'd never remain there while his +legs had power to run away with him."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They met by accident on Madison Square, and +shook hands for the first time in many years. +High in the Metropolitan Tower the chimes celebrated +the occasion by sounding the half hour.</p> + +<p>"It seems incredible," exclaimed George Z.<span class="pagenumsmall">[195]</span> +Green, "that you could have become so famous! +You never displayed any remarkable ability in +school."</p> + +<p>"I never displayed any ability at all. But you +did," said Williams admiringly. "How beautifully +you used to write your name on the blackboard! +How neat and scholarly you were in everything."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Green gloomily. "And <i>you</i> +flunked in almost everything."</p> + +<p>"In everything," admitted Williams, deeply +mortified.</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Green, "here we are at thirty +odd; and I'm merely a broker, and—<i>look</i> what +<i>you</i> are! Why, I can't go anywhere but I find +one of your novels staring me in the face. I've +been in Borneo: they're there! They're in Australia +and China and Patagonia. Why the devil +do you suppose people buy the stories you write?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," said Williams modestly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know either, though I read them myself +sometimes—I don't know why. They're all +very well in their way—if you care for that sort +of book—but the things you tell about, Williams, +never could have happened. I'm not knocking +you; I'm a realist, that's all. And when I read a +short story by you in which a young man sees a<span class="pagenumsmall">[196]</span> +pretty girl, and begins to talk to her without +being introduced to her, and then marries her before +luncheon—and finds he's married a Balkan +Princess—good-night! I just wonder why people +stand for your books; that's all."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Williams, much embarrassed. +"I wouldn't stand for them myself."</p> + +<p>"Why," continued Green warmly, "I read a +story of yours in some magazine the other day, in +which a young man sees a pretty girl for the first +time in his life and is married to her inside of +three quarters of an hour! And I ask <i>you</i>, Williams, +how you would feel after spending fifteen +cents on such a story?"</p> + +<p>"I'm terribly sorry, old man," murmured Williams. +"Here's your fifteen—if you like——"</p> + +<p>"Dammit," said Green indignantly, "it isn't +that they're not readable stories! I had fifteen +cents' worth all right. But it makes a man sore +to see what happens to the young men in your +stories—and all the queens they collect—and then +to go about town and never see anything of that +sort!"</p> + +<p>"There are millions of pretty girls in town," +ventured Williams. "I don't think I exaggerate in +that respect."</p> + +<p>"But they'd call an officer if young men in real<span class="pagenumsmall">[197]</span> +life behaved as they do in your stories. As a +matter of fact and record, there's no more romance +in New York than there is in the annual +meeting of the British Academy of Ancient Assyrian +Inscriptions. And you know it, Williams!"</p> + +<p>"I think it depends on the individual man," said +Williams timidly.</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"If there's any romance in a man himself, he's +apt to find the world rather full of it."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say there isn't any romance +in me?" demanded George Z. Green hotly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, George. Is there?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty. Pl-en-ty! I'm always looking for +romance. I look for it when I go down town to +business; I look for it when I go home. Do I +find it? No! Nothing ever happens to me. Nothing +beautiful and wealthy beyond the dreams of +avarice ever tries to pick me up. Explain <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>Williams, much abashed, ventured no explanation.</p> + +<p>"And to think," continued Green, "that you, +my old school friend, should become a celebrity +merely by writing such stories! Why, you're as +celebrated as any brand of breakfast food!"</p> + +<p>"You don't have to read my books, you know," +protested Williams mildly.<span class="pagenumsmall">[198]</span></p> + +<p>"I don't have to—I know it. But I do. +Everybody does. And nobody knows why. So, +meeting you again after all these unromantic +years, I thought I'd just ask you whether by any +chance you happen to know of any particular +section of the city where a plain, everyday broker +might make a hit with the sort of girl you write +about. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Any section of this city is romantic enough—if +you only approach it in the proper spirit," +asserted Williams.</p> + +<p>"You mean if my attitude toward romance is +correct I'm likely to encounter it almost anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"That is my theory," admitted Williams bashfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Well, what <i>is</i> the proper attitude? Take +me, for example. I've just been to the bank. I +carry, at this moment, rather a large sum of +money in my inside overcoat pocket. My purpose +in drawing it was to blow it. Now, tell me how +to blow it romantically."</p> + +<p>"How can I tell you such a thing, George——"</p> + +<p>"It's your business. You tell people such +things in books. Now, tell me, face to face, man +to man, how to get thoroughly mixed up in the +sort of romance you write—the kind of romance<span class="pagenumsmall">[199]</span> +that has made William McWilliam Williams famous!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry——"</p> + +<p>"What! You won't! You admit that what +you write is bunk? You confess that you don't +know where there are any stray queens with whom +I might become happily entangled within the next +fifteen minutes?"</p> + +<p>"I admit no such thing," said Williams with +dignity. "If your attitude is correct, in ten minutes +you can be up against anything on earth!"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere!"</p> + +<p>"Very well! Here we are on Madison Square. +There's Admiral Farragut; there's the Marble +Tower. Do you mean that if I walk from this +spot for ten minutes—no matter in what direction—I'll +walk straight into Romance up to my +neck?"</p> + +<p>"If your attitude is correct, yes. But you've +got to know the elements of Romance when you +see them."</p> + +<p>"What are the elements of Romance? What +do they resemble?" demanded George Z. Green.</p> + +<p>Williams said, in a low, impressive voice:</p> + +<p>"Anything that seems to you unusual is very +likely to be an element in a possible romance. If<span class="pagenumsmall">[200]</span> +you see anything extraordinary during the next +ten minutes, follow it up. And ninety-nine chances +in a hundred it will lead you into complications. +Interfering with other people's business usually +does," he added pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"But," said Green, "suppose during the next +ten minutes, or twenty minutes, or the next twenty-four +hours I <i>don't</i> see anything unusual."</p> + +<p>"It will be your own fault if you don't. The +Unusual is occurring all about us, every second. +A trained eye can always see it."</p> + +<p>"But suppose the Unusual doesn't occur for +the next ten minutes," insisted Green, exasperated. +"Suppose the Unusual is taking a vacation? It +would be just my luck."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Williams, "you will have to +imagine that everything you see is unusual. Or +else," he added blandly, "you yourself will have +to start something. <i>That</i> is where the creative +mind comes in. When there's nothing doing it +starts something."</p> + +<p>"Does it ever get arrested?" inquired Green +ironically. "The creative mind! Sure! <i>That's</i> +where all this bally romance is!—in the creative +mind. I knew it. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>They shook hands; Williams went down town.<span class="pagenumsmall">[201]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 270px;"> +<img src="images/ch22.jpg" width="270" height="473" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXII</h2> + +<p>This picture is not concerned with his destination. +Or even whether he ever got +there.</p> + +<p>But it is very directly concerned with George +Z. Green, and the direction he took when he parted +from his old school friend.</p> + +<p>As he walked up town he said to himself, +"Bunk!" several times. After a few moments he +fished out his watch.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm an ass," he said to himself, "but +I'll take a chance. I'll give myself exactly ten +minutes to continue making an ass of myself. And +if I see the faintest symptom of Romance—if I<span class="pagenumsmall">[202]</span> +notice anything at all peculiar and unusual in +any person or any thing during the next ten minutes, +I won't let it get away—believe <i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>He walked up Broadway instead of Fifth Avenue. +After a block or two he turned west at +hazard, crossed Sixth Avenue and continued.</p> + +<p>He was walking in one of the upper Twenties—he +had not particularly noticed which. Commercial +houses nearly filled the street, although a +few old-time residences of brownstone still remained. +Once well-to-do and comfortable homes, +they had degenerated into chop sueys, boarding +houses, the abodes of music publishers, artificial +flower makers, and mediums.</p> + +<p>It was now a shabby, unkempt street, and Green +already was considering it a hopeless hunting +ground, and had even turned to retrace his steps +toward Sixth Avenue, when the door of a neighbouring +house opened and down the shabby, +brownstone stoop came hurrying an exceedingly +pretty girl.</p> + +<p>Now, the unusual part of the incident lay in +the incongruity of the street and the girl. For +the street and the house out of which she emerged +so hastily were mean and ignoble; but the girl +herself fairly radiated upper Fifth Avenue from +the perfectly appointed and expensive simplicity<span class="pagenumsmall">[203]</span> +of hat and gown to the obviously aristocratic and +dainty face and figure.</p> + +<p>"Is <i>she</i> a symptom?" thought Green to himself. +"Is <i>she</i> an element? That is sure a rotten looking +joint she came out of."</p> + +<p>Moved by a sudden and unusual impulse of intelligence, +he ran up the brownstone stoop and +read the dirty white card pasted on the façade +above the door bell.</p> + +<p class="h3"> +THE PRINCESS ZIMBAMZIM<br> +TRANCE MEDIUM. FORTUNES.<br> +</p> + +<p>Taken aback, he looked after the pretty girl +who was now hurrying up the street as though the +devil were at her dainty heels.</p> + +<p>Could <i>she</i> be the Princess Zimbamzim? Common +sense rejected the idea, as did the sudden jerk +of soiled lace curtains at the parlour window, and +the apparition of a fat lady in a dingy, pink tea-gown. +<i>That</i> must be the Princess Zimbamzim and +the pretty girl had ventured into these purlieus +to consult her. Why?</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> certainly a symptom of romance!" +thought the young man excitedly. And he started +after the pretty girl at a Fifth Avenue amble.</p> + +<p>He overtook and passed her at Sixth Avenue, +and managed to glance at her without being offensive.<span class="pagenumsmall">[204]</span> +To his consternation, she was touching +her tear-stained eyes with her handkerchief. She +did not notice him.</p> + +<p>What could be the matter? With what mystery +was he already in touch?</p> + +<p>Tremendously interested he fell back a few +paces and lighted a cigarette, allowing her to +pass him; then he followed her. Never before in +his life had he done such a scandalous thing.</p> + +<p>On Broadway she hailed a taxi, got into it, and +sped uptown. There was another taxi available; +Green took it and gave the driver a five dollar tip +to keep the first taxi in view.</p> + +<p>Which was very easy, for it soon stopped at a +handsome apartment house on Park Avenue; the +girl sprang out, and entered the building almost +running.</p> + +<p>For a moment George Z. Green thought that all +was lost. But the taxi she had taken remained, +evidently waiting for her; and sure enough, in a +few minutes out she came, hurrying, enveloped in +a rough tweed travelling coat and carrying a little +satchel. Slam! went the door of her taxi; and +away she sped, and Green after her in his taxi.</p> + +<p>Again the chase proved to be very short. Her +taxi stopped at the Pennsylvania Station; out +she sprang, paid the driver, and hurried straight<span class="pagenumsmall">[205]</span> +for the station restaurant, Green following at a +fashionable lope.</p> + +<p>She took a small table by a window; Green +took the next one. It was not because she noticed +him and found his gaze offensive, but because +she felt a draught that she rose and took the table +behind Green, exactly where he could not see her +unless he twisted his neck into attitudes unseemly.</p> + +<p>He wouldn't do such things, being really a +rather nice young man; and it was too late for +him to change his table without attracting her attention, +because the waiter already had brought +him whatever he had ordered for tea—muffins, +buns, crumpets—he neither knew nor cared.</p> + +<p>So he ate them with jam, which he detested; +and drank his tea and listened with all his ears +for the slightest movement behind him which might +indicate that she was leaving.</p> + +<p>Only once did he permit himself to turn around, +under pretense of looking for a waiter; and he +saw two blue eyes still brilliant with unshed tears +and a very lovely but unhappy mouth all ready +to quiver over its toast and marmalade.</p> + +<p>What on earth could be the matter with that +girl? What terrible tragedy could it be that was +still continuing to mar her eyes and twitch her +sensitive, red lips?<span class="pagenumsmall">[206]</span></p> + +<p>Green, sipping his tea, trembled pleasantly all +over as he realised that at last he was setting his +foot upon the very threshold of Romance. And +he determined to cross that threshold if neither +good manners, good taste, nor the police interfered.</p> + +<p>And what a wonderful girl for his leading lady! +What eyes! What hair! What lovely little +hands, with the gloves hastily rolled up from the +wrist! Why should she be unhappy? He'd like +to knock the block off any man who——</p> + +<p>Green came to himself with a thrill of happiness: +her pretty voice was sounding in exquisite +modulations behind him as she asked the waiter +for m-more m-marmalade.</p> + +<p>In a sort of trance, Green demolished bun after +bun. Normally, he loathed the indigestible. +After what had seemed to him an interminable +length of time, he ventured to turn around again +in pretense of calling a waiter.</p> + +<p>Her chair was empty!</p> + +<p>At first he thought she had disappeared past all +hope of recovery; but the next instant he caught +sight of her hastening out toward the ticket boxes.</p> + +<p>Flinging a five-dollar bill on the table, he hastily +invited the waiter to keep the change; sprang +to his feet, and turned to seize his overcoat. It<span class="pagenumsmall">[207]</span> +was gone from the hook where he had hung it just +behind him.</p> + +<p>Astonished, he glanced at the disappearing girl, +and saw his overcoat over her arm. For a moment +he supposed that she had mistaken it for her +own ulster, but no! She was wearing her own +coat, too.</p> + +<p>A cold and sickening sensation assailed the pit +of Green's stomach. Was it not a mistake, after +all? Was this lovely young girl a professional +criminal? Had she or some of her band observed +Green coming out of the bank and thrusting a fat +wallet into the inside pocket of his overcoat?</p> + +<p>He was walking now, as fast as he was thinking, +keeping the girl in view amid the throngs passing +through the vast rotunda.</p> + +<p>When she stopped at a ticket booth he entered +the brass railed space behind her.</p> + +<p>She did not appear to know exactly where she +was going, for she seemed by turns distrait and +agitated; and he heard her ask the ticket agent +when the next train left for the extreme South.</p> + +<p>Learning that it left in a few minutes, and finding +that she could secure a stateroom, she took +it, paid for it, and hastily left without a glance +behind her at Green.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Green had very calmly slipped one<span class="pagenumsmall">[208]</span> +hand into the breast pocket of his own overcoat, +where it trailed loosely over her left arm, meaning +to extract his wallet without anybody observing him. +The wallet was not there. He was +greatly inclined to run after her, but he didn't. +He watched her depart, then:</p> + +<p>"Is there another stateroom left on the Verbena +Special?" he inquired of the ticket agent, +coolly enough.</p> + +<p>"One. Do you wish it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The ticket agent made out the coupons and +shoved the loose change under the grille, saying:</p> + +<p>"Better hurry, sir. You've less than a minute."</p> + +<p>He ran for his train and managed to swing +aboard just as the coloured porters were closing +the vestibules and the train was in motion.</p> + +<p>A trifle bewildered at what he had done, and +by the rapidity with which he had done it, he sank +down in the vacant observation car to collect his +thoughts.</p> + +<p>He was on board the Verbena Special—the +southern train-de-luxe—bound for Jacksonville, +St. Augustine, Palm Beach, Verbena Inlet, or Miami—or +for Nassau, Cuba, and the remainder of +the West Indies—just as he chose.</p> + +<p>He had no other luggage than a walking-stick.<span class="pagenumsmall">[209]</span> +Even his overcoat was in possession of somebody +else. That was the situation that now faced +George Z. Green.</p> + +<p>But as the train emerged from the river tube, +and he realised all this, he grew calmer; and the +calmer he grew the happier he grew.</p> + +<p>He was no longer on the threshold of Romance; +he had crossed it, and already he was being +whirled away blindly into the Unusual and the +Unknown!</p> + +<p>Exultingly he gazed out of the windows upon +the uninspiring scenery of New Jersey. A wonderful +sense of physical lightness and mental freedom +took delightful possession of him. Opportunity +had not beckoned him in vain. Chance +had glanced sideways at him, and he had recognised +the pretty flirt. His was certainly some +brain!</p> + +<p>And now, still clinging to the skirts of Chance, +he was being whisked away, pell mell, headlong +toward Destiny, in the trail of a slender, strange +young girl who had swiped his overcoat and who +seemed continually inclined to tears.</p> + +<p>The incident of the overcoat no longer troubled +him. That garment of his was not unlike the +rough travelling coat she herself wore. And it +might have been natural to her, in her distress of<span class="pagenumsmall">[210]</span> +mind and very evident emotion, to have seized it +by mistake and made off with it, forgetting that +she still wore her own.</p> + +<p>Of course it was a mistake pure and simple. +He had only to look at the girl and understand +that. One glance at her sweet, highbred features +was sufficient to exonerate her as a purloiner +of gentlemen's garments.</p> + +<p>Green crossed his legs, folded his arms, and +reflected. The overcoat was another and most +important element in this nascent Romance.</p> + +<p>The difficulty lay in knowing how to use the +overcoat to advantage in furthering and further +complicating a situation already delightful.</p> + +<p>Of course he could do the obvious: he could +approach her and take off his hat and do the well-bred +and civil and explain to her the mistake.</p> + +<p>But suppose she merely said: "I'm sorry," +handed over his coat, and continued to read her +magazine. That would end it. And it mustn't +end until he found out why she had emerged with +tears in her beautiful eyes from the abode of the +Princess Zimbamzim.</p> + +<p>Besides, he was sure of getting his coat, his +wallet, and its contents. His name and address +were in the wallet; also both were sewed inside the +inner pocket of the overcoat.<span class="pagenumsmall">[211]</span></p> + +<p>What would ultimately happen would be this: +sooner or later she'd come to, wake up, dry her +pretty eyes, look about, and find that she had <i>two</i> +overcoats in her possession.</p> + +<p>It would probably distress her dreadfully, particularly +when she discovered the wallet and the +money. But, wherever she was going, as soon as +she reached there she'd send overcoat and money +back to his address—doubtless with a pretty and +contrite note of regret.</p> + +<p>Yes, but that wouldn't do! What good would +the overcoat and the money be to him, if he were +South and she shipped them North? And yet he +was afraid to risk an abrupt ending to his Romance +by explaining to her the mistake.</p> + +<p>No; he'd merely follow her for the present. He +couldn't help it very well, being aboard the same +train. So it would not be difficult to keep his eye +on her as well as his overcoat, and think out at his +leisure how best to tend, guard, cherish, and nourish +the delicate and unopened bud of Romance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, there were other matters he must +consider; so he wrote out a telegram to Washington +ordering certain necessary articles to be +brought aboard the Verbena Special on its arrival +there. The porter took charge of it.<span class="pagenumsmall">[212]</span></p> + +<p>That night at dinner he looked for the girl in +vain. She did not enter the dining-car while he +was there. Haunting the corridors afterward he +saw no sign of her anywhere until, having received +his necessaries in a brand new travelling satchel, +and on his way to his stateroom, he caught a +glimpse of her, pale and agitated, in conversation +with the porter at her partly opened door.</p> + +<p>She did not even glance at him as he entered +his stateroom, but he could not avoid hearing +what she was saying because her enunciation was +so exquisitely distinct.</p> + +<p>"Porter," she said in her low, sweet voice, "I +have, somehow, made a very dreadful mistake +somewhere. I have a man's overcoat here which +does not belong to me. The cloth is exactly like +the cloth of my own travelling ulster, and I must +have forgotten that I had mine on when I took +this."</p> + +<p>"Ain't de gemman abohd de Speshul, Miss?" +inquired the porter.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. I'm certain that I must have +taken it in the station restaurant and brought it +aboard the train."</p> + +<p>"Ain't nuff'n in de pockets, is dey?" asked the +porter.</p> + +<p>"Yes; there's a wallet strapped with a rubber<span class="pagenumsmall">[213]</span> +band. I didn't feel at liberty to open it. But +I suppose I ought to in order to find out the +owner's name if possible."</p> + +<p>"De gemman's name ain't sewed inside de +pocket, is it, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't look," she said.</p> + +<p>So the porter took the coat, turned it inside +out, explored the inside pocket, found the label, +and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Snipps Brothers: December, 1913. George Z. +Green."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A stifled exclamation from the girl checked him. +Green also protruded his head cautiously from his +own doorway.</p> + +<p>The girl, standing partly in the aisle, was now +leaning limply against the door-sill, her hand +pressed convulsively to her breast, her face white +and frightened.</p> + +<p>"Is you ill, Miss?" asked the porter anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I—no. Z—what name was that you read?"</p> + +<p>"George Z. Green, Miss——"</p> + +<p>"It—it <i>can't</i> be! Look again! It can't be!"</p> + +<p>Her face was ashen to the lips; she closed her +eyes for a second, swayed; then her hand clutched +the door-sill; she straightened up with an effort +and opened her eyes, which now seemed dilated by +some powerful emotion.<span class="pagenumsmall">[214]</span></p> + +<p>"Let me see that name!" she said, controlling +her voice with an obvious effort.</p> + +<p>The porter turned the pocket inside out for +her inspection. There it was:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"George Z. Green: 1008-1/2 Fifth Avenue, New +York."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"If you knows de gemman, Miss," suggested +the porter, "you all kin take dishere garmint back +yo'se'f when you comes No'th."</p> + +<p>"Thank you.... Then—I won't trouble you.... +I'll—I'll ta-t-take it back myself—when I +go North."</p> + +<p>"I kin ship it if you wishes, Miss."</p> + +<p>She said excitedly: "If you ship it from somewhere +South, he—Mr. Green—would see where +it came from by the parcels postmark on the express +tag—wouldn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yaas, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't want you to ship it! I'll do it +myself.... <i>How</i> can I ship it without giving +Mr. Green a clue—" she shuddered, "—a clue +to my whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"Does you know de gemman, Miss?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she said, with another shudder,—"and +I do not wish to. I—I particularly do not wish +ever to know him—or even to see him. And above +all I do not wish Mr. Green to come South and<span class="pagenumsmall">[215]</span> +investigate the circumstances concerning this +overcoat. He might take it into his head to do +such a thing. It—it's horrible enough that I +have—that I actually have in my possession the +overcoat of the very man on whose account I left +New York at ten minutes' notice——"</p> + +<p>Her pretty voice broke and her eyes filled.</p> + +<p>"You—you don't understand, porter," she +added, almost hysterically, "but my possession of +this overcoat—of all the billions and billions of +overcoats in all the world—is a t-terrible and +astounding b-blow to me!"</p> + +<p>"Is—is you afeard o' dishere overcoat, Miss?" +inquired the astonished darkey.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she said. "Yes, I am! I'm horribly +afraid of that overcoat! I—I'd like to throw it +from the train window, but I—I can't do that, +of course! It would be stealing——"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke again with nervous tears:</p> + +<p>"I d-don't want the coat! And I can't throw +it away! And if it's shipped to him from the +South he may come down here and investigate. +He's in New York now. That's why I am on my +way South! I—I want him to remain in New +York until—until all—d-danger is over. And by +the first of April it will be over. And then I'll +come North—and bring him his coat——"<span class="pagenumsmall">[216]</span></p> + +<p>The bewildered darkey stared at her and at the +coat which she had unconsciously clutched to +her breast.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," she said, "that M-Mr. Green +will <i>need</i> the coat this winter? Do you suppose +anything would happen to him if he doesn't have +it for a while—pneumonia or anything? Oh!" she +exclaimed in a quivering voice, "I wish he and +his overcoat were at the South Pole!"</p> + +<p>Green withdrew his head and pressed both +palms to his temples. Could he trust his ears? +Was he going mad? Holding his dizzy head in +both hands he heard the girl say that she herself +would attend to shipping the coat; heard the perplexed +darkey take his leave and go; heard her +stateroom door close.</p> + +<p>Seated in his stateroom he gazed vacantly at +the couch opposite, so completely bewildered with +his first over-dose of Romance that his brain +seemed to spin like a frantic squirrel in a wheel, +and his thoughts knocked and jumbled against +each other until it truly seemed to him that all +his senses were fizzling out like wet firecrackers.</p> + +<p>What on earth had he ever done to inspire such +horror in the mind of this young girl?</p> + +<p>What terrible injury had he committed against +her or hers that the very sound of his name terrified<span class="pagenumsmall">[217]</span> +her—the mere sight of his overcoat left her +almost hysterical?</p> + +<p>Helplessly, half stupefied, he cast about in his +wrecked mind to discover any memory or record +of any injury done to anybody during his particularly +blameless career on earth.</p> + +<p>In school he had punched the noses of several +schoolmates, and had been similarly smitten in return. +That was the extent of physical injury +ever done to anybody.</p> + +<p>Of grave moral wrong he knew he was guiltless. +True, he had frequently skinned the assembly +at convivial poker parties. But also he had +often opened jacks only to be mercilessly deprived +of them amid the unfeeling and brutal laughter +of his companions. No, he was not guilty of +criminal gambling.</p> + +<p>Had he ever done a wrong to anybody in business? +Never. His firm's name was the symbol +for probity.</p> + +<p>He dashed his hands to his brow distractedly. +What in Heaven's name <i>had</i> he done to fill the +very soul of this young girl with fear and loathing? +What in the name of a merciful Providence +had he, George Z. Green, banker and broker, +ever done to drive this young and innocent girl +out of the City of New York!<span class="pagenumsmall">[218]</span></p> + +<p>To collect and marshal his disordered thoughts +was difficult but he accomplished it with the aid +of cigarettes. To a commonplace intellect there +is no aid like a cigarette.</p> + +<p>At first he was inclined to believe that the girl +had merely mistaken him for another man with a +similar name. George Z. Green was not an unusual +name.</p> + +<p>But his address in town was also written inside +his coat pocket; and she had read it. Therefore, +it was painfully evident to him that her detestation +and fear was for him.</p> + +<p>What on earth had inspired such an attitude +of mind toward himself in a girl he had seen for +the first time that afternoon? He could not imagine. +And another strange feature of the affair +was that she had not particularly noticed him. +Therefore, if she entertained such a horror of +him, why had she not exhibited some trace of it +when he was in her vicinity?</p> + +<p>Certainly she had not exhibited it by crying. +He exonerated himself on that score, for she had +been on the verge of tears when he first beheld her +hurrying out of the parlours of the Princess Zimbamzim.</p> + +<p>It gradually became plain to him that, although +there could be no doubt that this girl was afraid<span class="pagenumsmall">[219]</span> +of him, and cordially disliked him, yet strangely +enough, she did not know him by sight.</p> + +<p>Consequently, her attitude must be inspired by +something she had heard concerning him. What?</p> + +<p>He puffed his cigarette and groaned. As far +as he could remember, he had never harmed a +fly.<span class="pagenumsmall">[220]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/ch23.jpg" width="550" height="353" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXIII</h2> + +<p>That night he turned in, greatly depressed. +Bad dreams assailed his slumbers—menacing +ones like the visions that annoyed +<i>Eugene Aram</i>.</p> + +<p>And every time he awoke and sat up in his +bunk, shaken by the swaying car, he realised that +Romance had also its tragic phases—a sample +of which he was now enduring. And yet, miserable +as he was, a horrid sort of joy neutralised +the misery when he recollected that it <i>was</i> Romance, +after all, and that he, George Z. Green, +was in it up to his neck.</p> + +<p>A grey morning—a wet and pallid sky lowering +over the brown North Carolina fields—this was +his waking view from his tumbled bunk.<span class="pagenumsmall">[221]</span></p> + +<p>Neither his toilet nor his breakfast dispelled +the gloom; certainly the speeding landscape did +not.</p> + +<p>He sat grimly in the observation car, reviewing +a dispiriting landscape set with swamps, razorbacks, +buzzards, and niggers.</p> + +<p>Luncheon aided him very little. <i>She</i> had not +appeared at all. Either her own misery and +fright were starving her to death or she preferred +to take her meals in her stateroom. He hoped +fervently the latter might be the case; that +murder might not be added to whatever else he +evidently was suspected of committing.</p> + +<p>Like the ticket he had seen her purchase, his +own ticket took him as far as Ormond. Of course +he could go on if she did. She could go to the +West Indies and ultimately to Brazil. So could +he. They were on the main travelled road to almost +anywhere.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he was on the watch at St. Augustine; +and when he saw her come forth hastily and +get into a bus emblazoned with the name and +escutcheon of the Hotel Royal Orchid, he got in +also.</p> + +<p>The bus was full. Glancing at the other occupants +of the bus, she included him in her brief +review, and to his great relief he saw her incurious<span class="pagenumsmall">[222]</span> +blue eyes pass calmly to the next countenance.</p> + +<p>A dreadful, almost hysterical impulse assailed +him to suddenly rise and say: "I am George Z. +Green!"—merely to observe the cataclysmic effect +on her.</p> + +<p>But it did not seem so funny to him on after +thoughts, for the chances appeared to be that she +could not survive the shock. Which scared him; +and he looked about nervously for fear somebody +who knew him might be among the passengers, +and might address him by name.</p> + +<p>In due time the contents of the bus trooped +into the vast corridors of the Hotel Royal Orchid. +One by one they registered; and on the +ledger Green read her name with palpitating heart—Miss +Marie Wiltz and Maid. And heard her +say to the clerk that her maid had been delayed +and would arrive on the next train.</p> + +<p>It never occurred to this unimaginative man +to sign any name but his own to the register that +was shoved toward him. Which perfectly proves +his guilelessness and goodness.</p> + +<p>He went to his room, cleansed from his person +the stains of travel, and, having no outer +clothes to change to, smoked a cigarette and gazed +moodily from the window.<span class="pagenumsmall">[223]</span></p> + +<p>Now, his window gave on the drive-encircled +fountain before the front entrance to the hotel; +and, as he was standing there immersed in tobacco +smoke and gloom, he was astonished to see the +girl herself come out hastily, travelling satchel +in hand, and spring lightly into a cab. It was +one of those victorias which are stationed for hire +in front of such southern hotels; he could see her +perfectly plainly; saw the darkey coachman flourish +his whip; saw the vehicle roll away.</p> + +<p>The next instant he seized his new satchel, +swept his brand new toilet articles into it, snapped +it, picked up hat and cane, and dashed down stairs +to the desk.</p> + +<p>Here he paid his bill, ran out, and leaped into +a waiting victoria.</p> + +<p>"Where did that other cab drive?" he demanded +breathlessly to his negro coachman. +"Didn't you hear what the young lady said to +her driver?"</p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh. De young lady done say she's in +a pow'ful hurry, suh. She 'low she gotta git to +Ormond."</p> + +<p>"Ormond! There's no train!"</p> + +<p>"Milk-train, suh."</p> + +<p>"What! Is she going to Ormond on a milk-train?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[224]</span></p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> + +<p>"All right, then. Drive me to the station."</p> + +<p>It was not very far. She was standing alone +on the deserted platform, her bag at her feet, his +overcoat lying across it. Her head was bent, and +she did not notice him at first. Never had he seen +a youthful figure so exquisitely eloquent of despair.</p> + +<p>The milk-train was about an hour overdue, +which would make it about due in the South. +Green seated himself on a wooden bench and folded +his hands over the silver crook of his walking-stick. +The situation was now perfectly clear to +him. She had come down from her room, and +had seen his name on the register, had been seized +by a terrible panic, and had fled.</p> + +<p>Had he been alone and unobserved, he might +have attempted to knock his brains out with his +walking-stick. He desired to, earnestly, when he +realised what an ass he had been to sign the register.</p> + +<p>She had begun to pace the platform, nervously, +halting and leaning forward from time to time +to scan impatiently the long, glittering perspective +of the metals.</p> + +<p>It had begun to grow dusk. Lanterns on +switches and semaphores flashed out red, green,<span class="pagenumsmall">[225]</span> +blue, white, stringing their jewelled sparks far +away into the distance.</p> + +<p>To and fro she paced the empty platform, passing +and repassing him. And he began to notice +presently that she looked at him rather intently +each time.</p> + +<p>He wondered whether she suspected his identity. +Guiltless of anything that he could remember having +done, nevertheless he shivered guiltily every +time she glanced at him.</p> + +<p>Then the unexpected happened; and he fairly +shook in his shoes as she marched deliberately up +to him.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said in a very sweet +and anxious voice, "but might I ask if you happen +to be going to Ormond?"</p> + +<p>He was on his feet, hat in hand, by this time; +his heart and pulses badly stampeded; but he +managed to answer calmly that he was going to +Ormond.</p> + +<p>"There is only a milk-train, I understand," she +said.</p> + +<p>"So I understand."</p> + +<p>"Do you think there will be any difficulty in +my obtaining permission to travel on it? The +station-master says that permission is not given +to ladies unaccompanied."<span class="pagenumsmall">[226]</span></p> + +<p>She looked at him almost imploringly.</p> + +<p>"I really must go on that train," she said in a +low voice. "It is desperately necessary. Could +you—could you manage to arrange it for me? I +would be so grateful!—so deeply grateful!"</p> + +<p>"I'll do what I can," said that unimaginative +man. "Probably bribery can fix it——"</p> + +<p>"There might be—if—if—you would be willing—if +you didn't object—I know it sounds very +strange—but my case is so desperate——" She +checked herself, flushing a delicate pink. And +he waited.</p> + +<p>Then, very resolutely she looked up at him:</p> + +<p>"Would you—could you p-pretend that I am—am—your +sister?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said. An immense happiness +seized him. He was not only up to his neck in +Romance. It was already over his head, and he +was out of his depth, and swimming.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he repeated quietly, controlling +his joy by a supreme effort. "That would be the +simplest way out of it, after all."</p> + +<p>She said earnestly, almost solemnly: "If you +will do this generous thing for—for a stranger—in +very deep perplexity and trouble—that +stranger will remain in your debt while life lasts!"</p> + +<p>She had not intended to be dramatic; she may<span class="pagenumsmall">[227]</span> +not have thought she was; but the tears again +glimmered in her lovely eyes, and the situation +seemed tense enough to George Z. Green.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he felt that complications already +were arising—complications which he had often +read of and sometimes dreamed of. Because, +as he stood there in the southern dusk, looking +at this slim, young girl, he began to realise that +never before in all his life had he gazed upon anything +half as beautiful.</p> + +<p>Very far away a locomotive whistled: they both +turned, and saw the distant headlight glittering +on the horizon like a tiny star.</p> + +<p>"W-would it be best for us to t-take your name +or mine—in case they ask us?" she stammered, +flushing deeply.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said pleasantly, "you might be +more likely to remember yours in an emergency."</p> + +<p>"I think so," she said naïvely; "it is rather difficult +for me to deceive anybody. My name is +Marie Wiltz."</p> + +<p>"Then I am Mr. Wiltz, your brother, for an +hour or two."</p> + +<p>"If you please," she murmured.</p> + +<p>It had been on the tip of his tongue to add, +"Mr. George Z. Wiltz," but he managed to check +himself.<span class="pagenumsmall">[228]</span></p> + +<p>The great, lumbering train came rolling in; +the station agent looked very sharply through +his spectacles at Miss Wiltz when he saw her with +Green, but being a Southerner, he gallantly assumed +that it was all right.</p> + +<p>One of the train crew placed two wooden chairs +for them in the partly empty baggage car; and +there they sat, side by side, while the big, heavy +milk cans were loaded aboard, and a few parcels +shoved into their car. Then the locomotive tooted +leisurely; there came a jolt, a resonant clash; +and the train was under way.<span class="pagenumsmall">[229]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/ch24.jpg" width="330" height="199" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXIV</h2> + +<p>For a while the baggage master fussed about +the car, sorting out packages for Ormond; +then, courteously inquiring +whether he could do anything for them, and learning +that he could not, he went forward into his +own den, leaving Marie Wiltz and George Z. Green +alone in a baggage car dimly illumined by a small +and smoky lamp.</p> + +<p>Being well-bred young people, they broke the +tension of the situation gracefully and naturally, +pretending to find it amusing to travel in a milk +train to a fashionable southern resort.</p> + +<p>And now that the train was actually under way +and speeding southward through the night, her +relief from anxiety was very plain to him. He +could see her relax; see the frightened and hunted +look in her eyes die out, the natural and delicious +colour return to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>As they conversed with amiable circumspection +and pleasant formality, he looked at her whenever<span class="pagenumsmall">[230]</span> +he dared without seeming to be impertinent; and +he discovered that the face she had worn since +he had first seen her was not her natural expression; +that her features in repose or in fearless +animation were winning and almost gay.</p> + +<p>She had a delightful mouth, sweet and humourous; +a delicate nose and chin, and two very blue +and beautiful eyes that looked at him at moments +so confidently, so engagingly, that the knowledge +of what her expression would be if she knew who +he was smote him at moments, chilling his very +marrow.</p> + +<p>What an astonishing situation! How he would +have scorned a short story with such a situation +in it! And he thought of Williams—poor old +Williams!—and mentally begged his pardon.</p> + +<p>For he understood now that real life was far +stranger than fiction. He realised at last that +Romance loitered ever around the corner; that +Opportunity was always gently nudging one's elbow.</p> + +<p>There lay his overcoat on the floor, trailing +over her satchel. He looked at it so fixedly that +she noticed the direction of his gaze, glanced +down, blushed furiously.</p> + +<p>"It may seem odd to you that I am travelling +with a man's overcoat," she said, "but it will seem<span class="pagenumsmall">[231]</span> +odder yet when I tell you that I don't know how +I came by it."</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> odd," he admitted smilingly. "To +whom does it belong?"</p> + +<p>Her features betrayed the complicated emotions +that successively possessed her—perplexity, +anxiety, bashfulness.</p> + +<p>After a moment she said in a low voice: "You +have done so much for me already—you have been +so exceedingly nice to me—that I hesitate to ask +of you anything more——"</p> + +<p>"Please ask!" he urged. "It will be really a +happiness for me to serve you."</p> + +<p>Surprised at his earnestness and the unembarrassed +warmth of his reply, she looked up at him +gratefully after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Would you," she said, "take charge of that +overcoat for me and send it back to its owner?"</p> + +<p>He laughed nervously: "Is <i>that</i> all? Why, +of course I shall! I'll guarantee that it is restored +to its rightful owner if you wish."</p> + +<p>"Will you? If you do <i>that</i>——" she drew a +long, sighing breath, "it will be a relief to me—such +a wonderful relief!" She clasped her gloved +hands tightly on her knee, smiled at him breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you will ever know what you<span class="pagenumsmall">[232]</span> +have done for me. I could never adequately express +my deep, deep gratitude to you——"</p> + +<p>"But—I am doing nothing except shipping +back an overcoat——"</p> + +<p>"Ah—if you only knew what you really are +doing for me! You are helping me in the direst +hour of need I ever knew. You are aiding me +to regain control over my own destiny! You are +standing by me in the nick of time, sheltering +me, encouraging me, giving me a moment's respite +until I can become mistress of my own fate once +more."</p> + +<p>The girl had ended with a warmth, earnestness +and emotion which she seemed to be unable to +control. Evidently she had been very much +shaken, and in the blessed relief from the strain +the reaction was gathering intensity.</p> + +<p>They sat in silence for a few moments; then +she looked up, nervously twisting her gloved +fingers.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," she said in a low voice, "not to +exhibit reticence and proper self-control before a—a +stranger.... But I—I have been—rather +badly—frightened."</p> + +<p>"Nothing need frighten you now," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought so, too. I thought that as soon as +I left New York it would be all right. But—but<span class="pagenumsmall">[233]</span> +the first thing I saw in my stateroom was <i>that</i> +overcoat! And the next thing that occurred was—was +almost—stupefying. Until I boarded this +milk-train, I think I must have been almost irresponsible +from sheer fright."</p> + +<p>"What frightened you?" he asked, trembling internally.</p> + +<p>"I—I can't tell you. It would do no good. +You could not help me."</p> + +<p>"Yet you say I have already aided you."</p> + +<p>"Yes.... That is true.... And you <i>will</i> +send that overcoat back, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "To remember it, I'd better +put it on, I think."</p> + +<p>The southern night had turned chilly, and he +was glad to bundle into his own overcoat again.</p> + +<p>"From where will you ship it?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"From Ormond——"</p> + +<p>"Please don't!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because," she said desperately, "the owner of +that coat might trace it to Ormond and—and +come down there."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>She paled and clasped her hands tighter:</p> + +<p>"I—I thought—I had every reason to believe<span class="pagenumsmall">[234]</span> +that he was in New York. B-but he isn't. He is +in St. Augustine!"</p> + +<p>"You evidently don't wish to meet him."</p> + +<p>"No—oh, no, I don't wish to meet him—ever!"</p> + +<p>"Oh. Am I to understand that this—this <i>fellow</i>," +he said fiercely, "is <i>following</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—oh, I really don't know," she +said, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. "All +I know is that I do not desire to see him—or to +have him see me.... He <i>must</i> not see me; it +must not be—it <i>shall</i> not be! I—it's a very terrible +thing;—I don't know exactly what I'm—I'm +fighting against—because it's—it's simply too +dreadful——"</p> + +<p>Emotion checked her, and for a moment she +covered her eyes with her gloved hands, sitting in +silence.</p> + +<p>"Can't I help you?" he asked gently.</p> + +<p>She dropped her hands and stared at him.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Do you think you could? It +all seems so—like a bad dream. I'll have to tell +you about it if you are to help me—won't +I?"</p> + +<p>"If you think it best," he said with an inward +quiver.</p> + +<p>"That's it. I don't know whether it <i>is</i> best to +ask your advice. Yet, I don't know exactly what<span class="pagenumsmall">[235]</span> +else to do," she added in a bewildered way, passing +one hand slowly over her eyes. "Shall I tell +you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd better."</p> + +<p>"I think I will!... I—I left New York in a +panic at a few moments' notice. I thought I'd +go to Ormond and hide there for a while, and then, +if—if matters looked threatening, I could go to +Miami and take a steamer for the West Indies, +and from there—if necessary—I could go to Brazil——"</p> + +<p>"But <i>why</i>?" he demanded, secretly terrified at +his own question.</p> + +<p>She looked at him blankly a moment: "Oh; +I forgot. It—it all began without any warning; +and instantly I began to run away."</p> + +<p>"From what?"</p> + +<p>"From—from the owner of that overcoat!"</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"His name," she said resolutely, "is George Z. +Green. And I am running away from him.... +And I am afraid you'll think it very odd when +I tell you that although I am running away from +him I do not know him, and I have never seen +him."</p> + +<p>"Wh-what is the matter with him?" inquired +Green, with a sickly attempt at smiling.<span class="pagenumsmall">[236]</span></p> + +<p>"He wants to marry me!" she exclaimed indignantly. +"<i>That</i> is what is the matter with him."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" he asked, astounded.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. And the oddest thing of all is that +I do not think he has ever seen me—or ever even +heard of me."</p> + +<p>"But how can——"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you. I must tell you now, anyway. +It began the evening before I left New York. I—I +live alone—with a companion—having no parents. +I gave a dinner dance the evening before I—I +ran away;—there was music, too; professional +dancers;—a crystal-gazing fortune teller—and +a lot of people—loads of them."</p> + +<p>She drew a short, quick breath, and shook her +pretty head.</p> + +<p>"Everybody's been talking about the Princess +Zimbamzim this winter. So I had her there.... +She—she is uncanny—positively terrifying. A +dozen women were scared almost ill when they +came out of her curtained corner.</p> + +<p>"And—and then she demanded me.... I had +no belief in such things.... I went into that +curtained corner, never for one moment dreaming +that what she might say would matter anything +to me.... In ten minutes she had me scared and +trembling like a leaf.... I didn't want to stay;<span class="pagenumsmall">[237]</span> +I wanted to go. I—couldn't, somehow. My limbs +were stiff—I couldn't control them—I couldn't +get up! All my will power—was—was paralysed!"</p> + +<p>The girl's colour had fled; she looked at Green +with wide eyes dark with the memory of fear.</p> + +<p>"She told me to come to her for an hour's crystal +gazing the following afternoon. I—I didn't +<i>want</i> to go. But I couldn't seem to keep away.</p> + +<p>"Then a terrible thing happened. I—I looked +into that crystal and I saw there—saw with my +own eyes—<i>myself</i> being married to a—a perfectly +strange man! I saw myself as clearly as in a +looking glass;—but I could see only his back. He—he +wore an overcoat—like that one I gave to +you to send back. Think of it! Married to a man +who was wearing an <i>overcoat</i>!</p> + +<p>"And there was a clergyman who looked sleepy, +and—and two strangers as witnesses—and there +was I—<i>I!</i>—getting married to this man.... +And the terrible thing about it was that I looked +at him as though I—I l-loved him——"</p> + +<p>Her emotions overcame her for a moment, but +she swallowed desperately, lifted her head, and +forced herself to continue:</p> + +<p>"Then the Princess Zimbamzim began to laugh, +very horridly: and I asked her, furiously, who that<span class="pagenumsmall">[238]</span> +man was. And she said: 'His name seems to be +George Z. Green; he is a banker and broker; and +he lives at 1008-1/2 Fifth Avenue.'</p> + +<p>"'Am <i>I</i> marrying him?' I cried. 'Am <i>I</i> marrying +a strange broker who wears an overcoat at +the ceremony?'</p> + +<p>"And she laughed her horrid laugh again and +said: 'You certainly are, Miss Wiltz. You can +not escape it. It is your destiny.'</p> + +<p>"'When am I to do it?' I demanded, trembling +with fright and indignation. And she told me +that it was certain to occur within either three +months or three days.... And—can you imagine +my n-natural feelings of horror—and repugnance? +Can you not now understand the panic +that seized me—when there, all the time in the +crystal, I could actually see myself doing what +that dreadful woman prophesied?"</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you for running," he said, +stunned.</p> + +<p>"I do not blame myself. I ran. I fled, distracted, +from that terrible house! I left word +for my maid to pack and follow me to Ormond. +I caught the first train I could catch. For the +next three months I propose to continue my flight +if—if necessary. And I fear it will be necessary."<span class="pagenumsmall">[239]</span></p> + +<p>"Finding his overcoat in your stateroom must +have been a dreadful shock to you," he said, pityingly.</p> + +<p>"Imagine! But when, not an hour ago, I saw +his name on the register at the Hotel Royal Orchid—<i>directly +under my name!</i>—can you—oh, +can you imagine my utter terror?"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke and she leaned up against the +side of the car, so white, so quivering, so utterly +demoralised by fear, that, alarmed, he took her +trembling hands firmly in his.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't give way," he said. "This won't +do. You must show courage."</p> + +<p>"How can I show courage when I'm f-frightened?"</p> + +<p>"You must not be frightened, because—because +I am going to stand by you. I am going to stand +by you very firmly. I am going to see this matter +through."</p> + +<p>"Are you? It is so—so kind of you—so good—so +generous.... Because it's uncanny enough +to frighten even a man. You see we don't know +what we're fighting. We're threatened by—by the +occult! By unseen f-forces.... <i>How</i> could +that man be in St. Augustine?"</p> + +<p>He drew a long breath. "I am going to tell you +something.... May I?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[240]</span></p> + +<p>She turned in silence to look at him. Something +in his eyes disturbed her, and he felt her +little, gloved hands tighten spasmodically within +his own.</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything to frighten you," he said. +"It may even relieve you. Shall I tell you?"</p> + +<p>Her lips formed a voiceless word of consent.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll tell you.... I know George Z. +Green."</p> + +<p>"W-what?"</p> + +<p>"I know him very well. He is—is an exceedingly—er—nice +fellow."</p> + +<p>"But I don't care! I'm not going to marry +him!... Am I? Do you think I am?"</p> + +<p>And she fell a-trembling so violently that, +alarmed, he drew her to his shoulder, soothing her +like a child, explaining that in the twentieth century +no girl was going to marry anybody against +her will.</p> + +<p>Like a child she cowered against him, her hands +tightening within his. The car swayed and +rattled on its clanging trucks; the feeble lamp +glimmered.</p> + +<p>"If I thought," she said, "that George Z. Green +was destined to marry me under such outrageous +and humiliating circumstances, I—I believe I +would marry the first decent man I encountered<span class="pagenumsmall">[241]</span>—merely +to confound the Princess Zimbamzim—and +every wicked crystal-gazer in the world! I—I +simply hate them!"</p> + +<p>He said: "Then you believe in them."</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? Look at me! Look at me +here, in full light—asking protection of you!... +And I don't care! I—think I am becoming more +angry than—than frightened. I think it is your +kindness that has given me courage. Somehow, I +feel safe with you. I am sure that I can rely on +you; can't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said miserably.</p> + +<p>"I was very sure I could when I saw you sitting +there on the platform before the milk-train +came in.... I don't know how it was—I was +not afraid to speak to you.... Something +about you made me confident.... I said to myself, +'He is <i>good</i>! I <i>know</i> it!' And so I spoke +to you."</p> + +<p>Conscience was tearing him inwardly to shreds, +as the fox tore the Spartan. How could he pose +as the sort of man she believed him to be, and +endure the self-contempt now almost overwhelming +him?</p> + +<p>"I—I'm not good," he blurted out, miserably.</p> + +<p>She turned and looked at him seriously for a +moment. Then, for the first time aware of his<span class="pagenumsmall">[242]</span> +arm encircling her, and her hands in his, she +flushed brightly and freed herself, straightening +up in her little wooden chair.</p> + +<p>"You need not tell me that," she said. "I <i>know</i> +you <i>are</i> good."</p> + +<p>"As a m-matter of f-fact," he stammered. "I'm +a scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to have you know it—b-but I +am!"</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> can you say that?—when you've been so +perfectly sweet to me?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>And after a moment's silence she laughed deliciously.</p> + +<p>"Only to look at you is enough," she said, "for +a girl to feel absolute confidence in you."</p> + +<p>"Do you feel that?"</p> + +<p>"I?... Yes.... Yes, I do. I would trust +you without hesitation. I have trusted you, have +I not? And after all, it is not so strange. You +are the sort of man to whom I am accustomed. +We are both of the same sort."</p> + +<p>"No," he said gloomily, "I'm really a pariah."</p> + +<p>"You! Why do you say such things, after +you have been so—perfectly charming to a frightened +girl?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[243]</span></p> + +<p>"I'm a pariah," he repeated. "I'm a social outcast! +I—I know it, now." And he leaned his +head wearily on both palms.</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him in consternation.</p> + +<p>"Are <i>you</i> unhappy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Wretched."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said softly, "I didn't know that.... +I am so sorry.... And to think that you took +all <i>my</i> troubles on your shoulders, too,—burdened +with your own! I—I <i>knew</i> you were that kind +of man," she added warmly.</p> + +<p>He only shook his head, face buried in his +hands.</p> + +<p>"I am <i>so</i> sorry," she repeated gently. "Would +it help you if you told me?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Because," she said sweetly, "it would make me +very happy if I could be of even the very slightest +use to you!"</p> + +<p>No response.</p> + +<p>"Because you have been so kind."</p> + +<p>No response.</p> + +<p>"—And so p-pleasant and c-cordial and——"</p> + +<p>No response.</p> + +<p>She looked at the young fellow who sat there +with head bowed in his hands; and her blue eyes +grew wistful.<span class="pagenumsmall">[244]</span></p> + +<p>"Are you in physical pain?"</p> + +<p>"Mental," he said in a muffled voice.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. Don't you believe that I am?" +she asked pitifully.</p> + +<p>"You would not be sorry if you knew why I am +suffering," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"How <i>can</i> you say that?" she exclaimed warmly. +"Do you think I am ungrateful? Do you +think I am insensible to delicate and generous +emotions? Do you suppose I could ever forget +what you have done for me?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose," he said in a muffled voice, "I turned +out to be a—a villain?"</p> + +<p>"You couldn't!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose it were true that I am one?"</p> + +<p>She said, with the warmth of total inexperience +with villains, "What you have been to me is only +what concerns me. You have been good, generous, +noble! And I—like you."</p> + +<p>"You must not like me."</p> + +<p>"I <i>do</i>! I do like you! I shall continue to do +so—always——"</p> + +<p>"You can not!"</p> + +<p>"What? Indeed I can! I like you very much. +I defy you to prevent me!"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to prevent you—but you mustn't +do it."<span class="pagenumsmall">[245]</span></p> + +<p>She sat silent for a moment. Then her lip +trembled.</p> + +<p>"Why may I not like you?" she asked unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"I am not worth it."</p> + +<p>He didn't know it, but he had given her the +most fascinating answer that a man can give a +young girl.</p> + +<p>"If you are not worth it," she said tremulously, +"you can become so."</p> + +<p>"No, I never can."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that? No matter what a +man has done—a young man—such as you—he +can become worthy again of a girl's friendship—if +he wishes to."</p> + +<p>"I never could become worthy of yours."</p> + +<p>"Why? What have you done? I don't care +anyway. If you—if you want my—my friendship +you can have it."</p> + +<p>"No," he groaned, "I am sunk too low to even +dream of it! You don't know—you don't know +what you're saying. I am beyond the pale!"</p> + +<p>He clutched his temples and shuddered. For a +moment she gazed at him piteously, then her timid +hand touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to see you in despair," she faltered, +"—you who have been so good to me.<span class="pagenumsmall">[246]</span> +Please don't be unhappy—because—I want you +to be happy——"</p> + +<p>"I can never be that."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because—I am in love!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"With a girl who—hates me."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said faintly. Then the surprise in +her eyes faded vaguely into wistfulness, and into +something almost tender as she gazed at his bowed +head.</p> + +<p>"Any girl," she said, scarcely knowing what +she was saying, "who could not love such a man +as you is an absolutely negligible quantity."</p> + +<p>His hands fell from his face and he sat up.</p> + +<p>"Could <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>"What?" she said, not understanding.</p> + +<p>"Could you do what—what I—mentioned just +now?"</p> + +<p>She looked curiously at him for a moment, not +comprehending. Suddenly a rose flush stained +her face.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you mean to say that to me," +she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I do mean to say it.... Because, +since I first saw you, I have—have dared +to—to be in love with you."<span class="pagenumsmall">[247]</span></p> + +<p>"With <i>me</i>! We—you have not known me an +hour!"</p> + +<p>"I have known you three days."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am George Z. Green!"<span class="pagenumsmall">[248]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch25.jpg" width="600" height="363" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXV</h2> + +<p>Minute after minute throbbed in silence, +timed by the loud rhythm of the roaring +wheels. He did not dare lift his head to +look at her, though her stillness scared him. +Awful and grotesque thoughts assailed him. He +wondered whether she had survived the blow—and +like an assassin he dared not look to see what +he had done, but crouched there, overwhelmed +with misery such as he never dreamed that a +human heart could endure.</p> + +<p>A century seemed to have passed before, far +ahead, the locomotive whistled warningly for the +Ormond station.</p> + +<p>He understood what it meant, and clutched his +temples, striving to gather courage sufficient to<span class="pagenumsmall">[249]</span> +lift his head and face her blazing contempt—or +her insensible and inanimate but beautiful young +form lying in a merciful faint on the floor of the +baggage car.</p> + +<p>And at last he lifted his head.</p> + +<p>She had risen and was standing by the locked +side doors, touching her eye-lashes with her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>When he rose, the train was slowing down. +Presently the baggage master came in, yawning; +the side doors were unbolted and flung back as +the car glided along a high, wooden platform.</p> + +<p>They were standing side by side now; she did +not look at him, but when the car stopped she laid +her hand lightly on his arm.</p> + +<p>Trembling in every fibre, he drew the little, +gloved hand through his arm and aided her to descend.</p> + +<p>"Are you unhappy?" he whispered tremulously.</p> + +<p>"No.... What are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"Am I to say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said faintly.</p> + +<p>"Shall I register as your brother?"</p> + +<p>She blushed and looked at him in a lovely and +distressed way.</p> + +<p>"What <i>are</i> we to do?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>They entered the main hall of the great hotel<span class="pagenumsmall">[250]</span> +at that moment, and she turned to look around her.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed, clutching his arm. "Do +you see that man? Do you <i>see</i> him?"</p> + +<p>"Which man—dearest?——"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> one over there! That is the clergyman +I saw in the crystal. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Is it +going to come true right away?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is," he said. "Are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>She drew a deep, shuddering breath, lifted her +eyes to his:</p> + +<p>"N-no," she said.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later it was being done around +the corner of the great veranda, where nobody +was. The moon glimmered on the Halifax; the +palmettos sighed in the chilly sea-wind; the still, +night air was scented with orange bloom and the +odour of the sea.</p> + +<p>He wore his overcoat, and he used the plain, +gold band which had decorated his little finger. +The clergyman was brief and businesslike; the +two clerks made dignified witnesses.</p> + +<p>When it was done, and they were left alone, +standing on the moonlit veranda, he said:</p> + +<p>"Shall we send a present to the Princess Zimbamzim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.... A beautiful one."</p> + +<p>He drew her to him; she laid both hands on<span class="pagenumsmall">[251]</span> +his shoulders. When he kissed her, her face was +cold and white as marble.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>The marble flushed pink.</p> + +<p>"No," she said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"That," said Stafford, "was certainly quick +action. Ten minutes is a pretty short time for +Fate to begin business."</p> + +<p>"Fate," remarked Duane, "once got busy with +me inside of ten seconds." He looked at Athalie.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ut solent poetae</i>," she rejoined, calmly.</p> + +<p>I said: "<i>Verba placent et vox, et quod corrumpere +non est; Quoque minor spes est, hoc +magis ille cupit</i>."</p> + +<p>In a low voice Duane replied to me, looking at +her: "<i>Vera incessu patuit Dea</i>."</p> + +<p>Slowly the girl blushed, lowering her dark eyes +to the green jade god resting in the rosy palm +of her left hand.</p> + +<p>"Physician, cure thyself," muttered Stafford, +slowly twisting a cigarette to shreds in his nervous +hands.</p> + +<p>I rose, walked over to the small marble fountain +and looked down at the sleeping goldfish. +Here and there from the dusky magnificence of<span class="pagenumsmall"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +their colour a single scale glittered like a living +spark under water.</p> + +<p>"Are you preaching to them?" asked Athalie, +raising her eyes from the green god in her palm.</p> + +<p>"No matter where a man turns his eyes," said +I, "they may not long remain undisturbed by the +vision of gold. I was not preaching, Athalie; I +was reflecting upon my poverty."</p> + +<p>"It is an incurable ailment," said somebody; +"the millionaire knows it; the gods themselves suffered +from it. From the bleaching carcass of the +peon to the mausoleum of the emperor, the world's +highway winds through its victims' graves."</p> + +<p>"Athalie," said I, "is it possible for you to look +into your crystal and discover hidden treasure?"</p> + +<p>"Not for my own benefit."</p> + +<p>"For others?"</p> + +<p>"I have done it."</p> + +<p>"Could you locate a few millions for us?" inquired +the novelist.</p> + +<p>"Yes, widely distributed among you. Your +right hand is heavy as gold; your brain jingles +with it."</p> + +<p>"I do not write for money," he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>"That is why," she said, smiling and placing a +sweetmeat between her lips.</p> + +<p>I had the privilege of lighting a match for her.<span class="pagenumsmall">[253]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/ch26.jpg" width="330" height="375" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXVI</h2> + +<p>When the tip of her cigarette glowed +rosy in the pearl-tinted gloom, the +shadowy circle at her feet drew a +little nearer.</p> + +<p>"This is the story of Valdez," she said. "Listen +attentively, you who hunger!"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On the first day it rained torrents; the light was +very dull in the galleries; fashion kept away. +Only a few monomaniacs braved the weather, left +dripping mackintoshes and umbrellas in the coat +room, and spent the dull March morning in mousing +about among the priceless treasures on view +to those who had cards of admission. The sale<span class="pagenumsmall">[254]</span> +was to take place three days later. Heikem was +the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>The collection to be disposed of was the celebrated +library of Professor Octavo de Folio—a +small one; but it was composed almost exclusively +of rarities. A million and a half had been refused +by the heirs, who preferred to take chances +at auction.</p> + +<p>And there were Caxtons, first edition Shakespeares, +illuminated manuscripts, volumes printed +privately for various kings and queens, bound +sketch books containing exquisite aquarelles and +chalk drawings by Bargue, Fortuny, Drouais, +Boucher, John Downman; there were autographed +monographs in manuscript; priceless order books +of revolutionary generals, private diaries kept by +men and women celebrated and notorious the world +over.</p> + +<p>But the heirs apparently preferred yachts and +automobiles.</p> + +<p>The library was displayed in locked glass cases, +an attendant seated by each case, armed with a +key and discretionary powers.</p> + +<p>From where James White sat beside his particular +case, he had a view of the next case and +of the young girl seated beside it.</p> + +<p>She was very pretty. No doubt, being out of<span class="pagenumsmall">[255]</span> +a job, like himself, she was glad to take this +temporary position. She was so pretty she made +his head ache. Or it might have been the ventilation.</p> + +<p>It rained furiously; a steady roar on the glass +roof overhead filled the long and almost empty +gallery of Mr. Heikem, the celebrated auctioneer, +with a monotone as dull and incessant as the business +voice of that great man.</p> + +<p>Here and there a spectacled old gentleman +nosed his way from case to case, making at intervals +cabalistic pencil marks on the margin of his +catalogue—which specimen of compiled literature +alone cost five dollars.</p> + +<p>It was a very dull day for James White, and +also, apparently, for the pretty girl in charge of +the adjoining case. Nobody even asked either of +them to unlock the cases; and it began to appear +to young White that the books and manuscripts +confided to his charge were not by any means the +<i>chefs-d'oeuvre</i> of the collection.</p> + +<p>They were a dingy looking lot of books, anyway. +He glanced over the private list furnished +him, read the titles, histories and pedigrees of +the volumes, stifled a yawn, fidgetted in his chair, +stared at the rain-battered glass roof overhead, +mused lightly upon his misfortunes, shrugged his<span class="pagenumsmall">[256]</span> +broad shoulders, and glanced at the girl across +the aisle.</p> + +<p>She also was reading her private list. It +seemed to bore her.</p> + +<p>He looked at her as long as decency permitted, +then gazed elsewhere. She was exceedingly pretty +in her way, red haired, white skinned; and her +eyes seemed to be a very lovely Sevres blue. Except +in porcelain he thought he had never seen +anything as dainty. He knew perfectly well that +he could very easily fall in love with her. Also +he knew he'd never have the opportunity.</p> + +<p>Duller and duller grew the light; louder roared +the March rain. Even monomaniacs no longer +came into the galleries, and the half dozen who +had arrived left by luncheon time.</p> + +<p>When it was White's turn to go out to lunch, +he went to Childs' and returned in half an hour. +Then the girl across the aisle went out—probably +to a similar and sumptuous banquet. She came +back very shortly, reseated herself, and glanced +around the empty galleries.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be absolutely nothing for anybody +to do, except to sit there and listen to the +rain.</p> + +<p>White pondered on his late failure in affairs. +Recently out of Yale, and more recently still<span class="pagenumsmall">[257]</span> +established in business, he had gone down in the +general slump, lacking sufficient capital to tide +him over. His settlement with his creditors left +him with fifteen hundred dollars. He was now +waiting for an opportunity to invest it in an enterprise. +He believed in enterprises. Also, he +was firmly convinced that Opportunity knocked +no more than once in a lifetime, and he was always +cocking his ear to catch the first timid rap. It +was knocking then but he did not hear it, for it +was no louder than the gentle beating of his red-haired +neighbour's heart.</p> + +<p>But Opportunity is a jolly jade. She knocks +every little while—but one must possess good +hearing.</p> + +<p>Having nothing better to do as he sat there, +White drifted into mental speculation—that being +the only sort available.</p> + +<p>He dreamed of buying a lot in New York for +fifteen hundred dollars and selling it a few years +later for fifty thousand. He had a well developed +imagination; wonderful were the lucky strikes he +made in these day dreams; marvellous the financial +returns. He was a very Napoleon of finance when +he was dozing. Many are.</p> + +<p>The girl across the aisle also seemed to be immersed +in day dreams. Her Sevres blue eyes had<span class="pagenumsmall">[258]</span> +become vague; her listless little hands lay in her +lap unstirring. She was pleasant to look at.</p> + +<p>After an hour or so it was plain to White that +she had had enough of her dreams. She sighed +very gently, straightened up in her chair, looked +at the rain-swept roof, patted a yawn into modest +suppression, and gazed about her with speculative +and engaging eyes.</p> + +<p>Then, as though driven to desperation, she +turned, looked into the glass case beside her for a +few minutes, and then, fitting her key to the door, +opened it, selected a volume at hazard, and composed +herself to read.</p> + +<p>For a while White watched her lazily, but presently +with more interest, as her features gradually +grew more animated and her attention seemed to +be concentrated on the book.</p> + +<p>As the minutes passed it became plain to White +that the girl found the dingy little volume exceedingly +interesting. And after a while she appeared +to be completely absorbed in it; her blue +eyes were rivetted on the pages; her face was +flushed, her sensitive lips expressive of the emotion +that seemed to be possessing her more and +more.</p> + +<p>White wondered what this book might be which +she found so breathlessly interesting. It was<span class="pagenumsmall">[259]</span> +small, dingy, bound in warped covers of old +leather, and anything but beautiful. And by and +by he caught a glimpse of the title—"The Journal +of Pedro Valdez."</p> + +<p>The title, somehow, seemed to be familiar to +him; he glanced into his own case, and after a +few minutes' searching he caught sight of another +copy of the same book, dingy, soiled, leather-bound, +unlovely.</p> + +<p>He looked over his private list until he found +it. And this is what he read concerning it:</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Valdez, Pedro—Journal of. Translated by Thomas +Bangs, of Philadelphia, in 1760. With map. Two +copies, much worn and damaged by water. Several +pages missing from each book.</i></p> + +<p>Pedro Valdez was a soldier of fortune serving with +Cortez in Mexico and with De Soto in Florida. Nothing +more is known of him, except that he perished +somewhere in the semi-tropical forests of America.</p> + +<p>Thomas Bangs, an Englishman, pretended to have +discovered and translated the journal kept by Valdez. +After the journal had been translated—if, indeed, +such a document ever really existed—Bangs pretended +that it was accidentally destroyed.</p> + +<p>Bangs' translation and map are considered to be +works of pure imagination. They were published +from manuscript after the death of the author.</p> +<p><span class="pagenumsmall">[260]</span></p> +<p>Bangs died in St. Augustine of yellow fever, about +1760-61, while preparing for an exploring expedition +into the Florida wilderness.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Mildly edified, White glanced again at the girl +across the aisle, and was surprised to see how +her interest in the volume had altered her features. +Tense, breathless, utterly absorbed in the book, +she bent over the faded print, leaning close, for +the sickly light that filtered through the glass +roof scarcely illumined the yellow pages at all.</p> + +<p>The curiosity of White was now aroused; he +opened the glass case beside him, fished out his +copy of the book, opened it, and began to read.</p> + +<p>For the first few minutes his interest was anything +but deep: he read the well-known pages +where Bangs recounts how he discovered the journal +of Valdez—and it sounded exceedingly fishy—a +rather poorly written fairy-tale done by a man +with little invention and less imagination, so worn +out, hackneyed and trite were the incidents, so +obvious the coincidences.</p> + +<p>White shrugged his shoulders and turned from +the preface to what purported to be the translation.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately it struck him that this part +of the book was not written by the same man.<span class="pagenumsmall">[261]</span> +Here was fluency, elegance of expression, ease, the +simplicity of a soldier who had something to say +and but a short time in which to say it. Even +the apparent clumsiness of the translation had not +deformed the work.</p> + +<p>Little by little the young man became intensely +interested, then absorbed. And after a while the +colour came into his face; he glanced nervously +around him; suppressed excitement made his hands +unsteady as he unfolded the enclosed map.</p> + +<p>From time to time he referred to the map as +he read; the rain roared on the glass roof; the +light grew dimmer and dimmer.</p> + +<p>At five o'clock the galleries closed for the day. +And that evening, sitting in his hall-bedroom, +White made up his mind that he must buy "The +Journal of Valdez" if it took every penny that +remained to him.</p> + +<p>The next day was fair and cold; fashion graced +the Octavo de Folio exhibition; White had no +time to re-read any passages or to re-examine the +map, because people were continually asking to +see and handle the books in his case.</p> + +<p>Across the aisle he noticed that his pretty +neighbour was similarly occupied. And he was +rather glad, because he felt, vaguely, that it was +just as well she did not occupy her time in reading<span class="pagenumsmall">[262]</span> +"The Journal of Valdez." Girls usually have +imagination. The book might stir her up as it +had stirred him. And to no purpose.</p> + +<p>Also, he was glad that nobody asked to look at +the Valdez copy in his own case. He didn't want +people to look at it. There were reasons—among +others, he wanted to buy it himself. He meant to +if fifteen hundred dollars would buy it.</p> + +<p>White had not the remotest idea what the book +might bring at auction. He dared not inquire +whether the volume was a rare one, dreading even +to call the attention of his fellow employees to it. +A word <i>might</i> arouse their curiosity.</p> + +<p>All day long he attended to his duties there, +and at five he went home, highly excited, determined +to arrive at the galleries next morning in +time enough to read the book a little before the +first of the public came.</p> + +<p>And he did get there very early. The only +other employee who had arrived before him was +the red-haired girl. She sat by her case reading +"The Journal of Valdez." Once she looked up at +him with calm, clear, intelligent eyes. He did not +see her; he hastily unlocked his case and drew +out the coveted book. Then he sat down and began +to devour it. And so utterly and instantly +was he lost amid those yellow, time-faded pages<span class="pagenumsmall">[263]</span> +that he did not even glance across the aisle at his +ornamental neighbour. If he had looked he would +have noticed that she also was buried in "The +Journal of Valdez." And it might have made him +a trifle uneasy to see her look from her book to +him and from him to the volume he was perusing +so excitedly.</p> + +<p>It being the last day that the library was to be +on view before the sale, fashion and monomania +rubbed elbows in the Heikem Galleries, crowding +the well known salons morning and afternoon. +And all day long White and his neighbour across +the aisle were busy taking out books and manuscripts +for inspection, so that they had no time +for luncheon, and less for Valdez.</p> + +<p>And that night they were paid off and dismissed; +and the auctioneer and his corps of assistants +took charge.</p> + +<p>The sale took place the following morning and +afternoon. White drew from the bank his fifteen +hundred dollars, breakfasted on bread and milk, +and went to the galleries more excited than he had +ever been before in his long life of twenty-three +years. And that is some time.</p> + +<p>It was a long shot at Fortune he meant to take—a +really desperate chance. One throw would +settle it—win or lose. And the idea scared him<span class="pagenumsmall">[264]</span> +badly, and he was trembling a little when he took +his seat amid the perfumed gowns of fashion and +the white whiskers of high finance, and the shabby +vestments of monomania.</p> + +<p>Once or twice he wondered whether he was +crazy. Yet, every throb of his fast-beating heart +seemed to summon him to do and dare; and he +felt, without even attempting to explain the feeling +to himself, that now at last Opportunity was +loudly rapping at his door, and that if he did not +let her in he would regret it as long as he lived.</p> + +<p>As he glanced fearfully about him he caught +sight of his pretty neighbour who had held sway +across the aisle. So she, too, had come to watch +the sale! Probably for the excitement of hearing +an auctioneer talk in thousands.</p> + +<p>He was a little surprised, nevertheless, for she +did not look bookish—nor even intellectual +enough to mar her prettiness. Yet, wherever she +went she would look adorable. He understood +that, now.</p> + +<p>It was a day of alarms for him, of fears, shocks, +and frights innumerable. With terror he heard +the auctioneer talking in terms of thousands; +with horror he witnessed the bids on certain books +advance by thousands at a clip. Five thousand, +ten thousand, twenty thousand were bid, seen,<span class="pagenumsmall">[265]</span> +raised, called, hiked, until his head spun and despair +seized him.</p> + +<p>What did he know about Valdez? Either volume +might bring fifty thousand dollars for all he +knew. Had he fifty thousand he felt, somehow, +that he would have bid it to the last penny for +the book. And he came to the conclusion that he +was really crazy. Yet there he sat, glued to his +chair, listening, shuddering, teeth alternately +chattering or grimly locked, while the very air +seemed to reek of millions, and the incessant gabble +of the auctioneer drove him almost out of his +wits.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer approached the catalogued +numbers of the two copies of Valdez; pale and +desperate he sat there, his heart almost suffocating +him as the moment drew near. And now the +time had come; now the celebrated Mr. Heikem +began his suave preliminary chatter; now he was +asking confidently for a bid.</p> + +<p>A silence ensued—and whether it was the silence +of awe at the priceless treasure or the silence of +indifference White did not know. But after the +auctioneer had again asked for a bid he found his +voice and offered ten dollars. His ears were scarlet +when he did it.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen," said a sweet but tremulous voice not<span class="pagenumsmall">[266]</span> +far from White, and he looked around in astonishment. +It was his red-haired vis-a-vis.</p> + +<p>"Twenty!" he retorted, still labouring under +his astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five!" came the same sweet voice.</p> + +<p>There was a silence. No other voices said anything. +Evidently nobody wanted Valdez except +himself and his red-haired neighbour.</p> + +<p>"Thirty!" he called out at the psychological +moment.</p> + +<p>The girl turned in her chair and looked at him. +She seemed to be unusually pale.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five!" she said, still gazing at White +in a frightened sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Forty," he said; rose at the same moment and +walked over to where the girl was sitting.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him as he bent over her chair; +both were very serious.</p> + +<p>"You and I are the only two people bidding," +he said. "There are two copies of the book. +Don't bid against me and you can buy in the other +one for next to nothing—judging from the course +this one is taking."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>A moment later the first copy of Valdez was +knocked down to James White. An indifferent +audience paid little attention to the transaction.<span class="pagenumsmall">[267]</span></p> + +<p>Two minutes later the second copy fell to Miss +Jean Sandys for five dollars—there being no other +bidder.</p> + +<p>White had already left the galleries. Lingering +at the entrance he saw Miss Sandys pass him, +and he lifted his hat. The slightest inclination +of her pretty head acknowledged it. The next +moment they were lost to each other's view in the +crowded street.</p> + +<p>Clutching his battered book to his chest, not +even daring to drop it into his overcoat for fear +of pickpockets, the young fellow started up +Broadway at a swinging pace which presently +brought him to the offices of the Florida Spanish +Grants Company; and here, at his request, he was +ushered into a private room; a map of Seminole +County spread on the highly polished table before +him, and a suave gentleman placed at his +disposal.</p> + +<p>"Florida," volunteered the suave gentleman, "is +the land of perpetual sunshine—the land of milk +and honey, as it were, the land of the orange——"</p> + +<p>"One moment, please," said White.</p> + +<p>"Sir?"</p> + +<p>They looked at each other for a second or two, +then White smiled:</p> + +<p>"I don't want dope," he said pleasantly, "I<span class="pagenumsmall">[268]</span> +merely want a few facts—if your company deals +in them."</p> + +<p>"Florida," began the suave gentleman, watching +the effect of his words, "is the garden of the +world." Then he stopped, discouraged, for White +was grinning at him.</p> + +<p>"It won't do," said White amiably.</p> + +<p>"No?" queried the suave gentleman, the ghost +of a grin on his own smooth countenance.</p> + +<p>"No, it won't do. Now, if you will restrain +your very natural enthusiasm and let me ask a +few questions——"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," said the suave gentleman, whose +name was Munsell. "But I don't believe we have +anything to suit you in Seminole County."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," returned White coolly, "is +it <i>all</i> under water?"</p> + +<p>"There are a few shell mounds. The highest is +nearly ten inches above water. We call them hills."</p> + +<p>"I might wish to acquire one of those mountain +ranges," remarked White seriously.</p> + +<p>After a moment they both laughed.</p> + +<p>"Are you in the game yourself?" inquired Mr. +Munsell.</p> + +<p>"Well, my game is a trifle different."</p> + +<p>"Oh. Do you care to be more explicit?"</p> + +<p>White shook his head:<span class="pagenumsmall">[269]</span></p> + +<p>"No; what's the use? But I'll say this: it isn't +the 'Perpetual Sunshine and Orange Grove' game, +or how to become a millionaire in three years."</p> + +<p>"No?" grinned Munsell, lifting his expressive +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>White bent over the map for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said carelessly, "is the Spanish +Causeway and the Coakachee River. It's all +swamp and jungle, I suppose—although I see you +have it plotted into orange groves, truck gardens, +pineapple plantations, and villas."</p> + +<p>Munsell made a last but hopeless effort. +"Some day," he began, with dignity—but White's +calm wink discouraged further attempts. Then +the young man tapped with his pencil lots numbered +from 200 to 210, slowly, going over them +again for emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Are those what you want?" asked Munsell.</p> + +<p>"Those are what I want."</p> + +<p>"All right. Only I can't give you 210."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday a party took a strip along the +Causeway including half of 210 up to 220."</p> + +<p>"Can't I get all of 210?"</p> + +<p>"I'll ask the party. Where can I address you?"</p> + +<p>White stood up. "Have everything ready Tuesday. +I'll be in with the cash."<span class="pagenumsmall">[270]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/ch27.jpg" width="330" height="186" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXVII</h2> + +<p>And on Tuesday he kept his word and the +land was his for a few hundred dollars—all +except the half of Lot No. 210, which +it appeared the "party" declined to sell, refusing +to consider any profit whatever.</p> + +<p>"It's like a woman," remarked Munsell.</p> + +<p>"Is your 'party' a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I guess she's into some game or other, +too. Say, what is this Seminole County game, +Mr. White?—if you don't mind my asking, now +that you have taken title to your—h'm!—orange +grove."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think there is any particular +game afoot?" inquired the young man curiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come! <i>You</i> know what you're buying. +And that young lady knew, too. You've both +bought a few acres of cypress swamp and you +know it. What do you think is in it?"</p> + +<p>"Snakes," said White coolly.<span class="pagenumsmall">[271]</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>I</i> know," said Munsell. "You think there's +marl and phosphoric rock."</p> + +<p>"And isn't there?" asked White innocently.</p> + +<p>"How should <i>I</i> know?" replied Munsell as innocently; +the inference being that he knew perfectly +well that there was nothing worth purchasing +in the Causeway swamp.</p> + +<p>But when White went away he was a trifle worried, +and he wondered uneasily why anybody else +at that particular time should happen to invest +in swampy real estate along the Spanish Causeway.</p> + +<p>He knew the Spanish Causeway. In youthful +and prosperous days, when his parents were alive, +they had once wintered at Verbena Inlet.</p> + +<p>And on several occasions he had been taken on +excursions to the so-called Spanish Causeway—a +dike-shaped path, partly ruined, made of marl +and shell, which traversed the endless swamps of +Seminole County, and was supposed to have been +built by De Soto and his Spaniards.</p> + +<p>But whoever built it, Spaniard, Seminole, or +the prehistoric people antedating both, there it +still was, a ruined remnant of highway penetrating +the otherwise impassable swamps.</p> + +<p>For miles across the wilderness of cypress, +palmetto, oak, and depthless mud it stretched—a<span class="pagenumsmall">[272]</span> +crumbling but dry runway for deer, panther, bear, +black wolf, and Seminole. And excursion parties +from the great hotels at Verbena often picnicked +at its intersection with the forest road, but ventured +no farther along the dismal, forbidding, and +snake-infested ridge which ran anywhere between +six inches and six feet above the level of the evil-looking +marsh flanking it on either side.</p> + +<p>In the care-free days of school, of affluence, and +of youth, White had been taken to gaze upon this +alleged relic of Spanish glory. He now remembered +it very clearly.</p> + +<p>And that night, aboard the luxurious Verbena +Special, he lay in his bunk and dreamed dreams +awake, which almost overwhelmed him with their +magnificence. But when he slept his dreams were +uneasy, interspersed with vague visions of women +who came in regiments through flowering jungles +to drive him out of his own property. It was a +horrid sort of nightmare, for they pelted him with +iron-bound copies of Valdez, knocking him almost +senseless into the mud. And it seemed to him +that he might have perished there had not his little +red-haired neighbour extended a slender, helping +hand in the nick of time.</p> + +<p>Dreaming of her he awoke, still shaking with +the experience. And all that day he read in his<span class="pagenumsmall">[273]</span> +book and pored over the map attached to it, until +the locomotive whistled for St. Augustine, and +he was obliged to disembark for the night.</p> + +<p>However, next morning he was on his way to +Verbena, the train flying through a steady whirlwind +of driving sand. And everywhere in the sunshine +stretched the flat-woods, magnificently green—endless +miles of pine and oak and palmetto, set +with brilliant glades of vast, flat fields of wild +phlox over which butterflies hovered.</p> + +<p>At Verbena Station he disembarked with his +luggage, which consisted of a complete tropical +camping outfit, tinned food, shot-gun, rifle, rods, +spade, shovel, pick, crow. In his hand he carried +an innocent looking satchel, gingerly. It +contained dynamite in sticks, and the means to +explode it safely.</p> + +<p>To a hackman he said: "I'm not going to any +hotel. What I want is a wagon, a team of mules, +and a driver to take me and my outfit to Coakachee +Creek on the Spanish Causeway. Can you +fix it for me?"</p> + +<p>The hackman said he could. And in half an +hour he drove up in his mule wagon to the deserted +station, where White sat all alone amid +his mountainous paraphernalia.</p> + +<p>When the wagon had been loaded, and they had<span class="pagenumsmall">[274]</span> +been driving through the woods for nearly half +an hour in silence, the driver's curiosity got the +better of him, and he ventured to enquire of White +why everybody was going to the Spanish Causeway.</p> + +<p>Which question startled the young man very +disagreeably until he learned that "everybody" +merely meant himself and one other person taken +thither by the same driver the day before.</p> + +<p>Further, he learned that this person was a +woman from the North, completely equipped for +camping as was he. Which made him more uneasy +than ever, for he of course identified her with +Mr. Munsell's client, whose land, including half +of Lot 210, adjoined his own. Who she might +be and why she had come down here to Seminole +County he could not imagine, because Munsell had +intimated that she knew what she was buying.</p> + +<p>No doubt she meant to play a similar game to +Munsell's, and had come down to take a look at +her villainous property before advertising possibilities +of perpetual sunshine.</p> + +<p>Yet, why had she brought a camping outfit? +Ordinary land swindlers remained comfortably +aloof from the worthless property they advertised. +What was she intending to do there?</p> + +<p>Instead of a swindler was she, perhaps, the<span class="pagenumsmall">[275]</span> +swindlee? Had she bought the property in good +faith? Didn't she know it was under water? Had +she come down here with her pitiful camping +equipment prepared to rough it and set out orange +trees? Poor thing!</p> + +<p>"Was she all alone?" he inquired of his cracker +driver.</p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> + +<p>"Poor thing. Did she seem young and inexperienced?"</p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh—'scusin she all has right smart o' +red ha'r."</p> + +<p>"What?" exclaimed White excitedly. "You say +she is young, and that she seemed inexperienced, +except for her red hair!"</p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh. She all has a right smart hank of +red ha'r on her haid. I ain't never knowed nobody +with red ha'r what ain't had a heap mo' +'sperience than the mostest."</p> + +<p>"D-d-did you say that you drove her over to +the Spanish Causeway yesterday?" stammered +the dismayed young man.</p> + +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> + +<p>Horrified thoughts filled his mind. For there +could be scarcely any doubt that this intruder was +his red-haired neighbour across the aisle at the +library sale.<span class="pagenumsmall">[276]</span></p> + +<p>No doubt at all that he already crossed her trail +at Munsell's agency. Also, she had bid in one +of the only two copies of Valdez.</p> + +<p>First he had seen her reading it with every +symptom of profound interest. Then she had +gone to the sale and bid in one of the copies. +Then he had heard from Munsell about a woman +who had bought land along the Causeway the day +before he had made his own purchase.</p> + +<p>And now once more he had struck her swift, +direct trail, only to learn that she was still one +day in advance of him!</p> + +<p>In his mental panic he remembered that his +title was secure. That thought comforted him +for a few moments, until he began to wonder +whether the land he had acquired was really sufficient +to cover a certain section of perhaps half +an acre along the Causeway.</p> + +<p>According to his calculations he had given himself +ample margin in every direction, for the spot +he desired to control ought to lie somewhere about +midway between Lot 200 and Lot 210.</p> + +<p>Had he miscalculated? Had <i>she</i> miscalculated? +Why had she purchased that strip from half of +Lot 210 to Lot 220?</p> + +<p>There could be only one answer: this clever<span class="pagenumsmall">[277]</span> +and astoundingly enterprising young girl had +read Valdez, had decided to take a chance, had +proved her sporting spirit by backing her judgment, +and had started straight as an arrow for +the terrifying territory in question.</p> + +<p>Hers had been first choice of Mr. Munsell's lots; +she had deliberately chosen the numbers from +half of 210 to 220. She was perfectly ignorant +that he, White, had any serious intentions in +Seminole County. Therefore, it had been her +judgment, based on calculations from the Valdez +map, that half of Lot 210 and the intervening +territory including Lot 220, would be ample for +her to control a certain spot—the very spot +which he himself expected to control.</p> + +<p>Either he or she had miscalculated. Which?</p> + +<p>Dreadfully worried, he sat in silence beside his +taciturn driver, gazing at the flanking forest +through which the white road wound.</p> + +<p>The only habitation they passed was fruit-drying +ranch No. 7, in the wilderness—just this one +sunny oasis in the solemn half-light of the woods.</p> + +<p>White did not remember the road, although +when a child he must have traversed it to the +Causeway. Nor when he came in sight of the +Causeway did he recognise it, where it ran<span class="pagenumsmall">[278]</span> +through a glade of high, silvery grass set sparsely +with tall palmettos.</p> + +<p>But here it was, and the cracker turned his +mules into it, swinging sharply to the left along +Coakachee Creek and proceeding for about two +miles, where a shell mound enabled him to turn +his team.</p> + +<p>A wagon could proceed no farther because the +crumbling Causeway narrowed to a foot-path beyond. +So here they unloaded; the cracker rested +his mules for a while, then said a brief good-bye +to White and shook the reins.</p> + +<p>When he had driven out of sight, White started +to drag his tent and tent-poles along the dike top +toward his own property, which ought to lie just +ahead—somewhere near the curve that the Causeway +made a hundred yards beyond. For he had +discovered a weather-beaten shingle nailed to a +water-oak, where he had disembarked his luggage; +and on it were the remains of the painted number +198.</p> + +<p>Lugging tent and poles, he started along the +Causeway, keeping a respectful eye out for snakes. +So intent was he on avoiding the playful attentions +of rattler or moccasin that it was only when +he almost ran into it that he discovered another +tent pitched directly in his path.<span class="pagenumsmall">[279]</span></p> + +<p>Of course he had expected to find her encamped +there on the Causeway, but he was surprised, +nevertheless, and his tent-poles fell, clattering.</p> + +<p>A second later the flap of her tent was pushed +aside, and his red-haired neighbour of the galleries +stepped out, plainly startled.<span class="pagenumsmall">[280]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;"> +<img src="images/ch28.jpg" width="480" height="390" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXVIII</h2> + +<p>She seemed to be still more startled when she +saw him: her blue eyes dilated; the colour +which had ebbed came back, suffusing her +pretty features. But when she recognised him, +fear, dismay, astonishment, and anxiety blended +in swift confusion, leaving her silent, crimson, +rooted to the spot.</p> + +<p>White took off his hat and walked up to where +she stood.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Miss Sandys," he said. "Only a +few hours ago did I learn who it was camping +here on the Causeway. And—I'm afraid I know +why you are here.... Because the same reason +that brought you started me the next day."</p> + +<p>She had recovered her composure. She said +very gravely:<span class="pagenumsmall">[281]</span></p> + +<p>"I wondered when I saw you reading Valdez +whether, by any possibility, you might think of +coming here. And when you bought the other +copy I was still more afraid.... But I had already +secured an option on my lots."</p> + +<p>"I know it," he said, chagrined.</p> + +<p>"Were you," she inquired, "the client of Mr. +Munsell who tried to buy from me the other half +of Lot 210?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I wondered. But of course I would not sell it. +What lots have you bought?"</p> + +<p>"I took No. 200 to the northern half of No. +210."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Because," he said, reddening, "my calculations +tell me that this gives me ample margin."</p> + +<p>She looked at him in calm disapproval, shaking +her head; but her blue eyes softened.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said. "You have miscalculated, +Mr. White. The spot lies somewhere within +the plot numbered from half of 210 to 220."</p> + +<p>"I am very much afraid that <i>you</i> have miscalculated, +Miss Sandys. I did not even attempt to +purchase your plot—except half of 210."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I even consider <i>your</i> plot, Mr. White," +she said sorrowfully, "and I had my choice.<span class="pagenumsmall">[282]</span> +Really I am very sorry for you, but you have +made a complete miscalculation."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how I could. I worked it out from +the Valdez map."</p> + +<p>"So did I."</p> + +<p>She had the volume under her arm; he had his +in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Let me show you," he began, drawing it out +and opening it. "Would you mind looking at the +map for a moment?"</p> + +<p>Her dainty head a trifle on one side, she looked +over his shoulder as he unfolded the map for +her.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, plucking a dead grass stem +and tracing the Causeway on the map, "here lie +my lots—including, as you see, the spot marked +by Valdez with a Maltese cross.... I'm sorry; +but how in the world could you have made your +mistake?"</p> + +<p>He turned to glance at the girl and saw her +amazement and misunderstood it.</p> + +<p>"It's too bad," he added, feeling profoundly +sorry for her.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said in a voice quivering +with emotion, "that a very terrible thing has happened +to us?"</p> + +<p>"To <i>us</i>?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[283]</span></p> + +<p>"To <i>both</i> of us. I—we—oh, please look at my +map! It is—it is different from yours!"</p> + +<p>With nervous fingers she opened the book, +spread out the map, and held it under his horrified +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you see!" she exclaimed. "According to +<i>this</i> map, my lots include the Maltese cross of +Valdez! I—I—p-please excuse me——" She +turned abruptly and entered her tent; but he had +caught the glimmer of sudden tears in her eyes +and had seen the pitiful lips trembling.</p> + +<p>On his own account he was sufficiently scared; +now it flashed upon him that this plucky young +thing had probably spent her last penny on the +chance that Bangs had told the truth about "The +Journal of Pedro Valdez."</p> + +<p>That the two maps differed was a staggering +blow to him; and his knees seemed rather weak +at the moment, so he sat down on his unpacked +tent and dropped his face in his palms.</p> + +<p>Lord, what a mess! His last cent was invested; +hers, too, no doubt. He hadn't even railroad +fare North. Probably she hadn't either.</p> + +<p>He had gambled and lost. There was scarcely +a chance that he had not lost. And the same +fearful odds were against her.</p> + +<p>"The poor little thing!" he muttered, staring at<span class="pagenumsmall">[284]</span> +her tent. And after a moment he sprang to his +feet and walked over to it. The flap was open; +she sat inside on a camp-chair, her red head in +her arms, doubled over in an attitude of tragic +despair.</p> + +<p>"Miss Sandys?"</p> + +<p>She looked up hastily, the quick colour dyeing +her pale cheeks, her long, black lashes glimmering +with tears.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind talking it over with me?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"N-no."</p> + +<p>"May I come in?"</p> + +<p>"P-please."</p> + +<p>He seated himself cross-legged on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing to do," he said, "and +that is to go ahead. We must go ahead. Of +course the hazard is against us. Let us face the +chance that Bangs was only a clever romancer. +Well, we've already discounted that. Then let us +face the discrepancy in our two maps. It's bad, +I'll admit. It almost knocks the last atom of +confidence out of me. It has floored you. But +you must not take the count. You must get up."</p> + +<p>He paused, looking around him with troubled +eyes; then somehow the sight of her pathetic figure—the<span class="pagenumsmall">[285]</span> +soft, helpless youth of her—suddenly +seemed to prop up his back-bone.</p> + +<p>"Miss Sandys, I am going to stand by you anyway! +I suppose, like myself, you have invested +your last dollar in this business?"</p> + +<p>"Y-yes."</p> + +<p>He glanced at the pick, shovel and spade in the +corner of her tent, then at her hands.</p> + +<p>"Who," he asked politely, "was going to wield +these?"</p> + +<p>She let her eyes rest on the massive implements +of honest toil, then looked confusedly at him.</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever try to dig with any of these +things?"</p> + +<p>"N-no. But if I <i>had</i> to do it I knew I could."</p> + +<p>He said, pleasantly: "You have all kinds of +courage. Did you bring a shot-gun?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do you know how to load and fire it?"</p> + +<p>"The clerk in the shop instructed me."</p> + +<p>"You are the pluckiest girl I ever laid eyes +on.... You camped here all alone last night, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How about it?" he asked, smilingly. "Were +you afraid?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[286]</span></p> + +<p>She coloured, cast a swift glance at him, saw +that his attitude was perfectly respectful and sympathetic, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was horribly afraid."</p> + +<p>"Did anything annoy you?"</p> + +<p>"S-something bellowed out there in the swamp——" +She shuddered unaffectedly at the recollection.</p> + +<p>"A bull-alligator," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he nodded, "it is terrifying, but they +let you alone. I once heard one bellow on the +Tomoka when I was a boy."</p> + +<p>After a while she said with tremulous lips:</p> + +<p>"There seem to be snakes here, too."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you expect any?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Munsell said there were not any."</p> + +<p>"Did he?"</p> + +<p>"Not," she explained resolutely, "that the presence +of snakes would have deterred me. They +frighten me terribly, but—I would have come just +the same."</p> + +<p>"You are sheer pluck," he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know.... I am very poor.... +There seemed to be a chance.... I took it——" +Tears sprang to her eyes again, and she brushed +them away impatiently.<span class="pagenumsmall">[287]</span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "the only way is to go on, as +you say, Mr. White. Everything in the world +that I have is invested here."</p> + +<p>"It is the same with me," he admitted dejectedly.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other curiously for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it strange?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Strange as 'The Journal of Valdez.'... I +have an idea. I wonder what you might think of +it."</p> + +<p>She waited; he reflected for another moment, +then, smiling:</p> + +<p>"This is a perfectly rotten place for you," he +said. "You could not do manual labour here in +this swamp under a nearly vertical sun and keep +your health for twenty-four hours. I've been in +Trinidad. I know a little about the tropics and +semi-tropics. Suppose you and I form a company?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Call it the Valdez Company, or the Association +of the Maltese Cross," he continued cheerfully. +"You will do the cooking, washing, housekeeping +for two tents, and the mending. I will do the +digging and the dynamiting. And we'll go ahead +doggedly, and face this thing and see it through<span class="pagenumsmall">[288]</span> +to the last ditch. What do you think of it? +Your claim as plotted out is no more, no less, +valuable than mine. Both claims may be worthless. +The chances are that they are absolutely +valueless. But there <i>is</i> a chance, too, that we +might win out. Shall we try it together?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> + +<p>"And," he continued, "if the Maltese cross happens +to be included within my claim, I share +equally with you. If it chances to lie within +your claim, perhaps I might ask a third——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. White!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You will take <i>two</i> thirds!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Two</i> thirds," she repeated firmly, "because +your heavier labour entitles you to that proportion!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Sandys, you are unworldly and +inexperienced in your generosity——"</p> + +<p>"So are you! The idea of your modestly venturing +to ask a <i>third</i>! And offering me a <i>half</i> if +the Maltese cross lie inside your own territory! +That is not the way to do business, Mr. White!"</p> + +<p>She had become so earnest in her admonition, +so charmingly emphatic, that he smiled in spite +of himself.<span class="pagenumsmall">[289]</span></p> + +<p>She flushed, noticing this, and said: "Altruism +is a luxury in business matters; selfishness of the +justifiable sort a necessity. Who will look out +for your interests if you do not?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> seem to be doing it."</p> + +<p>Her colour deepened: "I am only suggesting +that you do not make a foolish bargain with +me."</p> + +<p>"Which proves," he said, "that you are not +much better at business than am I. Otherwise +you'd have taken me up."</p> + +<p>"I'm a very good business woman," she insisted, +warmly, "but I'm too much of the other kind of +woman to be unfair!"</p> + +<p>"Commercially," he said, "we both are sadly +behind the times. To-day the world is eliminating +its appendix; to-morrow it will be operated on +for another obsolete and annoying appendage. I +mean its conscience," he added, so seriously that +for a moment her own gravity remained unaltered. +Then, like a faint ray of sunlight, across her face +the smile glimmered. It was a winning smile, +fresh and unspoiled as the lips it touched.</p> + +<p>"You <i>will</i> take half—won't you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. Is it a bargain?"</p> + +<p>"If you care to make it so, Mr. White."</p> + +<p>He said he did, and they shook hands very<span class="pagenumsmall">[290]</span> +formally. Then he went out and pitched his tent +beside hers, set it in order, lugged up the remainder +of his equipment, buried the jars of +spring water, and, entering his tent, changed to +flannel shirt, sun-helmet, and khaki.<span class="pagenumsmall">[291]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/ch29.jpg" width="350" height="397" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXIX</h2> + +<p>A little later he called to her: she +emerged from her tent, and together they +sat down on the edge of the Causeway, +with the two maps spread over their knees.</p> + +<p>That both maps very accurately represented the +topography of the immediate vicinity there could +be no doubt; the only discrepancy seemed to lie +in the situation of the Maltese cross. On White's +map the cross fell well within his half of Lot 210; +in Jean Sandys' map it was situated between her +half of 210 and 220.</p> + +<p>Plot it out as they might, using Mr. Munsell's +diagram, the result was always the same; and +after a while they gave up the useless attempt to +reconcile the differences in the two maps.<span class="pagenumsmall">[292]</span></p> + +<p>From where they were sitting together on the +Causeway's edge, they were facing due west. At +their feet rippled the clear, deep waters of the +swamp, lapping against the base of the Causeway +like transparent little waves in a northern lake. +A slight current disclosed the channel where it +flowed out of the north western edges of the +swamp, which was set with tall cypress trees, +their flaring bases like silvery pyramids deep set +in the shining ooze.</p> + +<p>East of them the Coakachee flowed through +thickets of saw-grass and green brier, between a +forest of oak, pine, and cedar, bordered on the +western side by palm and palmetto—all exactly +as drawn in the map of Pedro Valdez.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was cloudless and warm; an exquisite +scent of blossoms came from the forest +when a light breeze rippled the water. Somewhere +in those green and tangled depths jasmine +hung its fairy gold from arching branches, and +wild oranges were in bloom. At intervals, when +the breeze set from the east, the heavenly fragrance +of magnolia grew more pronounced.</p> + +<p>After a little searching he discovered the huge +tree, far towering above oak and pine and palm, +set with lustrous clusters, ivory and palest gold, +exhaling incense.<span class="pagenumsmall">[293]</span></p> + +<p>"Wonderful," she said under her breath, when +he pointed it out to her. "This enchanted land +is one endless miracle to me."</p> + +<p>"You have never before been in the South?"</p> + +<p>"I have been nowhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh. I thought perhaps when you were a +child——"</p> + +<p>"We were too poor. My mother taught piano."</p> + +<p>"I see," he said gravely.</p> + +<p>"I had no childhood," she said. "After the +public school, it was the book section in department +stores.... They let me go last week. +That is how I came to be in the Heikem galleries."</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands around one knee and +looked out across the semi-tropical landscape.</p> + +<p>Orange-coloured butterflies with wings like +lighted lanterns fluttered along the edges of the +flowering shrubs; a lovely purplish-black one with +four large, white polka dots on his wings flitted +persistently about them.</p> + +<p>Over the sun-baked Causeway blue-tailed lizards +raced and chased each other, frisking up tree +trunks, flashing across branches: a snowy heron +rose like some winged thing from Heaven, and +floated away into the silvery light. And like living +jewels the gorgeous wood-ducks glided in and<span class="pagenumsmall">[294]</span> +out where the water sparkled among the cypress +trees.</p> + +<p>"Think," he said, "of those men in armour toiling +through these swamps under a vertical sun! +Think of them, starved, haggard, fever racked, +staggering toward their El Dorado!—their steel +mail scorching their bodies, the briers and poison-grass +festering their flesh; moccasin, rattler, and +copperhead menacing them with death at every +step; the poisoned arrows of the Indians whizzing +from every glade!"</p> + +<p>"Blood and gold," she nodded, "and the deathless +bravery of avarice! That was Spain. And +it inflamed the sunset of Spanish glory."</p> + +<p>He mused for a while: "To think of De Soto +being here—<i>here</i> on this very spot!—here on this +ancient Causeway, amid these forests!—towering +in his armour! His plated mail must have made +a burning hell for his body!"</p> + +<p>She looked down at the cool, blue water at her +feet. He, too, gazed at it, curiously. For a +few feet the depths were visible, then a translucent +gloom, glimmering with emerald lights, obscured +further penetration of his vision. Deep +down in that water was what they sought—if it +truly existed at all.</p> + +<p>After a few moments' silence he rose, drew the<span class="pagenumsmall">[295]</span> +hunting-knife at his belt, severed a tall, swamp-maple +sapling, trimmed it, and, returning to the +water's edge, deliberately sounded the channel. +He could not touch bottom there, or even at the +base of the Causeway.</p> + +<p>"Miss Sandys," he said, "there is plenty of +room for such a structure as the Maltese cross +is supposed to mark."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's room enough," he repeated, with +an uneasy laugh. "Suppose we begin operations!"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Now!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, flushed and smiling:</p> + +<p>"It is going to take weeks and weeks, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"I thought so before I came down here. But—I +don't see why we shouldn't blow a hole +through this Causeway in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, slightly excited, not understanding.</p> + +<p>"I could set off enough dynamite right here," +he said, stamping his heel into the white dust, +"—enough dynamite to open up that channel into +the Coakachee. Why don't I do it?"<span class="pagenumsmall">[296]</span></p> + +<p>Pink with excitement she said breathlessly: +"Did you bring <i>dynamite</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't <i>you</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I—I never even thought of it. F-fire crackers +frighten me. I thought it would be all I could +do to fire off my shot-gun." And she bit her +lip with vexation.</p> + +<p>"Why," he said, "it would take a gang of men +a week to cut through this Causeway, besides +building a coffer-dam." He looked at her curiously. +"How did <i>you</i> expect to begin operations +all alone?"</p> + +<p>"I—I expected to dig."</p> + +<p>He looked at her delicate little hands:</p> + +<p>"You meant to dig your way through with +pick and shovel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—if it took a year."</p> + +<p>"And how did you expect to construct your +coffer-dam?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know about a coffer-dam," she admitted, +blushing. After a moment she lifted her +pretty, distressed eyes to his: "I—I had no knowledge—only +courage," she said.... "And I +needed money."</p> + +<p>A responsive flush of sympathy and pity passed +over him; she was so plucky, so adorably helpless. +Even now he knew she was unconscious of<span class="pagenumsmall">[297]</span> +the peril into which her confidence and folly had +led her—a peril averted only by the mere accident +of his own arrival.</p> + +<p>He said lightly: "Shall we try to solve this +thing now? Shall we take a chance, set our +charges, and blow a hole in this Causeway big +enough to drain that water off in an hour?"</p> + +<p>"Could you do <i>that</i>?" she exclaimed, delighted.</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me what to do to help you."</p> + +<p>He turned toward her, hesitated, controlling the +impulsive reply.</p> + +<p>"To help me," he said, smilingly, "please keep +away from the dynamite."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will," she nodded seriously. "What else +am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind preparing dinner?"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him a little shyly: "No.... +And I am very glad that I am not to dine alone."</p> + +<p>"So am I," he said. "And I am very glad that +it is with <i>you</i> I am to dine."</p> + +<p>"You never even looked at me in the galleries," +she said.</p> + +<p>"Then—how could I know you were reading +Valdez if I never looked at you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may have looked at the <i>book</i> I was +reading."<span class="pagenumsmall">[298]</span></p> + +<p>"I did," he said, "—and at the hands that held +it."</p> + +<p>"Never dreaming that they meant to wield a +pick-axe," she laughed, "and encompass your discomfiture. +But after all they did neither the one +nor the other; did they?"</p> + +<p>He looked at the smooth little hands cupped +in the shallow pockets of her white flannel Norfolk. +They fascinated him.</p> + +<p>"To think," he said, half to himself, "—to +think of those hands wielding a pick-axe!"</p> + +<p>She smiled, head slightly on one side, and bent, +contemplating her right hand.</p> + +<p>"You know," she said, "I certainly would have +done it."</p> + +<p>"You would have been crippled in an hour."</p> + +<p>Her head went up, but she was still smiling as +she said: "I'd have gone through with it—somehow."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said slowly. "I believe you would."</p> + +<p>"Not," she added, blushing, "that I mean to +vaunt myself or my courage——"</p> + +<p>"No: I understand. You are not that kind.... +It's rather extraordinary how well I—I <i>think</i> I +know you already."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you <i>do</i> know me—already."</p> + +<p>"I really believe I do."<span class="pagenumsmall">[299]</span></p> + +<p>"It's very likely. I am just what I seem to +be. There is no mystery about me. I am what +I appear to be."</p> + +<p>"You are also very direct."</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's my nature to be direct. I am not +a bit politic or diplomatic or circuitous."</p> + +<p>"So I noticed," he said smilingly, "when you +discussed finance with me. You were not a bit +politic."</p> + +<p>She smiled, too, a little embarrassed: "How +could I be anything but frank in return for your +very unworldly generosity?" she said. "Because +what you offered <i>was</i> unworldly. Anyway, I +should have been direct with you; I knew what I +wanted; I knew what you wanted. All I had to +do was to make up my mind. And I did so."</p> + +<p>"Did you make up your mind about me, also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, about you, also."</p> + +<p>They both smiled.</p> + +<p>She was so straight and slender and pretty in +her white flannels and white outing hat—her attitude +so confident, so charmingly determined, that +she seemed to him even younger than she really +was—a delightful, illogical, fresh and fearless +school-girl, translated by some flash of magic +from her school hither, and set down unruffled and +unstartled upon her light, white-shod feet.<span class="pagenumsmall">[300]</span></p> + +<p>Even now it amazed him to realise that she +really understood nothing of the lonely perils +lately confronting her in this desolate place.</p> + +<p>For if there were nothing actually to fear from +the wild beasts of the region, <i>that which the beasts +themselves feared</i> might have confronted her at +any moment. He shuddered as he thought of +it.</p> + +<p>And what would she have done if suddenly +clutched by fever? What would she have done if +a white-mouthed moccasin had struck her ankle—or +if it had been the diamond-set Death himself?</p> + +<p>"You don't mind my speaking plainly, do you?" +he said bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, of course not." She looked at him +inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Don't stray far away from me, will you?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Don't wander away by yourself, out of sight, +while we are engaged in this business."</p> + +<p>She looked serious and perplexed for a moment, +then turned a delicate pink and began to +laugh in a pretty, embarrassed way.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid I'll get into mischief? Do you +know it is very kind of you to feel that way?... +And rather unexpected—in a man who—sat for<span class="pagenumsmall">[301]</span> +three days across the aisle from me—and never +even looked in my direction. Tell me, what am +I to be afraid of in this place?"</p> + +<p>"There are snakes about," he said with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I've seen some swimming."</p> + +<p>"There are four poisonous species among +them," he continued. "That's one of the reasons +for your keeping near me."</p> + +<p>She nodded, a trifle awed.</p> + +<p>"So you will, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, taking his words so literally +that, when they turned to walk toward the tents, +she came up close beside him, naïvely as a child, +and laid one hand on his sleeve as they started +back across the Causeway.</p> + +<p>"Suppose either one of us is bitten?" she asked +after a silence.</p> + +<p>"I have lancets, tourniquets, and anti-venom in +my tent."</p> + +<p>Her smooth hand tightened a little on his arm. +She had not realised that the danger was more +than a vague possibility.</p> + +<p>"You have spring water, of course," he said.</p> + +<p>"No.... I boiled a little from the swamp before +I drank it."</p> + +<p>He turned to her sternly and drew her arm<span class="pagenumsmall">[302]</span> +through his with an unconscious movement of +protection.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that water was properly boiled—<i>thoroughly</i> +boiled?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"It bubbled."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me! Hereafter when you are thirsty +you will use my spring water. Is that understood?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.... And thank you."</p> + +<p>"You don't want to get break-bone fever, do +you?"</p> + +<p>"No-o!" she said hastily. "I will do everything +you wish."</p> + +<p>"I'll hang your hammock for you," he said. +"Always look in your shoes for scorpions and +spiders before you put them on. Never step over +a fallen log before you first look on the other side. +Rattlers lie there. Never go near a swamp without +looking for moccasins.</p> + +<p>"Don't let the direct sunlight fall on your bare +head; don't eat fruit for a week; don't ever go +to sleep unless you have a blanket on. You won't +do any of these things, will you?" he inquired anxiously, +almost tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I promise. And I never dreamed that there +was anything to apprehend except alligators!" +she said, tightening her arm around his own.<span class="pagenumsmall">[303]</span></p> + +<p>"Alligators won't bother you—unless you run +across a big one in the woods. Then keep clear +of him."</p> + +<p>"I will!" she said earnestly.</p> + +<p>"And don't sit about on old logs or lean against +trees."</p> + +<p>"Why? Lizards?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're not harmful. But wood-ticks +might give you a miserable week or two."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she murmured, "I am so +glad you came here!" And quite innocently she +pressed his arm. She did it because she was grateful. +She had a very direct way with her.<span class="pagenumsmall">[304]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/ch30.jpg" width="600" height="428" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXX</h2> + +<p>When they came to their tents he went +into hers, slung her hammock properly, +shook a scorpion out of her slippers, +and set his heel on it; drove a non-poisonous +but noisy puff-adder from under her foot-rug, +the creature hissing like a boiling kettle and distending +its grey and black neck.</p> + +<p>Terrified but outwardly calm, she stood beside +him, now clutching his arm very closely; and at +last her tent was in order, the last spider and +lizard hustled out, the oil cook-stove burning, the +tinned goods ready, the aluminum batterie-de-cuisine +ranged at her elbow.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, hesitating, "whether I<span class="pagenumsmall">[305]</span> +dare leave you long enough to go and dig some +holes with a crow-bar."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" she said. "You can't have +me tagging at your heels every minute, you +know."</p> + +<p>He laughed: "It's <i>I</i> who do the tagging."</p> + +<p>"It isn't disagreeable," she said shyly.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to dog every step you take," +he continued, "but now, when you are out of my +sight, I—I can't help feeling a trifle anxious."</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't feel responsible for me. I +came down here on my own initiative. I certainly +deserve whatever happens to me. Don't I?"</p> + +<p>"What comfort would that be to me if anything +unpleasant did happen to you?"</p> + +<p>"Why," she asked frankly, "should you feel as +responsible for my welfare as that? After all, +I am only a stranger, you know."</p> + +<p>He said: "Do you really feel like a stranger? +Do you really feel that I am one?"</p> + +<p>She considered the proposition for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I don't. And perhaps it is +natural for us to take a friendly interest in each +other."</p> + +<p>"It comes perfectly natural to me to take a +v-very v-vivid interest in you," he said. "What<span class="pagenumsmall">[306]</span> +with snakes and scorpions and wood-ticks and unboiled +water and the actinic rays of the sun, I +can't very well help worrying about you. After +all," he added lucidly, "you're a girl, you know."</p> + +<p>She admitted the accusation with a smile so +sweet that there could be no doubt of her sex.</p> + +<p>"However," she said, "you should entertain no +apprehensions concerning me. I have none concerning +you. I think you know your business."</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, going into his tent and +returning loaded with crow-bar, pick-axe, dynamite, +battery, and wires.</p> + +<p>She laid aside the aluminum cooking-utensils +with which she had been fussing and rose from +her knees as he passed her with a pleasant nod of +<i>au revoir</i>.</p> + +<p>"You'll be careful with that dynamite, won't +you?" she said anxiously. "You know it goes +off at all sorts of unexpected moments."</p> + +<p>"I think I understand how to handle it," he reassured +her.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite certain?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. But perhaps you'd better not come +any nearer——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. White!"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> dangerous! I don't like to have you go<span class="pagenumsmall">[307]</span> +away alone with that dynamite. You make me +very anxious."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be. If—in the very remote event +of anything going wrong—now don't forget what +I say!—but in case of an accident to me, you'll +be all right if you start back to Verbena at once—instantly—and +take the right-hand road——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. <i>White</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I was <i>not</i> thinking of myself! I was concerned +about <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Me?—<i>personally</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! You say you have me on your +mind. Do you think I am devoid of human feeling?"</p> + +<p>"Were you—really—thinking about <i>me</i>?" he +repeated slowly. "That was very nice of you.... +I didn't quite understand.... I'll be careful +with the dynamite."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'd better go with you," she suggested +irresolutely.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I could hold a green umbrella over you while +you are digging holes. You yourself say that +the sun is dangerous."</p> + +<p>"My sun-helmet makes it all right," he said, +deeply touched.<span class="pagenumsmall">[308]</span></p> + +<p>"You won't take it off, will you?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And you'll look all around you for snakes +before you take the next step, won't you?" she +insisted.</p> + +<p>He promised, thrilled by her frank solicitude.</p> + +<p>A little way up the path he paused, looked +around, and saw her standing there looking after +him.</p> + +<p>"You're sure you'll be all right?" he called back +to her.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Are you sure <i>you</i> will be?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>They made two quick gestures of adieu, and +he resumed the path. Presently he turned again. +She was still standing there looking after him. +They made two gestures of farewell and he resumed +the path. After a while he looked back. +She—but what's the use!</p> + +<p>When he came to the spot marked for destruction, +he laid down his paraphernalia, seized the +crow-bar, and began to dig, scarcely conscious +of what he was about because he had become so +deeply absorbed in other things—in <i>an</i>-other +thing—a human one with red hair and otherwise +divinely endowed.</p> + +<p>The swift onset of this heavenly emotion was<span class="pagenumsmall">[309]</span> +making him giddy—or perhaps it was unaccustomed +manual labor under a semi-tropical +sun.</p> + +<p>Anyway he went about his work blindly but +vigorously, seeing nothing of the surrounding +landscape or of the immediate ground into which +he rammed his crow-bar, so constantly did the +charming vision of her piquant features shut out +all else.</p> + +<p>And all the time he was worrying, too. He +thought of snakes biting her distractingly pretty +ankles; he thought of wood-ticks and of her +snowy neck; of scorpions and of the delicate little +hands.</p> + +<p>How on earth was he ever going to endure the +strain if already, in these few hours, his anxiety +about her welfare was assuming such deep and +portentous proportions! How was he going to +stand the worry until she was safe in the snakeless, +tickless North again!</p> + +<p>She couldn't remain here! She must go North. +His mind seemed already tottering under its new +and constantly increasing load of responsibility; +and he dug away fiercely with his bar, making +twice as many holes as he had meant to.</p> + +<p>For he had suddenly determined to be done with +the job and get her into some safe place, and he<span class="pagenumsmall">[310]</span> +meant to set off a charge of dynamite that would +do the business without fail.</p> + +<p>Charging and tamping the holes, he used caution, +even in spite of his increasing impatience to +return and see how she was; arguing very justly +with himself that if he blew himself up he couldn't +very well learn how she was.</p> + +<p>So he attached the wires very carefully, made +his connections, picked up the big reel and the +remainder of his tools, and walked toward the distant +tents, unreeling his wire as he moved along.</p> + +<p>She was making soup, but she heard the jangle +of his equipment, sprang to her feet, and ran out +to meet him.</p> + +<p>He let fall everything and held out both hands. +In them she laid her own.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to see you!" he said warmly. "I'm +so thankful that you're all right!"</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you came back," she said frankly. +"I have been most uneasy about you."</p> + +<p>"I've been very anxious, too," he said. Then, +drawing an unfeigned sigh of relief: "It does +seem good to get back again!" He had been away +nearly half an hour.</p> + +<p>She examined the wire and the battery gingerly, +asking him innumerable questions about it.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose," she ended, "that it will be<span class="pagenumsmall">[311]</span> +safe for you to set off the charge from this +camp?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, perfectly," he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said, half to herself, "we'll +both be blown up if it isn't safe. And that is +<i>something</i>!"</p> + +<p>And she came up very close when he said he +was ready to fire, and laid her hand on his arm. +The hand was steady enough. But when he +glanced at her he saw how white she had become.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jean!" he said gently. "Are you frightened?"</p> + +<p>"No.... I won't mind it if I may stand +rather near you." And she closed her eyes and +placed both hands over her ears.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'd fire this charge," he demanded +warmly, "if there was the slightest possible +danger to <i>you</i>? Take down your hands and +listen."</p> + +<p>Her closed eyelids quivered: "We'll both—there +won't be anything left of either of us if anything +does happen," she said tremulously. "I +am not afraid.... Only tell me when to close +my ears."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think there is danger?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>He looked at her standing there, pale, plucky,<span class="pagenumsmall">[312]</span> +eyes tightly shut, her pretty fingers resting lightly +on her ears.</p> + +<p>He said: "Would you think me crazy if I tell +you something?"</p> + +<p>"W-What?"</p> + +<p>"Would you think me insane, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I would."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't consider me utterly mad?"</p> + +<p>"N-no."</p> + +<p>"No—<i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't consider you mad——"</p> + +<p>"No—<i>what</i>?" he persisted.</p> + +<p>And after a moment her pallor was tinted with +a delicate rose.</p> + +<p>"No—<i>what</i>?" he insisted again.</p> + +<p>"No—Jim," she answered under breath.</p> + +<p>"Then—close your ears, Jean, dear."</p> + +<p>She closed them; his arm encircled her waist. +She bore it nobly.</p> + +<p>"You may fire when you are ready—James!" +she said faintly.</p> + +<p>A thunder-clap answered her; the Causeway +seemed to spring up under their feet; the world +reeled.</p> + +<p>Presently she heard his voice sounding calmly: +"Are you all right, Jean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes.... I was thinking of you—as long as<span class="pagenumsmall">[313]</span> +I could think at all. I was ready to go—anywhere—with +you."</p> + +<p>"I have been ready for that," he said unsteadily, +"from the moment I heard your voice. But +it is—is wonderful of <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>She opened her blue eyes, dreamily looking up +into his. Then the colour surged into her face.</p> + +<p>"If—if you had spoken to me across the aisle," +she said, "it would have begun even sooner, I +think.... Because I can't imagine myself not—caring +for you."</p> + +<p>He took her into his arms:</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," he said, "I'll make a place for +you in the world, even if that Maltese cross means +nothing."</p> + +<p>She looked into his eyes fearlessly: "I know +you will," she said.</p> + +<p>Then he kissed her and she put both arms +around his neck and offered her fresh, young lips +again.<span class="pagenumsmall">[314]</span></p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/ch31.jpg" width="330" height="490" alt="" title=""> +</div> + +<h2>XXXI</h2> + +<p>Toward sunset he came to, partially, +passed his hand across his enchanted +eyes, and rose from the hammock beside +her.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," he said, "that swamp ought to be +partly drained by this time. Suppose we walk +over before dinner and take a look?"</p> + +<p>Still confused by the sweetness of her dream, +she sat up, and he drew her to her feet, where she +stood twisting up her beautiful hair, half smiling, +shy, adorable.</p> + +<p>Then together they walked slowly out along +the Causeway, so absorbed in each other that already +they had forgotten the explosion, and even +the Maltese cross itself.</p> + +<p>It was only when they were halted by the great<span class="pagenumsmall">[315]</span> +gap in the Causeway that Jean Sandys glanced +to the left, over a vast bed of shining mud, where +before blue wavelets had lapped the base of the +Causeway.</p> + +<p>Then her vaguely smiling eyes flew wide open; +she caught her lover's arm in an excited clasp.</p> + +<p>"O Jim!" she exclaimed. "Look! Look! It +is true! It is true! <i>Look</i> at the bed of the lake!"</p> + +<p>They stood trembling and staring at the low, +squat, windowless coquina house, reeking with the +silt of centuries, crawling with stranded water +creatures.</p> + +<p>The stones that had blocked the door had fallen +before the shock of the dynamite.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he whispered. "<i>Do you see what +is inside?</i>"</p> + +<p>But Jean Sandys, calmly looking untold wealth +in its glittering face, sighed, smiled, and turned +her blue gaze on her lover, finding in his eyes the +only miracle that now had power to hold her undivided +attention.</p> + +<p>For it is that way with some girls.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>But the novelist, unable to endure a dose of his +own technique, could no longer control his impatience:<span class="pagenumsmall">[316]</span></p> + +<p>"What in God's name was there in that stone +house!" he burst out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" muttered Stafford, "it is two +hours after midnight."</p> + +<p>He rose, bent over the girl's hand, and kissed +the emerald on the third finger.</p> + +<p>Figure after figure, tall, shadowy, leisurely followed +his example, while her little hand lay listlessly +on the silken cushions and her dreaming +eyes seemed to see nobody.</p> + +<p>Duane and I remained for a while seated, then +in silence,—which Athalie finally broke for us:</p> + +<p>"Patience," she said, "is the art of hoping.... +Good-night."</p> + +<p>I rose; she looked up at me, lifted her slim arm +and placed the palm of her hand against my +lips.</p> + +<p>And so I took my leave; thinking.</p> + +<hr class="chapter"> + +<div class="topbox"> +<p class="h3">Novels by Robert W. Chambers</p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Novels by Robert W. Chambers"> +<tr><td class="tdl">Quick Action</td><td class="tdl">The Gay Rebellion</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Blue-Bird Weather</td><td class="tdl">The Streets of Ascalon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Japonette</td><td class="tdl">The Common Law</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Adventures of a Modest Man</td><td class="tdl">Ailsa Paige</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Danger Mark</td><td class="tdl">The Green Mouse</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Special Messenger</td><td class="tdl">Iole</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Firing Line</td><td class="tdl">The Reckoning</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Younger Set</td><td class="tdl">The Maid-at-Arms</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Fighting Chance</td><td class="tdl">Cardigan</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Some Ladies in Haste</td><td class="tdl">The Haunts of Men</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Tree of Heaven</td><td class="tdl">The Mystery of Choice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Tracer of Lost Persons</td><td class="tdl">The Cambric Mask</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">A Young Man in a Hurry</td><td class="tdl">The Maker of Moons</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Lorraine</td><td class="tdl">The King in Yellow</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Maids of Paradise</td><td class="tdl">In Search of the Unknown</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Ashes of Empire</td><td class="tdl">The Conspirators</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Red Republic</td><td class="tdl">A King and a Few Dukes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">Outsiders</td><td class="tdl">In the Quarter</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">The Business of Life</td></tr> +</table></div> +</div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Quick Action, by Robert W. 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