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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE THREAD OF FLAME</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Thread of Flame" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Basil King" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1920" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45898" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-06-06" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Thread of Flame" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Thread of Flame" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="flame.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-06-06T22:10:25.566257+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45898" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Basil King" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2014-06-06" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-thread-of-flame"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE THREAD OF FLAME</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Thread of Flame -<br /> -<br />Author: Basil King -<br /> -<br />Release Date: June 06, 2014 [EBook #45898] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE THREAD OF FLAME</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 65%" id="figure-37"> -<span id="oh-as-for-cheering-people-upi-don-t-know"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Oh, as for cheering people up—I don't know ... A woman wants more than anything else in the world to feel that she's needed; and when she discovers she isn't—"" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Oh, as for cheering people up—I don't know ... A woman wants more than anything else in the world to feel that she's needed; and when she discovers she isn't—"</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE -<br />THREAD OF FLAME</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">By BASIL KING</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of -<br />"THE CITY OF COMRADES" "GOING WEST" -<br />"THE INNER SHRINE" ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Illustrated</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Harper & Brothers -<br /></span><em class="italics medium">Publishers</em><span class="medium"> -<br />New York and London</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">THE THREAD OF FLAME</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Copyright, 1920, by Harper & Brothers -<br />Printed in the United States of America -<br />Published August, 1920</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#oh-as-for-cheering-people-upi-don-t-know">"Oh, as for cheering people up—I don't know....</a><span> -A woman wants more than anything -else in the world to feel that she's needed; -and when she discovers she isn't—" . . . </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#she-turned-on-me-with-a-new-flash-in-her-blue-eyes">She turned on me with a new flash in her blue -eyes.</a><span> "Look here! Tell me honest, now. -Are you a swell crook—or ain't you?" -"Suppose I say that—that I ain't." "Say, -kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like -yourself, will you? ... If you're not a -swell crook I can't make you out"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#all-these-minutes-she-had-been-observing-me">All these minutes she had been observing me,</a><span> -with that queer, half-choked cry as the -result: "Oh, Billy, is this you?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-had-begun-on-collars-and-neckties">I had begun on collars and neckties</a><span> when Vio -said, "What kind of a girl was that who -was here this afternoon?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i"><span class="bold large">PART I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">THE THREAD OF FLAME</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Without opening my eyes I guessed that -it must be between five and six in the -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was snuggled into something narrow. On -moving my knee abruptly it came into contact -with an upright board. At the same time the end -of my bed rose upward, so that my feet were -higher than my head. Then the other end rose, -and my head was higher than my feet. A slow, -gentle roll threw my knee once more against the -board, though another slow, gentle roll swung me -back to my former position. Far away there was -a rhythmic throbbing, like the beating of a pulse. -I knew I was on shipboard, and for the moment -it was all I knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not quite awake and not quite asleep, I waited -as one waits in any strange bed, in any strange -place, for the waking mind to reconnect itself with -the happenings overnight. Sure of this speedy -re-establishment, I dozed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On awaking the second time I was still at a loss -for the reason for my being at sea. I had left a port; -I was going to a port; and I didn't know the name -of either. I might have been on any ocean, sailing -to any quarter of the globe. How long I had been -on the way, and how far I had still to go, were -details that danced away from me whenever I tried -to seize them. I retained a knowledge of -continents and countries; but as soon as I made the -attempt to see myself in any of them my mind -recoiled from the effort with a kind of sick dislike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing but a dull hint came to me on actually -opening my eyes. An infiltration of gray light -through the door, which was hooked ajar, revealed -a mere slit in space, with every peg and corner -utilized. A quiet breathing from the berth above -my head told me that I shared the cabin with -some one else. On the wall opposite, above a flat -red couch piled with small articles of travel, two -complete sets of clothing swung outward, or from -side to side like pendulums, according to the -movement of the ship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I closed my eyes again. It was clearly a cabin -of the cheaper and less comfortable order, calling -up a faintly disagreeable surprise. It was from -that that I drew my inference. I judged that -whoever I was I had traveled before, and in more -luxurious conditions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the partly open door, beyond which -there must have been an open porthole, came -puffs of salt wind and the swish and roar of the -ocean. Vainly I sought indications as to the point -of the compass toward which we were headed. -Imagination adapted itself instantly to any -direction it was asked to take. In this inside cabin -there was no suggestion from sun or cloud to show -the difference between east and west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Because I was not specially alarmed I did my -best to doze again. Dozing seemed to me, indeed, -the wisest course, for the reason that during the -freedom of subconsciousness in sleep the missing -connection was the more likely to be restored. It -would be restored of course. I was physically -well. I knew that by my general sensations. -Young, vigorous, and with plenty of money, a -mere lapse of memory was a joke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of being young and vigorous a touch on my -body was enough to give me the assurance. The -assumption of having plenty of money was more -subtle. It was a habit of mind rather than -anything more convincing. Certainly there was -nothing to prove it in this cabin, which might -easily have been second-class, nor yet in the stuff -of my pajamas, which was thick and coarse. I -noticed now, as I turned in my bunk, that it -rasped my skin unpleasantly. With no effort of -the memory I could see myself elegantly clad in -silk night-clothing fastened with silk frogs; and -yet when I asked myself when and where that -had been no answer was accorded me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I may have slept an hour when I waked again. -From the sounds in the cabin I drew the -conclusion that my overhead companion had got up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before looking at him I tested my memory for -some such recollection as men sharing the same -cabin have of their first meeting. But I had none. -Farther back than that waking between five and -six o'clock I couldn't think. It was like trying -to think back to the years preceding one's birth; -one's personality dissolved into darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I opened my eyes there was a man standing -in the dim gray light with his back to me. -Broad, muscular shoulders showed through the -undershirt which was all he wore in addition to -his trousers, of which the braces hung down the -back. The dark hair was the hair of youth, and -in a corner of the glass I caught the reflection of -a chin which in spite of the lather I also knew to -be young. Waiting till he had finished shaving -and had splashed his face in the basin, I said, with -a questioning intonation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning slowly, he lowered the towel from his -dripping face, holding it out like a propitiatory -offering. He responded then with the slow -emphasis of surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hel-lo, old scout! So you've waked up at -last! Thought you meant to sleep the trip out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I been asleep long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only since you came on aboard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on my tongue to ask, When was that? but -a sudden prompting of discretion bade me -seek another way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say I've slept more than—more -than"—I drew a bow at a venture—"more -than twenty-four hours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made the reckoning as he rubbed his -shining face with the towel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see! This is Friday. We came on -board late Tuesday night. When John-M'rie, -our bedroom steward, brought me down to the -cabin about half past nine you were already in -your bunk doing the opium act. John-M'rie -passed it up that you were a Frenchman, because -you'd spoken French to him; but now I see you're -just an American like myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So! I was an American but I could speak -French. I could speak French sufficiently well -for one Frenchman to mistake me for another. -I stowed this data away, noting that if I had -lost some of the power of memory the faculty -of reasoning was unimpaired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Weighing my questions so as to get the -maximum of information with the minimum of -betrayal, I waited before hazarding anything else -till he had finished polishing a face which had -the handsome ugliness of a pug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When do you think," was my next diplomatic -venture, "that we shall get in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hang!" The exclamation was caused -by finding himself pawing at the foot of my berth -in his search for the towel-rack. "Wednesday -morning with good luck," he went on, feeling -along the wall till he touched a kind of rod, behind -which he tucked the towel. "With bad weather -we'll not pick up the Nantucket Lightship before -Thursday night. The old bucket's supposed to -do it in eight days; but you know what that -means these times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I didn't know, since these times did not -distinguish themselves in my mind from any other -times. But the Nantucket Lightship was a -reference I understood. We were sailing for New -York. As an American I was therefore on my -way home, though no spot on the continent put -forth a special claim on me. I made brief -experiments in various directions: New York, -Washington, Chicago, San Francisco, Boston, Denver, -Seattle. Nothing responded. The hills of New -England, the mountains of California, the levees -of Louisiana were alike easy for me to recall; but -I was as detached from them as a spirit from -another world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These ideas floated—I choose the phrase as -expressive of something more nebulous than -active thinking—these ideas floated across my -brain as I watched the boy rinse his tooth-brush, -replace the tumbler, and feel along the wall for -the flannel shirt hanging on a peg. He turned to -me then with the twinkling, doggy look I was -beginning to notice as a trait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, you'd eat a whale, wouldn't you? -Haven't had a meal since Tuesday night, and -now it's Friday. Any one would think you were -up in the Ypres region before the eats got on to -the time-table. Pretty good grub on board this -old French tub, if you holler loud enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he went on to suggest a menu for my -breakfast I endeavored to deal with the new hints -he had thrown out. He had spoken of Ypres. -He had referred to short rations. I remembered -that there was a war. Whether it was over, or -whether it was going on, or whether I had taken -part in it or not, I couldn't say; but I knew there -had been, and perhaps that there still was, a war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tested myself as to that while I watched him -button his collar and put on his tie; but all I -drew forth was a sickening sense of noise, -mutilation, and dirt, which might have been no more -than the reaction from things I had read. Nothing -personal to myself entered into these associations; -no scene of horror that I could construct -took me in as an actor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My light-hearted companion would not, however, -allow me to follow my own train of thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," he laughed, "I know your name, but -I don't believe you know mine." The laugh grew -forced and embarrassed. "I've got the darnedest -name for kidding a guy ever got stuck on him. -Sometimes it makes me mad, and I think I'll go -to law and change it; and more times I get used -to it, till some smart Aleck breezes in and begins -to hang it all over me again. What do you think -it is? Give a guess now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said he knew my name—and I didn't know -it myself! That was the first of my queer -discoveries that appalled me. If I didn't know my -own name ... But the boy laughed on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give a guess now," he coaxed, buttoning up -his waistcoat. "I'll give you two; but they must -be awful funny ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing funnier than Smith and Jones having -occurred to me, he burst out with:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drinkwater! Isn't that the darnedest? I -can't look sidewise at anything that isn't water -before the other guys begin to kid me all over -the lot. Many a time I </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> drink water—and -don't want anything but water to drink—and -I'll be hanged if I don't feel ashamed to have -them see me doing it—and me with that name! -What do you know about that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I was too gravely preoccupied to tell him -what I knew about that, he began once more his -curious pawing along the wall, till he seized a -cap which he pulled down on his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hang!" he muttered then. "That's yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, too, was information, enabling me to -assume that the clothing which hung on the same -hook was mine also. I looked at it with some -interest, but also with a renewed feeling of -discomfort. It was the sort of suit in which I found -it difficult to see myself. Of a smooth gray twill, -sleek and provincial, there was that about it -which suggested the rural beau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having momentarily lost his orientation, the -boy clawed in the air again, touching first this -object and then that, fingering it, considering it, -locating it, till once more he got his bearings. -All this he did with a slowness and caution that -forced on me the recognition of the fact, which I -might have perceived before, that he was blind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing betrayed it but his motions. The -starry eyes were apparently uninjured. Only, -when you knew his infirmity, you noticed that -the starriness was like that of an electric lamp, -bright, but with a brightness not connected with -intelligence. It was an aimless brightness, -directed at nothing. The blaze of the quick pupils -was like that which a window flashes back to the -sunset, all from outside, and due to nothing in -the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dressed now for leaving the cabin, he still had -something to tell me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, there's one man on board who'll be glad -to hear you've waked up. That's the doctor. -Not the ship's doctor," he hastened to explain, -"but my doctor. Say, he's about the whitest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My questions were inspired not so much by -sympathy with him, though that affected me, -as by the hope of getting sidelights on myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you travel with a doctor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Came over with him just before the war. I -was his stenog. Name of Averill. Been in and -out to see you five and six times a day ever since -we sailed. Tell you all about him after I've had -my breakfast. Off now to send in John-M'rie. -Don't forget what I said about the griddle-cakes. -They can give 'em to you good and greasy if you -kick; but if you don't they'll just hand you out -a pile of asbestos table-mats."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Before getting up to make the investigations -on which I was so keen I waited to -be rid of Jean-Marie. He came in presently—small, -black, wiry, not particularly clean, and with -an oily smell, but full of an ingratiating kindness. -When I had trumped up an explanation of my -abnormally long sleep I set him to separating my -hand-luggage from my cabin-mate's, nominally -for the sake of convenience, but really that I -might know which was mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minute he had left with my order for -breakfast I sprang from my bunk. I searched -first the pockets of my clothes. There was -nothing in them but a handkerchief, a few French -coins, and a card giving the number of a cabin, -the number of a seat at a table in the -dining-saloon, and the name of Mr. Jasper Soames. -It was a name that to me meant nothing. Referring -it to my inner self, nothing vibrated, nothing -rang. It was like trying to clink a piece of -money on wool or cork or some other unresponsive -material.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My clothing itself was what I had guessed -from the inspection made from my berth. It -suggested having been bought ready to wear, -a suggestion borne out by the label of what was -apparently a big department store, the Bon -Marché, at Tours. My cap had the same label, -and my hard felt hat no maker's name at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I began on the bags which Jean-Marie had -segregated as my property. There were two, a -hand-bag and a suit-case, neither of them tagged -with a name. The hand-bag contained bottles, -brushes, handkerchiefs, all of the cheaper -varieties. Where there was anything to indicate the -place at which they had been purchased it was -always the Bon Marché at Tours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the suit-case, which was unlocked, and which -I opened feverishly, there was a suit almost -identical with that hanging on the hook, a little linen, -a few changes of underclothing, a small supply of -socks, collars, and other such necessities, all more -or less new, some of them still unworn, but with -not so much as an initial to give a clue to the -owner. It struck me—and I made the observation -with a frightened inward laugh—that a man -running away from detection for a crime would -fit himself out in just this way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having repacked the bags, I stood at a loss, in -the sense that for the first time I felt stunned. -The position was promising to be more serious -than I had thought it possible for it to become. -There were so many things to think of that I -couldn't see them all before me at a glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Standing in the middle of the narrow floor, -steadying myself by a hand on the edge of -Drinkwater's bunk, I suddenly caught my reflection -in the glass. It was a new line to follow up. -A look into my own eyes would reforge those -links with myself that had trembled away. I -went closer, staring at the man who now -confronted me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is an odd experience to gaze at yourself and -see a stranger; but that is what happened to me -now. The face that gazed back at me was one -which, as far as I could tell, I had never seen in -my life. I had seen faces like it, hundreds of -them, but never precisely this face. It was the -typical face of the brown-eyed, brown-haired -Anglo-Saxon, lean, leathery, and tanned; but -I could no more connect it with my intimate self -than I could Drinkwater's face, or Jean-Marie's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was that of a man who might have been -thirty-two, but who possibly looked older. I -mean by that that there was a haggardness in -it which seemed to come of experience rather than -from time. Had you passed this face in the -street you would have said that it was that of -a tall, good-looking young fellow with a brown -mustache, but you would have added that the -eyes had the queer, far-away luminosity of eyes -that have "seen things." They would have -reminded you of Drinkwater's eyes—not that they -were like them, but only because of their fixed -retention of images that have passed away from -the brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My next thought was of money. So far I -had found nothing but the few odd coins in my -pockets; but that I had plenty of it somewhere I -took as a matter of course. I know now by -experience that people in the habit of having money -and people in the habit of not having it are -led by different "senses." In the one case it is -a sense of limitation; in the other of liberty. It -is like the difference between the movements of -a blind man and those of one who can see—a -tactful feeling of every step in contrast with the -ease to come and go. Of all the distractions -induced by poverty and wealth it is one that -appeals to me now as the most significant. -Merely to do without things, or merely to possess -things, is matter of little importance. A man's -life consisteth not in the abundance of the things -which he possesseth, we are told on high authority; -but it does consist in his state of mind. To -be always in a state of mind in which restriction -is instinctive is like always creeping as a baby -and never learning to walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as far as money went I was free. I had -never been without it. I had no conception of -a life in which I couldn't spend as much as I -reasonably wished. As I had been in Europe, I -probably had a letter of credit somewhere, if I -could only put my hand on it. On arriving in -New York I should of course have access to my -bank-account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It occurred to me to look under my pillow, and -there, sure enough, was a little leather purse. -That it was a common little purse was secondary -to the fact that it was filled. Sitting on the edge -of the couch, I opened it with fingers that shook -with my excitement. It contained three -five-hundred-franc notes, two for a hundred, some -hundred and fifty in gold, and a little silver, -nearly four hundred dollars in all. I seemed -to know that roughly it was the kind of sum I -generally carried on my person when abroad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a hasty scrubbing up I crept back into -bed, and waited for Jean-Marie to bring my -breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was my first thought that I must not let him -see that anything was wrong. I must let no one -see that. The reason I had given him for my -extraordinary sleep, that of having long suffered -from insomnia and being relieved by the sea air, -would have to pass, too, with Drinkwater's friend -the doctor, should he come to see me. No one, -no one, must suspect that for so much as an hour -the sense of my identity had escaped me. The -shame I felt at that—a shame I have since learned -to be common to most victims of the same -mishap—was overwhelming. Rather than confess -it I could own to nearly anything in the nature -of a crime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was no one's business but my own. I -comforted myself with that reflection amid much -that I found disturbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I chiefly found disturbing was my -general environment. I couldn't understand this -narrow cabin, these provincial foreign clothes. -While I was sorry for Drinkwater's blindness, I -disliked the closeness of contact with one I -regarded as my inferior. I am not saying that I -took this situation seriously. I knew I could -extricate myself from it on arriving in New York. -The element in it that troubled me was my -inability to account for it. What had I been doing -that I should find myself in conditions so -distasteful? Why should I have wanted to obliterate -my traces? It was obvious that I had done -it, and that I had done it with deliberation. -Being Somebody in the world, I had made myself -Nobody, and for that I must have had a motive. -Was it a motive that would confront me as soon -as I had become Somebody again? That I should -have lost the sense of my identity was bad enough -in itself; but that I should reappear in a rôle -that was not my own, and with a name I was -sure I had never borne, was at once terrifying -and grotesque.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It occurred to me that I could escape some of -my embarrassment by asking Drinkwater to -stop his friend the doctor from looking in on me; -but before I had time to formulate this plan, and -while I was sitting up crosslegged in my berth, -eating from the tray which Jean-Marie had laid -on my knees, there was a sharp rap on the door. -As I could do nothing but say, "Come in," the -doctor was before me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!" he said, quietly, without greeting -or self-introduction. "Best thing you could be -doing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lack of formality nettled me. I objected -to his assumption of a right to force himself in -uninvited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said, frigidly: "I shall be out on deck -presently. If you want to see me, perhaps it would -be easier there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, this is all right." He made himself -comfortable in a corner of the couch, propping his -body against the rolling of the ship with a -fortification of bags. "Glad you're able to get up -and dress. I'm Doctor Averill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To give him to understand that I was not -communicative I took this information in silence. -My coldness apparently did not impress him, and, -sitting in the corner diagonally opposite to mine, -he watched me eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was one of those men in whom personality -disappears in the scientific observer. His -features, manners, clothing, were mere accidents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He struck you as being wise, though with a -measure of sympathy in his wisdom. Small in -build, the dome of his forehead would have -covered a man of twice his stature. A small, dark -mustache was no more consciously a point of -personal adornment than a patch of stonecrop -to a rock. When he took off his cap his baldness, -though more extensive than you would have -expected in a man who couldn't have been older than -forty-five, was the finishing-touch of the staid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been having a long sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Making up for lost time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been at the front?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the kind of a question I was afraid of. -I knew that if I said, "Yes," I should have to give -details, and so I said, "No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look as if you had been."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Often leaves some sort of hang-over—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It couldn't do that in my case, because I -wasn't there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried another avenue of approach. "Drinkwater -told me you were a Frenchman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That seems to have been a mistake of our steward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you speak the language."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I speak it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must speak it very well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you lived much in France?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, on and off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had a position over there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to be my turn to ask a question. I -shot him a quick glance. "What sort of position -do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I didn't know but what you might have -been in a shop or an office—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I looked like that! It was a surprise to me. -I had thought he might mention the Embassy. -My sense of superior standing was so strong that -I expected another man of superior standing to -see it at a glance. Contenting myself with a -shake of the heads I felt his eyes on me with a -graver stare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must have found it useful to speak French -so well, especially at a time like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I allowed that to pass without challenge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we should ever go into the war a fellow -like you could make himself handy in a lot of ways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were therefore not in the war. I was glad -to add that to my list of facts. "I should try," -I assented, feeling that the words committed me -to nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonder you weren't tempted to pitch in as -it was. A lot of our young Americans did—chaps -who found themselves over there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't one of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Drinkwater, now—he went over with me -as my stenographer in the spring of that year; -and when the thing broke out—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He went?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he went."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And didn't get much good from it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't know about that. Depends—doesn't -it?—on what we mean by good. You fellows—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shot him another glance, but I don't think he -noticed that I objected to being classed with -Drinkwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You fellows—" he began again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I never knew how he meant to continue, for -a shuffling and pawing outside the door warned -us that Drinkwater, having finished his -breakfast, was feeling his way in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor spoke as the boy pushed the door -open and stumbled across the threshold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Morning, Harry! Your friend here seems -to have waked up in pretty good condition. -Look at the breakfast he's been making away -with." He rose to leave, since the cabin had -not room enough for two men on foot at the same -time. "See you on deck by and by," he added, -with a nod to me; "then we can have a more -satisfactory talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I waited till he was out of earshot. "Who is -he, anyhow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In giving me a summary of Averill's history -Drinkwater couldn't help weaving in a partial -one of his own. It was in fact most of his own, -except that it included no reference to his birth -and parentage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater had worked his way through one -of the great universities, when laboratory research -threw him in contact with Boyd Averill. The -latter was not a practising physician, but a -student of biology. He was the more at liberty to -follow one of the less lucrative lines of scientific -work because of being a man of large means. -Sketching the origin of this fortune, my companion -informed me that from his patron's democratic -ways no one would ever suppose him the only son, -and except for a sister the only heir, of the biggest -banker in the state of New Jersey. By one of -those odd freaks of heredity which neither Sir -Francis Galton nor the great Plockendorff had -been able to explain, Boyd Averill had shown a -distaste for banking from his cradle, and yet with -an interest equally difficult to account for in -bacteria.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the subject of Averill's more personal life -all my friend could tell me was that he had -married Miss Lulu Winfield, once well known -on the concert stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, say," he went on, enthusiastically, -"she's about the prettiest. You'll see for -yourself when you come up on deck. She'll speak to -you. Oh yes, she will," he hastened to assure -me, when I began to demur. "She won't mind. -She's not a bit aristocratic, and Miss Blair says -the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To make conversation I asked him who was -Miss Blair, learning that she was the young -lady whom Miss Averill had brought over to -Europe to act as stenographer to her brother -when Drinkwater had gone to the war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see," he continued to explain, "Averill's -been white with me from the start. When I left -him in the lurch—after he'd paid my expenses -over to Europe and all that—because the war -broke out, he didn't kick any more than a straw -dummy. When I told him I felt mean, but that -this war couldn't be going on and me not in it, -he said that at my age he'd have felt the same. -One of these days I've got to pay him back that -fare. I'll do that when I've got to work in New -York and saved a bit of dough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked him what he meant to work at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there'll be things. There always are. Miss -Blair wants me to learn the touch system and go -in for big stenography. Says she'll teach me. -Say, she's some girl. I want you to know her." He -reverted to the principal theme. "Big money -in piano-tuning, too, though what I'm really out -for is biology. But after all what's biology but -the science of life?—and you can pick that up -anywhere. Oh, I'm all right. I've had the -darnedest good luck, when I've seen my pals—" He -left this sentence unfinished, going on to say: -"That was the way when I got mine at Bois -Robert. Shell came down—and, gee whizz! -Nothing left of a bunch of six or eight of us but -me—and I only got this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A toss of his hand was meant to indicate his -eyes, after which he went on to tell how -marvelously he had been taken care of, with the -additional good luck of running across Boyd Averill -in hospital. Best luck of all was, now that he -was able to go home, the Averills were coming, -too, and had been willing to have him sail by -their boat and keep an eye on him. He spoke -as if they were his intimate friends, while I had -only to appear on deck to have them become mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the jewelry business?" he asked me, suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stared in an amazement of which he must -have recognized the tones in my voice. "What -made you ask me that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't know. Speak like it. Thought -you might have been in that—or gents' furnishings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After he had gone on deck, and Jean-Marie -had taken away the tray, I got up and dressed. -I did it slowly, with a hatred to my clothes that -grew as I put them on. How I had dressed in -the previous portion of my life I couldn't, of -course, tell; but now I was something between -a country barber and a cheap Latin Quarter -Bohemian. In conjunction with my patently -Anglo-Saxon face nothing could have been more -grotesque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought of trunks. I must have some in -the hold. Ringing for Jean-Marie, I asked if it -would be possible to have one or two of them -brought up. If so, I could go back to bed again -till I found something more presentable. The -steward, with comic compassion stealing into -his eye as he studied me, said that of course it -was possible to have monsieur's trunks brought up -if monsieur would give him the checks or receipts, -which would doubtless be in monsieur's pockets. -But a search revealed nothing. The bags and -my purse revealed nothing. My dismay at the -fact that I had come on board without other -belongings than those on the couch almost betrayed -me to the little man watching me so wistfully. -I was obliged to invent a story of hurried war-time -traveling in order to get him out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My predicament was growing more absurd. -I sat down on the couch and considered it. It -would have been easy to become excited, frantic, -frenzied, with my ridiculous inability. Putting -my hands to my head, I could have torn it -asunder to wrest from my atrophied brain the secret -it guarded so maliciously. "None of that!" I -warned myself; and my hands came down. -Whatever I did I must do coolly. So not long -after the eight bells of noon I dragged myself to -the deck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All at once I began to find something like -consolation. The wild beauty of sky and water -beat in on me like love. I must have traveled -often enough before, so that it was not new to -me; but it was all the more comforting for that. -I had come back to an old, old friendship—the -friendship of wind and color and scudding clouds -and glinting horizons and the mad squadrons of -the horses of Neptune shaking their foamy -manes. Amid the raging tempests of cloud -there were tranquil islands of a blue such as was -never unfolded by a flower. In the long, -sweeping hollows of the waves one's eye could catch -all the hues in pigeons' necks. Before a billow -broke it climbed to a tip of that sea-water green -more ineffable than any of the greens of grass, -jades, or emeralds. From every crest, and in -widening lines from the ship's sides as we plowed -along, the foam trailed into shreds that seemed -to have been torn from the looms of a race more -deft and exquisite than ours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not many men and women love beauty for -its own sake. Not many see it. To most of us -it is only an adjunct to comfort or pride. It -springs from the purse, or at best from the -intellect; but the hidden man of the heart doesn't -care for it. The hidden man of the heart has -no capacity to value the cloud or the bit of -jewel-weed. These things meet no need in him; they -inspire no ecstasy. The cloud dissolves and the -bit of jewel-weed goes back to earth; and the -chances are that no human eye has noted the -fact that each has externalized God in one of -the myriad forms of His appeal to us. Only here -and there, at long intervals, is there one to whom -line and color and invisible forces like the wind -are significant and sacred, and as essential as food -and drink. It came to me now that, somewhere -in my past, beauty had been the dominating -energy—that beauty was the thread of flame -which, if I kept steadily hold of it, would lead -me back whence I came.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From the spectacle of sea and sky I turned -away at last, only because my senses could -take in no more. Then I saw beauty in another form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A girl was advancing down the deck who -embodied the evanescence of the cloud and the grace -of the bit of jewel-weed in a way I could never -convey to you. You must see me as standing -near the stern of the boat, and the long, clean line -of the deck, with an irregular fringe of people -in deck-chairs, as empty except for this slender, -solitary figure. The rise and fall of the ship were -a little like those of a bough in the wind, while -she was the bird on it. She advanced serenely, -sedately, her hands jauntily in the pockets of an -ulster, which was gray, with cuffs and collar of -sage-green. A sage-green tam-o'-shanter was -fastened to a mass of the living fair hair which, -for want of a better term, we call golden. Her -awareness of herself almost amounted to -inference; and as she passed under the row of -onlookers' eyes she seemed to fling out a -challenge which was not defiant, but good-natured, -defiant but good-natured was the gaze she -fixed on me, a gaze as lacking in self-consciousness -as it was in hesitation. A child might have -looked at you in this way, or a dog, or any other -being not afraid of you. Of a blue which could -only be compared to that in the rifts in the cloud -overhead, her eyes never wavered in their long, -calm regard till they were turned on me obliquely -as she passed by. She did not, however, look -back; and reaching the end of the promenade, she -rounded the corner and went up the other way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thinking of her merely as a vision seen by -chance, I was the more surprised when she entered -the dining-saloon, helping my friend Drinkwater. -I had purposely got to my place before any one -else, so as to avoid the awkwardness of arriving -unknown among people who already have made -one another's acquaintance. Moreover, the table -being near to one of the main entrances, my -corner allowed me to take notes on all who came in. -Not that I was interested in my fellow-passengers -otherwise than as part of my self-defense. -Self-defense, the keeping any one from suspecting the -mischance that had befallen me, seemed to me, -for the moment, even more important than -finding out who I was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Transatlantic travel having already become -difficult, those who entered were few in number; -and as people are always at their worst at sea, -they struck me as mere bundles of humanity. -Among the first to pass my table was Boyd -Averill, who gave me a friendly nod. After him came -a girl of perhaps twenty-five, grave, sensible, and -so indifferent to appearances that I put her down -as his sister. Last of all was she whom Drinkwater -had summed up as "one of the prettiest." She -was; yet not in the way in which the vision -on the deck had been the same. The vision on -the deck had had no more self-consciousness than -the bit of jewel-weed. This richly colored -beauty, with eyes so long and almond-shaped -that they were almost Mongolian, was -self-conscious in the grain—luxurious, expensive, and -languorous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My table companions began to gather, turning -my attention chiefly on myself. I had traveled -enough to know the chief steward as a discriminating -judge of human nature. Those who came -asking for seats at table he sized up in a flash, -associating like with like, and rarely making a -mistake. On journeys of which no record -remained with me I had often admired this -classifying instinct, doubtless because any -discrimination it may have contained was complimentary -to myself. To-day I had occasion to find it -otherwise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On coming on board I must have followed the -routine of other voyages. Before turning into -my bunk for my long sleep I had apparently -asked to be assigned a seat at table, and given -the name of Jasper Soames. Guided by his -intuitive social </span><em class="italics">flair</em><span>, the chief steward had -adjudicated me to a side table in a corner, where -to-day my first companion was a lady's maid. The -second was a young man whom I had no difficulty -in diagnosing as a chauffeur, after whom -Drinkwater and the vision of the deck came gaily -along together. She probably informed him that -I was already in my place, for as he passed me to -reach his chair at the head of the table, he clapped -me on the shoulder with a glad salute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, old scout, you've got ahead of us! Bully -for you! Knew you'd eat a whale when once you -got started. Say, what we'd all like to sit down -to now is a good old-fashioned dinner of corned -beef and cabbage instead of all this French stuff." He -had not, however, forgotten the courtesies -of the occasion. "Miss Blair, let me make you -acquainted with Mr. Soames. Mr. Soames, -Miss Mulberry; Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Soames."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the ladies I half rose, with a bow; for -Mr. Finnegan I made a nod suffice. Mr. Finnegan -seemed scarcely to think I merited a nod in return. -Miss Mulberry acknowledged me coldly. As -for Miss Blair, she inclined her head with the grace -of the </span><em class="italics">lilium canadense</em><span> or the nodding trinity-flower. -In the act there was that shade of negligence -which tells the worldly wise that friendliness -is not refused, but postponed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We three formed a group at one end of the -table—Drinkwater having Miss Blair on his right -and myself on his left—while Mr. Finnegan and -Miss Mulberry forgathered at the other. The -table being set for eight, there was a vacant seat -between Miss Mulberry and Miss Blair, and two -between myself and Mr. Finnegan. This breaking -into sets was due, therefore, to the chief -steward, and not to any sense of affinity or rejection -among ourselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a few polite generalities as to the run and -other sea-going topics the conversation broke -into dialogues—Mr. Finnegan and Miss -Mulberry, Mr. Drinkwater and Miss Blair. This -seeming to be the established procedure, it -remained for me to take it as a relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For again it gave me time to ask why I was -graded as I found myself. A man who knows -he is a general and wakes up to see himself a -private, with every one taking it for granted that -he is a private and no more, would experience the -same bewilderment. What had I done that such a -situation could have come about? What had -I been? How long was my knowledge of myself -to depend on a group of shattered brain cells?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not followed the conversation of -Mr. Drinkwater and Miss Blair, even though I might -have overheard it; but suddenly the lady glanced -up with a clear, straightforward look from her -myosotis eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Soames, have you ever lived in Boston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The husky, veiled voice was of that bantering -quality for which the French word </span><em class="italics">gouailleur</em><span> is -the only descriptive term. In Paris it would have -been called </span><em class="italics">une voix de Montmartre</em><span>, and as an -expression of New York it might best be ascribed -to Third Avenue. It was jolly, free-and-easy, -common, and sympathetic, all at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My instinct for self-defense urged me to say, -"No," and I said it promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or Denver?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said, "No," again, and for the same reason. -I couldn't be pinned down to details. If I said, -"Yes," I should be asked when and where and -how, and be driven to invention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you ever in Salt Lake City?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A memory of a big gray building, with the Angel -Moroni on the top of it, of broad, straight streets, -of distant mountains, of a desert twisted and -suffering, of a lake that at sunset glowed with the -colors old artists burned into enamels—a -memory of all this came to me, and I said, "Yes," -I said it falteringly, wondering if it would -commit me to anything. It committed me to nothing, -so far as I could see, but a glance of Miss Blair's -heaven-colored eyes toward her friend, as though -I had corroborated something she had said. She -had forgotten for the moment that Drinkwater -was blind, so that of this significant look I alone -got the benefit. What it meant I, of course, -didn't know; I could only see it meant something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The obvious thing for it to mean was that -Miss Blair knew more about me than I knew -myself. While it was difficult to believe that, -it nevertheless remained as part of the general -experience of life which had not escaped me, -that one rarely went among any large number -of people without finding some one who knew -who one was. That had happened to me many a -time, especially on steamers, though I could no -longer fix the occasions. I decided to cultivate -Miss Blair and, if possible, get a clue from her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That which, in my condition, irked me -more than anything was the impossibility -of being by myself. The steamer was a small one, -with all the passengers of one class. Those who -now crossed the Atlantic were doing it as best -they could; and to be thrown pell-mell into a -second-rate ship like the </span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span> was better, -in the opinion of most people, than not to cross -at all. It was a matter of eight or ten days of -physical discomfort, with home at the other end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew now that the month was September, -and the equinox not far away. It was mild for -the time of year, and, though the weather was -rough, it was not dirty. With the winds shifting -quickly from west to northwest and back again, -the clouds were distant and dry, lifting from -time to time for bursts of stormy sunshine. -For me it was a pageant. I could forget myself -in its contemplation. It was the vast, and I was -only the infinitesimal; it was the ever-varying -eternal, and I was the sheerest offspring of time, -whose affairs were of no moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, I had pressing instant needs, or -needs that would become pressing as soon as we -reached New York. Between now and then there -were five or six days during which I might -recover the knowledge that had escaped me; but -if I didn't I should be in a difficult situation. -I should be unable to get money; I should be -unable to go home. I should be lost. Unless -some one found me I should have to earn a living. -To earn a living there must be something I could -do, and I didn't know that I could do anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of all forms of exasperation, this began to be -the most maddening. I must have had a -profession; and yet there was no profession I could -think of from which I didn't draw back with the -peculiar sick recoil I felt the minute I approached -whatever was personal to myself. In this there -were elements contradictory to each other. I -wanted to know—and yet I shrank from knowing. -If I could have had access to what money I needed -I should have been content to drift into the -unknown without regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was a reserve even here. It attached -to the word home. On that word the door had -not been so completely shut that a glimmer -didn't leak through. I knew I had a home. I -longed for it without knowing what I longed for. -I could see myself arriving in New York, fulfilling -the regular dock routine—and going somewhere. -But I didn't know where. Of some ruptured -brain cell enough remained to tell me that on the -American continent a spot belonged to me; but -it told me no more than the fact that the spot -had love in it. I could feel the love and not -discern the object. As to whether I had father or -mother or wife or child I knew no more than I -knew the same facts of the captain of the ship. -Out of this darkness there came only a vision of -flaming eyes which might mean anything or -nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was unable to pursue this line of thought -because Miss Blair came strolling by with the -same nonchalant air with which she had passed -me before lunch. I can hardly say she stopped; -rather she commanded, and swept me along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you want to take a walk, Mr. Soames? -You'd better do it now, because we'll be rolling -scuppers under by and by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For making her acquaintance it was too good -an opportunity to miss. In spite of my inability -to play up to her gay cheerfulness I found myself -strolling along beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I may say at once that I never met a -human being with whom I was more instantly on -terms of confidence. The sketch of her life -which she gave me without a second's hesitation -came in response to my remark that from -her questions to me at table I judged her to -have traveled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was born on the road, and I suppose I shall -never get off it. My father and mother had got -hitched to a theatrical troupe on tour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A distaste acquired as a little girl on tour had -kept her from trying her fortunes on the boards. -She had an idea that her father was acting still, -though after his divorce from her mother they -had lost sight of him. Her mother had died six -years previously, since which time she had looked -after herself, with some ups and downs of -experience. She had been a dressmaker, a milliner, -and a model, with no more liking for any of these -professions than she had for the theatrical. In -winding up this brief narrative she astounded me -with the statement:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now I'm going to be an adventuress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A what?" I stopped in the middle of the -deck to stare at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repeated the obnoxious noun, continuing -to walk on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I thought you were a stenographer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's part of it. I'm deceiving poor Miss -Averill. She's my dupe. I make use of people -in that way—and throw them aside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But doing the work for Doctor Averill in the -mean time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's just a pretext."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretext for what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For being an adventuress. Goodness knows -what evil I shall do in that family before I get -out of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, you'll see. If you're born baleful—well, -you've just got to be baleful; that's all. -Did you ever hear of an adventuress who didn't -wreck homes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said I had not much experience with adventuresses, -and didn't quite know the point of their -occupation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you stay around where I am and you'll see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you wrecked many homes up to the -present?" I ventured to inquire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the first one I ever had a chance at. -I only decided to be an adventuress about the -time when Miss Averill came along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That, it seemed, had been at the Settlement, -to which Miss Blair had retired after some trying -situations as a model. Stenography being taught -at the Settlement, she had taken it up on hearing -of several authenticated cases of girls who had -gone into offices and married millionaires. The -discouraging side presented itself later in the many -more cases of girls who had not been so successful. -It was in this interval of depression on the -part of Miss Blair that Mildred Averill had -appeared at the Settlement with all sorts of anxious -plans about doing good, "If she wants to do -good to any one, let her do it to me," Miss Blair -had said to her intimates. "I'm all ready to -be adopted by any old maid that's got the wad." That, -she explained to me, was not the language -she habitually used. It was mere pleasantry -between girls, and not up to the standard of a -really high-class adventuress. Moreover, Miss -Averill was not an old maid, seeing she was but -twenty-five, though she got herself up like forty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the same, Miss Averill having come on the -scene and having taken a fancy to Miss Blair, -Miss Blair had decided to use Miss Averill for -her own malignant purposes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For by this time the seeming stenographer had -chosen her career. A sufficient course of reading -had made it clear that of all the women in the -world the adventuress had the best of it. She went -to the smartest dressmakers; she stayed at the -dearest hotels; her jewels and furs rivaled those -of duchesses; her life was the perpetual third -act of a play. Furthermore, Miss Blair had yet -to hear of an adventuress who didn't end in -money, marriage, and respectability.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having been so frank about herself, I could -hardly be surprised when she became equally -so about me. As the wind rose she slipped -into a protected angle, where I had no choice -but to follow her. She began her attack after -propping herself in the corner, her hands -deep in her pockets, and her pretty shoulders -hunched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a funny man. Do you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though inwardly aghast, I strove to conceal -my agitation. "Funny in what way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, every way. Any one would think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would any one think?" I insisted, -nervously, when she paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well! I sha'n't say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you're afraid to hurt my feelings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a good sort—especially among people of -our own class. For the others"—she shrugged -her shoulders charmingly—"I'm an anarchist -and a socialist and all that. I don't care who I -bring down, if they're up. But when people are -down already—I'm—I'm a friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As there was a measure of invitation in these -words I nerved myself to approach the personal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you friend enough to tell me why you -thought you had seen me in Salt Lake City?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. "Sure; because I did think -so—there—or somewhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you couldn't swear to the place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't swear to the place; but I could to -you. I never forget a face if I give it the -twice-over. The once-over—well, then I may. But -if I've studied a man—the least little bit—I've -got him for the rest of my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why should you have studied me—assuming -that it was me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Assuming that that water's the ocean, I study -it because there's nothing else to look at. We -were opposite each other at two tables in a -restaurant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was there nobody there but just you and me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there was a lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart gave a thump. "At your table or at mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she"—I was aware of the foolish wording -of the question without being able to put it in -any other way—"did she have large dark eyes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the back of her head, which was all -I saw of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more I expressed myself stupidly. "Did -you—did you think it was—my wife—or just a -friend?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She burst out laughing. "How could I tell? -You speak as if you didn't know. You're -certainly the queerest kid—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tried to recover my lost ground. "I do know, -but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what are you asking me for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you seem to have watched me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't watch you," she denied, indignantly. -"The idea! You sure have your nerve with you. -I couldn't help seeing a guy that was right under -my eyes, could I? Besides which—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes? Besides which—?" I insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She brought the words out with an air of -chaffing embarrassment. "Well, you weren't got up -as you are now. Do you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I reddened and stammered something about -the war, she laid her hand on my arm soothingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now! There now! That's all right. -I never give any one away. You can see for -yourself that I can't have knocked about the -world like I've done without running up against -this sort of thing a good many times—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sort of thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, if you don't know I needn't tell you. -But I'm your friend, kid. That's all I want you -to know. It's why I told you about myself. I -wanted you to see that we're all in the same boat. -Harry Drinkwater's your friend, too. He likes -you. You stick by us and we'll stick by you and -see the thing through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on my lips to say, "What thing?" but -she rattled on again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only you can't wear that sort of clothes and -get away with it, kid. Do you know it? Another -fellow might, but you simply can't. It shows you -up at the first glance. The night you came on -board you might just as well have marched in -carrying a blue silk banner. For Heaven's sake, -if you've got anything else in your kit go and put -it on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't? What on earth have you done -with all the swell things you must have had? -Burned 'em?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question was so direct, and the good-will -behind it so evident, that I felt I must give an -answer. "Sold them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Got down to that, did you? What do you -know? Poor little kid! Funny, isn't it? A -woman can carry that sort of thing off nine times -out often; but a fat-head of a man—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kept the sentence suspended while gazing -over my shoulder. The lips remained parted as -in uttering the last word. I was about to turn -to see what so entranced her, when she said, in -a tone of awe or joy, I was not sure which:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's that poor little blind boy coming -down the deck all by himself. You'll excuse -me, won't you, if I run and help him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she ran.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Beyond this point I had made no progress -when we landed in New York. I still knew -myself as Jasper Soames. Miss Blair still -suspected that I was running away from justice. -That I was running away from justice I suspected -myself, since how could I do otherwise? All -the way up the Bay I waited for that tap on my -shoulder which I could almost have welcomed -for the reason that it would relieve me of some -of my embarrassments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those embarrassments had grown more -entangling throughout the last days of the voyage. -The very good-will of the people about me -increased the complications in which I was finding -myself involved. Every one asked a different -set of questions, the answers I gave being not -always compatible with each other. I didn't -exactly lie; I only replied wildly—trying to guard -my secret till I could walk off the boat and -disappear from the ken of these kindly folk who -did nothing but wish me well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I accomplished this feat, I am bound to confess, -with little credit; but credit was not my -object. All I asked was the privilege of being -alone, with leisure to take stock of my small -assets and reckon up the possibilities before me. -As it was incredible that a man such as I was could -be lost on the threshold of his home I needed all -the faculties that remained to me in order to -think out the ways and means by which I could -be found.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So alone I found myself, though not without -resorting to ruses of which I was even then -ashamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Miss Blair who scared me into them. -Coming up to me on deck, during the last -afternoon on board, she said, casually:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to stay awhile in New York?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a renewal of the everlasting catechism, -so I said, curtly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't be huffy! Looking for a job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Later, perhaps; not at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her smile, as her eye caught mine, there was -a visible significance. "You'll be a good kid, -wont you? You'll—you'll keep on the level?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made a big effort on my own part, so as to -see how she would take it. "If I'm not nabbed -going up the Bay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you won't be. It can't be as—as bad -as all that. Even if it was—" She left this -sentiment for me to guess at while she went on. -"Where do you expect to stay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was about to name one of New York's -expensive hotels when it occurred to me that she -would burst out laughing at the announcement, -she would take it as a joke. I realized then that -it struck me also as a joke. It was incongruous -not only with my appearance, but with my entire -rôle throughout the trip. I ended by replying -that I hadn't made up my mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, if you're looking for a place—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't say that I'm that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or if you should be, I've given Harry Drinkwater -a very good address."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was only a rooming-house, she explained to -me, but for active people the more convenient -for that, and with lots of good cafés in the -neighborhood. She told me of one in particular—Alfonso -was the name of the restaurateur—where -one could get a very good dinner, with -wine, for seventy-five cents, and an adequate -breakfast for forty. Moreover, Miss Blair had -long known the lady who kept the rooming-house -in question, a friend of her mother's she happened -to be, and any one whom she, Lydia Blair, sent -with her recommendation would find the place O.K.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was terrified. I didn't mean to go to this -well-situated dwelling, "rather far west" in -Thirty-fifth Street; I only had visions of being wafted -there against my will. So much had happened -in which my will had not been consulted that I -was afraid of the kindliest of intentions. When at -dinner that evening Miss Mulberry apologized -across the table for her coldness toward me -during the trip, ascribing it to a peculiarity of hers -in never making gentlemen friends till sure they -were gentlemen, and offering me her permanent -address, I resolved that after that meal none of -the whole group should catch another glimpse of me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this reason I escaped to my cabin directly -after dinner, packed my humble belongings, and -went to bed. When, toward eleven, Drinkwater -came down, putting the question, as he stumbled -in, "'Sleep, Jasper?" I replied with a faint snore. -For the last two or three days he had been -scattering Jaspers throughout his sentences, and I -only didn't ask him to give up the practice -because of knowing that with men of his class -familiarity is a habit. Besides, it would be all -over in a few days, so that I might as well take -it patiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet I was sorry that it had to be so, for -something had made me like him. During the -days of the equinoctial bad weather it had fallen -to me to steer him about the staggering ship, and -one is naturally drawn to anything helpless. -Then, too, of all the men to whom I ever lent a -hand he was the most demonstrative. He had -a boy's way of pawing you, of sprawling over you, -of giving your hand little twitches, or affectionate -squeezes to your arm. There was no liberty he -wouldn't take; but when he took them they -didn't seem to be liberties. If I betrayed a -hint of annoyance he would pat me on any part -of my person he happened to touch, with some -such soothing words as:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there, poor 'ittle Jasper! Let him -come to his muvverums and have his 'ittle cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I had to turn my back on him. There -was no help for it. I understood, however, that -people in his class were less sensitive to -discourtesy than those in mine. They were used -to it. True, he was blind; but then it was not -to be expected that I should look after every -blind man I happened to run against in -traveling. Besides all this, I had made up my mind -what I meant to do, and refused to discuss it -further even with myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was hoisting himself to the upper bunk -when he made a second attempt to draw me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have people to meet you to-morrow -morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I suppose so," I grunted, sleepily. -"Some of 'em will be there." A second or two -having passed, I felt it necessary to add, "Same -with you, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He replied from overhead. "Sure! Two or -three of the guys 'll be jazzing round the dock. -There'll be—a—Jack—and—a—Jim—and—a—well, -a pile of 'em." He was snuggling down -into his pillow as he wound up with a hearty, -"Say, Jasper, I'll be—I'll be all right—I'll be -</span><em class="italics">fine</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Deciding that I wouldn't call this bluff, I -turned and went to sleep. Up with dawn, I -slipped out of the cabin before the blind man had -stirred. Early rising got its reward in a morning -of silver tissue. Silver tissue was flung over the -Bay, woven into the air, and formed all we could -see of the sky. Taking my place as far toward -the bow as I could get, I watched till two straight -lines forming a right angle appeared against the -mist, after which, magical, pearly, spiritual, -white in whiteness, tower in cloud, the great city -began to show itself through the haze, like -something born of the Holy Ghost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having nothing to carry but my bag and suitcase, -I was almost the first on shore. So, too, I -must have been the first of the passengers ready -to leave the dock. But two things detained me, -just as I was going to take my departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first was fear. It came without warning—a -fear of solitude, of the city, of the danger of -arrest, of the first steps to be taken. I was like -a sick man who hasn't realized how weak he is -till getting out of bed. I had picked up my bags -after the custom-house officer had passed them, -to walk out of the pen under the letter S, when -the thought of what I was facing suddenly -appalled me. Dropping my load to the dusty -floor, I sank on the nearest trunk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have read in some English book of reminiscences -the confession of dread on the part of a -man released after fifteen years' imprisonment -on first going into the streets. The crowds, the -horses, the drays, the motors, the clamor and -gang, struck him as horrific. For joining the -blatant, hideous procession already moving from -the dock I was no more equipped than Minerva -would have been on the day when she sprang, -full-grown and fully armed, from her father's head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking up the long lines of pens, I could see -Miss Blair steering Drinkwater from the -gangway toward the letter D. I noticed his -movements as reluctant and terrified. The din I -found appalling even with the faculty of sight -must have been menacing to him in his darkness. -He was still trying to take it with a laugh, -but the merriment had become frozen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seizing my two bags again, I ran up the line.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you dear old kid!" Miss Blair exclaimed, -as I came within speaking distance, "I'm sure -glad to see you. I was afraid you'd been—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Knowing her suspicion, I cut in on her fear. -"No; it didn't happen. I—got off the boat all -right. I—I've just been looking after my things -and ran back to see if there was anything I could do—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless you! There's everything you can do. -Harry's been crying for you like a baby for its -nurse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words were his. Confused by the -hub-bub, he was clawing in the wrong direction, so -that the grab with which he seized me was like -that of a strayed child on clutching a friendly -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the end I was in a taxicab, bound for the -rooming-house "rather far west" in Thirty-fifth -Street, with my charge by my side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, isn't this the grandest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The accent was so sincere that I laughed. We -were out in the sunlight by this time, plowing our -way through the squalor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's grand about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, Miss Blair finding me that house to -go to—and you going along with me—and the -doctor coming to see me to-morrow to talk about -a job—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, some job. There'll be one. You'll see. -I've got the darnedest good luck a guy was ever -born with—all except my name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the fellows you said would be -jazzing around the dock to meet you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was sorry for that bit of cruelty before it had -got into words. It was one of the rare occasions -on which I ever saw his honest pug-face fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, you didn't believe that, did you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, I say lots of things. Have to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We jolted on till a block in the traffic enabled -him to continue without the difficulty of -speaking against noise. "Look here! I'm going to -tell you something. It's—it's a secret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for Heaven's sake keep it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to know it. I don't want to be -your friend under false pretenses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to me an opportunity to clarify the -situation. We were on land. We were in New -York. It was hardly fair to these good people -to let them think that our association could -continue on the same terms as at sea. Somewhere -in the back of my strained mind was the fact that -I had formerly classed myself as a snob and had -been proud of the appellation. That is, I had -been fastidious as to whom I should know and -whom I should not know. I had been an adept -in the art of cutting those who had been forced -or had forced themselves upon me, and had -regarded this skill as an accomplishment. -Finding myself on board ship, and in a peculiar -situation, I had carried myself as a gentleman -should, even toward Mr. Finnegan and Miss -Mulberry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That part had been relatively easy. It was -more difficult to dispose of the kindly interest -of the Averills. He had made more than one -approach which I parried tactfully. Mrs. Averill -had contented herself with disquieting looks -from her almond eyes, though one day she had -stopped me on deck with the condescending -inquiries as to my health that one puts to a -friend's butler. Miss Averill had been more -direct—sensible, solicitous, and rich in a shy -sympathy. One day, on entering the saloon, -I found her examining some rugs which a -Persian passenger was displaying in the -interests of trade. Being called by her into -council, I helped her to choose between a Herati and -a Sarouk, the very names of which she had never -heard. My connoisseurship impressed her. -After that she spoke to me frequently, and once -recommended the employment bureau of her -Settlement, in case I were looking for work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this I had struggled with, sometimes -irritated, sometimes grimly amused, but always ill -at ease. Now it was over. I should never see -the Averills again, and Drinkwater must be given -to understand that he, too, was an incident.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear fellow, there are no pretenses. We -simply met on board ship, and because of -your—your accident I'm seeing you to your door. -That's all. It doesn't constitute friendship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet it does," was his unexpected -rejoinder. "I'm not that kind at all. When a -fellow's white with me, he's white. I'm not going -to be ashamed of him. If you ever want any -one to hold the sponge for you, Jasper—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I repeated stupidly, "Hold the sponge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go bail for you—do anything. I couldn't -go bail for you on my own, of course; but I -could hustle round and get some one to do it. -Lydia Blair knows a lot of people—and there's -the doctor. Say, Jasper, I'm your friend, and -I'm going to stand by the contract."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The taxi lumbered on again, while I was -debating with myself as to what to say next, or -whether or not to say anything. One thing was -clear, that no matter what fate awaited me I -couldn't have Drinkwater holding the sponge -for me, nor could I appear in court, or anywhere -else, with a man of his class as my backer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were lurching into Broadway when he -grasped me suddenly by the arm, to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Jasper! To show what I think -of you I'm going to make you listen to that -secret. I—I wasn't expecting any one to meet -me. There's no one </span><em class="italics">to</em><span> meet me. Do you get that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said that I got it, but found nothing peculiar -in the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but there is, though. I've got—I've got -no friends—not so much as a father or a mother. -I never did have. I was—I was left in a basket -on a door-step—-twenty-three years ago—and -brought up in an orphans' home in Texas. There, -you've got it straight! I've passed you up the -one and only dope on Harry Drinkwater, and -any guy that's afraid he can't be my friend -without wearing a dress-suit to breakfast—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so delicate a method of telling me that -I was as good as he was that it seemed best to -let the subject of our future relations drop. They -would settle themselves when I had carried out -the plan that had already begun to dawn in me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Miss Goldie Flowerdew, for that was -the name on our note of introduction, was -at home, but kept us waiting in a room where I -made my first study of a rooming-house. It was -another indication of what I had </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> been in my -past life that a rooming-house was new to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This particular room must in the 'sixties have -been the parlor of some prim and prosperous -family. It was long, narrow, dark, with dark -carpets, and dark coverings to the chairs. Dark -pictures hung on dark walls, and dark </span><em class="italics">objets d'art</em><span> -adorned a terrifying chimneypiece in black -marble. Folding-doors shut us off from a back room -that was probably darker still; and through the -interstices of the shrunken woodwork we could -hear a vague rustling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rustling gave place to a measured step, -which finally proceeded from the room and -sounded along the hall, as if taken to the rhythm -of a stone march like that in "Don Giovanni," -when the statue of the Commander comes down -from its pedestal. My companion and I -instinctively stood up, divining the approach of a -Presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Presence was soon on the threshold, doing -justice to the epithet. The statue of the -Commander, dressed in the twentieth-century style -of sweet sixteen and crowned by a shock of -bleached hair of tempestuous wave, would have -looked like Miss Goldie Flowerdew as she stood -before us majestically, fingering our note of -introduction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So she's not coming," was her only observation, -delivered in a voice so deep that, like -Mrs. Siddons's "Will it wash?" it startled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you expect her?" I ventured to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sepulchral voice spoke again. "Which is -the blind one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater moved forward. She, too, moved -forward, coming into the room and scanning him -face to face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't look so awful blind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but I am—for the present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the present? Does that mean that you -expect to regain your sight?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The doctors say that it may come back -suddenly as it went."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And suppose it don't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, I've got along without it for the -past six months, so I suppose I can do it for the -next sixty years. I've given it a good try, and -in some ways I like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then," she declared, in her tragic voice, "I -like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flushed like a girl flushes, though his grin -was his own specialty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," he began, in confidential glee, "Miss -Blair said you would—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Lydia Blair that she's at liberty to -bestow her affections when and as she chooses; but -beg her to be kind enough to allow me to dispose -of mine. You'd like to see her room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was turning to begin her stone march -toward the stairs, but Drinkwater held her back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, lady, is it—is it her room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly; it's the one she's always had when -she's been with me, and which she reserved by -letter four weeks ago. I was to expect her as -soon as the steamer docked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then—" the boy began to stammer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, my good man! Don't be foolish. -She's gone elsewhere and the room is to let. If -she hadn't sent me some one I would have -charged her a week's rent; but now that she's -got me a tenant she's at liberty to go where she -likes. She knows I'd rather have men than -women at any time of day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but if it's her room, and she's given it -up for me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't her room; it's mine. I can let it to -any one I please. She knows of a dozen places -in the city that she'll like just as well as this, so -don't think she'll be on the street. Come along; -I've no time to waste."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better go," I whispered, taking him by the -arm, so that the procession started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hall was papered in deep crimson, against -which a monumental black-walnut hat-and-umbrella -stand was visible chiefly because of the -gleam of an inset mirror. The floors were painted -in the darkest shade of brown, in keeping with -the massive body of the staircase. Up the staircase, -as along the hall, ran a strip of deep crimson -carpet, exposing the warp on the edge of each step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hush of solemnity lay over everything. -Clearly Miss Flowerdew's roomers were off for -the day, and the place left to her and the little -colored maid who had admitted us. Drinkwater -and I made our way upward in a kind of -awe, he clinging to my arm, frightened and yet -adventurous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The long, steep stairs curved toward the top -to an upper hall darker than that below, because -the one window was in ground glass with a border -of red and blue. Deep crimson was again the -dominating color, broken only by the doors which -may have been mahogany. All doors were -closed except the one nearest the top of the stairs, -which stood ajar. Miss Flowerdew pushed it -open, bidding us follow her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were on the spot which above all others -in the world Lydia Blair called home. When -the exquisite bit of jewel-weed drifted past me -on the deck of the </span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span> this haven was -in the background of her memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the gloom two iron beds, covered with -coarse white counterpanes, sagged in the -outlines of their mattresses, as beds do after a great -many people have slept in them. A low wicker -armchair sagged in the seat as armchairs do -after a great many people have sat in them. A -great many people had passed through this room, -wearing it down, wearing it out; and yet there -was a woman in the world whose soul leaped -toward it as the hearth of her affections. Because -it was architecturally dark a paper of olive-green -arabesques on an olive-green background had -been glued on the walls to make it darker still; -and because it was now as dark as it could be -made, the table, the chest of drawers, the -washstand, like the doors, were all of the darkest -brown. Miss Flowerdew pointed to their bare -tops to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia has her own covers, and when she puts -her photographs and knickknacks round it makes -a home for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, isn't it grand!" Drinkwater cried, -looking round with his sightless eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's grand for the money," Miss Flowerdew -corrected. "It's not the Waldorf-Astoria, nor -yet is it what I was used to when on the stage; -but it's clean"—which it was—"and only -respectable people have roomed here. Come, young -man, and I'll show you how to find your way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Flowerdew may have been on the stage, -but she ought to have been a nurse. Not even -Lydia Blair could take hold of a helpless man -with such tenderness of strength. Holding -Drinkwater by the hand, she showed him how -to find the conveniences of this nest, pointing -out the fact that the bath-room was the first door -on the right as you went into the hall, and only -a step away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope I sha'n't give you any more trouble, -lady, after this," the blind boy breathed, -gratefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trouble! Of course you'll give me trouble! -The man who doesn't give a woman trouble is -not a man. I've had male roomers so neat and -natty you'd have sworn they were female ones—and -I got rid of 'em. When a man doesn't know -whether to put his boots on the mantelpiece or -in the wash-basin when he takes them off, I can -see I've got something to take care of. I guess -I may as well cart these away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reference was to two photographs that -stood on the ledges of the huge black-walnut -mirror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I put 'em out to give Lydia a home feeling -as soon as she arrived. That's her father, Byron -Blair," she continued, handing me the picture -of an extremely good-looking, weak-faced man -of the Dundreary type, "and that's her mother, -Tillie Lightwood, as she was when she and I -starred in 'The Wages of Sin.'" I examined the -charming head, with profile overweighted by a -chignon, while Miss Flowerdew continued her -reminiscences. "I played Lady Somberly to -Tillie's Lottie Gwynne for nearly three years -on end, first here, on Broadway, and then on -the road. Don't do you any good, playing the -same part so long. Easy work and money, but -you get the mannerisms fixed on you. I was a -good utility woman up to that time; but when I -came back to Broadway I was Lady Somberly. -I never could get rid of her, and so ... I'll -show you some of my notices and photographs—no, -not to-day; but when you come round to -see your friend—that is"—she looked -inquiringly—"that is, if you don't mean to use the -other bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This being the hint I needed, I took it. With -the briefest of farewells I was out on the -pavement with my bags in my hands, walking -eastward without a goal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more I had to stifle my concern as to -Drinkwater. I saw him, when Miss Flowerdew -would have gone down-stairs, sitting alone in -his darkness, with nothing to do. His trunk, -the unpacking of which would give him some -occupation, would not arrive until evening; and -in the mean time he would have no one but -himself for company. He couldn't go out; it would -be all he could do to feel his way to the -bathroom and back, though even that small excursion -would be a break in his monotony....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I took these thoughts and choked them. -It was preposterous that I should hold myself -responsible for the comfort of a boy met by chance -on a steamer. Had I taken him in charge from -affection or philanthropy it would have been -all very well; but I had no philanthropic -promptings, and, while I liked him, I was far -from taking this wavering sympathy as affection. -I was sorry for him, of course; but others must -take care of him. I should have all I could do -in taking care of myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I wandered on, hardly noticing at first the -way I took, and then consciously looking for a -hotel. As to that, I had definitely made up my -mind not to go to any of those better known, -though the names of several remained in my -memory, till I had properly clothed myself. -Though in a measure I had grown used to my -appearance, I caught the occasional turning of -a head to look at me, and once the eyebrows of -a passer-by went up in amused surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I discovered quickly enough that I knew New -York and that I knew it tolerably well; and -almost as quickly I learned that I knew it not as -a resident, but from the point of view of the -visitor. Now that I was there, I could see -myself always coming and always going. From -what direction I had come and in what direction -I turned on leaving still were mysteries. But -the conviction of having no abiding tie with this -city was as strong as that of the spectator in a -theater of having no permanent connection with -the play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coming on a modest hotel at last, I made bold -to go in, finding myself in a lobby of imitation -onyx and an atmosphere heavy with tobacco. -I crossed to the desk, under the eyes of some -three or four colored boys who didn't offer to -assist me with my bags, and applied for a room. -A courteous young man of Slavic nationality -regretted that they were "full up." I marched -out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Repeating this experience at another and -another, I was saved from doing it at a fourth -by a uniformed darky porter, who, as I was -about to go up the steps, shook his head, at -the same time sketching in the air an oval which -I took to be a zero. I didn't go in, but I was oddly -disconcerted. It had never occurred to me till -then that hotels had a choice in guests, just as -guests had a choice in hotels. I had always -supposed that a man who could pay could -command a welcome anywhere; but here I was, with -nearly four hundred dollars in my pockets, -unable to find a lodging because something strange -in my clothes, or my eyes, or in my general -demeanor, or in all together, stamped me as -unusual. "Who's that freak?" I heard one -bell-boy ask another, and the term seemed to -brand me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day was muggy. After the keen sea air -it was breathless. When I could walk no longer -I staggered into a humble eating-house that -seemed to be half underground. There was no -one there but two waitresses, one of whom, wearing -her hair </span><em class="italics">à la madone</em><span>, came forward as I closed -the door. She did not, however, come forward -so quickly but that I heard her say to her -companion, "Well, of all the nuts—!" The -observation, though breathlessly suspended there, -made me shy about ordering my repast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when it came I couldn't eat it. It was -good enough, doubtless, but coarse and ill served. -I think the young lady who found me a nut was -sorry for me when it came to close quarters, for -she did her best to coax my appetite with other -kind suggestions. All I could do in response was -to flourish the roll of notes into which I had -changed my French money on board and give -her an amazing tip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a new decision had come to me while I -strove to eat, and on making my way up to -daylight again I set out to put it into operation. -Reaching Broadway, I drifted southward till I -came on one of the large establishments for -ready-to-wear clothing which I knew were to be found -in the neighborhood. On entering the vast -emporium I adopted a new manner. No longer -shrinking as I had shrunk since waking to the -fact of my misfortune, I walked briskly up to the -first man whom I saw at a distance eying me -haughtily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here," I said, in a good-mixer voice, "I've -just got back from France, and look at the way -they've rigged me out. Was in hospital there, -after I'd got all kinds of shock, and this is the -best I could do without coming back to God's -country in a French uniform. Now I want to -see the best you can do and how pretty you can -make me look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On emerging I was, therefore, passable to -glance at, and after a hair-cut and a shave I was -no longer afraid to see my reflection in a glass. -I had, too, another inspiration. It occurred to -me that I might startle myself into finding the -way home. Calling a taxi, I drove boldly with -my bags to the Grand Central Terminal, trusting -to the inner voice to tell me the place for which -to buy my ticket. With half the instinct of a -horse my feet might take the road to the stable -of their own accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I recognized the station and all its ways—the -red-capped colored men, the white-capped white -ones, the subterranean shops, the gaunt marble -spaces. I recognized the windows at which I -must have taken tickets hundreds of times, and -played my comedy by walking up first to one and -then to another, waiting for the inner voice to -give me a tip. I found nothing but blank -silence. The world was all before me where to -choose—only Providence was not my guide. Or -if Providence was my guide, His thread of flame -was not visible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I suppose that in that station that afternoon -I was like any other man intending to take a -train. At least I could say that. So pleased -was I with myself that more than once during -the two hours of my test I went into the station -lavatory just for the sake of seeing myself in the -glass. It was a long glass, capable of reflecting -some dozen men at a time, and I was as like the -rest as one elephant is like another. Oh, that -relief! Oh, that joy! Not to be a freak or a nut -made up for the moment for my sense of homelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When tired of listening for a call that didn't -come, I went into the waiting-room and sat down. -Again I was like all the other people doing the -same thing. Propped up by a bag on each side, -I might have been waiting for a train to any of -the suburbs. I might have had a family -expecting me to supper. The obvious reflection -came to me. To all whose glances happened to -fall on me I was no more than an unstoried human -spot; and yet behind me was a history that -would have startled any one of them. So they -were unstoried human spots to me; and yet -behind each of them there lay a drama of which -I could read no more than I could see of the -world of light beyond the speck I called a star. -Was there a Providence for me, or them, or any -other strayed, homeless dog? As I glanced at the -faces before me, faces of tired women, faces of -despondent men, young faces hardened, old faces -stupefied, all faces stamped with the age-long -soddenness of man, I asked if anywhere in the -universe love could be holding up the lamps to -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like millions of others who have asked this -question, I felt that I had my trouble for my pains; -but I got another inspiration. As it was now the -middle of the afternoon, the folly of expecting help -from the inner voice became apparent. I must -resort to some other expedient, and the new -suggestion was a simple one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Checking my bags in the parcel-office, I made -for the nearest great hotel. The hall with its -colossal furnishings was familiar from the -moment of my entry. The same ever so slightly -overdressed ladies might have been mincing up -and down as on the occasion of my last visit there; -the same knots of men might have begun to -gather; the same orchestra might have been -jigging the same tunes; if only the same men were -at the office desk I might find my ingenuity -rewarded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if there are any letters for me here? -I'm not staying in the house; but I thought—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one said, as I hoped, "I'll see, Mr. Smith," -or, "I'll find out, Mr. Jones," as often happens -when a man has been a well-known guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, it was a spot where strangers -from other places congregated, and I knew that -in the lobbies of hotels one often met old -friends. I might meet one of mine. Better still, -one of mine might meet me. At any minute -I might feel a clap on the shoulder, while some -one shouted, "Hello, old Brown!" or, "Why, -here's Billy Robinson! What'll we have to -drink?" These had been familiar salutations -and might become so again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I walked up and down. I was sorry I had -neither stick nor gloves, but promised to supply -the lack at once. In the mean time I could thrust -my hands into my pockets and look like a -gentleman at ease because he is at home. Having -enjoyed this sport for an hour or more, I went out -to make my purchases.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortified with these, I repeated my comedy in -another hotel, and presently in a third. In each -I began with the same formula of asking for -letters; and in each I got the same response, -"Name?" In each I receded with a polite, -"Never mind. I don't think there can be any, -after all." In each I paraded up and down and -in and out, courting the glances of head waiters, -bell-hops, and lift-men, always in the hope of a -recognition and a "How do, Mr. So-and-so?" -that never came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by six o'clock the game had played itself -out for the day and I was not only tired, but -depressed. I was not discouraged, for the reason -that New York was full of big hotels, and I meant -to begin my tramp on the morrow. There were -clubs, too, into which on one pretext or another -I could force my way, and there were also -the great thoroughfares. Some hundreds of -people in New York at that moment would -probably have recognized me at a glance—if I could -only come face to face with them. All my -efforts for the next few weeks must be bent on -doing that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in the mean time I was tired and lonely. -There were two or three things I might do, each -of which I had promised to myself with some -anticipation. I could go to a good restaurant and -order a good feed; I could go to a good hotel and -sleep in a good bed; I could buy the evening -papers and find out what kind of world I was -living in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to carrying out this program, I had but one -prudential misgiving. It might cost more money -than it would be wise for me to spend. My visit -to the purveyor of clothing in the afternoon had -not only lightened my purse, but considerably -opened my eyes. Where I had had nearly four -hundred dollars I had now nearly three. With -very slight extravagance, according to the -standards of New York, it would come down to nearly -two and then to nearly one, and then to ... But -I shuddered at that, and stopped thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having stopped thinking along one set of lines, -I presently found myself off on another. I saw -Harry Drinkwater sitting in the dark as I was -sitting in the hall of a hotel. That is, he was -idle and I was idle. He was eating his heart -out as I was eating out mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It occurred to me that I might go back to -Thirty-fifth Street and take him out to dinner. -Alfonso, recommended by Miss Blair, might be -no more successful as a host than the lady with -tresses </span><em class="italics">à la madone</em><span> who had given me my lunch; -but we could try. At any rate, the boy wouldn't -be alone on this first evening in New York, and -would feel that some one cared for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then something else in me revolted. No! -No! A thousand times no! I had cut loose -from these people and should stay loose. On -saying good-by to Drinkwater that morning I -had disappeared without a trace. For any one -who tried to follow me now I should be the needle -in a haystack. What good could come of my -going back of my own accord and putting -myself on a level to which I did not belong?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like many Americans, I was no believer in the -equality of men. For men as a whole I had no -respect, and in none but the smallest group had -I any confidence. Looking at the faces as they -passed me in the hall, I saw only those of -brutes—and these were mostly people who had had what -we call advantages. As for those who had not -had advantages I disliked them in contact and -distrusted them in principle. I described -myself not only as a snob, but as an aristocrat. I -had worked it out that to be well educated and -well-to-do was the normal. To be poor and ill -educated was abnormal. Those who suffered -from lack of means or refinement did so because -of some flaw in themselves or their inheritance. -They were the plague of the world. They -created all the world's problems and bred most -of its diseases. From the beginning of time they -had been a source of disturbance to better men, -and would be to the end of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the irony of ironies, then, that I should -have become a member of a group that included -a lady's maid, a chauffeur, and two stenographers, -and been hailed as one of them. The -lady's maid and the chauffeur I could, of course, -dismiss from my mind; but the two stenographers -had seemingly sworn such a friendship for -me that nothing but force would cut me free from -it. Very well, then; I should use force if it was -needed; but it wouldn't be needed. All I had -to do was to refrain from going to take Drinkwater -out to dinner, and they would never know -where I was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet, if you would believe it, I went. -Within half an hour I was knocking at his -bedroom door and hearing his cheery "Come in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why I did this I cannot tell you. It was -neither from loneliness, nor kind-heartedness, -nor a sense of duty. The feet that wouldn't take -the horse to the stable took him back to that -crimson rooming-house, and that is all I can say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater was sitting in the dark, which was -no darker to him than daylight; but when I -switched on the light his pug grin gave an added -illumination to the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, that's the darnedest! I knew you'd -come in spite of the old lady swearing you -wouldn't. I'd given you half an hour yet; and -here you are, twenty-five minutes ahead of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reception annoyed me. It was bad enough -to have come; but it was worse to have been -expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How have you been getting on?" I asked, in -order to relieve my first anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, fine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't you been—dull?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you had to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, enjoy myself—feeling my way about the -house. I can go all round the room, and out -into the hall, and up and down stairs just as easily -as you can. It's a cinch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you heard anything of Miss Flair?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure! Called up about an hour ago to say -she'd found the swellest place—in Forty-first -Street. But, say, Jasper, what do you think of -a girl who gives up the room she's reserved for -a month and more, just to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I broke in on this to ask where he'd had his -lunch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the old girl made me go down and have -it with her. She's not half a bad sort, when you -come to know her. I've asked her to come out -to dinner with me at Alfonso's. Lydia Blair -says it's a dandy place—and now you can join -the party."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I've come to take you out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Jasper! Do you think I'm always going -to pass the buck, just because ... You and -little Goldie are coming to dinner with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not to dispute the point, I yielded it, asking -only:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What made you think I was coming this -evening?—because, you know, I didn't mean to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I dunno. Like you to do it. You're the -sort. That's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So within another half-hour I found myself -at Alfonso's, on Drinkwater's left, with little -Goldie opposite. Little Goldie seemed somehow -the right name for the Statue of the Commander, -now that she wore a lingerie hat and a blouse of -the kind which I believe is called peek-a-boo. -She was well known at Alfonso's, however, her -authority securing us a table in a corner, with -special attentions from head and subordinate -waitresses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How shall I tell you of Alfonso's? Like the -rooming-house, it was for me a new social -manifestation. It was what you might call the home -of the homeless, and the homeless were numerous -and noisy. They were very noisy, they were -very hot. The odor of food struck upon the -nostrils like the smell of a whole burnt -sacrifice when they offered up an ox. The perfume -of wine swam on top of that food, and over and -above both the smell of a healthy, promiscuous, -perspiring humanity, washed and unwashed, in -a festive hurtling together, hilarious and hungry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The food was excellent; the wine as good as -any </span><em class="italics">vin ordinaire</em><span> in France; the service rapid; -and the whole a masterpiece of organization. -I had eaten many a dinner for which I paid ten -times as much which wouldn't have compared -with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the progress of the meal it was natural -that Miss Flowerdew, whose eye commended the -change in my appearance, should ask me what -I had been doing through the day. I didn't, -as you will understand, find it necessary to go -into details; but I told her of my unsuccessful -attempts to find a room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you try the Hotel Barcelona, in Fourth -Avenue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told her I had not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then do so." Fumbling in her bag, she found -a card and pencil. "Take that," she commanded, -when she had finished scribbling, "and ask for -Mr. Jewsbury. If he isn't in, show it to the -room clerk, but keep it for Mr. Jewsbury -to-morrow. I've told them you must have a room -and bath, not over two-fifty a day—and clean. -Tell them I said so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Mr. Jewsbury a friend of yours?" I asked, -inanely, after I had thanked her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He used to be my husband—-the one before -Mr. Crockett. I could be Mrs. Jewsbury again, -if I so chose; but I do not so choose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With this astonishing hint of the possibilities -in Miss Goldie Flowerdew's biography I saw the -value of discretion, and as soon as courtesy -permitted took my leave to visit the Hotel Barcelona.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After a delicious night I woke in a room -which gave the same shock to my fastidiousness -as the first glimpse of my cabin on board -ship. I woke cheerfully, however, knowing that -I was in New York and that not many days -could pass before some happy chance encounter -would give me the clue of which I was in search. -Cheerfully I dressed and breakfasted; cheerfully -I sat down in the dingy hall to scan the -morning's news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the first paper I had opened since -landing. It was the first I had looked at since...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had no recollection of when I had read a -newspaper last. It must have been long ago; -so long ago that the history of my immediate -time had lapsed into formlessness, like that of -the ancient world. I knew there was a world; -I knew there were countries and governments; -I knew, as I have said, that there was a war. Of -the causes of that war I retained about the same -degree of information as of the origin of the Wars -of the Roses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bewilderment was my first reaction now; the -second was amazement. Reading the papers -with no preparation from the day before, or from -the day before that—with no preparation at all -but the vague memory of horrors from which -my mind retreated the minute they were -suggested—reading the papers thus, the world seemed -to me to have been turned upside down. Hindus -were in France, Canadians in Belgium, the -French in the Dobrudja, the Australians in -Turkey, the British and Germans in East Africa, -and New-Zealanders on the peninsula of Sinai. -What madness was this? How had the race of -men got into such a tragi-comic topsy-turvydom? -A long crooked line slashed all across Europe -showed the main body of the opponents locked -in a mutual death embrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had hardly grasped the meaning of it when, -looking up, I saw a figure of light standing in the -lobby before me. It was all in white serge, with -a green sash about the waist, and the head -wreathed in a white motor veil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, kid!" The husky, comic, Third -Avenue laugh was Lydia Blair's. I had just time -to rehearse the series of irritations I knew I -should feel at being tracked down, and to regret -my folly for having gone back to Drinkwater -on the previous evening. Then I saw the -heavenly eyes surveying me with an air of approval. -"Well, you look like a nice tailor's dummy at -last. Takes me back to Seattle or Boston or -Salt Lake City—and the lady." As she rattled -on, a pair of dark eyes began to flash on me from -the air. "We haven't got </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> to-day, but there's -some one else who perhaps will fill the bill. Come -on out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wondering what she could mean, and whether -or not the longed-for clue might not be at hand, -I suffered myself to be led by the arm to the door -of the hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first I saw nothing but a large and -handsome touring-car drawn up against the curb. -Then I saw Drinkwater snuggled in a corner—and -then a brown veil. I couldn't help crossing -the pavement, since Lydia did the same, and the -brown veil seemed to expect me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Blair thought you might like a drive, -Mr. Soames, so we came round to see if we could -find you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on in, Jasper," Drinkwater urged; -"the water's fine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on. Don't be silly," Miss Blair -insisted, as I began to make excuses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before I knew what I was doing I had -stumbled into the seat opposite Miss Averill. She -sat in the right-hand corner, Drinkwater in the -left, Miss Blair between the two. I occupied -one of the small folding armchairs, going -backward. In another minute we were on our way -through one of the cross-streets to Fifth Avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having grasped the situation, I was annoyed. -Miss Averill was taking the less fortunate of her -acquaintance for an airing. Though I could do -justice to her kindliness, I resented being forced -again into a position from which I was trying to -struggle out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I saw something that diverted my -attention even from my wrongs. The pavements in -Fifth Avenue were thronged with a slowly -moving crowd of men and women, but mostly men, -that made progress up or down impossible. -Looking closely, I saw that they were all of the -nations which people like myself are apt to -consider most alien to the average American. Of -true Caucasian blood there was hardly a streak -among them. Dark, stunted, oddly hatted, -oddly dressed, abject and yet eager, submissive -and yet hostile, they poured up and up and up -from all the side-streets, as runlets from a -mountain-side into a great stream. For the pedestrian, -the shopper, the </span><em class="italics">flâneur</em><span>, there was not an inch -of foot room. These surging multitudes -monopolized everything. From Fourteenth Street to -Forty-second Street, a distance of more than a -mile along the most extravagantly showy -thoroughfare in the world, these two dense lines -of humanity took absolute possession, driving -clerks back into their shops and customers from -trade by the sheer weight of numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens! What's up?" I cried, in amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill, who was doubtless used to the -phenomenon, looked mildly surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's always this way!" she smiled. -"It's their lunch-hour. They come from shops -and workshops in the side-streets to see the sights -and get the air."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But is it like this every day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure it is!" laughed Miss Blair. "Did you -never see the Avenue before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never seen this before. I'm sure they -didn't do it a few years ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill agreed to this. It was a new -manifestation, due to the changes this part of -New York had undergone in recent years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how do the people get in and out of the -shops?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Blair explained that they couldn't, which -was the reason why so many businesses were -being driven up-town. There was an hour -in the day when everything was at a standstill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if during that hour this inflammable -stuff were to be set ablaze—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill's comment did not make the -situation better. "Oh, the same thing goes on in -every city in the country, only you don't see it. -New York is unfortunate in having only one -street. Any other street is just a byway. Here -the whole city, for every purpose of its life, has -to pour itself into Fifth Avenue, so that if -anything is going on you get it there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We did not continue the subject, for none of -us really wanted to talk of it. In its way it went -beyond whatever we were prepared to say. It -was disquieting; it might be menacing. We -preferred to watch, to study, to wonder, as, in -the press of vehicles, we slowly made our way -between these banks of outlandish faces, every -one of which was like a slumbering fire. If our -American civilization were ever to be blown -violently from one basis to another, as I had -sometimes thought might happen, the social TNT was -concentrated here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were soon in the Park. Soon after that -we were running along the river-bank. Soon -after that we came to an inn by a stream in -a dimple of a dell, and here Miss Averill had -ordered lunch by telephone. It was a nice little -lunch, in a sort of rude pavilion that simulated -eating in the open air. I noticed that all the -arrangements had been made with as much -foresight as if we had been people of distinction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I began to examine my hostess with more -attention than I had ever given her, coming to -the conclusion that she belonged to the new -variety of rich American whom I had somewhere -had occasion to observe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sensible and sympathetic were the first words -you applied to her, and you could see she was of -the type to seek nothing for herself. Brown was -her color, as it so often is that of self-renouncing -characters—the brown of woodland brooks in her -eyes, the brown of nuts in her hair, and all about -her an air of conscientiousness that left no place -for coquetry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Conscientiousness was her aura, and among the -shades of conscientiousness that in spending money -easily came first. I was sure she had studied -the whole question of financial inequality from -books, and as much as she could from observation. -Zeal to make the best use of her income -had probably held her back from marriage and -dictated her occupations. It had drawn her to -working-girls like Lydia Blair, to struggling men -like Harry Drinkwater, and now indirectly to me. -It had suggested the drive of this morning, and -had bidden her gather us round her table as if we -were her equals. She knew we were not her equals, -but she was doing her best to forget the fact, and -to have us forget it, too. With Harry and Lydia -I think she was successful. But with me...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She herself knew she was not successful with -me, and when, after the coffee, the working-girl -had taken the blind man and strayed with him -for a few hundred yards into the woods, Miss -Averill grew embarrassed. The more she tried -to keep me from seeing it the more she betrayed -it—not in words, or glances, or any trick of color, -but in inner hesitations which only mind-reading -could detect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we still sat at the table, but each a little -away from it, she gathered all her resources -together to be the lady in authority.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad of a word alone with you -because—" Apparently she could get no farther in this -direction, and so took another line. "I think you -said your business was with carpets, didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Somebody may have said it for me—especially -after our little talk about the rug—but -it didn't come from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hazel eyes rested on me frankly. "And it's not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then—" Her tone was slightly that of -disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you want it to be?" I smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't that; but my brother thought it was—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure I don't know why—except for the -rug. But one can know about rugs and not have -to sell them, can't one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not a usual branch of knowledge, except -among connoisseurs and artists—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So my brother thought if you were in that -kind of work he'd give you a note to a friend of -his—-at the head of one of the big carpet -establishments in New York—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's awfully kind of him," I broke in, as she -drew a letter from the bag she carried, "and if -I needed it I'd take it; but—but I don't need it. -It—it wouldn't be any good to me. I thank him -none the less sincerely—and you, too, Miss -Averill—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at the ground, her long black lashes -almost resting on her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must seem to you very officious, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the slightest. I'm extremely grateful. -If I required help there's nobody—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't live in New York?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to stay here for—for the present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not—not to work?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I shall have to see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you're a—a writer—or one of those -things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not any of those things," I said, -gravely; and at that we laughed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We got back to New York in time for me -to begin the parade of the hotels. Taking -this task seriously, I selected the biggest and -made myself conspicuous by keeping on my feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For three days nothing happened except within -myself. This focusing of men and women into -vast assemblies from four to seven every afternoon -began to strike me as the counterpart of the -gatherings I was watching each day between -twelve and one on the pavements of Fifth Avenue. -Though the activities were different, the same -obscure set of motives seemed to lie behind both. -In both there was the impulse to crowd densely -together, as if promiscuity was a source of -excitement. In both there was a vacuity that was -not purposeless. In both there was a suggestion -of the sleeping wild beast. While in the one -case the accompaniment was the inchoate -uproar of the streets, in the other it was an -orchestra that jazzed with the monotonous -incitement of Oriental tom-toms, nagging, teasing, -tormenting the wild beast to get up and show -his wildness. Across tea-rooms or between -arcades one could see couples dancing in a -languorous semi-paralysis of which the fascination -lay in a hint of barbaric shamelessness. -Barbaric shamelessness marked the huge shaven -faces of most of the men and the kilts of most -of the women. I mention these details only to -point out that to me, after my mysterious -absence, they indicated a socially new America.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the fourth afternoon when, drifting -with the crowd through a corridor lined with -tables at which small parties were having tea, -I felt the long-expected tap on my shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the interval too brief to reckon before -turning round two possibilities were clear in my -mind. The unknown crime from which I was -running away might have found me out—or -some friend had come to my deliverance. Either -event would be welcome, for even if it were arrest -I should learn my name and history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, old chap! Come and have some tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was disappointed. It was only Boyd Averill. -Behind him his wife and sister were seated at -one of the little tables. It was the sort of -invitation one couldn't refuse, especially as they -saw I was strolling without purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Mrs. Averill who talked, in the bored -</span><em class="italics">voix traînante</em><span> of one who has everything the -world can give, except what she wants most. -I had seen before that she was a beautiful woman, -but never so plainly as now—a woman all -softness and dimpling curves, with the same -suggestions of the honeyed and melting and fatigued -in her glances that you got from the inflection -of her sentences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She explained that they had come from a -song recital in the great hall up-stairs. It was -given at this unusual time of the year by a -well-known singer who was passing through New York -on her way to Australia. With this interruption -she continued the criticism she had been making -when I sat down, and which dealt with certain -phrases in a song—Goethe's "</span><em class="italics">Ueber allen Gipfeln</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Schubert setting?" I asked, after -informing Miss Averill as to how I should have -my tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, the Hugo Wolff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I began to hum in an undertone: "'</span><em class="italics">Ueber allen -Gipfeln ist Ruh; in allem Wipfeln hörest du kaum -einen Hauch</em><span>.' Is that the one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ladies exchanged glances; Averill kept -his eyes on my face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's the one," Mrs. Averill said, as -if nothing unusual had happened. "So you sing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I—I just know the song. I've—I've -heard a good deal of music at one time and another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abroad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—abroad—and here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where especially here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, New York—Boston—Chicago—different -places." I did my best to be vague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I noticed for the first time then a shade of -wistfulness in Mildred Averill's brown eyes as she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to have moved about a good deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes. I wanted—I wanted to see what -was happening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you saw it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Averill asked me that, his gaze still fixed -on me thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough for the present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause of some seconds during -which I could hear the unuttered question of all -three, "Why don't you tell us who you are?" It -was a kindly question, with nothing but -sympathy behind it. It was, in fact, a tacit offer of -friendship, if I would only take it up. More -plainly than they could have expressed -themselves in words, it said: "We like you. We are -ready to be your friends. Only give us the least -little bit of encouragement. Link yourself up -with something we know. Don't be such a -mystery, because mystery breeds suspicion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I let it go by Mildred Averill began to -talk somewhat at random. She didn't want that -significant silence to be repeated. I had had -my chance and I hadn't taken it. Very well, -my reasons would be respected, but I couldn't -keep people from wondering. That was what -I knew she was saying, though her actual words -referred to our expedition of a few days previously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And of that she spoke with an intonation -that associated me with herself. She and I had -taken two nice young people of the -working-classes for an outing. Let me hasten to say -that there was no condescension in what she said; -condescension wasn't in her; there was only -the implication that whatever the ground she -stood on, I stood on that ground, too. She threw -out a hint that as New York in these September -days was barely waking from its summer lethargy, -and there was little to fill time, we might -all four do the same again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this she was reserved, nunlike, yet—what -shall I say? What is there to say when a woman -betrays what very few people perceive and one -isn't supposed to know to be there? There is -a decoration on certain old Chinese porcelains -which you can only see in special lights. A vase -or a bowl may be of, let us say, a rich green -monochrome. You may look at the thing a -thousand times and nothing but the monochrome -will be visible. Then one day the sun -will strike it at a special angle, or the light may -otherwise be what the artist did his work for, -and beneath the green you will discern dragons -or chrysanthemums in gold. Somewhat in that -way the real Mildred Averill came out and -withdrew, withdrew and came out, not so much -according to changes in her as according to changes -in the person observing her. When you saw her -from one point of view she was diffident, demure, -not colorless, but all of one color like a rare piece -of monochrome. When you looked at her from -another you saw the golden dragons and -chrysanthemums. You might not have understood -what they symbolized, but this much at least -you would have known—that the gold was the -gold of fire, all the more dangerous, perhaps, -because it was banked down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That in this company, with its batteries of -tacit inquiry turned on me all the while I took -my tea, I was uneasy will go without saying, -and so I took the earliest possible opportunity -to get up and slip away. I did not slip away, -however, before Mrs. Averill had asked me to -lunch on the following Sunday, and I had been -forced into accepting the invitation. I had been -forced because she wouldn't take no for an -answer. She wanted to talk about music; she -wanted to sing to me; in reality, as I guessed -then, and soon came to know, she was determined -to wring from me, out of sheer curiosity, -the facts I wouldn't confide of my own accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But having accepted the invitation, I saw that -there were advantages in doing so. Once back -in the current to which I belonged, I should have -more chances of the recognition for which I was -working. The social life of any country runs -in streams like those we see pictured on isothermal -charts. The same kind of people move in the -same kind of medium from north to south, and -from east to west. If you know one man there -you will soon know another, till you have a chain -of acquaintances, all socially similar, right across -the continent. That I had such a chain I didn't -doubt for an instant; my only difficulty was to -get in touch with it. As soon as I did that each -name would bring up a kindred name, till I found -myself swimming in my native channel, wherever -it was, like a fish in the Gulf Stream, whether off -the coast of Norway or off that of Mexico.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I came to the conclusion that I had done -right in ceding to Mrs. Averill's insistence, -though it occurred to me on second thoughts -that I should need another suit of clothes. That -I had was well enough for knockabout purposes, -especially when carried off with some amount -of bluff; but the poverty of its origin would -become too evident if worn on all occasions. -I had seen at the emporium that by spending -more money and putting on only a slightly -enhanced swagger I could make a much better -appearance in the eyes of those who didn't examine -me too closely. I decided that the gain would -warrant the extravagance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within ten days of my landing, therefore, my -nearly four hundred dollars had come down to -nearly two, though I had the consolation of -knowing that my chances of soon getting at my -bank-account were better. At any minute now my -promenades in the hotels might be rewarded, -while conversation with the Averills would sooner -or later bring up names with which I should -have associations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was disconcerting then, on the following -Sunday, to be received with some constraint. It -was the more disconcerting in that the coldness -came from Averill himself. He strolled into -the hall while I was putting down my hat and -stick, shaking hands with the peculiar listlessness -of a man who disapproves of what is happening. -As hitherto I had found him interested -and cordial, I couldn't help being struck by -the change.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see how we are," he observed, pointing -to an open packing-case. "Not up to the point -of having guests; but Mrs. Averill—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Averill was too kind to me to think of -inconveniences to herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just come up to the library, will you, -and I'll tell her you're here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a way of getting rid of me till his wife -could come and assume her own responsibilities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So long a time had passed since I had seen the -interior of an American house of this order that -I took notes as I made my way up-stairs. Out -of the unsuspected resources of my being came -the capacity to do it. Most people on entering -a house see nothing but its size. A background -more or less elaborately furnished may be in -their minds, but they have not the knowledge -to enable them to seize details. The careful -arrangement of taste is all one to them with -some nondescript, haphazard jumble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this dwelling, in one of the streets off Fifth -Avenue, on the eastern side of Central Park, I -found the typical home of the average wealthy -American. Money had been spent on it, but -with a kind of helplessness. Helplessness had -designed the house, as it had planned, or hadn't -planned, the street outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A square hall contained a few monumental -pieces of furniture because they were monumental. -A dining-room behind it was full of high-backed -Italian chairs because they were high-backed -and Italian. The stairs were built as they -were because the architect had not been able -to avoid a dark spot in the middle of the house -and the stairs filled it. On the floor above a -glacial drawing-room in white and gold, with -the furniture still in bags, ran the width of the -back of the house, while across the front was the -library into which I was shown, spacious, cheerful, -with plenty of books, magazines, and easy-chairs. -In the way of pictures there were but two—modern -portraits of a man and a woman, whom -I had no difficulty in setting down as the father and -mother of Averill. Of the mother I knew -nothing except that she had been a school-teacher; -of the father Miss Blair had given me the -detailed history as told in </span><em class="italics">Men Who Have Made -New Jersey</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hubbard Averill was the son of a shoemaker -in Elizabeth. On leaving school at fifteen he -had the choice of going into a grocery store as -clerk or as office-boy into a bank. He chose the -bank. Ten years later he was teller. Five years -after that he was cashier. Five years after -that he had the same position in a bank of -importance in Jersey City. Five years after -that he was recognized as one of the able young -financiers in the neighborhood of New York. -Before he was fifty his name was honored by -those who count in Wall Street. It was the -history of most of the successful American bankers -I had ever heard of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no packing-case in the library, but -a number of objects recently unpacked stood -round about on tables, waiting to be disposed of. -There was a little Irish glass, with much old -porcelain and pottery, both Chinese and European. -I had not the time to appraise the things -with the eye before Miss Averill slipped in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wore a hat, and, dressed in what I suppose -was tan-colored linens, she seemed just to -have come in from the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My sister will be down in a minute. She's -generally late on Sunday. I've been good and -have been to church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We sat down together on a window-seat, with -some self-consciousness on both sides. I noticed -again that, though her hair was brown, her -eyebrows and long curving lashes were black, -striking the same discreet yet obscurely dangerous -note as the rest of her personality. In the topaz -of her eyes there were little specks of gold like -those in her chain of amber beads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a little introductory talk she began telling -me of the help Miss Blair was giving Drinkwater. -She had begun to teach him what she called "big -stenography." Shorthand and the touch system -were included in it, as well as the knack of -transcribing from the dictaphone. Boyd had bought -a machine on purpose for them to practise with, -looking forward to the day when Harry should -resume his old job connected with laboratory work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what's to become of Miss Blair?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My companion lowered her fine lashes, speaking -with the seeming shyness that was her charm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm thinking of asking her to come and live -with me. You see, if I take a house of my own -I shall need some one; and she suits me. She -understands the kind of people I like to work -among—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then you're not going to keep on living here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've lived with my brother and sister ever -since my father died; but one comes to a time -when one needs a home of one's own. Don't -you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man—like you, for instance—can be so -free; but a woman has to live within exact -limitations. The only way she can get any liberty -at all is within her own home. Not that my -brother and sister aren't angelic to me. They -are, of course; but you know what I mean." The -glance that stole under her lashes was half -daring and half apologetic. "It must be -wonderful to do as one likes—to experiment with -different sorts of life—and get to know things -at first hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that was her summing up concerning me. -I was one of those moderns with so keen a thirst -for life that I was testing it at all its springs. -She didn't know my ultimate intention, but she -could sympathize with my methods and admire -my courage and thoroughness. Almost in so -many words she said if she had not been timid -and hedged in by conventions it was what she -would have liked herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before any one came to disturb us there seeped -through her conversation, too, the reason of -Averill's coldness. They had discussed me a -good deal, and while he had nothing to accuse -me of, he considered that the burden of the proof -of my innocence lay with me. I might be all -right—and then I might not be. So long as there -was any question as to my probity I was a -person to watch with readiness to help, but not -one to ask to luncheon. He would not have -invited me to tea a few days before, and had -allowed me to pass and repass before ceding to -his wife's persistence. He had consequently -been the more annoyed when she carried her -curiosity to the point of bringing me there that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill did not, of course, say these things; -she would have been amazed to know that I -inferred them. I shouldn't have inferred them -had I not seen her brother and partially read his -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my hostess came trailing in—the verb -is the only one I can find to express her -gracefully lymphatic movements—and I was obliged -to submit to a welcome which was overemphasized -for the benefit of the husband who entered -behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're really not equipped for having any -one come to us," she apologized. "We're -scarcely unpacked. We're going to move from -this house anyhow when we can find another. -It's so poky. If we're to entertain again—" She -turned to her sister: "Mildred dear, </span><em class="italics">couldn't</em><span> -some one have cleared these things away?" Waving -her hand toward the array of potteries -and porcelains, she continued to me: "One buys -such a lot during two or three years abroad, -doesn't one? I'm sure Mrs. Soames must feel -the way I do, that she doesn't know where to -put the things when she's got them home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew the reason for the reference which others -were as quick to catch as I, and, in the idiom of -the moment, tried to "side-step" it by saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a good thing—that Rouen </span><em class="italics">saladier</em><span>. -You don't often pick up one of that shape nowadays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw it in an old shop at Dreux," Mrs. Averill -informed me, in her melting tone. "I got this -pair of Ming vases there, too. At least, they said -they were Ming; but I don't suppose they are. -One is so taken in. But I liked them, whatever -they are, and so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted one up and brought it to me—a -dead-white jar, decorated with green foliage, -violet-blue flowers, and tiny specks of red fruit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something in me leaped. I took the vase in -my hand as if it had been a child of my flesh and -blood. I was far from thinking of my hearers -as I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not Ming; but it's very good K'ang-hsi.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had thrown another little bomb into their -camp, but it surprised them no more than it did -me. A trance medium who hears himself speaking -in a hitherto unknown tongue could not have -been more amazed at his own utterance. I -went on talking, not to give them information, -but to listen for what I should say next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had all three drawn near me. "How -can you tell?" Miss Averill asked, partly in awe -at my knowledge, and partly to give me the -chance to display it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very much as you can tell the difference -between a hat you wear this year and one you -wore five years ago. The styles are quite -different. Ming corresponds roughly to the Tudor -period in English history, and K'ang-hsi to the -earlier Stuarts—with much the same distinction -as we get between the output of those two epochs. -Ming is older, bolder, stronger, rougher, with a -kind of primitive force in it; K'ang-hsi is the -product of a more refined civilization. It has -less of the instinctive and more deliberate -selection. It is more finished—more -self-conscious." I picked up the Rouen salad-dish and -a Sèvres cup and saucer, putting them side by -side. "It's something like the difference -between these—strength and color and dash in -the one, and in the other a more elaborately -perfected art. You couldn't be in any doubt, once -you'd been in the habit of seeing them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Averill's question was as natural and -spontaneous as laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where have you seen them so much, Mr. Soames?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a little everywhere," I managed to reply, -just as we were summoned to luncheon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At table we talked of the pleasures of making -"finds" in old European cities. I had evidently -done a lot of it, for I could deal with it in general -quite fluently. When they pinned me down -with a question as to details I was obliged to -hedge. I could talk of The Hague and Florence -and Strasbourg and Madrid as backgrounds, but -I could never picture myself to myself as walking -in their streets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That, however, was not evident to my companions, -and as Mrs. Averill's interests lay along -the line of ceramic art I was able to bring out -much in the way of connoisseurship which did -not betray me. With Averill himself I scored -a point; with Mildred Averill I scored many. -With Mrs. Averill, beneath a seeming ennui that -grew more languorous, I quickened curiosity to -the fever-point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a lot of things you must have, Mr. Soames."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My refuge being always in the negative, I said, -casually: "Oh no! One doesn't have to own -things just because one admires them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you say yourself that you've picked -them up—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she had nearly caught me here I was obliged -to wriggle out. "Oh, to give away—and that -kind of thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Averill's eyes were resting on me thoughtfully. -"Sell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I've never sold anything like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what's the use," Mrs. Averill asked, -"of caring about things when you can't have -them? I should hate it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that there's nothing you can't have."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you hear that, Boyd?" I caught the -impulse of the purring, velvety thing to vary the -monotony of life by scratching. "Mr. Soames -says there's nothing I can't have. Much he -knows, doesn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing you can't have—within -reason, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but I don't want things within reason. -I want them out of reason. I want to be like -Mr. Soames—free—free—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't be free and be a married woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can when you have a vocation, can't -you, Mr. Soames? I suppose Mr. Soames is a -married man—and look at him." She hurried -beyond this point, to add: "And look at Sydna, -whom we heard the other afternoon! She's a -married woman and her husband lives in London. -He lets her sing. He lets her travel. He leads -his life and lets her ... Mr. Soames, what do -you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said, tactfully, "I shall be able to judge -better when you've sung to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill, taking up the thread of the -conversation here, we got through the rest of the -luncheon without treading in difficult places, -and presently I was alone with Averill, who was -passing the cigars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The constraint which had partially lifted -during the conversation at luncheon fell again with -the departure of the ladies. I had mystified -them more than ever; and mystery does not -make for easy give and take in hospitality. To -Averill himself his hospitality was sacred. To -entertain at his own board a man with no -credentials but those which an adventurer might -present was the source of a discomfort that -amounted to unhappiness. He couldn't conceal -it; he didn't care to conceal it. While fulfilling -all that courtesy required of a host, he was willing -to let me see it. I saw it, and could say nothing, -since he might easily be right; and an adventurer -I might be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As, with his back to the open doorway into the -hall, he sat down with his own cigar, I felt that he -was saying to himself, "I wish to God you were -not in this house!" I myself was responding -silently by wishing the same thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the obvious minute at which to tell -him everything. I saw that as plainly as you do. -Had I made a clean breast of it I should have -become one of the most interesting cases of his -experience. Such instances of shell-shock were -just beginning to be talked about. The term -was finding its way into the newspapers and -garnishing common speech. Though I knew of -no connection between my misfortunes and the -Great War, I could have made shift to furnish -an illustration of this new phase among its -tragedies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During a pause in our stilted speech I screwed -myself up to the point. "There's something—" But -his attention was distracted for the -moment, and when it came back to me I couldn't -begin again. No! I could fight the thing -through on my own; but that would be my -utmost. A confession of breakdown was impossible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, all at once, I got a glimpse of what was -in the back of his mind, though something else -happened simultaneously, of which I must tell -you first. Into the open space between the -portieres behind him there glided a little figure -clad in amber-colored linen, the monochrome -with the sun-spots beneath it. She didn't speak, -for the reason that Averill spoke first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're—" He struck a match nervously -to relight his cigar—"you're a—a married man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more negation had to be my refuge. If -I admitted that I was he might ask me whom I -had married, and when, and where. I spoke -with an emphasis that sprang not from eagerness -of denial, but from anxiety that the topic -shouldn't be discussed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question and answer followed so swiftly -on Mildred Averill's arrival on the threshold -that she caught them both. Little sparks of -gold shone in the brown pools of her eyes, and -her smile took on a new shade of vitality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boyd, Lulu wants you to bring your cigars -up-stairs. The coffee is there, and she'd like -to talk to Mr. Soames about the old Chinese -things before she begins to sing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He jumped to his feet. He was not less -constrained, but some of his uneasiness had passed. -I could read what was in his mind. If the worst -came to the worst I was at least a single man; -and the worst might not come to the worst. -There might be ways of getting rid of me before -his sister...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He led the way up-stairs. I followed with -Miss Averill, saying I have forgotten what. I -have forgotten it because, as we crossed the -low-ceiled hall with its monumental bits of -furniture, two gleaming eyes stood over me like -sentinels in the air.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-x"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Within a fortnight my nearly two -hundred dollars had come down to nearly -one, and this in spite of my self-denials.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Self-denials were new to me. I knew that by -my difficulties in beginning to practise them. -Such economics as staying at the Barcelona -instead of a more luxurious hotel, or as buying -ready-made clothes instead of waiting for the -custom-made, I do not speak of as self-denials, -since they were no more than concessions to a -temporary lack of cash. But the first time I -made my breakfast on one egg instead of two; -the first time I suppressed the eggs altogether; -the first time I lunched on a cup of chocolate -taken at a counter; the first time I went without -a midday meal of any kind—these were occasions -when the saving of pennies struck me as akin to -humiliation. I had formed no habits to prepare -me for it. The possibility that it might continue -began at last to frighten me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For none of my artful methods had been -successful. I frequented the hotels; I hung about -the entrances to theaters; I tramped the streets -till a new pair of boots became a necessity; but -no one ever hailed me as an old acquaintance. -Once only, standing in the doorway of a great -restaurant, did I recognize a face; but it was -that of Lydia Blair, dining with a man. He -was a big, round-backed, silver-haired man, with -an air of opulence which suggested that Miss -Blair might be taking the career of adventuress -more seriously than I had supposed. Whether -or not she saw me I couldn't tell, for, to avoid -embarrassment both for herself and me, I -withdrew to another stamping-ground. What the -young lady chose to do with herself was no affair -of mine. Since a pretty girl of facile -temperament would have evident opportunities, it was -not for me to interfere with her. Had she -belonged to my own rank in life I might have been -shocked or sorry; but every one knew that a -beautiful working-girl...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to my own rank in life a sense of going under -false pretenses added to my anxieties, though it -was through no fault of my own. Miss Averill -persisted in giving me the rôle of romantic seeker -for the hard facts of existence. She did it only -by assumption; but she did it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing like seeing for oneself, is -there? It's feeling for oneself, too, which is -more important. I'm so terribly cut off from it -all. I'm like a bird in a cage trying to help those -whose nests are being robbed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was said during the second of the -excursions for which Miss Blair captured me from the -lobby of the Barcelona. Her procedure was -exactly the same as on the first occasion, except -that she came about the middle of the afternoon. -Nothing but an unusual chance found me sitting -there, idle but preoccupied, as I meditated on my -situation while smoking a cigar. My first -impulse to refuse Miss Averill's invitation -point-blank was counteracted by the thought of escape -from that daily promenade up and down the halls -of hotels which had begun to be disheartening -and irksome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of this the novelty had passed. The -expectations that during the first week or two had -made each minute a living thing had simmered -away in a sense of futility. No old friend having -recognized me yet, I was working round to the -conviction that no old friend ever would. If I -kept up the tramp it was because I could see -nothing else to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on this particular afternoon for the first -time I revolted. The effect was physical, in -that my feet seemed to be too heavy to be -dragged along. They were refusing their job, -while my mind was planning it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus in the end I found myself sharing the -outing given nominally for the blind boy, but -really planned from a complication of motives -which to Miss Averill were obscure. It did not help -to make them clearer that her wistful, unuttered -appeals to me to solve the mystery surrounding -my personality passed by without result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The high bank of an autumn wood, the Hudson -with a steamer headed southward, more autumn -woods covering the hills beyond, a tea-basket, -tea—this was the decoration. We had alighted -from the motor somewhere in the neighborhood -of Tarrytown. Tea being over, Miss Blair and -Drinkwater, with chaff and laughter, were -clearing up the things and fitting them back into the -basket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's very clever with him," Miss Averill -explained, as she led the way to a fallen log, on -which she seated herself, indicating that I might -sit beside her. "She seizes on anything that will -teach him the use of his fingers, and makes a -game of it. He's very quick, too. The next time -he'll be able to take the things out of the -tea-basket and put them back all by himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we had dropped into her favorite theme, -the duty of helping the helpless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was in brown, as usual, a brown-green, that -might have been a Scotch or Irish homespun, -which blended with the wine shades and russets -all about us with the effect of protective coloration. -The day was as still as death, so breathless -that the leaves had scarcely the energy to fall. -In the heavy, too-sweet scents there was -suggestion and incitement—suggestion that chances -were passing and incitement to seize them before -they were gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wish there were words in which to convey -the peculiar overtones in Miss Averill's comparison -of herself with a bird in a cage. There was -goodness in them, and amusement, as well as -something baffled and enraged. She had been -so subdued when I had seen her hitherto that -I was hardly prepared for this half-smothered -outburst of fierceness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you're like a bird in a cage," I said, "you're -like the one that sings to the worker and cheers -him up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her pleasure was expressed not in a change -of color or a drooping of the lids, but in a quiet -suffusion that might most easily be described as -atmospheric.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, as for cheering people up—I don't know. -I've tried such a lot of it, only to find that they -got along well enough without me. A woman -wants more than anything else in the world to -feel that she's needed; and when she discovers -she isn't—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sense of my own apparent superfluity in -life prompted me to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it isn't only women who discover that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her glance traveled down the steep wooded -bank and over the river, to rest on the -wine-colored hills on the other side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you—did you ever?"—she corrected -herself quickly—"I mean—do men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some men do. It's—it's possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't it," she asked, tackling the subject in -her sensible way, "primarily a question of money? -If you have enough of it not to have to earn a -living—and no particular duties—don't you find -yourself edged out of the current of life? After -all, what the world wants is producers; and the -minute one doesn't produce—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by producers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She reflected. "I suppose I mean all who -contribute, either directly or indirectly, either -mentally or physically, to the sum total of our -needs in living. Wouldn't that cover it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I admitted that it might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And those who don't do that, who merely -live on what others produce, seem to be excluded -from the privilege of helpfulness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't see that. They help with their money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Money can't help, except indirectly. It's -the great mistake of our philanthropies to think -it can. We make a great many mistakes; but -we can make more in our philanthropies than -anywhere else. We've never taken the pains to -study the psychology of help. We think money -the panacea for every kind of need, when as a -matter of fact it's only the outward and visible -sign of an inward and spiritual grace. If you -haven't got the grace the sign rings false, like -an imitation coin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is the grace?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's a good many things—a blend—of -which, I suppose, the main ingredient is love." She -gave me a wistful half-smile, as she added: -"Love is a very queer thing—I mean this kind -of big love for—just for people. You can always -tell whether it's true or false; and the less -sophisticated the people the more instinctively they -know. If it's true they'll accept you; if it's only -pumped up, they'll shut you out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure you ought to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do know. I've had a lot of experience—in -being shut out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded toward Drinkwater and Miss Blair. -"They don't let me in. In spite of all I try to -do for them, they're only polite to me. They'll -accept this kind of thing; but I'm as far outside -their confidence—outside their hearts—as a bird -in a cage, as I've called myself, is outside a flock -of nest-builders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And assuming that that is so—though I do -not assume it—how do you account for it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, easily enough! I'm not the real thing. -I never was—not at the Settlement—not -now—not anywhere or at any time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how would you describe the real thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't describe it. All I know is that I'm -not it. I'm not working for them, but for myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For yourself—how?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To fill in an empty life. When you've no -real life you seek an artificial one. As every one -rejects the artificial, you get rejected. That's -all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you call a real life—for yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fierceness with which she had been speaking -became intensified, even when tempered with -her diffident half-smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A life in which there was something I was -absolutely obliged to do. I begin to wonder if -parents know how much of the zest of living -they're taking away from their children by -leaving them, as we say, well provided for. When -there's nothing within reason you can't have -and nothing within reason you can't do—well, -then, you're out of the running."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that the way you look at yourself—as out -of the running?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the way I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is there no means of getting into the -running?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There might be if I wasn't such a coward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you weren't such a coward what would you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there are things. You've—you've found -them. I would do like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do you know what I'm doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you guess—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's only a guess—of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose with a weary gesture. "What's the -good of talking about it? A knight in disguise -remains in disguise till he chooses to throw off -his incognito."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when he has thrown it off—what does -he become then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He may become something else—but he's—he's -none the less—a knight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood looking at each other, in one of -those impulses of mutual frankness that are not -without danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if there was a knight who—who couldn't -throw off his incognito?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shrugged her shoulders. "Then I suppose -he'd always be a knight in disguise—something -like Lohengrin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what would Elsa think of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing the implication in this indiscreet question -even before she did, I felt myself flush hotly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I admired the more, therefore, the ease with -which she carried the difficult moment off. -Moving a few steps toward Drinkwater and Miss -Blair, who were shutting up the tea-basket, she -threw over her shoulder:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there was an Elsa I suppose she'd make -up her mind when the time came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was still moving forward when I overtook -her to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could speak plainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped to glance up at me. "And can't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you ever in a situation which you felt -you had to swing alone? You know you could -get help; you know you could count on -sympathy; but whenever you're impelled to appeal -for either something holds you back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never was in such a situation, but I can -imagine what it's like. May I ask one question?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt obliged to grant the permission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it of the nature of what is generally called -trouble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's of the nature of what is generally called -misfortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I suppose I mustn't say so much as that -I'm sorry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could say that much," I smiled, "if you -didn't say any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repeated the weary gesture of a few -minutes earlier, a slight tossing outward of both -hands, with a heavy drop against the sides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she began to move on once more I spoke -as I walked beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she paused to confront me. In her -eyes gold lights gleamed in the brown depths of -the irises.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sense is there in a civilization that cuts -us all off from each other? We're like prisoners -in solitary confinement—you in one cell and -Boyd in another and Lulu in another and I in -another, and everybody else in his own or her own -and no communication or exchange of help -between us. It's—it's monstrous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The half-choked passion of her words took me -the more by surprise for the reason that she -treated me as if the defects of our civilization -were my fault. Joining Lydia Blair and taking -her by the arm, she led the way back to the motor, -while I was left to pilot Drinkwater, who carried -the tea-basket. During the drive back to town -our hostess scarcely spoke, and not once to me -directly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xi"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But I was troubled by all this, and puzzled. -That I couldn't afford the complication of -a love-affair will be evident to any one; but that -a love-affair threatened was by no means clear. -As far as that went it was as fatuous on my part -to think of it as it would have been for Drinkwater, -except in so far as it involved danger to myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a few hours that danger did not suggest -itself. That is, I was so busy speculating as to -Mildred Averill's meaning that I had no time to -analyze the way I was taking it. Weighing her -words, her impulses, her impatiences, I saw no -more than that she might be offering her treasures -at the feet of a wooden man, a carved and painted -figment, without history or soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is, unless I mistook her meanings as -Malvolio mistook Viola's!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was that side to it, too. It was the -aspect of the case on which I dwelt all through my -lonely dinner. I had not forgotten Boyd -Averill's reception of me on the Sunday of the -luncheon; I never should forget it. There is -something in being in the house of a man who is -anxious to get you out of it unlike any other form of -humiliation. The very fact that he refrains -from pointedly showing you the door only gives -time for the ignominy to sink in. Nothing but -the habit of doing certain things in a certain way -carried me through those two hours and enabled -me to take my departure without incivility. On -going down the steps the sense that I had been -kicked out was far more keen than if Averill had -given way to the actual physical grossness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of this feeling, I admit, was fanciful. It -was due to the disturbed imagination natural -to a man whose mental equipment has been put -awry. Averill had been courteous throughout -my visit. More than that, he was by nature -kindly. Anywhere but in his own house his -attitude to me would have been cordial, and for -anything I needed he would have backed me with -more than his good-will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, that Sunday rankled as a -poisoned memory, and one from which I found it -impossible wholly to dissociate any member of -his family. Though I could blame Mrs. Averill -a little, I could blame Miss Averill not at all; -and yet she belonged to the household in which -I had been made to feel an unwelcome guest. -That in itself might give me a clue to her -sentiment toward me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I went on with my dinner I came to the -conclusion that it did give me such a clue. I was -the idiot Malvolio thinking himself beloved of -Viola. Where there was nothing but a balked -philanthropy I was looking for the tender heart. -The dictionary teemed with terms that applied -to such a situation, and I began to heap them -on myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heaped them on myself with a sense not of -relief, but of disappointment. That was the odd -discovery I made, as much to my surprise as my -chagrin. Falling in love with anybody was no -part of my program. It was out of the question -for obvious reasons. In addition to these I was -in love with some one else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is to say, I knew I had been in love; I -knew that in the portion of my life that had -become obscured there had been an emotional -drama of which the consciousness remained. It -remained as a dream remains when we remember -the vividness and forget the facts—but it -remained. I could view my personality -somewhat as you view a countryside after a storm -has passed over it. Without having witnessed -the storm you can tell what it was from the havoc -left behind. There was some such havoc in myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as I could look into the glass and see -a face young, haggard, handsome, if I may use -the word without vanity, that seemed not to be -mine, so I could look into my heart and read the -suffering of which I no longer perceived the causes. -It was like looking at the scar of a wound -received before you can remember. Your body -must have bled from it, your nerves must have -ached; even now it is numb or sensitive; but -its history is lost to you. It was once the -outstanding fact of your childish existence; and now -all of which you are aware is something atrophied, -lacking, or that shrinks at a touch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In just that way I knew that passion had once -flashed through my life, but had left me nothing -but the memory of a memory. I could trace its -path almost as easily as you can follow the track -of a tornado through a town—by the wreckage. -I mean by the wreckage an emotional weariness, -an emotional distress, an emotional distaste for -emotion; but above everything else I mean a -craving to begin the emotion all over again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I often wondered if some passional experience -hadn't caused the shattering of the brain cells. -I often wondered if the woman I had loved was -not dead. I wondered if I might not even have -killed her. Was that the crime from which I -was running away? Were the Furies pursuing -me? Was it to be my punishment to fall in love -with another woman and suffer the second time -because the first suffering had defeated its own -ends in making me insensible?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All through the evening thoughts of this kind, -now and then with a half-feverish turn, ran -through my mind, till by the time I went to bed -love no longer seemed impossible. It was -appalling; and yet it had a fascination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So for the next few days I walked with a vision -pure, unobtrusive, subdued, holy in its way, -which nevertheless broke into light and passion -and flame that nobody but myself was probably -aware of. I also gleaned from Lydia Blair, who -had a journalistic facility in gathering personal -facts, that Mildred Averill's place in New York -life was not equal to her opportunities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are always girls like that," Miss Blair -commented. "They've got all the chances in the -world, and don't know how to make use of them. -She's not a bad looker, not when you come to -study her; and yet you couldn't show her off with -the dressiest models in New York."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I ventured to suggest that showing off might -not be Miss Averill's ambition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a good thing too, poor dear. If it was -it would be the limit. She sure has the sense to -know what she can't do. That's something. -Look here, Harry," she continued, sharply, "I -told you before that if you're going to take letters -down from the dictaphone you've got to read -them through to the end before you begin to -transcribe. Then you'll know where the -corrections come in. Now you've got to go back -and begin all over again. See here, my dear. -If you think I'm going to waste my perfectly -good time giving you lessons that you don't listen -to you've got your nerve with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was one of my rare visits to Miss Flowerdew's -dark front parlor, of which Drinkwater had -the use, and I was making the call for a purpose. -I knew there were certain afternoons when Miss -Blair "breezed in," as she expressed it, to give -some special lesson to her pupil; and I had heard -once or twice that on such occasions Miss Averill, -too, had come to lend him her encouragement. -Nominally she brought a cylinder from which -Drinkwater was to copy the letters her brother -had dictated; but really her mission was one of -sympathy. Seeing the boy in such good hands, -and happy in his lot, I had the less compunction -in leaving him alone. I left him alone, as I have -said, in order not to be identified more than I -could help with two stenographers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My visit of this day was notably successful -in that I obtained from Miss Blair her own -summing up of the social position of the Averill -family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As far as they carried a fashionable tag it was -musical. Mrs. Averill had a box at the opera, -and was seen at all the great concerts. She -entertained all the great singers and all wandering -celebrities of the piano and violin. Before she -went to Europe she had begun to make a place -for herself with her Sunday afternoons, at which -one heard the most renowned artists of the world -singing or playing for friendship's sake. In her -own special line she might by now have been one -of the most important hostesses in New York -had it not been for her constitutional weakness -in "chucking things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had always chucked things just when -beginning to make a success of them. She had -chucked her career as a girl in good society in -order to work for the concert stage. She had -chucked the concert stage in order to marry a -rich man. She had chucked the advantages of -being a rich man's wife while in the full tide of -social recognition. With immense ambitions, -she lacked steadiness of purpose, and so, according -to Miss Blair, she was always "getting left." Getting -left implied that as far as New York was -concerned Lulu Averill was nowhere when she -might easily have been somewhere, with a -consequent feeling on her part of boredom and -disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It reacted on her husband in compelling him -to work in unsettled conditions and without -the leisure and continuity so essential to research. -Miss Blair's expression was that the poor man -never knew where he was at. Adoring his -wife, he was the more helplessly at her beck and -call, for the reason that he had long ago come to -the knowledge that his wife didn't adore him. -Holding her only by humoring her whims, he -was just now struggling with her caprice to go -back to the concert stage again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Mildred Averill all this made little -difference because she had none of the aims commonly -grouped as social. Miss Blair understood that -from her childhood she had been studious, serious, -living quietly with her elderly parents at -Mornstown, and acquiring their elderly tastes. "Its -fierce the way old people hamper a girl," Lydia -commented. "Just because they're your father -or mother they think they've a right to suck your -life-blood like a leech. My mother died when I -was sixteen," she added, in a tone of commendation. -"Of course you're lonely-like at -times—but then you're free." Freedom to Mildred -Averill, however, was all the same as being bound. -She didn't know how to make use of liberty or -give herself a good time. When her father died -she stayed on with her mother at Morristown, -and when the mother "punched the clock for -the next life"—the figure was Miss Blair's—she -simply joined her brother and sister-in-law in -New York. After she went out of mourning -she was sometimes seen at a concert or the opera -with Mrs. Averill. There was no more to her -social life than that and an occasional dinner. -"Gray-blooded, I call it," Miss Blair threw in -again, "and a sinful waste of good chances. -My! if I had them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you can have them," I suggested, -Harry Drinkwater having gone for a minute to -his room. "Miss Averill told me one day that -she thought of taking a house and asking you to -live with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me? Do you see me playing second fiddle -to a girl as sure bound to be an old maid as I'm -bound to be—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An adventuress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm bound to be an adventuress—if I like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then there's a modification to your -program. The last time we talked about it you -were going to do it. Now it's only—if you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lovely blue eyes shot me a look of protest. -"You wouldn't want me to do it—if I didn't like. -The worst of being an adventuress is the kind -of guys you must adventure with. You don't -mean to thrust them down my throat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm not urging you at all. I did happen -to see you one evening at the restaurant Blitz—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. "I saw you. What were you doing -there? You don't feed at places like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know I don't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't know. That's just the trouble. -Sometimes I think you're a—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here! You give me the creeps. Do you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you saw that guy I was with at the Blitz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Looked like a rich fathead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but you know he's a rich fathead. -He's as clear as a glass of water. You're like"—she -paused for a simile—"you're like something -that might be a cocktail—and might be a dose -of poison." She turned on me with a new flash -in her blue eyes. "Look here! Tell me honest, -now. Are you a swell crook—or ain't you?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-38"> -<span id="she-turned-on-me-with-a-new-flash-in-her-blue-eyes"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="She turned on me with a new flash in her blue eyes. "Look here! Tell me honest, now. Are you a swell crook—or ain't you?" "Suppose I say that—that I ain't." "Say, kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like yourself, will you? ... If you're not a swell crook I can't make you out." src="images/img-120.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">She turned on me with a new flash in her blue eyes. "Look here! Tell me honest, now. Are you a swell crook—or ain't you?" "Suppose I say that—that I ain't." "Say, kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like yourself, will you? ... If you're not a swell crook I can't make you out.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose I say that—that I ain't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, kid!" she responded, coldly, "talk like -yourself, will you?" She threw her hands apart, -palms outward. "Well, if you're not a swell -crook I can't make you out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But as a swell crook you could. Is that it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you keep hanging round Miss Averill?" -she asked, bluntly. "What do you expect -to get by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you expect to get by asking me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her reply was a kind of challenge. "The -truth. Do you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I felt uncomfortable. It was one of the rare -occasions on which I had seen this flower-like face -drop its bantering mask and grow serious. The -</span><em class="italics">voix de Montmartre</em><span> had deepened in tone and put -me on the defensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you told me on board ship that -you looked on all people of Miss Averill's class -as the prey of those in—in ours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care what I told you on board ship. -You're to keep where you belong as far as she's -concerned—or I'll give the whole bloomin' show -away, as they say in English vawdville."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There again; it's what you said you wouldn't -do. You said you'd be my friend—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be your friend right up to there—but -that's the high-water mark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought it permissible to change my front. -"If it comes to that, I've done no hanging round -Miss Averill on my own account. It's you -who've come for me to the Hotel Barcelona every -time—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry made me do that; but even so—well, -you don't have to fall in the water just because -you're standing on a wharf."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It doesn't hurt the water if you do. You -can get soaked, and make yourself look ridiculous, -but the beautiful blue sea doesn't mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can make it splash something awful, -and send ripples all over the lot. Don't you be -too sure of not being dangerous. You wouldn't -be everybody's choice—but you have that -romantic way—like a prince-guy off the level—and -she not used to men—or having a lot of them -around her all the time, like—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like me," she accepted, composedly; "and -so if I see anything that's not on the square -I'll—I'll hand out the right dope about you without -the least pity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when you hand out the right dope about -me what will it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You poor old kid, what do you think it will -be? If you make people think you're a swell -crook it's almost the same as being one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But do I make people think I'm a swell crook?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I do to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not what you do, it's what you don't -do—or what you don't say. Why don't you tell -people who you are, or what your business is, -or where you come from? Everybody can hitch -on to something in a world, but you don't seem -to belong anywhere. If any one asks you a -question it's always No! No! No! till you -can tell what your answer will be beforehand. -Surely there's a Yes somewhere in your life! -If you always hide it you can't blame people for -thinking there's something to be hidden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet you'd be my friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I've been friends to worse than that. -I wasn't born yesterday—not by a lot. All I -say is, 'Hands off little old Milly Averill!' but -for the rest you can squeak along in your own -way. I'm a good sort. I don't interfere with -any one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater being on the threshold and the -conversation having yielded me all I hoped to -get, I made an excuse for going. Miss Averill -had not appeared, and now I was glad of it. -Had she come I could not have met her under -Lydia's cold eye without self-consciousness. It -began to strike me, too, that the best thing I could -do was to step out from the circle of all their lives -and leave no clue behind me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xii"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was not a new reflection, as you know; and -of late it had been growing more insistent. -The truth is that I needed to find work. My -nearly one hundred dollars was melting away -with unbelievable rapidity. Expenses being -reduced to a rule of thumb, I could count the days -after which I shouldn't have a cent. Winter -was coming. Already there were mornings with -the nip of frost in them. I should require boots, -clothes, warm things of all sorts. Food and -shelter I couldn't do without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the incredible, the impossible. -Nebuchadnezzar driven from men and eating grass -like an ox couldn't have been more surprised to -see himself in such a state of want. -Somewhere, out of the memories that had not -disappeared, I drew the recollection that to need -boots and not be able to afford them had been -my summary of an almost inhuman degree of -poverty. I could remember trying to picture -what it would be like to find myself in such a -situation and not being able to do so. I had -bought a new pair since coming to New York, -and they were already wearing thin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to me again—it came to me constantly, -of course—that I could save myself by going to -some sympathetic person and telling him my tale. -I rejected now the idea of making Boyd Averill -my confidant; but there were other possibilities. -There were doctors, clergymen, policemen. As -a matter of fact, people who suffered from -amnesia, and who didn't know their names, generally -applied to the police.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the end I opted for a clergyman as being -the most human of these agencies. Vaguely I -was aware that vaguely I belonged to a certain -church. I had tested myself along the line of -religion as well as along other lines, with the -discovery that the services of one church were -familiar, while those of others were not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the press I learned that the -Rev. Dr. Scattlethwaite, the head of a large and wealthy -congregation, was perhaps the best known -exponent in New York of modern scientific -beneficence, and by attendance at one of his services -I got the information that at fixed hours of every -day he was in his office at his parish house for -the purpose of meeting those in trouble. It was -a simple matter, therefore, to present myself, -and be met on the threshold of his waiting-room -by the young lady who acted as his secretary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a portly young lady, light on her feet, -quick in her movements, dressed in black, with -blond fluffy hair, and a great big welcoming smile. -The reception was much the same as in any -doctor's office, and I think she diagnosed my -complaint as the drug habit. Asking me to take -a seat she assured me that Doctor Scattlethwaite -would see me as soon as he was disengaged. -When she had returned to her desk, where she -seemed to make endless notes, I had leisure to -look about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Except for a large white wooden cross between -two doors, it might have been a waiting-room in -a hospital. Something in the atmosphere -suggested people meeting agonies—or perhaps it was -something in myself. As far as that went, there -were no particular agonies in the long table -strewn with illustrated papers and magazines, -nor in the bookrack containing eight or ten -well-thumbed novels. Neither were agonies -suggested by the Arundel print of the Resurrection -on one bit of wall-space, nor by the large framed -photograph of the Arch of Constantine on -another. All the same there was that in the air -which told one that no human being in the world -would ever come into this room otherwise than -against his will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet in that I may be wrong, considering -how many people there are who enjoy the luxury -of sorrow. I guessed, for example, that the -well-dressed woman in mourning who sat diagonally -opposite me was carrying her grief to every pastor -in New York and refusing to be comforted by -any. Another woman in mourning, rusty and -cheap in her case, flanked by two vacant-eyed -children, had evidently come to collect a portion -of the huge financial bill she was able to present -against fate. An extremely thin lady, with -eyes preternaturally wide open, was perhaps a -sufferer from insomnia, while the little old man -with broken boots and a long red nose was plainly -an ordinary "bum." These were my companions -except that a beaming lady of fifty or so, dressed -partly like a Salvation Army lassie and partly -like a nun, and whom I took to be Doctor -Scattlethwaite's deaconess </span><em class="italics">en litre</em><span>, bustled in -and out for conferences with the fluffy-haired -girl at the desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I beguiled the waiting, which was long and -tedious, by co-ordinating my tale so as to get the -main points into salience. It was about ten in -the morning when I arrived, and around half -past ten the lady who had first claim on Doctor -Scattlethwaite came out from her audience. -She was young and might have been pretty if -she hadn't been so hollow-eyed and walked with -her handkerchief pressed closely to her lips. I -put her down as a case of nervous prostration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady with the inconsolable sorrow was next -summoned by the secretary, and so one after -another those who had preceded me went in to -take their turns. Mine came after the old -"bum," when it was nearly twelve o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room was a kind of library. I retain an -impression of books lining the walls, a -leather-covered lounge, one or two leather-covered -easy-chairs, and a large flat-topped desk in the center -of the floor-space. Behind the desk stood a -short, square-shouldered man in a dark-gray -clerical attire, with a squarish, benevolent, -clean-shaven face, and sharp, small eyes which studied -me as I crossed the floor. His aspect and -attitude were business-like, and business-like was his -manner of shaking hands as he asked me to sit -down. An upright arm-chair stood at the -corner of the desk, and as I took it he resumed his -seat in his own revolving-chair which he tilted -slightly backward. With his elbows on the -arms and fitting the tips of his fingers together, -he waited for me to state my errand, eying me -all the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Relieved and yet slightly disconcerted by this -non-committal bearing, I stumbled through my -story less coherently than I had meant to tell -it. Badly narrated, it was preposterous, -especially as coming from a man in seemingly full -possession of his faculties. All that enabled me -to continue was that my hearer listened -attentively, with no outward appearance of -disbelieving me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you've come to me for advice as to the -wise thing for you to do," he said, not -unsympathetically, when I had brought my lame story -to a close.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's about it," I agreed, though conscious -of a regret at having come at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the first thing I should suggest," he -continued, never taking his penetrating eyes -from my face, "is that you should see a doctor—a -specialist—a neurologist. I'll give you a line -to Doctor Glegg—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would he do?" I ventured to question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would depend on whether or not you -could pay for treatment. I presume, from what -you've said of your funds giving out, that you -couldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I couldn't," I assented, reddening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he'd probably put you for observation -into the free psychopathic ward at Mount Olivet—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that an insane-asylum?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We don't have insane-asylums nowadays; -but in any case it isn't what you mean. It's -a sanitarium for brain diseases—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't want to go to a place like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what would you suggest doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought—" But I was not sure as to -what I had thought. Hazily I had imagined -some Christian detective agency hunting up my -family, restoring my name, and giving me back -my check-book. It was probably on the last -detail that unconsciously to myself I was laying -the most emphasis. "I thought," I stammered, -after a slight pause, "that—that you might be -inclined to—to help me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With money?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question was so direct as to take me by -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know exactly how—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An average of about fifteen people come to -see me every day," he said, in his calm, business-like -voice, "and of the fifteen about five are men. -And of the five men an average of four come, -with one plausible tale or other, to get money -out of me under false pretenses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shot out of my seat. The anger choking me -was hardly allayed by the raising of his hand -and his suave, "Sit down again." He went on -quietly, as I sank back into my chair: "I only -want you to see that with all men who come -telling me strange tales my first impulse must be -suspicion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indignation almost strangled me. "And—and—am -I to understand that—that it's -suspicion—now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long as money is a factor in the case it -must be—till everything is explained."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But everything </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> explained."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To your satisfaction—possibly; but hardly -to mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what explanation would be satisfactory to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, any of two or three. Since you decline -to put yourself under Doctor Glegg, you might -be able to offer some corroboration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I can't. I've kept my secret so closely -that no one has heard it but myself. The few -people I know would be as incredulous as you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't say that I'm incredulous; I'm only -on my guard. Don't you see? I have to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely when a man is speaking the truth -his manner must carry some conviction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could think so; but I've believed -so many false yarns on the strength of a man's -manner, and disbelieved so many true ones on -the same evidence, that I no longer trust my -own judgment. But please don't be annoyed. -If your mental condition is such as you describe, -I'm proposing the most scientific treatment you -can get in New York. In addition to that, I -know that Doctor Glegg has had a number of -such cases and has cured them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I ought to say that they've been -cured while under his care. I think I've heard -him say that as a matter of fact they've cured -themselves. Without knowing much of the -malady, I rather think it's one of those in which -time restores the ruptured tissues, with the aid -of mental rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that's all—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't say that it's all; but as far as -I understand it's a large part of it. But then -I don't understand very much. That's why I'm -suggesting—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could get mental rest of my own accord if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes? If—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I could find out who—who I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you've no clues at all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shook my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you heard no names that were familiar -to you—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Scores of them; but none with which I could -connect myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did you think I could find out for you -what you yourself have not been able to discover?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know but what you might have means."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What means could I have? As far as I've -ever heard, the only way of tracing a lost man -is through the police—with detectives—and -publicity—descriptions in the papers—photographs -thrown on screens—that sort of thing. -I don't think there's any other way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took perhaps two minutes, perhaps three, to -ponder these possibilities. In the end they -seemed to magnify my misfortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, sir, that's all you can do for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember that I should be doing a great -deal if I got you to put yourself under Doctor -Glegg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the free psychopathic ward of a sanitarium -for diseases of the brain—to be watched."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be under observation. There's a difference."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the observation in the world wouldn't -tell Doctor Glegg more than I'm telling you now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes, it would. It would tell him—it -would tell me—you must excuse me, you know—but -the situation obliges me to speak frankly—it -would tell him—it would tell me—whether -or not your story is a true one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you don't believe me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I believe you on the strength of -this one interview?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how could I convince you in a dozen -interviews?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You couldn't. Nothing would convince me -but something in the way of outside proof—or -Doctor Glegg's report."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rose, not as I did before, but slowly, and I -hoped with dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I see no reason, sir, for taking your -time any longer—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He too rose, business-like, imperturbable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear young man, I must leave that to -you. My time is entirely at your disposal and -all my good-will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I'll go as far as to say this, that I think -the probabilities are in your favor. I will even -add that if I hadn't thought so in a hundred other -cases, in which men whom I pitied—trusted—and -aided—were making me a dupe— You -see, I've been at this thing a good many years—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Managing somehow to bow myself out, I got -into the air again. I attributed my wrath to -the circumstances of not being taken at my word; -but the real pang lay in the thought of being -watched, as a type of mild lunatic and a pauper.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i02"><span class="bold large">PART II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I had made this experiment as a concession -to what you will consider common sense. -Ever since landing in New York the idea that the -natural thing to do was to make my situation -known had haunted me. Well, I had made it -known, much against the grain, with results such -as I had partly expected. I had laid myself -open to the semi-accusation of trumping up a -cock-and-bull story to get money under false -pretenses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So no one could help me but myself! I had -felt that from the first, and now I was confirmed -in the conviction. It was useless either to -complain or to rebel. Certain things were to be -done, and no choice remained with me but to do -them in the heartiest way possible. I had the -wit to see that the heartier the way the more likely I -was to attain to the mental rest which was -apparently a condition of my recovery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From this point of view work became even -more pressing than before, and I searched -myself for things that I could do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of all my experiences this was the most baffling. -In the same way that I knew I had enjoyed a -generous income I knew I had never been an -idler. That is, I knew it by the habit of a habit. -I had the habit of a habit of occupation. I got -up each morning with a sense of things to do. -Finding nothing to be done, I felt thwarted, -irritated, uneasy in the conscience. I must always -have worked, even if pay had not been a matter -of importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what had I worked at? I had not been -a doctor, nor a lawyer, nor a clergyman, nor a -banker, nor a merchant, nor a manufacturer, nor -a teacher, nor a journalist, nor a writer, nor -a painter, nor an actor, nor a sculptor, nor a civil -engineer. All this was easy to test by the things -I didn't know and couldn't do. I could ride and -drive and run a motor-car. I had played tennis -and golf and taken an interest in yachting and -aviation. I could not say that I had played -polo, but I had looked on at matches, and had -also frequented horse-races. These facts came -to me not so much as memories, but as part of -a general equipment. But I could find no sense -of a profession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thrown back on the occupations I can only -class as nondescript, I began looking for a job. -That is, I began to study the advertised lists of -"Wants" in the hope of finding some one in -search of the special line of aptitude implied by -cultivation. I had some knowledge of books, -of pictures, of tapestries, of prints. Music was -as familiar to me as to most people who have -sat through a great many concerts, and I had -followed such experiments as those of the Abbey -Theater in Dublin and Miss Horniman's -Manchester Players in connection with the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unfortunately, there was no clamor for these -accomplishments in the press of New York and -the neighboring cities, the end of a week's study -finding me just where I began. For chauffeurs -and salesmen there were chances; but for people -of my order of attainment there were none. I -thought of what Mildred Averill had said during -our last conversation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After all, what the world wants is producers; -and the moment one doesn't produce—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left her sentence there because all had been -said. The world wanted producers and was -ready to give them work. It would also give -them pay, after a fashion. One producer might -get much and another little, but every one would -get something. The secret of getting most -evidently lay in producing the thing most required.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remembered, too, that Mildred Averill had -defined the producer as he seemed to her: I -suppose I mean all who contribute, either -directly or indirectly, either mentally or -physically, to the sum total of our needs in living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There again, the more vital the need, the -greater the contribution, and needs when you -analyzed them were mostly elementary. The -more elemental you were, the closer you lived -to the stratum the world couldn't do without. -That stratum was basic; it was bedrock. -Wherever you went you had to walk on it, and not on -mountain-peaks or in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was not pleased with these deductions. It -seemed to me a gross thing in life that salesmen -and chauffeurs should be more in demand than -men who could tell you at a glance the difference -between a Henri Deux and a Jacobean piece of -furniture, or explain the weaves and designs of -a Flemish tapestry as distinguished from a -Gobelin or an Aubusson. I was eager to prove my -qualifications for a place in life to be not without -value. To have nothing to do was bad enough, -but to be unfit to do anything was to be in a state -of imbecility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I made several attempts, of which one will -serve as an instance of all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Walking in Fifth Avenue and attracted by the -shop windows, I couldn't help being struck by -New York's love of the antique. To me the -antique was familiar. Boyd Averill had asked -me if I hadn't sold it. I had said I hadn't—but -why not? Beauty surely entered into the -sum total of needs in living, and I had, moreover, -often named it to myself as the thread of flame -by which I should find my way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the same, it required some effort to walk -into any of these storehouses of the loot of castles -and cathedrals and offer my services as judge and -connoisseur. On the threshold of three I lost -my courage and stepped back. It was only after -stopping before a fourth, the window severely -simple with three ineffable moon-white jars set -against a background of violet shot with black, -that I reasoned myself into taking the step. It -was a case of </span><em class="italics">de l'audace, de l'audace, et encore de -l'audace</em><span>. By audacity alone were high things -accomplished and great fortunes won. Before -I could recoil from this commendable reflection -I opened the door and went in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I found myself in a gallery resembling certain -venerable sacristies. The floor was carpeted in -red, the walls lined with cabinets paneled in -ebony, their doors discreetly closed on the -treasures inside. In a corner an easel supported a -black-framed flower-piece, probably by -Huysmans. On a well-preserved Elizabethan table -partly covered with a square of filet lace was a -tea-service of Nantgarw or Rockingham. Nothing -could have been more in accordance with my -own ideas of conducting a business than this -absence of crude display.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had leisure to make these observations, -because the only other visible occupant of the shop, -if I may use the word of a shrine so dignified, -was a young lady who moved slowly toward me -down the gallery. She was in the neatest black, -with only a string of pearls for ornament. -Healthily pale, with fair hair carefully -"marcelled," her hands resting on each other in front -of her, she approached me with a faint smile that -emphasized her composure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wish—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not considered the words in which I -should frame my application, so I stammered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I thought I—I might be of—of some use here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The faint smile faded, but the composure -remained as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Use. I—I understand these things. That -tea-service, now, it's Rockingham or Nantgarw, -possibly Chelsea. The three moon-white jars -in the window, two of them gourd-shaped—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you want to look at them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I blurted out, "to—to sell them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sell them? How do you mean? We mean -to sell them ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But don't you ever—ever need—what shall -I call it—an extra hand? Don't you ever have -a place for that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She grew nervous, and yet not so nervous as -to lose the power of keeping me in play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! Certainly! An—an extra hand! -I'll call Mr. Chessland. Mr. Chessland! -Please—</span><em class="italics">please</em><span>—come here. Lovely day, isn't it?" -she continued, as a short, thick-set figure came -waddling from the back of the premises. "We -don't often have such lovely weather at this time -of year, though sometimes we do—we do very -often, don't we? You never can tell about -weather, can you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Chessland, who was more Armenian than -his name, having come near enough to keep an -eye on me, she fell back toward him, whispering -something to which he replied only in -pantomime. Only in pantomime he replied to me, -pursing his rosy, thick lips, and lifting his hands, -palms outward, as in some form of Oriental -supplication, pushing me with repeated gestures -back toward the door. I went back toward -the door in obedience to the frightened little fat -man's urge, since I was as terrified as he. Though -I was out on the pavement again the door didn't -close till I heard the girl ask, in an outburst of -relief:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think he was nervy, or only off his nut?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to me slowly that a man in search of -work is somehow the object of suspicion. The -whole world being so highly mechanized, it -admits of no loose screw. The loose screw -obviously hasn't fitted; and if it hasn't fitted in -the place for which it was made it is unlikely to -fit in another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Furthermore, a man is so impressionable that -he quickly adopts of himself the view that others -take of him. Going about from shop to shop, -bringing my simple guile to bear first on one -smooth-spoken individual and then another, -only in the end, in the phrase once used to me, -"to get the gate," I shrank in my own estimation. -The gate seemed all I was fit for. I began to see -myself as going out through an endless succession -of gates, expelled by hands like Mr. Chessland's, -but never welcomed within one. For a man -who had instinctively the habit of rating -himself with the best, of picking and choosing his -own company, of ignoring those who didn't suit -him as if they had never existed, the revolution -of feeling was curious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I discovered that one point of contact -with organized society had been also removed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Early in December I went to look up -Drinkwater, whom I hadn't seen for a month. It -was not friendliness that sent me; it was -loneliness. Day after day had gone by, and except -for the people to whom I applied for work I -hadn't spoken to any one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, I had been busy. In addition to looking -for a job I had written articles for the press -and had made strenuous efforts to secure a place -as French teacher in a boys' school. This I -think I should have got had I been actually -French; but when the decision was made a native -Frenchman had turned up and been given the -preference. As for my articles, some of them -were sent back to me, and of the rest I never -heard. So I had been less lonely than I might -have been, even if my occupations had brought -me no success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In addition to that I had refrained from -visiting the blind boy from a double motive: there -was first the motive that was always present, -that of not wishing to continue the acquaintance -of people outside my class in life; then there -was the reason that I was anxious now to avoid -a possible chance meeting with Miss Averill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could easily have been in love with her. -There was no longer a question about that. It -must be remembered that I was appallingly -adrift—and she had been kind to me. I had been -grotesque, suspected, despised—and she had been -kind to me. She had gone out of her way to -be kind to me; she had been sisterly; she had -been tender. Something that was of value in -me which no one else had seen, she had seen -and done justice to. In circumstances that made -me a mystery to every one, myself included, she -had had the courage to believe me a gentleman -and to put me on a level with herself. As the -days went by, and this recognition remained -the sole mitigation of a lot that had grown -infinitely bitterer than I ever supposed it could -become, I felt that if I didn't love her I adored -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this reason I had to avoid her; I had to -take pains that she should not see me. Even if -other circumstances had not made friendship -between us hopeless, my impending social -collapse must have had that effect. No good could -ensue from our meeting again; and so I kept -away from places where a meeting could occur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But an afternoon came when some sort of -human intercourse became necessary to keep -me from despair. It was the day when I lost -my chance at the boys' school. It was also a day -when three of my articles had fluttered back to -me. It was also a day when I had made two -gentlemanly appeals for employment, losing one -because I couldn't write shorthand, and the -other because the man in need of a secretary -didn't want a high-brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater was, then, a last resort. He would -welcome me; he would tell me of his good luck; he -would call me Jasper; he would make a fuss over -me that would have the warmth of a lighted fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at the door I was met by Miss Flowerdew's -little colored maid with the information, -given with darky idioms that I cannot reproduce, -that Mr. Drinkwater had gone to take his -old position with Doctor Averill, and was living -in his house. Miss Blair had also found a job, -though the little maid couldn't tell me where. -Miss Flowerdew knew, but, unfortunately, she -was spending a week in Philadelphia, "where -her folks was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a shock, but a shock with a thrill in it. -If Drinkwater had gone to Boyd Averill's, to -Boyd Averill's I ought to follow him. That -which I had denied myself for one reason might, -therefore, become unavoidable for another. I -forgot that I had been planning to drop -Drinkwater from the list of my acquaintances, for -Drinkwater in Boyd Averill's house had another -value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood for a temptation. It was like -wrestling with a taste for drink or opium. At one -minute I said I wouldn't go; at another I -admitted that I couldn't help myself. In the end -I went. As I turned from Fifth Avenue my -heart pounded and my legs shook. I knew I was -doing wrong. I said I would do it just this -once, and never any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I sinned in vain. The house was empty. -In the window beside the door hung a -black-and-white sign, "To Let."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would have been easy enough to find out -where the Averills had moved to, but I didn't -make the attempt. It was best for me to lose -sight of them; it was best for them to lose sight -of me. Now that the process had begun I -decided to carry it to the utmost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing is simpler than being lost in a city -like New York, so long as it is to nobody's -interest to find you. You have only to move round -a corner, and it is as if you had gone a thousand -miles. The minute I carried my bags away from -the Barcelona without leaving an address I was -beyond the ken of any one inclined to follow me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did this not of choice, but of necessity. In -the matter of choice I should have preferred -staying where I was. Though it was a modest, -uncleanly place, I had grown used to it; and I -dreaded another expedition into the unknown. -But I had come down to my last ten dollars, with -no relief in sight. A humbler abode was -imperative even to tide me over a few days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the Odyssey of that afternoon I could -write a good-sized volume. Steps that would -have been simple to a working-man were difficult</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It would have been easy enough to find out -where the Averills had moved to, but I didn't -make the attempt. It was best for me to lose -sight of them; it was best for them to lose sight -of me. Now that the process had begun I -decided to carry it to the utmost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing is simpler than being lost in a city -like New York, so long as it is to nobody's -interest to find you. You have only to move round -a corner, and it is as if you had gone a thousand -miles. The minute I carried my bags away from -the Barcelona without leaving an address I was -beyond the ken of any one inclined to follow me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did this not of choice, but of necessity. In -the matter of choice I should have preferred -staying where I was. Though it was a modest, -uncleanly place, I had grown used to it; and I -dreaded another expedition into the unknown. -But I had come down to my last ten dollars, with -no relief in sight. A humbler abode was -imperative even to tide me over a few days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the Odyssey of that afternoon I could -write a good-sized volume. Steps that would -have been simple to a working-man were difficult -to me, because I had never had to take them. -Moreover, because the business was new to me -I went at it in the least practical way. Instead -of securing a bed in one place before giving it -up in another, I followed the opposite method. -Paying my bill at the Barcelona, I went out in -the street with no definite direction before me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rather, I had one definite direction, but that -was only a first stage. I had spotted on my -walks a dealer in old clothes to whom I carried -the ridiculous suits I had brought with me from -France. He was a little old Polish Jew, dressed -in queer, antiquated broadcloth, whose beard -and tousled gray hair proclaimed him a sort of -Nazarite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I mentioned my errand he shook his -head with an air of despair, lifting his hands -to heaven somewhat in the manner of Mr. Chessland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no! Open not," he exclaimed, as I laid -the suit-case on the counter in order to display -my wares. "Will the high-born gentleman but -look at all the good moneys spent on these -beautiful garments, and no one buys my -merchandise? Of what use more to purchase?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I had opened the suit-case he cast one -look at the contents, turning away dramatically -to the other side of the reeking little shop. A -backward gesture of the hand cast my offerings -behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pah! Those can I not sell. Take 'em -away." He came back, however, fingering first -one suit and then the other, appraising them -rapidly. "One dollar!" he cried, lifting a bony -forefinger and defying me to ask more. "One! -One! One! No more but one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I raised him to two, to three, and finally to -five for each suit. In spite of his tragic appeals -to Ruin not to overtake him, he seized my hand -and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus I was out on the pavement, with twenty -dollars in my pocket, and so much liberty of -action that I didn't know what to do. It was -about three in the afternoon of a sullen December -day, and big flakes of snow had begun to fall -softly. It was cold only in the sense that my -suit had been bought for hot weather, and the -light French box-coat, which was all I had -besides, added little in the way of warmth. -Unable to stand with my two bags in the doorway -of a shop for second-hand clothes, I moved on -more or less at random.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one thought was clearly in my mind. -I must find a house where the sign "Rooms" was -displayed in a window, and there I must go in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first half-hour I kept this purpose in -view, walking slowly and turning my head now -to one side of the street, now to the other, so as -to miss no promising haven. A room being -all I needed, any room within my price would do. -Having no experience, I could have no choice. If -I had choice, it would have been for Miss -Flowerdew's; but that would have brought me back into -the circle from which I was trying to slip out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Flowerdew's setting my only standard -as to "Rooms," I had imagined myself as walking -into something of the kind, though possibly -more cheerful. It is hardly necessary to say -that in this I was disappointed. Drifting in and -out of houses through most of that afternoon, -I saw women and conditions that almost -shattered such faith as I had left in human nature. -The first to answer my ring at a doorbell was a -virago. An enormous creature, bigger if not -taller than myself, and clad in a loose pink-flannel -wrapper that added to her bulk, she challenged -me to find a fault with the room I declined after -having seen it. "Better men than you have -slept in that bed," she called after me as I -clattered down the stairs, "and any one who says -different 'll lie." The next was a poor, leering -thing who smiled in a way that would have been -horrible if it had not been so sickeningly imbecile. -The next was a slattern, pawing her face and -wiping it with her apron while she showed me the -doghole for which I was to pay seven dollars a -week. There were others of whom it is useless -to attempt a catalogue further than to say that -they left me appalled. When the lights were -being lit I was still in the streets with my two -bags, and the snow falling faster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was about to go back to the Barcelona for the -night when something happened which I tell to -you just as it occurred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That morning I had read in a paper the account -given by a young Canadian officer of his -escape from a German prison, of his beating his -way to the Rhine, and of his final swim across -the river to Switzerland. But the point that -remained in my memory was his picture of -himself as he lay like a lizard with his nose to the -stream and his feet in the underbrush as the bank -rose behind him. Listening to the current, he -could guess how strong it was; putting his hand -in the water, he could feel it cold. For over two -hours he lay there in the darkness, resting, -wondering, and thinking of a little cemetery not far -from Basel where lay the bodies of the prisoners -who had tried to make this swim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as the minute approached at which he -must give himself to these difficult waters, he -prayed. His account of the act was simple and -straightforward. He asked God to have him -in His keeping while he made this attempt, and -to comfort those at home if he failed. With -that he slipped into the stream and struck outward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, standing somewhere in the neighborhood -of Eighth Street and Sixth Avenue I turned -this over in my mind, considering its advisability. -I was not what would be called a praying man. -As to that, I had not prayed in years. I had -sometimes told myself that I didn't know what -prayer was, that its appeal seemed to me illogical. -Illogical it seemed to me now, in the sense -of imploring God to do what He wouldn't do of -His own accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, although I didn't pray, something passed -through my mind that might have been prayer's -equivalent. As far as I can transcribe it into -the words which I did not use at the time it ran -like this:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know there is a God. I know that His will -is the supreme law for all of us. I know that -that law is just and beneficent. It is not just -and beneficent for me to be standing here in the -snow and the slush, chilled, hungry, with wet -feet, workless, and homeless. Consequently, -this is not His will. Consequently, I must give -myself to discovering that will as the first -principle of safety. When I have got into touch with -that first principle of safety I shall find a home -and work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of this the immediate result was that I did not -return to the Barcelona. Something like a voice, -the voice of another, told me that the thread of -flame led onward. Onward I drifted, then, -hardly noticing the way I went, hypnotized by -the physical process of being on the move. It -was just on and on, through the slanting -snowfall, through the patches of blurred light, with -feet soggy and heart soggier, a derelict amid -these hundreds of vehicles, these thousands of -pedestrians, all bound from somewhere to -somewhere, and knowing the road they were taking. -I didn't know the road I was taking and in a -sense I didn't care. Having given up from sheer -impotence the attempt to steer my ship, I was -being borne along blindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I lifted my head to look about me again -I was in a part of New York not only new to me, -but almost refreshing to the eye. I mean that it -was one of those old-fashioned down-town regions -where the streets hadn't yet learned the short and -easy cut to beauty of running only at right angles. -Two or three thoroughfares focused in an -irregular open space, which I saw by the signboard -to bear the name of Meeting-House Green. -There was no meeting-house in the neighborhood -now, and probably nothing green even in -spring. If it was like the rest of New York it -would be dirty in winter and fetid in summer, -but after the monotonous ground plan of the -uptown regions its quaintness relieved the -perceptions to a degree which the thunder of the -near-by Elevated couldn't do away with. Just -now all was blanketed in white, through which -drays plunged heavily and pedestrians slipped -like ghosts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I stared about me my eye was once more -arrested by the magic notice "Rooms," though -this time with the qualifying phrase, "for -gentlemen." Rooms for gentlemen! The limitation -seemed to fit my needs. It implied selection -and a social standard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house, too, was that oasis in New York, -an old-time dwelling in gray-painted brick which -progress has not yet swept away. Standing -where Wapping Street and Theodora Place ran -together at a sharp angle, it was shaped like a -sadiron or a ship's prow. The tip of the ground -floor was given over to a provision dealer, while -a barber occupied the long slit in the rear. -Between the two shops a door on the level of the -pavement of Theodora Place gave on a little inset -flight of steps which led up to the actual entrance. -The vestibule was shabby, but, moved by my -experience in the early part of the afternoon, I -observed that it was clean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman who answered my ring was not -only clean, but neatly dressed in what I suppose -was a print stuff, and not only neatly dressed, -but marked with a faded prettiness. What I -chiefly noticed for the minute was a pair of those -enormous doll-blue eyes on a level with the face, -as the French say, </span><em class="italics">à fluer de fête</em><span>, which make -the expression sweet and vacuous. In her case -it was resignedly mournful, as if mournfulness -was a part of her aim in life. A single gas-jet -flickered behind her, showing part of a hallway -in which the same walnut furniture must have -stood for so many years that it was now groggy -on its feet. To my question about a room she -replied with a sweet, sad, "Won't you step in?" -which was tantamount to a welcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The floor of the hallway was covered with an -oilcloth or linoleum which had once simulated -a terra-cotta tiling, and was now but one -remove from dust. On a mud-brown wall a -steel-engraving of a scow, with Age at the helm, and -Youth peering off at the bow, sagged at an angle -which produced a cubist effect in its relation to -the groggy-footed hat-rack. The doors on the -left of the hall were closed; on the right a -graceful stairway, lighted by a tall window looking -out on Theodora Place, curved upward to the -floor above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of voices in the hall one of the -closed doors opened, and a second woman, a -replica of the first, except for being older, came -out and looked inquiringly. She, too, was fadedly -pretty; she, too, was mournful; she, too, was -saucer-eyed; she, too, was neatly dressed in a -print stuff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This gentleman is looking for a room," was -the explanation, sadly given, of my presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ladies withdrew to the foot of the stairway -for a whispered conference. This finished, the -elder came back to where I stood on the door-mat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We generally ask for references—" she began, -with a glance at my sodden appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that's essential," I broke in, "I'm afraid -it must end matters. I've only recently come -over from France, and I'm a total stranger in -New York. I rang the bell because I saw the -notice and I liked the look of the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As it happened, the last was the most tactful -thing I could have said, going to the hearts of -my hostesses. Something, too, in my voice and -choice of words must have appealed to their -sense of gentility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a nice old house," the elder lady smiled, -with her brave air of having to overcome agony -before being able to speak at all. "It's -old-fashioned, of course, and horribly in the wrong -part of the city nowadays; but my sister and I -love it. We've always lived here, and our dear -father before us. He was Doctor Smith, quite -a famous oculist in his day; you may have heard -of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've heard the name," I admitted, politely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've two good rooms vacant at present; -but if you can't give references"—a wan smile -deprecated the unladylike suggestion—"I'm -afraid we should have to ask you for a week's -rent in advance. I shouldn't speak of it if it -was not our rule."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I had agreed to this she led the way -over the frayed cocoanut matting of the staircase -to an upper hallway, also carpeted in -pulverized oilcloth. With one sister ahead of me, -and the other shepherding me behind, I was -ushered into a large prow-shaped room immediately -over the provision dealer, and smelling faintly -of raw meat. I could have borne the odor if -the rent had not been six a week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've another room just over this," the -spokeswoman informed me, "but it's only half -this size."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's only half this rent—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's just half this rent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, marshaled as before, I mounted another -stairway in cocoanut matting to a slit of a room -shaped like half a ship's prow, with its single -window placed squintwise. As the smell of raw -meat was less noticeable here, the squint of the -window out into Meeting-House Green, and the -rent so low, I made my bargain promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the days of the famous oculist the room -must have been a maid's. It was still furnished -like a maid's in a house of the second order. A -rickety iron bedstead supported a sagging -mattress covered with a cotton counterpane in -imitated crochet-work. A table, a washstand, a -chair, and a chest of drawers were perhaps -drearier than they might have been, because of -the sick light of the gas-jet. On a drab wooden -mantelpiece, which enshrined a board covered -with a piece of cretonne where once had been a -fireplace, stood the only decoration in the room, -three large fungi, painted with landscapes. The -fungi were of the triangular sort which grow -about the trunks of trees. There was a big one -in the middle of the mantelpiece, and smaller -ones at each end, giving glimpses of rivers and -bays, with castles on headlands, to one tired of -the prospect of Meeting-House Green. Taking -the initiatory three dollars from my purse, I -bent to study these objects of art.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the act was ingratiating to my -hostesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my work," said the little woman who -had admitted me to the house. Her tone was -one of shy pride, of a kind of fluttered boastfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My sister's an artist," the elder explained, -taking my three one-dollar bills as if their number -didn't matter, but making conversation in order -to count them surreptitiously. "She's a widow, -too, Mrs. Leeming. I'm Miss Smith. We've -had great sorrows. We try not to complain too -much, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A long-drawn sigh with a quiver in it said the -rest, while Mrs. Leeming's eyes spilled tears -with the readiness of a pair of fountain cups.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To escape the emotional I returned to my -inspection of the landscapes, at which I was -destined to gaze for another two years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are these studies of—of Italy?" I asked, for -the sake of showing appreciation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Leeming recovered herself sufficiently -to be faintly indignant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no! I never copy. I work only from -imagination. Landscapes just come to -me—and all different."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before they left me Miss Smith managed to -convey a few of the principles on which they -conducted their house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've three very refined gentlemen at -present, two salesmen and a Turkish-bath attendant. -One has to be so careful. We almost never take -gentlemen who don't bring reference; but in -your case, Mr. Soames—well, one can see." Her -wan, suffering smile flickered up for a minute -and died down. "There's a sort of free-masonry, -isn't there? We </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> taken gentlemen on that, -and they've never disappointed us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hoped I should not disappoint them, either.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, some young men—well, to put it -plainly, if there's liquor we just have to ask them -to look for another room. Tobacco, with gentlemen, -one can't be too severe on. We overlook -it, and try not to complain too much. And, -of course, only gentlemen visitors—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With my assurance that I should do my utmost -to live within their regulations, they were -good enough to leave me to my single chair and -the fungi. Dropping into the one and staring -at the other, it seemed to me that I had reached -the uttermost edge of the forlorn. I could bear -the extreme modesty of this lodging, seeing that -it gave me a shelter from the storm; I could bear -being hungry, cold, and wet; I could bear the -wall of darkness and blankness that hemmed in -not only my future, but my past; what I found -intolerable was the sense of being useless. The -blows of Fate I could take with some equanimity, -but, not to be able to "make good" or to earn a -living cut me to the quick in my self-esteem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet it was not that which in the end beat -me to my knees beside the bed, to bury my head -against the counterpane of imitation crochet-work. -That was a more primal craving, a need -as primal as thirst or the desire for sleep. It -was the longing for some sort of human -companionship—for the gay toleration of Lydia -Blair, or Drinkwater's cheerfulness, or Mildred -Averill's....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But in the end I found work, so why tell of -the paroxysm of loneliness which shook me -that night like a madness? Never before had -I known anything like it, and nothing like it has -seized me since. I must have remained on my -knees for an hour or more, largely for the reason -that there was nothing to get up for. Though I -had had no dinner, I didn't want to eat, and what -else was there to do? To eat and sleep, to sleep -and eat, that apparently would be my fate till -my seventeen dollars gave out. If the miracle -didn't happen before then—but the miracle -began to happen not long after that, and this is -how it came to pass:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I got up and crept supperless to bed. There -I slept with the merciful soundness of fatigue, -wakened by the crashing past my window of -an Elevated train to a keen sunny morning, -with snow on the ground and the zest of new life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I washed, I could hear my neighbor washing -on the other side of the partition. The partition -was, in fact, so thin that I had heard all his -movements since he got out of bed. The making of -one man's toilet taking about the same amount -of time as that of another man in similar -conditions, we met at the doors of our respective -rooms as we emerged to go down-stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at him; he looked at me. With -what he saw I am concerned; I saw a stocky, -broad-shouldered individual, with smooth black -hair, solemn black eyes, bushy black eyebrows, -a clean-shaven skin so dark that shaving could -not obliterate the trace of hair, and a general -air of friendliness. Putting on the good-mixer -voice, which was not natural to me but which -I could assume for a brief spurt, I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, I wonder it you could advise a fellow -where to get a breakfast? Only breezed in last -night—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between working-people there is always that -camaraderie I had already noticed in Drinkwater -and Lydia Blair, and which springs from the -knowledge that where there is nothing to lose -there is nothing to be afraid of. While I cannot -say that my companion viewed me with the -spontaneous recognition he would have accorded to -a man of his own class, he saw enough to warrant -him in giving me his sympathy. The man of -superior station down on his luck is not granted -the full rights of the stratum to which he has -descended; but even when an object of suspicion -he is not one of hostility. Between moral bad -luck and sheer fortuitous calamity the line is -not strictly drawn; and wherever there is need -there is a free inclination to meet it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm on my way to my breakfast now," my -neighbor said, after sizing me up with a second -glance. "Why don't you come along? It's not -much of a place to look at," he continued, as I -followed him down-stairs, "but the grub isn't bad. -Most of the places round here is punk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within ten minutes' time I found myself in -a little eating-place that must once have been the -cellar kitchen of a dwelling-house, sitting at a -bare deal table, opposite a man I had never seen -till that morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't take bacon," he advised, when I had -ordered bacon and eggs; "it 'll be punk. Take -ham. Coffee 'll be punk, too. Better stick to tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having given me these counsels, he proceeded -with those short and simple annals of his history -which I had already found to be the usual form -of self-introduction. An Englishman, a -Cornishman, he had been twenty years in America. -He was married and had a family, but preferred -to live in New York while he maintained his -household in Chicago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Married life is punk," was his summing up. -"Got the best little wife in the state of Illinois, -and three fine kids, a boy and two girls—but I -couldn't come it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't come what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the whole bloomin' business—toein' the -line like, bein' home at night, and the least little -smell of anythink on your breath—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wave of his fork sketched a world of -domestic embarrassment from which he had freed -himself only by a somber insouciance. A somber -insouciance might be called his key-note. -Outwardly serious, ponderous, hard-working, and -responsible, he was actually light-hearted and -inconsequent. During the progress of the meal -he recited the escapades of a Don Juan with the -gravity of a Bunyan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still with my good-mixer air I asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How does a guy like me get a job in New York?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ever work in a Turkish bath?" He answered -this question before I could do it myself. "Sure -you didn't—not a chap of your cut. It isn't -a bad sort of thing for a"—he hesitated, but -decided to use the epithet—"for a—gentleman. -Only a good class of people take Turkish baths. -Hardly ever get in with a rough lot. A few -drunks, but what of that? Could have got you -a place at the Gramercy if you'd ha' turned up -last week; but a Swede has it now and it's too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the end of breakfast, however, he had made -a suggestion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you try the Intelligence? They'll -often get you a berth when everything else has -stumped you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said I was willing to try the Intelligence if -I knew what it was, discovering it to be the -Bureau of Domestic and Business Intelligence -conducted by Miss Bryne. You presented yourself, -gave your name and address, indicated your -choice of work, told your qualifications for the -job, and Miss Bryne did the rest, taking as her -commission a percentage of your first week's pay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't know any qualifications," I -declared, with some confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's nothing. Say clerical work. -That covers a lot. Somethink 'll turn up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if they ask me if I can do certain -things—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say you can do 'em. That's the way to pull -it off. Look at me. Never was in a Turkish -bath in my life till I went to an employment-office -in Chicago. When the old girl in charge -asked me if I had been, I said I'd been born in -one. Got the job right off, and watched what -the other guys did till I'd learned the trick. -There's always some nice chap that 'll show you -the ropes. Gee! The worst they can do is to -bounce you. All employers is punk. Treat 'em -like punk and you'll get on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a view to this procedure I was at the -Bureau of Domestic and Business Intelligence -by half past nine, entering, unfortunately, with -the downcast air of the employer who is punk, -instead of the perky self-assertion which I soon -began to notice as the proper attitude of those -in search of work. Miss Bryne's establishment -occupied a floor in one of the older office-buildings -a little to the south of Washington Square. -Having ascended in the lift, you found yourself, -just inside the narrow doorway, face to face with -a young lady seated at a desk, whose duty it -was to ask the first questions and take the first -notes. She was a pretty young lady, bright-eyed, -blond, with a habit of cocking her head in -a birdlike way as she composed her lips to a -receptive smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She so composed them, and so cocked her -head, as I appeared on the threshold, awkward -and terrified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such as—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew what she meant by the questioning -look and the encouraging smile of the bright -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm—I'm hoping to find a job," I stammered -to her obvious astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" It was a surprised little crow. "To -find one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, miss; to find one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of—of what sort?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clerical work," I said, boldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent her head over her note-book. "Your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jasper Soames."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Age?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty-one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Occupation?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've told you. Any kind of clerical work. -I suppose that that means writing—and—and -copying—and that sort of thing, doesn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced up from her writing. "Is that -what you've done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where? Have you any references?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I confessed my lack of references, stating that -I had just come over from France, where I had -worked with a firm whose name would not carry -weight in America.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did they do—the firm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I answered, wildly, "Carpets."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another young lady was passing, tall, graceful, -distinguished, </span><em class="italics">air de duchesse</em><span>, carrying a -notebook and pencil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Gladfoot," my interlocutrice murmured, -"won't you ask Miss Bryne to step here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Bryne having stepped there, I found -myself face to face with a competent woman of -fifty or so, short, square, square-faced, and astute. -She also had a pencil and note-book in her hand, -and, seeing me, looked receptive, too, though -remaining practical and business-like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While the young lady at the desk explained -me as far as she had been able to understand my -object, delicacy urged me out of earshot. I had, -therefore, not heard what passed when Miss -Bryne came forward to take charge of the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you are is a kind of educated -handyman. Wouldn't that be it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Delighted at this discriminating view of my -capacities, I faltered that it would be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we don't often have a call for your kind -of specialty, and yet we do have them -sometimes. There might be one to-day, and then -again there mightn't be for another six months. -Now you can either go in and wait on the chance, -or you can leave your address and we'll 'phone -you if anything should turn up that we think -would suit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Encouraged by this kindly treatment and the -possibility of a call that day, I opted for going in -to wait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then come this way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following the Napoleonic figure down the -narrow passageway, I was shown into a little room, -where five other men sat with the dismayed, -melancholy faces of dogs at a dog-show at -minutes when they are not barking. Dismayed and -melancholy on my side, I took the seat nearest -the door, feeling like a prisoner in the dock or the -cell, and wondering what would happen next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing happened next so far as I was concerned, -but I had a gratifying leisure in which -to look about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was obliged to note at once that the Bureau -of Domestic and Business Intelligence was chiefly -of Domestic. Women crowded the hall, the two -large rooms across the way, and the three small -ones on our side, except the coop in which we six -men were segregated from the gay and chatty -throng. Gay and chatty were the words. The -tone was that of what French people call a </span><em class="italics">feeve -o'clock</em><span>. Girls, for the most part pretty and -stylishly dressed, sat in the chairs, perched on the -arms of them, grouped themselves in corners, in -seeming disregard of the purpose that had brought -them there. Unable at first to differentiate -between mistresses and maids, I soon learned to -detect the former by their careworn faces, -shabbier clothes, apologetic arrival, and crestfallen -departure. Now and then I caught a few broken -phrases, of which the context and significance -eluded me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told her that before I'd be after washin' all -thim dishes I'd—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, thin, ye'll not shtay long in that plaace—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Says I, 'You've got a crust, Mrs. Johnson, to -ask me to shtay in when it's me night—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With that I ups and walks away—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this animation and repartee contrasted -oddly with the low, cowed remarks of my -companions in the coop, who ventured to exchange -observations only at intervals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was your last? What did you get? -How did you like your boss? Did you leave or -was you fired? Are you a single fella or a -married fella? Did you have long hours? Wouldn't -he give you your raise? Did he kick against the -booze? These were mere starters of talk that -invariably died like seedlings in a wrong climate. -Getting used to my mates, I made them out to be -a gardener, a chauffeur, a teamster, a decayed -English butler, and a negro boy who called -himself a waiter. Talking about their bosses, their -tone on the whole was hostile without personal -malevolence. That is to say, there was little -or no enmity to individuals, though the tendency -to curse the systems of civilized life was general. -I think they would have agreed with my Cornish -friend that "all employers is punk," and considered -their feelings sufficiently expressed at that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as I sat among them, day after day, I -began, oddly enough, to orientate my vision to -their point of view. They were, of course, not -always the same men. The original five melted -away into jobs within three or four days; but -five or six or seven was about the daily average -in our little pen. They came, were cowed, were -selected, and went off. Twice during the first -week I was called out in response to applicants -for unusual grades of help, but my manner and -speech seemed to overawe the ladies who wanted -to hire, and I was remanded to my cell. "She -said she didn't want that </span><em class="italics">kind</em><span> of a man." "He -wouldn't want to eat in the kitchen," were the -explanations given me by Miss Bryne. In vain -I protested that I would eat anywhere, so long -as I ate. The other servants wouldn't get used -to me, and so no more was to be said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I was getting used to the other servants. -That is my point. Insensibly I was changing my -whole social attitude. It was like the difference -in looking at the Grand Cañon of Arizona—downward -from El Tovar, or upward from the -brink of the Colorado. Little by little I found -myself staring upward from the bottom, through -all sorts of ranks above me. I didn't notice the -change at once. For a time I thought I still -retained my sense of obscured superiority. I -arrived in the morning, heard from the lips of the -birdlike young lady at the desk the familiar -"Nothing yet," passed on to the pen, nodded to -those who were assembled, some of whom I would -have seen the day before, listened to their timid -scraps of talk, which hardly ever varied from a -few worn notes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first I felt apart from them, above them, -disdainful of their limitations. My impulse was -to get away from them, as it had been to cut -loose from Lydia Blair and Drinkwater. It -was only on seeing them one by one called out -of the pen, not to come back again, that I began to -envy them. Sooner or later, every one went but -me. I became a kind of friendly joke with them. -"Some little sticker," was the phrase commonly -applied to me. It was used in a double sense, -one of which was not without commendation. -"Ye carn't stick like wot you're doin', old son," -a footman said to me one day, "without somethin' -turnin' up, wot?" and from this I took a grim -sort of encouragement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all I mean is that by imperceptible degrees -I felt myself one of them. After the first lady -had turned me down, I began to adapt myself -to their views of the employer. After the second -lady had repeated the action of the first, I began -to experience that feeling of dull hostility toward -the class in which I had been born that marked -all my companions in the coop. It was what I -have already called it, hostility without personal -malevolence—hostility to a system rather than -to individuals. For a pittance barely sufficient -to keep body and soul together, leaving no -margin for the higher or more beautiful things in life, -we were expected to drudge like Roman slaves, -and not only feel no resentment, but be -contented with the lot to which we were ordained. -The clearest thing in the world to all of us was -that between us and those who would have us -work for them some great humanizing element -was lacking—an element which would have made -life acceptable—and that so long as it was not -there each one of us would, as a revolutionary -bookkeeper put it, "go to bed with a grouch." To -me, as to them, the grouch was growing -intimate—and so was hunger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the end of a fortnight I was down to one -meal a day, the breakfast I continued to take -with Pelly, my Cornish friend, and over which -he told me his most intimate experiences, with -an absence of reserve to which conversation in the -pen had accustomed me. Looking for some such -return on my part, he was not only disappointed, -but a little mystified. I got his mental drift, -however, when he asked me on one occasion if I -had ever "hit the pipe," and on another if I had -ever been "sent away." Had these misfortunes -happened to himself he would have told me -frankly, and it would have made no difference in -his sympathy for me had I confessed to them or -to any other delinquency. What puzzled him was -that I should confess to nothing, a form of reserve -which to him was not only novel, but abnormal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, when through the thin partition -I announced one morning that I wasn't going -to breakfast, giving lack of appetite as a plea, -he came solemnly into my room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here, Soames; if a fiver'd be of any use -to you—or ten—or any think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I declined he did not insist further; -but on my return that evening I found a five-dollar -bill thrust under my door in an envelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I didn't thank him when I heard him come in; -I pretended to be asleep. As a matter of fact, -I thought it hardly worth while to say anything. -It was highly possible that the next day would -say all, for I had reached the point where it -seemed to me the Gordian knot must be cut. -One quick stroke of some sort—and Pelly would -get his five dollars back untouched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cup of chocolate had been all my food that -day. Though I had still a few pennies, less than -a dollar, it would probably be all my food on the -next day. On the day after that my rent would -be due, and I couldn't ask the two good women -who had been kind to me for credit. What would -be the use? A new week would bring me no -more than the past weeks, so why not end it once -and for all?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning, therefore, I gave Pelly back -his bill, bluffing him by going out to our usual -breakfast, on which I spent all I had in the world -but a nickel and a dime. I must get something -to do that day, or else—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left alone, I tossed one of the two coins to -decide whether or not I should go back to "the -Intelligence." Going back had not been easy -for the last few days, for I had noticed cold looks -on the part of Miss Bryne and Miss Gladfoot, -with a tendency to take me for a hoodoo. Even -the young lady at the desk had ceased to say -"Nothing yet," as I passed by, or as much as to -glance at me. But as this was to be the last -time, I obeyed the falling of the coin and went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went—to receive a little shock. Miss Bryne -was waiting for me near the door, with a bit of -paper in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must remember, Soames," she said, in -her business-like way, "that this is not the only -employment-office in New York. Here's a list -of addresses, at any of which you may find what -we haven't been able to secure for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took the paper, thanked her, and went on -into the coop before the significance of this act -came to me. It was dismissal. It was not -merely dismissal from a place, it was dismissal -from the possibility of a dismissal. To have a -place, even if only, as Pelly put it, to be bounced -from it, was something; but to be denied the -chance of being bounced...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I ought to have got up there and then and -walked out; but I think I was too stunned. The -chatty groups were forming all over the place, and -early matrons looking for maids were being refused -first by one spirited damsel and then by another. -In the coop there was the usual low, intermittent -murmur, accentuated now and then by ugly -words, and now and then by oaths. To me it -was no more than the hum of activity in the -streets in the ears of a man who is dying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recovering from this state, which was almost -that of coma, I began feeling for my hat. I had -to go out. I had to find a way to do the only -thing left for me to do. I had no idea of the -means, and so must think them over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And just then I heard a young fellow speaking, -with low gurgles of fun. He was at the end of -the pen and was narrating an experience of the -afternoon before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a whale of a rolled-up rug that must -have weighed five hunderd pounds. 'Carry that -up-stairs,' says the Floater. 'Like hell I will,' -says I. He says, 'You'll carry that up or you'll -get out o' here.' I says, 'Well, Creed and Creed -ain't the only house to work for in New York.' 'You -was damn glad to get here,' he says, madder -'n blazes. I says, 'Not half so damn glad as -I'll be to get somewhere else,' says I. 'You've -had five men on this job in less than four weeks,' -says I, 'and now you'll have to get a sixth,' says -I, 'if there's any one in the city fool enough to -take it. Carryin' rugs that 'd break a man's -back,' I says, 'is bad enough; but before I'd go -on workin' under a blitherin' old son of a gun -like you—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I didn't wait to hear more. I knew the -establishment of Creed & Creed, not far away, in -the lower part of Fifth Avenue. Many a time -I had stopped to admire the great rugs hung in -its windows as a bait to people living in palaces. -Not twenty-four hours earlier a place had been -vacated there, a hard place, a humble place, and -it was possible, barely possible...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up the street that led to Washington Square -I ran; I ran through Washington Square itself; -for the two or three blocks of Fifth Avenue I -slackened my pace only in order not to arrive -breathless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There it was on a corner, the huge gray pile, -with its huge bright windows—and my heart -almost stopped beating. Breathless now from -another cause than speed, I paused, nominally -to gaze at an immense Chinese rug, but really -to compose my mind to what might easily prove -the last effort of my life. This rug, too, hanging -with a graceful curve in which yellow deepened -to orange and orange to glints of acorn-brown, -might easily prove the last beautiful thing my eyes -would ever rest upon. I remembered saying to -myself that beauty was the thread of flame that -would lead me home; but the thread of flame -had been treacherous. I could have given an -expert's opinion on a work of art like this; and -yet I was begging for the privilege of handling -it in the most laborious manner possible, just -that I might eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as I stared at the thing, forming the words -in which I should frame my request for work, a -soft voice, close beside me, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely it must be possible for me to be of use -to you!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As I recall the minute now my first thought -was of my appearance. I had noticed for -some time past that it was running down, and -had regarded the change almost with satisfaction. -The more out at elbow I became the less would -be the difference between me and any other -young fellow looking for employment. It hadn't -escaped me that I grew shabby less with the -honorable rough-and-tumble of a working-man -than with the threadbare, poignant poverty of -broken-down gentility; but I hoped that no one -but myself would perceive that. I had thus -grown careless of appearances, and during the -past forty-eight hours more careless than I had -been hitherto. Feeling myself a lamentable -object, I had more or less dressed to suit the part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew instantly that it was this that had -inspired the words I had just listened to. I knew, -too, that I must bluff. Wretched as I looked, I -must carry the situation off, with however pitiful -a bit of comedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning, I lifted my hat, with what I could -command of the old dignity of bearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How early you are!" I smiled bravely. "I -didn't know young ladies were ever down-town -by a little after ten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded toward the neighboring bookshop. -"I've been in there buying something for Lulu -to read. She's bored." She threw these explanations -aside as irrelevant to anything we had to say, -now that we had met. "Where have you been all -these weeks? Why didn't you let me know—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I let you know? I called at your -old house, and you were gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could have easily found out. If you'd -merely called up Central she would have told -you the new address of our number. It wasn't -kind of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sometimes we have things to do more pressing -than just being kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's never anything more pressing than that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for people like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for people like any one. Listen!" she -hurried on, as if there was not a minute to spare. -"One of my trustees came to me yesterday. He -said I had nearly thirty thousand dollars of -accumulated income that there's nothing to do -with but invest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well? Don't you like to see your money invested?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like it well enough when there's nothing else -to do with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which you say that in this case there isn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but there is—if you look at it in the right way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't have to look at it any way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you do, when it's—when it's only -common sense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's only common sense?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My being—being useful to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but you're useful to me through—through -your very kindness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not enough. Surely you—you see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could say quite truthfully that I didn't see. -"But suppose," I continued, "that we don't talk -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she answered, fiercely, "and leave -everything where we left it the last time. You -see what's come of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see what's come, of course; but I don't -know that it's come of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were so few people in the neighborhood, -and we were so plainly examining the Chinese -rug, that we could talk together without -attracting attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what kind of people are we?" she -exclaimed, tapping with one hand the book she held -in the other. "Here I am with more money than -I know what to do with; and here are you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With all the money I want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her brown eyes swept me from head to foot. -"That's not true," she insisted. "When I first -knew you I thought—I thought you were just -experimenting—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how do you know I'm not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it from what you said yourself—that -last time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did I say?"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That if it wasn't trouble it was misfortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that. Isn't it enough? And then I -know it— Well, can't I see?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tried to laugh this off. "Oh, I know I'm -rather seedy-looking, but then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're worse than seedy-looking; -you're—you're—tragic—to me. Oh, I know I haven't -any right to say so; but that's what I complain -of, that's what I rebel against, that we've got -our conventions so stupidly organized that just -because you're a man and I'm a woman I -shouldn't be allowed to help you when I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do help me, with your great sympathy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She brushed this aside. "That's no help. It -doesn't feed and clothe you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I endeavored to smile. "That's very plain -talk, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it's plain talk, because it's a -perfectly plain situation. It isn't a new thing to me -to see people who've been going without food. -At the Settlement—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I still kept up the effort to smile. "If I'd been -going without food there are a dozen places—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where they'd give you a meal, after they'd -satisfied themselves that you hadn't been -drinking. I know all about that. But would you -go? Would you rather drop dead of starvation -first? And what good would it do you in the end, -just one meal, or two meals, when everything else -is lacking? It's the whole thing—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how would you tackle that, the whole -thing? It seems to me that if I can't do it -myself no one else—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you as straightforwardly as you ask -the question. I should give you, lend you, as -much money as you wanted, so that you should -have time to reorganize your life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And suppose I couldn't, that I spent your -money and was just where I was before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then my conscience would be clear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your conscience must be clear in any case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't. When all you ask for is to help—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can help other people—who need it more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't keep that up. I </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> what you -need. I've told you already I've seen starvation -before. Don't be offended! And when it's you, -some one we've all known, and liked— Boyd -liked you from the first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not from the last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He thinks you're—you're strange, naturally. -We all think so. I think so. But that doesn't -make any difference when you don't get enough -to eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And suppose I turned out to be only an adventurer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shrugged her shoulders, after a habit -she had. "That would be your responsibility. -Don't you see? I'm not thinking so much about -you as I am about myself. It's nothing to me -what you are, not any more than what Lydia is, -or a dozen others I could name to you. I think -it highly probable that Lydia Blair will take the -road we call going to the bad—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, surely not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This invitation to digression she also swept -aside. "She won't do it with her eyes shut, -never fear! She'll know all about it, and take -her own way because it's hers. Don't pity her. -If I were half so free—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, for one thing, you'd have another -chance. If you didn't use it that would be your -own affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you speak of another chance? Do -you think—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't ask me what I think. I take it -for granted that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes? Please tell me. What is it that you -take for granted?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good would it do for me to tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would do the good that I should know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, I take it for granted, since you -insist, that you've done something, somewhere—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And still you'd lend me as much money as I -asked for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What difference does it make to me? I want -you to have another chance. I shouldn't want -it if you didn't need it; and you wouldn't need -it unless there was something wrong with you. -There! Is that plain enough? But because -there is something wrong with you I want to -come in and help you put it right. I don't care -who you are or what you've done, so long as those -are the facts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm obliged to care, don't you see? If -I were to take advantage of your generosity—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me truthfully now. Would you do it -if I were a man, a friend, who insisted on helping -you to start again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tried to gain time. "It would depend on the -motive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll assume the motive to be nothing but -pure friendship, just the desire that you should -have every opportunity to make good again, -and nothing else. </span><em class="italics">Absolutely nothing else</em><span>! Do -you understand? Would you take it from him -then? Please tell me as frankly as if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I might."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And because I'm not a man but a woman, you can't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't the same thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which is just what we women complain of, -just what we fight against, the stupid conventions -that force us into being useless in a world—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but there are other ways of being useful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No other way of being useful compensates -for the one which seems to you paramount, above -all others, and from which you are debarred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why should it? You and I never met till—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't argue that way. You can't reason -about the thing at all. I'm not reasoning, -further than to say that—that I believe in you, in -your power of—of coming back. That's the -phrase, isn't it? And as, apparently, I'm the -only one in a position to go to your aid—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw out her hands with a gesture she -sometimes used which implied that all had been -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in the end we compromised. That is, I -told her I had one more possibility. If that -failed, I would let her know. This she informed -me I could do by telephone, as Boyd's name was -in the book. If it didn't fail ... But as to -that she forgot to exact a promise, just as she -forgot to tell me her new address. Like most -shy people who dash out of their shyness for some -adventure too bold for the audacious, she -retreated as suddenly. Springing into her motor -as soon as we had arrived at a temporary decision, -she drove away, leaving me still at a loss as to -whether or not I was Malvolio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dumfounded and distressed by this unexpected -meeting, and the still more unexpected -offer made in it, my thoughts began to run wild. -It was in my power to live, to eat, to pay my -way for a little longer. Of the money at her -disposal I need accept no more than a few hundred -dollars, a trifle to her, but to me everything -in the world. Even if it did me no more than a -passing good, it would do me that. If I had -in the end to "get out," as I phrased it, I would -rather get out in a month's time than do it that -very day. In the mean while there might -be—the miracle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the mad prospect of all this that sent -me out of Fifth Avenue to crawl along the side -of Creed & Creed's establishment, which flanked -the cross-street, without noticing the way I took. -For the minute I had forgotten the errand that -brought me to this particular spot in New York. -It had been crowded out of my memory by the -fact that, after all, it might not matter whether -I found work or not. I could live, anyhow. All -I had to do was to take a telephone list, call up -Boyd Averill's number, say that I had changed -my mind....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a temptation. For you to understand -how fierce a temptation it was you would have -to remember that for a month I had been insufficiently -fed, and that for a week I had not really -been fed at all. Moreover, I could see before me -no hope of being fed in the immediate future. -I was asking myself whether it would be common -sense on the part of a drowning man to refuse -a rope because a woman in whom there might -be a whole confusion of complex motives had -thrown it, when I suddenly found my passage -along the pavement blocked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was blocked by what appeared to be a long -cylindrical bar, some two or three feet in diameter. -Covered with burlap, it ran from a motor truck, -in which one end still rested, toward the entrance -to that part of Creed & Creed's establishment -that lay slightly lower than the pavement. It -was a wide entrance, after which came two or -three broad, shallow steps, and then a cavern -which was evidently a storehouse. Two men -were tugging at the long object, the one big, dark, -brawny, clad in overalls, and equal to the work, -the other a little elf of an old man, nattily dressed -for the street, wearing a high soft felt hat, -possibly in the hope of making himself look taller. A -gray mustache that sprang outward in a semi-circle -did not conceal a truculent mouth, though -it smothered his wrathful expletives. That he -had once been agile I could easily guess, but now -his poor old joints were stiff from age or disuse. -It was also clear that he was lending a hand to an -irksome task because of a shortage of labor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While the younger man—he was about my own -age—could manage his end easily enough, the old -one tugged desperately at his, finally letting it -drop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gr-r-r-r!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The growl was that of an irascible man too -angry to be articulate. If the thread of flame -ever led me, it was then. Without a minute's -hesitation, I picked up the dropped end of the -cylinder, with no explanation beyond the words, -"Let me have a try," and presently I was finding -my way down the steps and into the cavern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Chuck it there, on top o' thim," my companion -ordered, and our cylinder lay as one of -a pile of similar cylinders, which I could see from -the labels to have been shipped from India.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's eight or tin more of thim things," -the big fellow was beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that the Floater?" I asked in a hurried -undertone, as the little man hobbled down the -steps and made his way toward us in the -semi-darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He sure is, and some damn light floater at that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before I could analyze this reply the Floater -himself stood in front of me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" he demanded, sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean my name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care a damn about your name. What -business had you to pick up that rug?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only the business of wanting to help. I -could see it wasn't a gentleman's job—and—and -I—I thought you might take me on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He danced with indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take you on? Take you on? What do you -mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, sir, it was this way. I've just run -up from the Intelligence where I heard a fellow -gassing about"—I varied the story from that -which I had heard at Miss Bryne's—"about being -kicked out of here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was he a gabby sort of a guy?" my big colleague -inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would describe him exactly; and so I -thought if I could reach here in time, before you'd -had a chance to get any one else—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Chance to get any one else?" the little man -snarled. "I can go out into the street and shovel -'em in by the cartload. Dirt, I call 'em!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir; but you haven't done it. That's -all I mean. I thought if I got here first—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was easy to size him up as a vain little terrier, -and my respectful manner softened him. He -stood back for a minute to examine me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't look like a fellow that 'd be after -this sort of a job. Does he, Bridget?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bridget's answer, though non-committal, was -in my favor:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure I've seen ivery kind o' man lookin' for -a job at one time or another. It's not his looks -that 'll tell in handling rugs; it's his boiceps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tapped his own strong biceps to emphasize -his observation, while I endeavored to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're quite right, sir. You'd see that when -lots of other men wouldn't. As a matter of tact, -this job or any other job would be new to me. I -had some money—but the war's got me stone-broke. -I lived in France till just lately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you lived in France, why ain't you fightin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not having the same dread of inventing a tale -as with Boyd Averill, I said, boldly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did fight, till they discharged me. Got -a blow on the head, and wasn't any good after -that. I was with the French army because my -people lived over there. When I got out of it, -there was no provision made for me, of course. -My father and mother had died, my father's -business had been smashed to pieces—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Luckily my imagination didn't fail me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An artist. He was just beginning to make -a hit. I was to have been"—I sought for the -most credible possibility—"an architect. I was -to have studied at the Beaux Arts, that's the big -school for architects in Paris; but of course all -that was knocked on the head when my father -died, and so I sailed for New York."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't you got no relations here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remembered that Lydia Blair thought she -might have seen me in Salt Lake City, but I was -afraid of the Mormon connotation. "My family -used to live in—in California; but they're all -scattered, and we'd been in Europe for so many -years—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Amur'cans should live in God's country—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir; so I've found out. If we had, I -shouldn't be asking for a job in order to get a -meal. I'm down to that," I confessed, showing -him the nickel and the dime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a minute or two to reflect on the situation, -saying, finally, with a little relenting in his -tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nine more rugs out in that lorry. -If you help this man to lug them in you'll get -fifty cents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If it was not the miracle, it was a sign and a -wonder none the less. Fifty cents would tide -me over the night. I should have sixty-five cents -in all, and it would be my own. I should not -have cadged it from a woman, whatever the -motive of her generosity. It was that motive -which made me tremble. If it was what it might -have been, if I was not a mere fatuous fool, then -there was no hole so deep that I had better not -hide in it, no distance so great that I had better -not put it between her and me. It would wound -her if I did, but on every count that would be -preferable....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Floater went off to regions where I couldn't -follow him, and Bridget spoke in non-committal -but not unkindly tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better take off that topcoat and hang it in -Clancy's locker. Clancy was the gabby chap -you heard at Lizzie's. That's Lizzie Bryne. -Sure I moind her when her mother kep' a little -notion store down by Grime Street, and now the -airs she gives herself! Ah, well, there's no law -ag'in' it! Come awn now. We'll get these other -bits in, because Daly, that's the driver, 'll have -to be after goin' back to the station for the -Bokharas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will that be more to unload?" I asked, eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure it 'll be more to unload. Dee ye think -they'll walk off the truck by theirselves?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vaguely afraid of something hostile or -supercilious on Bridget's part, I was pleasantly -surprised to find him not merely good-natured, but -helpful and patient, showing me the small tricks -of unloading long burlap cylinders from a motor -lorry, which proved to be as much an art in its -simple way as anything else, and enlivening the -work by anecdote. All that he knew of Creed -& Creed I learned in the course of that half-hour, -though it turned out to be little more than -I knew myself, except as it concerned the minor -personnel. Of the heads of the firm and the -managers he could tell me only as much as the -peasants in the vale of Olympus could have -recounted of the gods on the mountain-top. To -Bridget they were celestial, shadowy beings, seen -as they passed in and out of the office, or stopped -to look at some new consignment from the Far -East; but he barely knew their names.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The highest flight of his information was up to -the Floater; beyond him he seemed to consider -it useless to ascend. Of the gods on the summit, -the Floater was the high priest, and in that -capacity he, alone, was of moment to those on the -lower plane. He administered the favors and -meted out the punishments. "He's It," was -Bridget's laconic phrase, and in the sentence, as -far as he was concerned, or I was concerned, or -any salesman or porter was concerned, Creed & -Creed's was summed up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the Floater's anomalous position in the -establishment, the explanation commonly accepted -by the porters, the "luggers" they called -themselves, was that he was in possession of dark -secrets, which it would have been perilous to -tempt him to divulge, concerning the firm's -prosperity. A mysterious blood-relationship with -"Old Man Creed," who had founded the house -some sixty years before, was also a current -speculation. Certain it was that his connection with -the business antedated that of any one among -either partners or employees, a fact that gave -him an authority which no one disputed and all -subordinates feared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The job finished, Bridget and I sat on the pile, -while he shared his lunch with me, and I waited -for the Floater to bring me my fifty cents. When -he appeared at last, I stood to attention, though -Bridget nonchalantly kept his seat. I learned -that if the little man was treated as an equal -in the office he was treated as an equal in the -basement. This circumstance gave to my politeness -in standing up and saying "sir" a value to -which he was susceptible, though too crusty to -admit it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's another load coming, sir, isn't there?" -I asked, humbly, after I had been paid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's it to you if there is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that I might earn another fifty cents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Earn another fifty cents! Why, fifty cents -would pay you for two such jobs as the one you've -done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'd like to work off what you've paid -me by unloading the other lot for nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted a warning finger as he turned to go -up-stairs. "See here, young feller! You beat -it. If I find you here when I come down again—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You stay jist where y'are," Bridget warned -me. "They're awful short-handed above, and -customers comin' in by the shovelful. They've -got to have four luggers to pull the stuff out for -the salesmen to show, and there's only six of us -in all. When Clancy put the skids under hisself -last night I could see how it 'd be to-day. It was -a godsend to the little ould man when you blew in; -but he always wants ye to think he can beat the -game right out of his own hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus encouraged I stood my ground, and when -the next load came I had the privilege of helping -Bridget to handle it. By the end of the day I -had not only earned a dollar and a half but had -been ordered by the Floater to turn up again next -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye're all right now," Bridget said, complacently. -"Ye've got the job so long as ye can -hould it down. I'll give ye the dope about that, -and wan thing is always to trate him the way -ye've trated him to-day. It's what he wants -of us other guys, and we've not got the trick o' -handin' it out. Men like us, that's used to a -free country, don't pass up no soft talk to no one. -What's your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said it was Jasper Soames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure that's a hell of a name," he commented, -simply. "The byes 'd never get round the like -o' that. Yer name 'll be Brogan. Brogan was -what we called the guy that was here before -Clancy, and it done very well. All right, then, -Brogan. Ye'll have Clancy's locker; and moind -ye don't punch the clock a minute later than -siven in the mornin', or that little ould divil 'll -be dancin' round to fire ye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Brogan I was at Messrs. Creed & Creed's -all through the next two years.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No lighter-hearted man than I trod the streets -of New York that evening. I had breakfasted -in the morning; I had shared Bridget's -cold meat and bread at midday; I could "blow -myself in" to something to eat now, and then go -happily to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was but one flaw in this bliss, and that -was the thought of Mildred Averill. Whether -she would be glad or sorry that for the minute -I was landing on my feet, I could not forecast. -And yet when I called her up she pretended to -be glad. I say she pretended, only because in -her first words there was a note of disappointment, -perhaps of dismay, though she recovered -herself quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I can be easy in my mind about you?" -she asked, after I had declined to tell her what -my new occupation was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite easy; only I want you to know how -grateful I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please don't. If I could have done more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fortunately that wasn't needed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if it should be needed in the future—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope it won't be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if it should be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then we'd—we'd see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that for now it's—" that note stole into -her voice again, and with a wistful question in -the intonation—"for now it's—it's good-by?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only for now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed to grasp at something. "What -do you mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just that—that the future—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate the future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was one of her sudden outbursts, and the -receiver was hung up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all, this abrupt termination to an -unsatisfactory mode of speech was the wisest method -for us both. We couldn't go on sparring and -there was nothing to do but spar. Knowing that -I couldn't speak plainly she had ceased to expect -me to do so, and yet...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I say that this was a relief to me, you -must understand it only in the sense that my -situation was too difficult to allow of my inviting -further complications. Had I been free—but -I wasn't free. The conviction that somewhere -in the world I had permanent ties began to be as -strong as the belief that at some time in my life -love had been the dominating factor. There had -been a woman. Lydia Blair had seen her. Her -flaming eyes haunted me from a darkness in -which they were the only thing living. The fact -that I couldn't construct the rest of the portrait -no more permitted me to doubt the original than -you can doubt the existence of a plant after you -have seen a leaf from it. The best I could hope -for now was the privilege of living and working -in some simple, elemental way that would give -me the atmosphere in which to re-collect myself, -</span><em class="italics">recueillement</em><span>, the French graphically name the -process, and grow unconsciously back into the -facts that effort would not restore to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For that simple, elemental work and life the -opportunity came to me at last. I see now that -it was opportunity, though I should not have -said so at the time. At the time it was only hard -necessity, though hard necessity with those -products of shelter and food which in themselves -meant peace. I had peace, therefore, of a kind, -and to it I am able now to attribute that growth -and progress backward, if I may so express myself, -which led to the miracle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My work next day lay in peeling off the -burlap from the newly arrived consignment, -stripping the rolls of the sheepskins in which they -were wrapped inside, spreading the rugs flat, and -sweeping them with a stiff, strong broom. After -that we laid them in assorted piles, preparatory -to carrying them up-stairs. They were -Khorassans, Kirmanshahs, Bokharas, and Sarouks, with -a superb lot of blue and gold Chinese reproduced -on the company's looms in India.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good-natured Peter Bridget taking his -turn up-stairs, my colleague that day was an -American of Finnish extraction, whose natural -sunniness of disposition had been soured by the -thwarting of a strong ambition to "get -on." Combining the broad features of the Lapp with -Scandinavian hair and complexion, his expression -reminded you of a bright summer day over -which a storm was beginning to lower. The son -of one large family and the father of another, he -was at war with the world in which his earning -capacity had come to have its limitations fixed -at eighteen dollars a week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was not conversational; he only grunted -remarks out of a slow-moving bitterness of spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the good of always layin' the pipe and -never gettin' no oil along it? That's what I want -to know. Went to work when I was fourteen, -and now I'm forty-two, and in exactly the same spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not in exactly the same spot," I said, -"because you've got your wife and children."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the money I've spent on that woman -and them kids!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're fond of them, aren't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No better wife no guy never had, and no nicer -little fam'ly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, that's so much to the good. -Those are assets, aren't they? They'll mean -more to you than if you had money in the savings -bank and didn't have </span><em class="italics">them</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't eddicate 'em proper, or send 'em to -high-school, let alone college, or give 'em nothin' -like what they ought to have. All I can leave -'em when I die is what my father left me, the -right not to be able to get nowhere—and yet -you'll hear a lot of gabbers jazzin' away about -this bein' the best country for a working-man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the lunch-hour we drifted into Fifth -Avenue, joining the throng of those who for sixty -minutes were like souls enjoying a respite from -limbo. Limbo, I ask you to notice, is not hell; -but it is far from paradise. The dictionary -defines the word as a borderland, a place of restraint, -and it was in both those senses, I think, that the -shop and the factory struck the imaginations of -these churning minds. The shop and the factory -formed a borderland, neither one thing nor -another, a nowhere; but a place of restraint none -the less. More than the physical restraint -involved in the necessity for working was implied -by this; it was restraint of the spirit, restraint of -the part of a man that soars, restraint of the -impulse to seize the good things of life in a world -where they seemed to be free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though I could understand little of the -conversation around me—Yiddish, Polish, Armenian, -Czech—I knew they were talking of jobs and -bosses in relation to politics and the big things -of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with them guys at Albany -and Washington that they don't come across -with laws—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the question and that was the -complaint. It was one of the two main blends in the -current of dissatisfaction. The other blend was -the conviction that if those who had the power -didn't right self-evident wrongs, the wronged -would somehow have to right themselves. There -was no speechmaking, no stump oratory, after -the manner of a Celtic or Anglo-Saxon crowd; all -was smothered, sullen, burning, secretive, and -intense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On our way back to the cavern the Finn remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No man doesn't mind work. He'd rather -work than loaf, even if he was paid for loafin'. -What he can't stick is not havin' room to grow -in, bein' squeezed into undersize, like a Chinese -woman's foot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all, I reflected, this might be the real -limbo, not only of the working-man, but of all the -dissatisfied in all ranks throughout the world—the -denials of the liberty to expand. Mildred -Averill was rebelling against it in her way as -much as the Finn in his, as much as any Jew or -Pole or Italian in all the crowd surging back at -that minute to the dens from which they had -come out. Discontent was not confined to any -one class or to any one set of needs. Custom, -convention, and greed had clamped our energies -round and round as with iron hoops, till all but -the few among us had lost the right to grow. It -wasn't a question of pay; it wasn't primarily a -question of money at all, though the question of -money was involved in it. More than anything -else, it was one of a new orientation toward -everything, with a shifting of basic principles. The -first must become last and the last must become -first—not in the detail of precedence but in that -of the laws by which we live—before men, as -men, could get out of the prison-houses, into -which civilization had thrust them, to the broad, -free air to which they were born. The struggle -between labor and capital was a mere duel -between blind men. It was bluff on the surface -by those on both sides who were afraid to put -the ax to the root of the tree. No symbol was -so eloquent to me of the bondage into which the -human elements in Church and State had chained -the spirit of man as the Finn's comparison of the -Chinese woman's foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Floater paid me another dollar and -a half that night he told me that if I worked like -a dog, was as meek as a mouse, and "didn't get -no labor rot into my nut" I could have Clancy's -job as a regular thing. But by this time I was -beginning to understand him. I have already -called him a terrier, and a terrier he was, with a -terrier's bark, but with a terrier's fundamental -friendliness. If you patted him, he wagged his -tail. True, he wagged it unwillingly, -ungraciously, and with a fond belief that you didn't -know he was wagging it at all; but the fact that -he did wag it was enough for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was enough for us all. There was not a -man among the "luggers" who didn't understand -him, nor among the salesmen either, as I -came to understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dee ye know how to take that little scalpeen? -He's like wan of thim Graaks or Eytalians that's -got a quare talk of their own, but you know you -can put it into our talk and make it mane -somethin'. Wance I was at a circus where a monkey -what looked like a little ould man talked his kind -o' talk, and it made sinse. Well, that's like the -Floater. He's like the monkey what can't talk -nothin' but monkey-talk; but glory be to God! he -manes the same thing as a man. Don't ye -moind him, Brogan. When he talks his talk, you -talk it to yerself in yer own talk, and ye'll kape -yer timper and get everything straight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This kindly advice was given me by Denis Gallivan, -the oldest of the porters, and a sort of dean -of our corps. Small, wiry, as strong as a horse, -with a wizened, leathery face that looked as if -it had been dried and tanned in a hot sunshine, -there was a yearning in his blue-black eyes like -that which some of the old Italian masters put -into the eyes of saints. Denis, Bridget, and the -Finn composed what I may call the permanent -staff, the two others, excluding myself, being -invariably restless chaps who, like Clancy, came -for a few weeks and went off again. With the -three workers named I made a fourth, henceforth -helping to carry the responsibility of the house -on my shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a good place, with pleasant work. Two -or three times I could have had promotion and -a raise in pay, but I had reasons of my own for -staying where I was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My duties being simple, I enjoyed the sheer -physical exertion I was obliged to make. Arriving -about seven in the morning I helped to sweep -the floors, with a special sweeping of the rugs, -druggets, and mattings that had lain out -overnight. If there was anything to be carried from -the basement to the upper floor I helped in that. -Then, having "cleaned" myself, as the phrase -went, I took my place in the shop, ready to pull -out the goods which the salesmen panted to -display to customers, and to put them back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this there were always four of us in the -spacious, well-lighted shop, which must have been -sixty feet long by thirty wide, and I liked the -dignity and quiet of all the regulation tasks. As a -rule, we were on the floor by nine, though it was -generally after ten before we saw a customer. -During that hour of spare time we porters hung -together at the farther end, exchanging in low -tones the gossip of the day, confiding personal -experiences, or discussing the war and the -reconstruction of society. Now and then one of -the four or five salesmen would condescendingly -join with us, but for the most part the salesmen -kept to themselves, treating the same topics from -a higher point of view. The gods of Olympus did -little more than enter by the main door from -Fifth Avenue, cross to their offices, after which -we scarcely saw them. Only the Floater moved -at will between us and them, with a little dog's -freedom to be equally at home in the stable and -the drawing-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A flicker of interest always woke with the -arrival of customers. They entered with diffidence, -confused by the subdued brilliance of the Persian -and Chinese colors hanging on our walls, by the -wide empty spaces, and their own ignorance of -what they came in search of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's not tin women in New York 'll know -the difference betwane a Kirmanshah and an -Anatolia," Denis said to me one day, "and it'd -make ye sorry for thim when they comes to -furnishin'. Glory be to God, they'll walk in here -knowin' no more than that they want rugs, and -it's all wan to thim what ye puts before thim so -long as it's the color they like and it lays on the -ground. If this wasn't the honestest house that -the Lord ever made there'd be chatin' till we was -all in danger o' hell fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in spite of this ignorance, we received our -visitors courteously, a salesman going forward -to meet all newcomers and conducting them to -the row of reproduced Louis Seize cane-bottomed -chairs placed for their convenience. Then it -would be, "Bridget, bring that Khorassan—3246, -you know, that fine specimen." And Bridget -would know, and call the Finn to help him lay -it out. Or it would be, "Brogan, can you find -the Meshed that came in yesterday—2947? I -think madam would like to see it." On this -Denis and I would haul out the big carpet, stretch -it at the lady's feet, listen to comments which, -as Denis put it, had the value of a milliner's -criticism of the make of a "floyin'-machine," and -eventually carry it back to the pile whence we had -taken it. I may say here that for customers we -had little respect, except from the point of view -of their purchasing power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did ye ever see wan o' thim that could tell a -Sehna knot from a Giordes?" Denis asked, -scornfully. "Did ye ever see wan o' thim that knowed -which rug had a woolen warp and which a cotton, -or which rug 'd wear, or which 'd all go up in flock? -If a woman was to boy a shimmy that 'll be in rags -before it's been six toimes to the wash with as -little sinse as she'll boy a rug that ought to last -for a hunderd years her husband 'd be in jail for dit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for me, customers had one predominant -interest. Among them there might be some one -I could recognize, or some one who would -recognize me. As to the last, I had one fear and many -hopes. My one fear was that Mildred Averill -or Lulu Averill might one day wander in; but -as time went on and they didn't, I ceased to dread -the mischance. As it also proved in the end it -was the same way with my hopes. No one -turned up whom I could hail as an acquaintance; -no one ever glanced at me with an old friend's -curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I settled down to the routine which, though -I didn't know it then, was the mental rest that, -according to Doctor Scattlethwaite, I needed for -my recovery. The days were so much alike that -I could no more differentiate between them than -can a man in prison. On eighteen dollars a week -I contrived to live with that humble satisfaction -of humble needs which I learned to be all that a -man requires. Little by little I accommodated -myself to the outlook of my surroundings, and -if I never thought exactly like my companions -I found myself able to listen to their views -complacently. With all three of my more -important co-workers—Denis, Bridget, and the -Finn—my relations were cordial, a fact due largely to -their courteous respect for my private history, -into which none of them ever pried. Like Lydia, -Drinkwater, and every one else, they took it for -granted that there was something I wanted to -hide, and allowed me to hide it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this way I passed the end of the year 1916, -the whole of 1917, and all of 1918 up to the -beginning of December. Though the country had in -the mean time gone to war it made little -difference to us. Denis was too old to be drafted; -Bridget and the Finn were exempted as fathers -of large families; I was examined, and, for reasons -I do not yet understand, rejected. I should have -made a very good fighting man; but I think I -was looked upon as of weak or uncertain mentality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During all those months I courted the obscurity -so easy to find. Between Creed & Creed's and -my squint-eyed room with the fungi on the -mantelpiece I went by what you might call the back -ways, in order to risk no meeting with Mildred -Averill or her family. Since they frequented the -neighboring book store, one of the best known -in New York, they might at some time see me -going in or out, and so I kept to the direction of -Sixth Avenue. Though I often drifted out into -the midday throng of which I have spoken -already there was little danger in that, because I -was swallowed in the crowd. In company for -the most part with Sam Pelly, I took my meals -in places so modest that Lydia Blair was unlikely -to run across me; and I had no one else to be -afraid of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peace therefore stole into my racked soul, -though it was the peace of death. While I had -recurrences of the hope that my lost sense of -identity would one day be restored to me, I -dropped into the habit of not thinking much -about it. I ate and drank; I had shelter and -clothes. The narrow margin on which other -working-people lived came to seem enough for me. -Toward the great accidents of life, illness or -incapacity, I learned to take the same philosophic -attitude as they, trusting to luck, or to something -too subtle and spiritual to put easily into words, -to take care of me. If I developed any deep, -strong principle of living it was along the lines -of the wish that on a snowy December afternoon -had led me to Meeting-House Green. I knew -that the universe was filled with a great Will and -tried to let myself glide along on it in simplicity, -and harmony.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi06"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the morning of the eleventh of December, -1918, I had been in the basement helping -to unpack a consignment just come in from India, -as I had first done two years before. I had, -therefore, not known what passed on the floor above -during the forenoon, and should have been little -interested had I been there. What I needed to -know the Floater told me when I appeared after -lunch to take my shift on the main floor with -Bridget and the Finn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're to go with the two lads down-stairs"—the -two of our six porters who were always -transient—"to this number in East Seventy-sixth -Street, and show the big Chinee antique, 4792, -and the modern Chinee, 3628, to a lady that's -stayin' there, and explain to her the difference -between them. She'll take the new one if she -thinks it's just as good, and you're to show her -that it isn't. She's not the lady of the house. -Her name is Mrs. Mountney, and she comes from -Boston. She saw them both this morning, but -said she couldn't judge till she'd viewed 'em -private."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not an unusual expedition, though it -was new to me. For special customers, or in -cases of big bits of business, we sent out rugs on -approval or for private view, though I had never -before been intrusted with the mission. I didn't -wholly like the job; but we were accustomed to -take both things we didn't like and things we -did as all in the day's work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the house in East Seventy-sixth Street we -found ourselves expected, the footman explaining -that we were to carry our wares to the music-room -and lay them out. The ladies were resting -after lunch, but Mrs. Mountney would come to -us as soon as she left her room. With the -pleasant free-masonry of caste he confided to me, as -with our burdens we made our way into the hall, -that Mrs. Mountney was a nice little bit of fluff, -though not so tony as he had looked for in an old -girl out of Boston. When it came to class, the -lady of the house, whom I thought he spoke of as -Luke, could hang it all over her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so long since I had been in a house of -the kind that I took notes more acutely than was -my habit, though my habit was always to be -observant. What struck me chiefly was its -resemblance on a larger scale to the last of its type I -had visited. Perhaps the name Lulie had turned -my thoughts backward; but there was certainly -the same square hall, containing a few monumental -bits of furniture because they were monumental, -the same dining-room opening out of it, -full of high-backed and Italian ... And then, -across a corridor that ran to some region behind -the dining-room, I thought I saw a stocky figure -grope its way with the kind of movement I had -not seen since the last time I had met Drinkwater. -A door opened and closed somewhere, and before -we reached the music-room I heard the distant -click of a typewriter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That I was nervous goes without saying, but -there were so many chances of my fear being -groundless that I did my best to dismiss it. The -music-room was simple, spacious, white-and-gold, -admirably adapted not only to the purpose it -served but to that which had brought us there. -When our carpets were spread they made a -magnificent gold spot in the center of a sumptuous -emptiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes later the nice little bit of fluff -tripped in, justifying the description. She was -one of those instances, of which we saw a good -many among our customers, where a merciful -providence had given a great deal of money to -some one who would have been quite too insignificant -without it. A worn fairness of complexion -was supplemented by cosmetics, and an inadequate -stock of very blond hair arranged in artistic -disarray in order to make the most of it. To -offset the laces and pearls of an elaborate -negligée by a "democratic" manner, and so put poor -working-men at their ease, she nodded to us in -a friendly, offhand way, saying, briskly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now then! Let's see! Which is the modern -one and which is the antique? I can't tell; can -you?" Looking at me archly, she changed her -tone to the chaffing one which the French describe -as </span><em class="italics">blagueur</em><span>. "But of course you'll say you can, -because that's your business. You've got them -marked with some sort of secret sign, like a -conjurer with coins, so as to tell one from the other, -without my knowing it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having said this, she began to march round -the two great gold-covered oblongs with the -movement of a prowling little animal. Keeping -my eye on the main doorway, I pointed out that -while the modern piece would please the ordinary -eye only the antique would satisfy the elect. -There was no question but that the Indian -reproduction was good. Any one who took it -would do more than get his money's worth, since -it would tone down with the years, while the -hard wool of which it was woven would make it -stand comparatively rough usage. But—didn't -madam see?—the antique, made on the old -Chinese looms, was of the softer, richer sheen -imparted by the softer, richer wool; and wasn't the -heavenly turquoise-blue of the ornaments and -border of a beauty which the modern dyes had -not begun to reproduce?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I explained this and some other characteristics -of rugs, I was more or less talking against -time. The suspicion that had seized me on -entering the house began to deepen, without my -knowing why.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Y-yes; y-yes," the little lady agreed; "it -</span><em class="italics">is</em><span> lovely, isn't it? And I suppose that if you're -buying a good thing it's better to get the—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused, looking out through the great -doorway into the hall. I, too, looked out, to -see Mrs. Averill in a tea-gown, gazing in at us -distraitly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lulu, do come here. This man, this -gentleman, has just been telling me the most -interesting things—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She trailed into the music-room with the same -graceful languor with which she had trailed into -the drawing-room on the occasion when we had -last met. The two other porters and myself -being negligible figures in the room, her almond -eyes rested listlessly on the rugs, which she -studied without remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lulu," Mrs. Mountney began again, with -animation, "did you know that in Persian rugs -the designs are outlined in rows of knots, and in -Chinese by clipping with the scissors? </span><em class="italics">ciselé</em><span>, -this ma—this gentleman calls it, and you can -feel a little line! Do put your hand down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm too tired," Mrs. Averill protested, -in her sweet drawling voice, "and this room's so -stuffy. Mildred said she'd have it aired; but -I don't know what she's mooning over half her -time. She's so dreamy. I often think she ought -to be in a convent, or something like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little bit of fluff was more interested in -rugs than in Mildred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do tell Mrs. Averill—I'm staying with her—what -you've just been saying about the wool. -Did you know, Lulu, that Indian wool is hard and -Chinese soft?" She looked again toward the -hallway, where a second figure had come into -view. "Mildred, do come here. There's the -most interesting things—I'm so glad I went to -that place this morning—and they've sent me -the most interesting man—Lulu's like ice, but -you're artistic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Averill, too, advanced into the room; but -though I was in full view she paid me and my -comrades no particular attention. It was the -easier for me not to speak, or to draw any one's -glance to myself, for the reason that -Mrs. Mountney chattered on, repeating for Mildred's -benefit the facts I had just been giving her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just think of having the patience to clip with -the scissors round all these designs, and it's the -same in the modern rug as in the antique. Do -stoop down, Mildred, and let your fingers run -along the ciseling; that's what this—this -gentleman calls it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the girl stooped to satisfy Mrs. Mountney, -I ventured to look at her more closely. She was -perhaps not older than when I had last seen her -two years before, but her face had undergone a -change. It made you think of faces chastened, -possibly purified, by suffering. Where there had -been chiefly a sympathetic common sense there -was now the beauty that comes of elevation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Luckily for me Mrs. Mountney ran on, while -we three men, with the lack of individuality of -employees before customers, remained -indistinguishable objects in the background.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the modern and that's the antique; -and I'm sure no one but a rug-man could tell the -difference between them. This man—this -gentleman—says they can, but that's only business. -Hundreds of dollars difference in the price, almost -as much as between a pair of real pearl ear-rings -and imitation ones. What do you say, Mildred? -Would anybody ever notice—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you'd be buying the best because -it's the best, and not because any one would -notice—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should be buying it for what every one -would see. What's the good of having a thing -if it doesn't show what it is? I hate the way -some people have of calling your attention to -every fine thing they've got in the house, as if you -weren't used to fine things of your own. If I've -got to tell every one that that's a genuine old -Chinese masterpiece before they notice it—well, -it isn't worth it. But at the same time the effect -is richer; and some people do know, and talk -about it to other people who know—there's that -to consider."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time I was conscious of something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having got through so many minutes without -recognition I was beginning to hope that, by -blotting myself out, as it were, between my -fellow-workmen I might finally escape detection. No -one had as yet dissociated any of us from another, -the very absence of personality on our part -reducing us to the place of mere machines. As -a mere machine Mrs. Averill and Mildred might -continue to overlook me, passing out of the room -as unobservant as they had come in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Lulu had begun a curious movement round -the square of the carpets. She seemed to be -studying them; though with the long slits of her -Mongolian eyes her glance might be traveling -anywhere. Having had the opportunity to look -me in the face, she moved to where she got me -in profile, afterward passing behind me and -returning to her original standpoint beside her -sister and her friend. Without further reference -to Mrs. Mountney, she slipped her arm through -Mildred's, leading her toward the grand piano, -against which they leaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For me there was nothing to do but to stand -still. A word, a sign, might easily betray me, if -I had not been betrayed already. As the -conversation went on, Mildred kept her back to me, -but Mrs. Averill stood sidewise, so as to be able -to throw me an occasional appraising glance. -Apparently she was in some doubt, my position -and my clothes rendering absolute certainty difficult.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mildred turned away from the piano at -last, and without examining me directly came -slowly down the long room. Entirely mistress -of herself she walked with sedateness and -composure. The shyness and brusqueness which -had given her a kind of aura in my thoughts -during the past two years seemed to have been -overcome by experience. In this self-command more -than in any other detail I observed a change in her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not till she reached the corner of the long -carpet did she give me the first clear, -straightforward look. That recognition did not come -instantly told me that I, too, must have changed. -Laborious work and a rough way of living had -doubtless aged and probably hardened me. I -was dressed, too, like any other working-man, -though with the tidiness which our position on -the selling floor exacted. A working-man in his -Sunday clothes would perhaps have described me, -while my features must have adapted themselves -to altered inward conditions with the facility -which features possess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it really you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was standing in front of me now, singling -me out from the two boys who had fallen a little -back. She didn't offer to shake hands; perhaps -she wasn't sure enough of my identity; but that -the circumstances in which she found me made -no difference to her was the one fact apparent. -Any emotion she may have felt was expressed in -the quiver of a faint smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hoped you wouldn't recognize me," was all -I found to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, for all the reasons that—that almost -anybody would see at a glance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I'm not—not almost anybody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; you're not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you been doing this ever since—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded. "It's the job I told you I might -get. I did get it; and so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you liked it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Extremely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that true, or is it just—?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; it's true. I could have had better jobs. -They offered two or three times to make me a -salesman; you may remember that I knew a good -deal about rugs already—; but I preferred to -stay where I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For what reason?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hardly know that I can tell you, unless it -was to—to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To find your soul?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And have you found it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've found—something. I'm not sure whether -it's my soul or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was said within the space of perhaps -two minutes, during which I watched Mrs. Averill -and Mrs. Mountney, toward whom Mildred -turned her back, putting their head together on -a whispered conversation. That it was about -me I could have gathered from their glances; but -a little crow on the part of Mrs. Mountney left -me no doubt about it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jasper Soames! Why, that's the name—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all I caught; but it was enough to put -even Mildred Averill on a secondary plane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you've found your soul—" she was saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm not sure of that. I only feel that I've -found—something. I mean that something has -come, or gone, I'm not sure of which; only that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Mountney wheeled suddenly from the -piano, trotting back to the edge of the carpet, -across which she spoke to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever hear of Copley's great portrait -of Jasper Soames?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded, speechlessly. I had heard of it. In -my mind's eye I saw it, at the head of a great -staircase, a full-length figure, wearing -knee-breeches of bottle-green satin, a gold-embroidered -waistcoat, and a long coat of ruby velvet with -a Russian sable collar falling back almost to the -shoulders. A plate let into the foot of the frame -bore the name </span><em class="italics">Jasper Soames</em><span>, with the dates of -a birth and a death. Somewhere in my life the -picture had been a familiar object.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had no time to follow up this discovery before -Mrs. Mountney began again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you one of his descendants?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; but my wife is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reply came out before I realized its significance. -I hardly knew what I had said till I heard -Lulu Averill exclaim with as much indignation as -her indolent tones could carry:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you told my husband that you were not -a married man! Didn't he, Mildred?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The situation was so unexpected that I felt -myself like a bird swinging in a cage. Nothing was -steady; everything around me seemed to whirl. -Then I heard Mildred speaking as if her voice -reached me through a poor connection on a telephone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that didn't matter. I knew he was -married all along—at least I was pretty sure of it. -What difference could it make to us?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It made the difference," Mrs. Averill drawled, -peevishly, "that we believed him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Mountney intervened, waving the -others aside with a motion of the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait!" She looked at me again across the -carpet. "If you married a descendant of Jasper -Soames then it was Violet Torrance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mist that had hitherto enshrined two -flaming eyes seemed to part as if torn by-lightning. -The figure disclosed was not static like that of -Jasper Soames, but alive as the sky is a ive in a -storm. It was that of my wife as I had last seen -her. My mind resumed its action at the point -where its memory of Vio had been shut ott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And," Mrs. Mountney went on, pressing her -facts, "you're Billy Harrowby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could only bend my head in assent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why—why—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flung her hands apart, unable to continue. -Lulu Averill, moving with the tread of a tigress -stalking silently, stole down from the piano to the -edge of the carpet. Mildred's eyes as she still -faced me were all amber-colored fire. I was like -a man waking in the morning from a night of -troubled dreams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Mrs. Mountney dragged her laces across -both the rugs to confront me face to face, -standing beside Mildred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know who I am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shook my head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Alice Tarporley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! You were a friend of Vio's before -we were married. I've heard her speak of you; -but you lived in Denver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I went back to Boston only two years ago, -when poor Vio was in such trouble because you -were—" She cried out, with another wide motion -of the arms: "In the name of God, man, what -does it all mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I couldn't go into explanations. I didn't -know where to begin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me first how Vio is—where she is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was perfectly well the day before yesterday, -and at your own house in Boston. But -don't you know, don't you know—? Why, this -is too awful! The more I think of it the more -awful it becomes. Don't you know—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't know anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got it out at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you know—Vio thinks you're—you're </span><em class="italics">dead</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Iron clampings seemed to press me round the ribs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I didn't know that. What made her think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who wouldn't think so? You were reported -missing—and when weeks went by—and no news -of you—and then, when your uniform was found -on the bank of that river, near Tours, wasn't -it? and your papers in the pockets—and your letter -of credit, and everything— And here you are -in New York, going under another name, working -like a stevedore, and looking like a tramp! Why, -it's enough to drive anybody crazy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could only stammer: "I shall explain everything, -after I've seen Vio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't explain in such a way that—" She -swung toward her hostess. "Lulu, I must -go straight back to Boston to-night. There's -a train that gets you there in the morning, isn't -there? I hate night traveling. I never sleep, -and I have a headache all the next day—but -what's that when—? If Vio hears this from any -one but—" She turned to me again. "Then -it </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> true that you'd been seen in New York -hotels?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly; I don't know what you're referring to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, every now and then some report went -round in Boston that So-and-so had seen you in -this hotel or that; but nothing of the sort has -been said for a year or two, and we thought that -it was just the kind of fake story that gets about. -But now! Well, I must break the news to Vio—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why shouldn't I break it myself? I could -call her up by long distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Man, if she heard your voice like that it -would kill her. You don't </span><em class="italics">know</em><span>. No, I must -go; there's no help for it, headache or no -headache. Mildred dear, won't you call Annette? -I told her she could go to the theater to-night, -but now she'll have to get our tickets, and pack!" -She wrung her hands. "Oh, dear! When a -man's dead, he'd better stay dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mildred slipped from the room. A suspicion -began to creep over me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there any special reason for my staying dead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How </span><em class="italics">can</em><span> you when you're alive? That's the -important point. Vio will never forgive you for -being alive—and not telling her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will when she's heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's got to hear right away, and I'm going -to take charge of it. You may say it's none of -my business, but I'm making it mine. I've -known Vio Torrance since we were tots together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I ventured to remind her that Vio might be -her friend, but that she was my wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wife!" she crowed, scornfully. "Have you -treated her like a wife—to be alive all this time -and never let her know! When I tell you that -she's been in mourning for you and out -again—positively out again— Well, you can imagine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can imagine so many things—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she jerked her little person away from me -toward the two fellows who were trying dully to -follow the scene they were witnessing without -being able to seize its drift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take all this stuff back again to where you -brought it from. I'm not going to buy any of it. -The idea of Billy Harrowby—" She repeated -the name with a squeal, "Billy </span><em class="italics">Harrowby!</em><span> of all -people in the world! Why, it's enough to drive -me out of my senses. I suppose you don't know," -she continued, switching back to me again, "that -they've put a new man in your place at the -Museum, over a year ago, a Frenchman; and that -Vio has given them all your prints and etchings -for a William Harrowby Memorial—that's what -she called it—she had to do something of the sort -after your tragic end, in common decency; and -you considered a hero, something like Rupert -Brooke and Alan Seeger, and now what's it to -be—and you alive?" A dramatic gesture seemed -to claim this confusion as something for which -Fate had made her specially responsible. "Lulu, -take me away, for Heaven's sake! I shall never -look at a Chinese rug again without thinking—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the two ladies, with arms around each -other's waist, had passed into the hallway, and -out of sight, I turned to my colleagues, saying -merely:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we'd better roll these up and beat it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither made any comment till we were in the -lorry on our way back to Creed & Creed's, when -one of them said in an awe-stricken tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the love o' Mike, Brogan, ain't your -name—</span><em class="italics">Brogan</em><span>?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Two mornings later I was in Boston, sitting -in the lobby of one of the great hotels. I -had come by order of a telegram from my -brother-in-law, Wolf Torrance. A note handed me on my -arrival, late the previous evening, requested me -to wait for him before attempting to see Violet. -From her I had had nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had come as I was, with the hundred and -thirty dollars of my savings in my pocket, but -without taking the time to dress otherwise than -in my working-man's best. Examining myself -closely, now that I was face to face with my old -life again, I could see that by imperceptible -degrees my whole appearance had taken on those -shades which distinguish the working-man from -men in more sophisticated walks in life. Vio -Harrowby as the wife of a working-man, or of -any one looking like a working-man, was an -inconceivable image.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My leaving New York had been made simpler -for me than I could have ventured to hope. -Whatever the tale told by the lads who had -accompanied me to East Seventy-sixth Street, it -had awed the luggers, impressed the salesmen, -and reached the ears of the Olympian gods. It -was not often, I fancy, that Creed & Creed's -was the scene of mystery. That there was a -secret about me every one knew, of course; but -it had been connected with vague romantic tales -of squandering the family estate, of cheating at -cards, or of other forms of aristocratic misdoings. -So long as I didn't put on airs, and answered -submissively to the name of Brogan, this was not -laid up against me or treated otherwise than as -a misfortune. Now that an explanation seemed -to be coming to the light the effect, for that -morning at least, was to strike my comrades dumb. -They stared at me, but kept at a respectful -distance, somewhat like school-boys with one of -their number smitten by domestic calamity. -Salesmen who, except for an order to pull out or -put back a rug, had never taken the trouble to -notice me, came and engaged me in polite -conversation, while one or two of the partners made -errands into the shop on purpose, as I surmised, -to get a look at me. The single moment that -could have been called dramatic fell to the Floater, -who came in, during the forenoon, with a telegram -and a special-delivery letter in his hand. They -had been sent to Creed & Creed's, since that was -my only known address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose these wouldn't be for you," was -the Floater's choice of words, as he offered them -for my inspection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The telegram was for William Harrowby, the -letter to William Harrowby, Esquire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my name, my real name," I admitted, humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was natural for him to hide his curiosity -under a veil of sputtering disdain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought it'd be. Never did take stock in -that damfool name you give when you first come -here. 'Twa'n't fit for a dog or a horse—and you -goin' just as easy by the name o' Brogan. -Couldn't any one </span><em class="italics">see</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to what any one could see I didn't inquire, -being too eager to open my telegram. Though -I scarcely hoped that it could be from Vio my -heart sank a little when I saw that it was not.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Come at once. Stay at the Normandy. -Wait for me before seeing Violet. Explanations -expected. J. DEWOLFE TORRANCE."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The spirit of the letter was different. Bearing -neither formal beginning nor signature, it was -dated from the house in East Seventy-sixth Street.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I am so glad for your sake. Though I do not -understand, I have confidence. I have always -had confidence—without understanding. Some -day, perhaps, you will tell me; but that shall be -as you please. Just now I only want you to know -that almost from the beginning of our acquaintance -I thought you had a wife. I can't tell you -how or why the conviction was borne in on me; -but it was. Possibly I was interested in you for -her sake a little, with that kind of secret -sisterhood which more or less binds all women together, -and which is not inconsistent with the small -mutual irritations we classify as feline. In any case -I knew it—or I so nearly knew it as to be able to -take it for granted. If you go back to your home, -then, you will have more than my good wishes, -you will both have them. Should there be -anything to keep you apart you will have more than -my good wishes still. Don't ask me why I say -these things, because I scarcely know. Don't try -to interpret me, either, for you are extremely -likely to be wrong. In our talks together you -must have seen that I am in rebellion against -being bound by other people's rules of conduct, -and as far as I have the courage I brave the -inferences drawn from what I do. My weakness -is that I have not much courage. All the same, -as I want to give you a kind of blessing in this -new turn in your life, I keep repeating of you -some words which I think must come from Tennyson:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Go forth, and break through all,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Till one shall crown thee, far in the spiritual city.'"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This letter, too, made my leaving New York -easier. Possibly it was written with that intent. -"Don't try to interpret me," she had said, and -I saw the wisdom of following the counsel. As -a matter of fact the new turn to the wheel taxed -my mental resources to the utmost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As nearly as I could judge, those mental -resources were normal again. My return to the -old conditions I can only compare to waking -from a drugged unconsciousness. The repair -of a broken telegraphic or telephonic connection -might also give an idea of what had taken place -in me. Re-establishment effected, messages went -simply; that was all I could say. The mental -rest induced by two years of physical exertion, -with little or no thought for the morrow from any -point of view, had apparently given the -ruptured brain cells the time to reconstruct -themselves. Physiologically I may be expressing -myself inexactly; but that is of no moment. What -is important is the fact that from the instant -when Alice Mountney said, "You're Billy -Harrowby," the complete function of the brain -seemed to be resumed. There was no more in -the nature of a shock than there is in -remembering anything else forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More difficult to become accustomed to were -the outward conditions. Having accepted the -habits of poverty, those of financial ease seemed -alien. They were uncomfortable, too, like an -outlandish style of dress. To sleep in a luxurious -bed, to order whatever I chose for breakfast, was -as odd for me as a reversion to laces and ruffles -in my costume. There was a marvelous thrill -in it, however, with a sense of trembling -anticipation. A soul on the outer edge of paradise, -after a life of vicissitude and stint, would -doubtless have some such vision of abundance and -peace as that which filled my horizon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before Christian arrives at the Celestial -City which is in sight he is reminded that a few -difficulties remain to be faced, and in some such -light I regarded the interview with Wolf. He -came at last, pushing round the revolving door, -and standing on the threshold with a searching -look in his silly, hungry eyes. Hatted and -fur-coated, he had that air of divine right to all that -was best on earth which was one of the qualities -that, to me at least, had always made him -unbearable. Perhaps because I had had the same -conviction about myself I could tolerate it less -in him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one called him Wolf, partly because of -his name, but more because he looked like the -animal. With a jaw extraordinarily long and -narrow, emphasized rather than concealed by a -beard trimmed carefully to a point, his smile lit -up a row of gleaming upper teeth best described -as fangs. His small eyes were at once eager, -greedy, and fatuous; and yet there was that in -his personality which stamped him as of -recognized social superiority. In the same way that -a picture can be spoken of as a poor example of a -good school, Wolf might have been reckoned -as a second-rate specimen of a thoroughbred -stock. Even as he stood you would have put -him down as belonging to the higher strata in any -community, and in sheer right of his forebears a -member of the best among its clubs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instead of going forward and making myself -known I allowed him to discover me. It was one -more proof of my having changed that more than -once his eye traveled over me without -recognition. It must be remembered that I was no -longer seedy; I was only different. It was not -the degree but the kind that put him out of his -reckoning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When in the end he selected me from the crowd -it was rather as a possibility than as his very man. -Coming forward with that inquiring, and yet -doubtful, air which people take on when scarcely -able to believe what they see, he halted with a -bland, incredulous smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With feelings in no wise different from those -of a man charged with a crime of which he knows -himself guilty, I struggled to my feet:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Wolf!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wolfs small eyes roamed from my head to my -feet and from my feet to my head before he spoke -again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you've decided to come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grin that accompanied these words was -partly nervous, but partly due to his pose of -taking life as the kind of joke which he was -man-of-the-world enough to appreciate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you see," I responded, with a sickly grin -on my own part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In some lifeless manner we shook hands, after -which I asked him to be seated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On his taking off his hat I observed that during -the three years and more since I had seen him -last he had grown bald, while, with something of -a pang, I wondered for the first time if I should -find a change in Vio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you come before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should have come if I could. As a matter -of fact, I couldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't—why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't know where to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly what it says."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you didn't know where to—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tapped my forehead. "Had a—had -a—shock—or something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His gleaming smile was saved from ferocity -only by being inane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Went dotty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great Scott! But why—why didn't some -one let us know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They couldn't. I—I seem to have taken -care of that. Perhaps I'd better—better tell you -all about it, that is, as far as I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded, taking out his cigar-case and offering -me a cigar. When I declined it he took one -himself, bit off the end, lighted it, and in general -carried himself as if my approaching confidences -wouldn't matter much. I resented this the less, -knowing it to be his attitude toward every one -and everything. All that I cared for was that -he should be in a position to give a correct account -to Violet, in case she insisted on hearing his -report before seeing me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You remember how I came to go over and -join the American Ambulance Corps in France?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said he did not remember it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I didn't do it of my own accord. I—I -loathed the idea. If we'd been in the war at the -time of course I should have done anything I -could; but we were not in the war. As a -matter of fact, if Vio had only let me wait I -could have been of more use in my own particular line."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean what we used to call the old-woman line."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you choose to put it that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you put it in that way yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a feeble joke, yes. But we'll let that pass. -All I mean is that as head of the Department of -Textiles in the Museum of Fine Arts I knew a lot -of a subject that became of great importance when -we went into the war; so that, if Vio had waited—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio," he grinned, "was like a bunch of other -women who'd caught the fever of sacrifice, what? -When all their swell lady friends in England and -France were giving up their dear ones, they didn't -want not to be in the swim. Don't think I didn't -go through it, old chap. Vio was simply crazy -to give up a dear one. Before she'd got you she'd -been after me. When Hilda Swain drove her -two sons into being stokers in the navy, and -killed one of them with the unaccustomed work, -I thought Vio would go off her chump with a sense -of her uselessness to a great cause. Those were -days when to be Vio's dear one meant to go in -danger of your life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hundred memories crowded in on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think that was it? It wasn't that—that -she wanted to get rid of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His answer struck me oddly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit of it, not then. Lord, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I repressed the questions these words called -up, taking a minute to think the situation over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At any rate, I went," I continued, with -outward calm. "It was after a rather stormy scene -with Vio, in which she said she thought she had -married a man and not a nervous old lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she said worse than that to me, lots cf -times, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but you weren't her husband; and you -were not desperately in love with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Often thought Vio was like one of those -queer-mixed cocktails that 'll set chaps off their nuts -who'll take a tumbler of whisky neat and never -turn a hair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something in that," I agreed; "but -it makes the kind of woman whose contempt is -the harder to put up with. When she began -handing it out to me—well, I went. That's all -there is to be said about it. You tell me that -Vio wanted to sacrifice a dear one; and she did. -I was no more fit for the job I undertook -than—than little Bobby would have been if he'd lived -till then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's another thing. Vio should have had -more children, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well! She didn't want them. When -little Bobby went she said she couldn't go through -it all a second time, and so— But I'm trying to -tell you what happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I narrated my experiences in the Ambulance -Corps in words that have been so often given in -print that it is not worth while to repeat them. -What has not so frequently been recorded, -because not every one has felt it to the same degree, -is the racking of spirit, soul, and body by the -unrelieved horror of the days and nights. I -suppose I must own to being in regard to all this more -delicately constituted than the majority of men. -There were others like me, but they were -relatively not numerous. Of them, too, we hear -little, partly because not all of those who survived -like to confess the weakness, and few survived. -If it were possible to get at the facts I think it -would be found that among those who sickened -and died a large proportion were predisposed -by sheer inability to go on living any longer -in this world of men. I could give you the -names of not a few in whom the soul was -stricken before the body was. They were for -the most part sensitively organized fellows, -lovers of the beautiful, and they simply couldn't -live. Officially their deaths are ascribed to -pneumonia or to something else; but the real -cause, while right on the surface, was beyond -the doctor's diagnosis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I didn't sicken; and I didn't die; I wasn't even -wounded. What happened was that at -Bourg-la-Comtesse a shell came down in the midst of a -bunch of us who were stretching our limbs and -washing up after a night in a stifling dugout -... and some time during the following twenty-four -hours I recovered consciousness, lying on my -belly in the darkness, with my face buried in the -damp grass of a meadow, like a dead man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lay for ten or fifteen minutes trying to -reconstruct the happenings that had put me there, -and to convince myself that I was unhurt. -Except for a beast munching not far away, no living -thing seemed to be near me. On the left the -ruined walls of Bourg-la-Comtesse were barely -visible through the starlight, while to my right -a jagged row of tree-tops fringed the sky-line. -In the velvety blackness in front of me the stars -were dimmed by shells hanging over No Man's -Land, Verey lights, darting upward, and radiant -bursts of shrapnel. I remembered that our -section had halted at an </span><em class="italics">abri</em><span> a little to the west of -the village, and dragging myself from the ground -forced my chilled limbs to carry me toward the -spot where some of my comrades might be left alive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But whether I mistook the way, or whether -they had gone off leaving me for dead, I was -unable to explain to Wolf. I only know that I -walked and walked, and found no one. The -world had been suddenly deserted. Except for -an occasional horse or cow, that paused in its -grazing to watch me pass, or the scurrying of -some small wild thing through a hedge, I seemed -the only creature astir. Dead villages, dead -châteaux, dead farms, dead gardens, dead forests, -dead lorries, dead tanks, dead horses, dead men, -and a dead self, or a self that had only partially -come back to life, were the features of that lonely -tramp through the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With no other aim than a vague hope of -joining up again with my section I plodded on till -dawn. Though my watch had run down, and -there was no change as yet in the light, I knew -when dawn was approaching by a sleepy twitter -in a hedge. Another twitter awoke a few yards -farther on, and then another and another. -Presently the whole countryside was alive, not with -song, but with that chirrupy hymn to Light which -always precedes the sunrise, and ceases before the -sun has risen. Wandering away from the front, -by instinct, not on purpose, I was now in a region -relatively untouched by calamity, with grapes -hard and green in the vineyards and poppies in -the ripening wheat-fields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between eight and nine I reached a village, -where I breakfasted at a wine-shop, explaining -myself as an American charged with a mission -that was taking me across country. Stray -soldiers being common, I had no harder task than -to profit by the sympathy accorded to my -British-seeming uniform. So I tramped on again, -and on, always with a stupefied half-idea of -finding my section, but with no real motive in my -mind. If I had a real motive it was in a dull, -blind, animal instinct to get away from the -brutality in which I had been living for the past six -months, even though I knew I should be headed -off and turned back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I wasn't. In that land of agony I went -my way unheeded. I also went my way unheeding. -It was the beginning of the more or less -pointless pilgrimages I made later in New York. -To my anguished nervous system there was a -soothing quality in being on the move. So on -the move I kept, hardly knowing why, except -that it was to get away from what was right -behind me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet I had clearly the impression that I was -merely enjoying a breathing spell. I didn't mean -to run away. I knew I was Billy Harrowby, and -that for my very name's sake I must return to my -task at the first minute possible. It was only not -possible, because as I continued my aimless -drifting along the roads I got farther away from my -starting-point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Absolute mental confusion must have come by -such gradual transitions that I have no memory -of the stages of the change. I do recall that at -a certain time and place I came to an -understanding with myself that Billy Harrowby had -been blown to bits by a shell near Bourg-la-Comtesse, -and that I, who wore his uniform and carried -his letter of credit in my pocket, was no more -than his astral shape stalking through a world -from which he had departed. To get rid of this -astral shape, to get rid of everything that -pertained to the man who had passed through horrors -that would turn all future living into nightmare, -began to seem to me a necessary task. Only by -doing this could Billy Harrowby's ghost be laid, -and the phantasms that walked with it dispelled. -By the time I reached Tours the hallucination -had assumed the form of a consecrated duty, and -to it I applied myself as to some holy ceremonial rite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In narrating this to Wolf some of the old -vividness came back to me. I saw myself again -inspecting all the environs of Tours—Plessis-lès-Tours, -Marmoutiers, Laroche-sur-Loire, and as -far away as the junction at St.-Pierre—for -suitable spots in which to lay Billy Harrowby down -and become my real self. In the end I selected -a small stream, the Padrille I think it is called, -which flows into the Loire a mile or two beyond -Plessis. There is a spot there where the stream -flows through a wood, and there is a spot on the -stream's bank where wood is denser than it is -elsewhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having selected this as the scene of Billy -Harrowby's exit, the rest of my plans became easy. -For two or three days I busied myself with -discreetly purchasing a new outfit. I remember -that it was a point of honor with me not to be too -spendthrift with Billy Harrowby's cash, seeing -that for the man who was to survive, anything, -however modest, would be enough. Further than -separating myself from the unhappy ambulance-driver -who had seen such dreadful things since -arriving in France I had no ambitions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The purchases made, it was a simple matter to -carry them to the bank of the Padrille and change -completely. A soldier entered on one side of the -Bois de Guènes, a civilian came out on the other. -Neither soldier nor civilian was of interest to a -people rejoicing in the news that the French had -captured that morning the whole line of the Dent -de la Ponselle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the Bois de Guènes I walked to the junction -with the main line at St.-Pierre, and there -the trail of my memories is lost. I have no -recollection of taking the name of Jasper Soames, -though I can see easily enough why I should have -done it. When it became necessary to call -myself something I seized the first bit of wreckage -from the past that my mind could catch hold of. -The name was there as a name, even when all its -associations had disappeared beneath the waves -that had swept over me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the interval between taking the train at -St.-Pierre, probably to go southward toward -Bordeaux, and my waking on board the </span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span> -I have as yet only such fragments of memory as -one retains of dreams. Even that which stands -out is shadowy, uncertain, evanescent. It is -without context. No one fragment is substantial -enough for me to be sure of it as pertaining -to a fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Facts began for me anew at the instant when -I opened my eyes in the cabin and saw Drinkwater -shaving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Funny, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wolf did not make this observation till some -minutes after I had ceased. During the interval -of silence, as during the half-hour of my narrative, -his grin played on me like a searchlight. As I -have already said, I didn't resent this because of -knowing his smile to be a kind of nervous rictus of -the lips which he was no longer able to control; -and yet the silly comment nettled me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's funny about it?" I asked, coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing! Just—just the whole thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you think the whole thing's funny—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, not in that sense, not comic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing—nothing! I was only wondering—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I didn't find out what Wolf was wondering -till later. In the mean while I gave him a brief -account of my doings in New York, leading up -to the day when Alice Mountney had "discovered" -me. When I came to that he rose, eying -me all over as he had done at first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a queer kind of rig—" he began, with -his everlasting jocularity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the kind of rig I've been wearing," I -replied, sharply. "Good enough for its purpose. -I shall get something else as soon as I've had time -to go to the tailor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd go soon," was his only remark, as he left -me to repeat to Vio what he could remember of -my tale.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was after lunch before I was summoned to -the telephone, to hear Wolf's voice at the -other end. Vio would see me at three. I was -to understand that my being alive had been a -shock to her, and therefore all this ceremonial!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a quarter to three I started to walk across -the Common to the old Soames house on Beacon -Hill. It occurred to me then that if for the living -it is a strange sensation when the dead come back, -for the dead it is a stranger sensation still. Not -till I set out on this errand had I understood how -dead I had been. I had been dead and buried; -I had been mourned for and forgotten; Vio had -finished her grieving and returned to every-day -life. For anything I knew, she might be -contemplating remarriage. Alice Mountney had -said that when people were dead it was better for -them to stay dead; and I began to fear it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beacon Hill, as I drew near it, struck me as an -illustration of that changing of the old order of -which all the inner springs seemed to be within -myself. It was no longer the Beacon Hill of my -boyhood. It was not even the Beacon Hill of the -year when I went away. To those who had -stayed on the spot and watched the transformation -taking place little difference might be apparent; -but to me, with my newly awakened faculties, -it was like coming back in autumn to a -garden visited in spring. The historic State House -had deployed a pair of huge white wings, to make -room for which familiar landmarks round about -it had for the most part disappeared. All down -the slope toward the level land the Georgian and -Early Victorian mansions were turning into shops -and clubs. The old Soames house, with occasional -panes of purple glass in otherwise normal -windows, was flanked on one side by a bachelors' -chambers and on the other by an antique-shop. -One of the few old houses in Boston still in the -hands of people connected with the original -owners, it had been purchased by Vio's father -from the heirs of his mother's family, while Vio's -trustees had in their turn bought out Wolf's -share in it. Four-square, red, with a fine white -Doric portico over which a luxuriant wistaria -trained, it suggested, as I approached it now, old -furniture, old books, old pictures, old wines, old -friendships, and all the easy, well-ordered life -out of which we were called by the pistol-shot -of Sarajevo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My nervousness in crossing the street and -ringing the door-bell was augmented by that sense, -from which I was never free, of being guilty of a -stupidity so glaring as almost to amount to crime. -No ex-convict returning from the penitentiary -could have had a more hangdog conviction of -coming back to where he was no longer wanted -than I in wiping my cheap boots on Vio's -handsome door-mat. If I found any solace in the -moments of waiting for an answer to my ring it -was in noticing that the doorway needed paint -and that nothing in the approach to the house -was quite so spick and span as formerly. I call -this a solace only because it helped to bring Vio -nearer me by making her less supremely mistress -than she used to be of everything best in the world. -I noticed the same thing when the door was -opened by a cheery English man-servant of sixty-odd, -who was too gaily captain of his soul to be -the perfect butler of the old regime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't see you," was his offhand response, -when I had asked for Mrs. Harrowby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think she'll see </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, myte, and I'll tell you why. She's kind -o' expectin' of 'er 'usband like. Excuse me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The politeness was called forth by his shutting -the door in my face, compelling me to speak -plainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Mrs. Harrowby's husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The absurdities in my situation were dramatized -in the expressions that ran successively over -the man's face. Amazement having followed -on incredulity, apology followed on amazement. -As I was still too near to Pelly, Bridget, and the -Finn to separate myself from the servants hall, -my sympathy was with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right, old chap," I found myself -saying, with a hand on the astonished henchman's -shoulder. "Just tell Mrs. Harrowby I'm here. -She'll find me in the library."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was purely to convince Boosey, that was his -name, of my right to enter that I tossed my hat -on the hat-rack peg and walked to the coat-closet -with my overcoat. With the same air of authority -I marched into the long, dim library, where my -legs began to tremble under me and my head to swim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps because I had not yet had time to -think of this room in particular, I experienced -my first sensation of difficulty or unreality in -getting back the old conceptions. It was not alone -my head that swam, but the room. If you imagine -yourself sailing through a fog and drawing an -approaching ship out of the bank by sheer mental -effort of your own, you will understand what I -mean. In ordinary conditions you have only to -watch the ship making itself more and more -distinct; in my case the ship did nothing. It was -as if I had to build it plank by plank and sail by -sail in order to see it at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could do this, even if I did it painfully. The -room came into being, mistily, tremblingly, while -my head ached with the effort. Taking a few -steps here, there, gazing about me at haphazard, -the remembered objects appeared one by one—the -desks, the arm-chairs, the rows of books, the -portraits, the fireplace, in which there was a -slumbering fire. Over the mantelpiece hung Zuloaga's -portrait of Vio, which always raised discussion -wherever it was exhibited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had reached this point at the end of the room -when a low stifled cry came from the corner by -the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Billy, is this you?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-39"> -<span id="all-these-minutes-she-had-been-observing-me"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="All these minutes she had been observing me, with that queer, half-choked cry as the result: "Oh, Billy, is this you?"" src="images/img-242.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">All these minutes she had been observing me, with that queer, half-choked cry as the result: "Oh, Billy, is this you?"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vio had been sitting there watching me. Had -I been able instantly to reconstruct the room I -should have seen her instantly; but all these -minutes she had been observing me, with that queer, -half-choked cry as the result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cannot tell you now how long we stared at -each other, she in the arm-chair, I on the -hearth-rug; but once more the new brain-cells acted -sluggishly I knew that this slender, picturesque -creature, swathed in soft black satin, with a little -white about the open throat line, was Vio, and -that Vio was my wife. But I knew it as something -remembered, not as an existing fact. I knew it as -a ghost might know that another ghost had married -him, and that they had once lived intimately -side by side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You must not think from this that there was no -emotion. There was tremendous emotion, only -it was not the emotion of love after long separation. -If it was that there were too many elements -in it to allow pent-up passion the immediate right -of way. Pent-up passion was stemmed by the -realization of what my coming back must mean -to the woman before me. For her I had been -three years in my grave. As Alice Mountney -had put it, she had been in mourning for me—and -out again. It was the out again that created -this thickened atmosphere between her and me. -What had been all over, finished and done with -she had to begin again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I had not come back to her as I had gone -away. I had come back—entirely to the -outward eye and somewhat in my heart—not as the -smart young fellow of Lydia Blair's recollection, -but as a working-man. The metamorphosis -rendered me in some ways more akin to Boosey the -butler than to my former self. I had acquired -an art that made it possible for me to go into the -servants' sitting-room and be at home in the -company I should find there. The people in the -front of the house had to some extent become to -me as the Olympian gods at Creed & Creed's, -exalted beings with whom I had little to do -outside the necessities of work and pay. This change -in me was more than superficial; and whatever -it was Vio saw it. For her the meeting was -harder than for me; and for me it was like a -backward revolution of the years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after she had clung to me and cried a little, -the tensity was broken. As I analyze now, I see -the impulse that urged us into each other's arms -as one of memory. For her, I was the man who -had been, as she was the woman who had been, -for me. She, however, had the help of pity, -while I was humble and overawed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was one of those moments when so many -things begin again that it is hard to seize on any. -The simplest being the easiest, she said, after -having detached herself from me and got back some -measure of her self-control:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about your things? Have you brought them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little I have is at the hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both question and answer came out absently -while we looked at each other with a new kind of -inspection. The first had been of the self within; -now it was of the outer self. I should have -shrunk from the way in which her eyes traveled -over me had not my whole mind gone into the -examination I was making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes; she had changed, though I cannot say -that it was in the way of looking older. Rather -she had grown to resemble Zuloaga's portrait of -her, which we had always considered too theatrical. -Zuloaga had emphasized all her most startling -traits—her slenderness, sinuousity, and -fantastic grace—her immense black eyes, of which -he alone of all the men who had painted her had -caught the fire that had been compared to that -of the black opal—the long, narrow face that was -like Wolf's, except for being mysterious and -baffling—the mouth, haunted by memories that -might have survived from another incarnation, -since there had been nothing in her present life -to correspond to them. You could speak of her -as being beautiful only in the sense of being -strange, with an appeal less to the eye than to the -imagination. More akin to fire than to flesh, she -was closer to spirit than to fire. It might have -been a perverse, tortured spirit, but it was far -from the merely animal. Discriminating people -called it her salvation to have married a humdrum -chap like me, since, with a man of more temperament, -she would have clashed too outrageously. -High-handed and intense, she needed some one -seemingly to yield to her caprices, correcting -them under the guise of giving in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like others of tempestuous nature, when she -was gentle her gentleness was heavenly. She -was gentle in that way now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Billy, and let me look at you. -Why didn't you bring your things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know that you wanted me to do that, -or that—that we were to—to begin again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course we shall begin again. What made -you think we shouldn't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't think so. I simply didn't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did Alice Mountney, or Wolf, tell you anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a curious significance in the tone, -but I let it pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that you'd—you'd given me up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else could I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were sitting half turned toward each other -on one of the library sofas, and I seized both her -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But now that I'm back, Vio, are you—are you—glad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though she allowed her hands to remain in -mine there was a flash of the black-opal fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not so simple as being glad, Billy. The -word isn't relevant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Relevant to what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean that you can't sum up such a situation -as this by being either glad or sorry. We've other -things to consider."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely that comes first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither first nor second. The only question -we've got to ask for the minute is what we're to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I thought that was settled—that you -wanted me to come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's settled in the way that getting up in the -morning is settled; but that doesn't tell you the -duties of the day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose one can only meet the duties of the -day by going on and seeing what they are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly; and isn't that our first consideration—the -going on? It doesn't matter whether -we're glad or sorry, since we mean to go on, or -try to go on—anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Releasing her hands I dropped back into my -own corner of the sofa, scanning the refined -features more at my ease, for the reason that her -face was slightly averted and her eyes turned to -the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want you to go on, Vio, if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've thought everything over," she declared -in her imperious way, "and made up my mind -that it was the only thing for me to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you had thought that—that perhaps -you—you couldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded slowly, without looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd made other—plans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't that so much; it was—it was -thinking of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thinking of me—from what point of view?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From the point of view of—of what you've -done." She glanced at me now, quickly, -furtively, as if trying to spare me the pain of -scrutiny. "Oh, Billy, I'm so sorry for—for my share -in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you take your share to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The share of responsibility. When I urged -you to go—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As it happened, I should have gone anyhow. -When this country had entered the war I should -have been under the same obligation as any other man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would have been different. When our -men were taken there was discrimination. Each -was selected for what he was best fitted to do. -A great deal of pains was given to that, and I -can't tell you how I suffered when I saw that if -I'd only left you alone you could have contributed -the thing you knew most about. That's why I -feel so strongly that, now you've come back—even -in this sort of disguise—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not in disguise, Vio. The way you see me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The motion of her long, slender hand was partly -of appeal and partly of dismissal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to hear about that, Billy. If -we're to begin again there are things we mustn't -talk about. Since you've done this extraordinary -thing, and I may be said to have driven you -into it, I want to stand by you. Isn't that -enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was so much in this little speech that I -couldn't do it justice at once. All I found -myself able to say was:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, Vio: Is the extraordinary thing my -staying away—or my coming back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again there was that pleading, commanding -gesture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Billy, don't. I'm willing to try to pick -up the past; but it must be the past, not what's -happened in the mean time." She rose with that -supple grace which suggested the Zuloaga pose. -"Go back to the hotel and get your things. I—I -can't bear to see you looking as you are. When -you're more like yourself—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tried to smile, but I know the effort was no -more than a twisted quivering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to see me looking as I am for a -few days yet, Vio. My kit doesn't offer me much -variety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She accepted this as part of the inevitable -strangeness in which she had become enveloped, -making silent, desperate concessions. Because -of this mood I was tempted to ask for five -minutes' grace in order to look over the old house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll find things rather run down," she said, -indifferently. "I've no good servants any more. -They said that when the war was over it would -be easier to get them; but it's a month now since -the armistice was signed, and it's just as bad as ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From that point of view, it will probably be -worse," I remarked, when about to pass from the -library into the hall. "The world isn't going -back to what it was before the war. You can't -stop an avalanche once it has begun to slide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She watched me from where she stood before -the fire, reproducing almost exactly the attitude -of the fascinating woman overhead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does that mean that you've come back a -revolutionist, Billy? as well as everything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"N-no; I haven't come back anything in particular. -I'm just like you and all the rest of the -world, a snowflake in the avalanche. I suppose -I shall go tumbling with the mass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sense of something outlived came to me as -I roamed through the house which Vio allowed -me to visit by myself. After two years spent in -a squint-eyed room of which the only decoration -was three painted fungi this mellow beauty stirred -me to a vague irritation. It was not a real -dwelling for real people in the real world as the real -world had become. It was too rich and soft and -long established in its place. Three or four -generations of Soameses and Torrances had stored -its rooms with tapestries, portraits, old -porcelains, and mahoganies; and for America that is -much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over the landing where the stairway turned -hung the famous Copley of Jasper Soames. For -a good two minutes he and I faced each other in -unspeakable communion. There was nothing -between us but this stairway acquaintance, formed -during the three years Vio and I had lived -together; and yet somehow his being had stamped -itself into mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the floors above there was the same -well-chosen abundance of everything, sufficiently -toned down by use and time to merit the word -shabby. That was the note that struck me first, -and surprised me. Vio had never been what is -commonly known as a good housekeeper; but -she had commanded and been obeyed. What -the house betrayed now was a diminution of the -power of command. Doubtless money didn't go -as far as it used to; and there was a new spirit in -the world as to taking orders. I thought again -of the garden revisited in autumn. The old house -might be said to have fulfilled its long mission, -and to be ready to pass away with the age of -which it was a type.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To go into my own room and find it empty -and swept of every trace of my habitation would -have been a stranger experience than it was if -every experience that day had not been strange. -I looked into the wardrobes; I pulled open the -drawers. There was not a garment, not a scrap -of paper to indicate that I had ever been alive. -Not till I saw this did I realize the completeness -with which Vio had buried me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And not till I saw this did I realize that Vio -herself was up against the first big struggle of her -life. She had never hitherto faced what might -be called a moral situation. Her history had -been that of any other well-off girl in a city like -Boston, where money and position entitled her -to whatever was best in the small realm. American -civilization, like that of the Italy of the -Middle Ages, being civic and not national, the -boundaries of Boston, with its suburbs and seaside -resorts, had formed the limits of Vio's horizon. -True, she had spent a good deal of time in -Europe—but always as a Bostonian. She had made -periodical visits to Newport, Bar Harbor, Palm -Beach, and White Sulphur Springs—but always -as a Bostonian. Once she had traveled as far on -the American continent as California—but still -as a Bostonian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Boston sufficed for Vio, seeing that it was -big enough to give her variety, and swell enough -to permit her to shine with little competition. -Competition irked her, for the reason that she -despised taking trouble. With the exception of -a toilet exact to the last detail of refinement, -her life was always at loose ends. She rarely -answered letters; she rarely returned calls; she -never kept accounts; if she began a book she -didn't finish it. Adoring little Bobby during the -months of his brief life, she found the necessities -of motherhood unbearable. That she was as a -rule picturesquely unhappy was due to the fact -of having nothing on which to whet her spiritual -mettle. Like a motor working while the motor-car -stands still, she churned herself into action -that got nowhere as a result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now for the first time in her life she was -face to face with a great, big personal problem. -How big and great the problem was I didn't at -the time understand. All I could see was that -she was meeting her baptism of fire, and that I -was the means of the ministration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pushing open the door between her room and -mine I received again the impression of almost -awesome privilege I had got on our return from -our honeymoon. I had never been at my ease -in this room; it was Vio's sanctuary, her fastness. -It was a Soames and Torrance sanctuary and -fastness, and to it I had only been admitted, not -given its freedom as a right. Possibly the feeling -that always came to me on crossing its threshold, -that I stepped out of my own domain, betokened -the missing strand in the tie that had bound Vio -and me together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a trial to me that she should be so -much better off than I. Not only did it leave -the less for me to do for her, but it created in her -a spirit of detachment against which I chafed in -vain. Out of the common fund of our marriage -she made large reserves of herself, as she might -have made reserves—which she did not—of her -income. Our beings were allied, but they were -not fused. For fusion she had too much that she -prized to give away. In such quantity as I could -give she made return to me; but having so much -more than I to give, her reserves became -conspicuous. Of what she withheld this room was the -symbol. It was never my room. My comings -and goings there had been made with a kind of -reverence, as if the place were a shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only abiding note of my personality had -been my photograph at the head of Vio's bed. -There was a photograph there now, but I saw that -the frame was different. Mine had been in a -silver frame; this was in red-brown leather. If -it was still mine...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was not mine. It was that of a colonel -in an American uniform, wearing British and -French decorations. Big, portly, handsome, -bluff, with an empty left sleeve, he revealed -himself as a hero. He was a hero, while I ... It -occurred to me that death was not the only means -of giving Vio her freedom, and that I ought to -tell her so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To do that I was making my way down-stairs -with the words framing themselves on my lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio," I meant to say, "if you don't want me -back, if anything has happened to make it best -for me to go away again forever, you've only to -say the word and I'll do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But while I was still descending she swept into -the hall. Her movements were always rapid, -with a careless, commanding ease. She was once -more the Zuloaga woman all on fire within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long do you think it will be, Billy, before -your tailor can make you look as you ought to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I paused where I was, some three steps above -her. "It may hardly be worth while to consider -that, Vio—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but it is," she interrupted. "If we're -going to put this thing through we must do it with -some dash. That's essential."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—why the dash?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because there's no other way of doing it. -Don't you see? If you just come in by the -back door—" She left this sentiment to -continue in her own way. "Alice Mountney is -going to give a big dinner and invite all your -old friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart sank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that necessary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it's necessary. It isn't a matter of -preference. As far as that goes it will be as hard -for me as for you. If I took my own way I should -never—" Once more she left me to divine her -thought while she added, firmly: "It has simply -got to be done. We must make people think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" I challenged, when she paused, not -apparently from lack of words but from fear of -using them. A suspicion impelled me to say in -addition, "How much did Wolf repeat to you of -the story I told him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her answer was made with the storm in the -eyes that was always my warning of danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As much as I'd let him. I didn't want to -hear any more. I never shall. That part of it -is closed. I've told you already that I accept the -responsibility, and I do. You mayn't think it, -but I have a conscience of a kind; and I know -that if it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have -done this thing; and so— But there we are again. -There we shall always be if we allow ourselves to -discuss it. You're my husband, Billy; I'm your -wife. We can't get away from that, whatever -has happened—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We could get away from it, if you preferred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I prefer," she declared, with her -old-time hauteur, "is what I'm asking you to do. -If I didn't prefer it I shouldn't ask for it. Go -back to the hotel and get your things. Go to -the tailor and get more. Your room is waiting -for you. It will be the next room to mine, just -as before with only the door—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The closed door, Vio?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Between us," she finished, ignoring my -question. "If other things arrange themselves we -can—we can reopen it—in time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we left it, since it was useless to go on. That -she should consider my mental lapse so terrible -a disgrace was a surprise to me; but as I so -considered it myself I could not blame another for -taking the same point of view. After all, a man -should show a man's nerve. Thousands, millions -of men, had shown it to the limit and beyond. -I hadn't; that was all that could be said -about it. How could Vio, how could any one -else, regard me as other than abnormal?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she was making so brave an attempt to put -all this behind her, it became my duty to help -her. This I could do most easily by deflecting -the conversation to the large family connection, -as to which I was without news. She gave me -this news as we stood at the foot of the stairway, -or while I got ready to go out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a relief to learn that none of my brothers -or sisters was in Boston. George, who was older -than myself, was on General Pershing's staff, and -had just been heard of from Luxembourg. Dan, -my junior, had the rank of lieutenant-commander -and was somewhere in European waters. Tom -Cantley, who had married my sister Minna, was -working on the War Trade Board in Washington, -and he and Minna had a house there. Their eldest -boy, Harrowby, had been killed at Château-Thierry, -but as far as any one ever saw Minna -hadn't shed a tear. Ernestine, my unmarried -sister, being one of the founders of the Flag -Raising League, had patriotic duties which took her -all over the United States. Her last letter had -been from Oklahoma or Spokane, Vio was not -sure which, but it was "one of those places out -there." At any rate, they were all a credit to a -name the traditions of which I alone hadn't had -the spirit to live up to. Vio didn't say this, of -course; but it was the inference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the inference, too, with regard to a host -of cousins of the first, second, and third degrees, -by blood and by marriage, who would have made -a small army in themselves. Some were Vio's -kin, and some were mine; some by the chances of -Boston intermarriage were related to us both. -Not one of them but had been modestly heroic, -the women not less than the men. Some had -given their lives, some their limbs or eyesight; all, -their time and money. Even Wolf and Vio had -subscribed to funds till reduced to what they -considered indigence. It was a distinguished clan; -and I its one pitiable member.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix02"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Going back to the hotel, I had my first pang -of regret for having waked up on that -midnight at Bourg-la-Comtesse. It was the same -reflection; the dead were so much wiser in -staying dead. I guessed that during the weeks when -I was missing Vio had mourned for me with a -grief into which a new element had come when my -clothes were found on the bank of the Padrille. -That was a mistake, that my clothes should be -found there. A missing man should be traced -to a prison or a hospital, or remain gloriously -missing. He should have no interval of safety -in which to go in bathing, a hundred miles from -the spot on which he had last been seen alive, not -even to be drowned. There was a mystery in -that which might easily become a flaw in a -soldier's record, and which to a woman as proud as -Vio would be equivalent to dishonor. That there -should be a question of the kind with regard to -her own husband...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I began to do justice to the courage she -displayed. Rising to the occasion in a way I could -only call magnificent, she sank herself, her -opinions, and her plans—I called them plans to -avoid a more definite word—to meet the -imperative in the situation. What lay in the back of -her mind I didn't dare inquire, notwithstanding -the signs that betrayed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet the more splendid her gesture the -deeper my humility at having to call it forth. It -made me like a man, once strong and active, -reduced to living on the doles of the compassionate. -I could never be independent again; I could never -again have the mental freedom of one as to whom -there is nothing unexplained. By a process of -bluff I might carry the thing off; but to that I -felt an unspeakable aversion. It was not that I -was unwilling to second Vio; it was incapacity. -Having been guilty of the indiscretion of waking -at Bourg-la-Comtesse, I began to regret the long, -dull, peaceful routine of Creed & Creed's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I do not assert that these things were as clear -in my mind on that day as they are on this; but -they were there confusedly. Every impression -I received that afternoon was either confused and -painful or strikingly vivid, as to one waking from -an anesthetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of those more vivid one in particular stands -out in my recollection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Returning from the hotel with my suit-case -and bag—the same with which I had landed -from the </span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span>—I heard a man's voice in the -drawing-room up-stairs. The deep, soft tones -told me it was not Wolf's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. 'Arrowby said as you was to go right up, -sir," Boosey informed me, relieving me of my -bags. "I 'ear as you was a prisoner in Germany, -sir," he continued, while making his way to the -coat-closet with my coat. "That's why I didn't -know as it 'd be you when you come this afternoon. -Might I ask, sir, if they throwed beer in your face, -or anything like that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With one foot on the stairs I looked after the -waddling figure retreating down the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who told you that I was a prisoner?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Wolf's man, sir; but"—I am sure there -was a veiled taunt in what followed—-"but if you -wasn't, sir, or if it's a secret—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lost the rest as he became engulfed in the -closet, but I had heard enough. Wolf had taken -his own way to protect the honor of the family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not easy to enter the drawing-room and -face one of Vio's friends; but it was the sort of -thing to which I must learn to steel myself. -Moreover, it might be one of my own friends -come to welcome me back. Vio had informed -me that Wolf had taken steps to keep any -mention of my "discovery" and return out of the -papers; but we were too well known in Boston -not to have the word passed privately. To any -friend's welcome there would be unspoken -reserves; but that I must take for granted and -become accustomed to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, as it happened, it was not a friend of mine; -it was the colonel of the photograph, who had -apparently dropped in for a cup of tea—and -something more. What that something more -might be I could only surmise from Vio's way of -saying, "Here's Mr. Harrowby now." They -had seemingly discussed me, it had seemingly -been necessary for them to discuss me, and taken -a definite attitude toward me. That my wife -should do this with a man who was a stranger to -me, that the circumstances should be such that -it was a duty for them to do it, was the extraordinary -cup of gall given me to drain. I drained it -while Vio went on, with that ease which no one -knew better than I to be sustained on nerve:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, I want you to know Colonel Stroud. -He's just got back from France, and has been -explaining to me how the Allies are to occupy the -Rhineland. Our men are already reaching -Mayence and Coblenz, and he has heard, too, that -the President arrived this morning at Brest. I -suppose it will be in the evening papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we were launched in talk that couldn't hurt -any one; and if my feelings were wounded it was -only by drawing conclusions. They were the -easier to draw from the fact, as I guessed, that -Vio directed the talk in such a way that I could -read between the lines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I gleaned from the give and take of -banalities that dealt on the surface with the current -gossip of the armistice was that Vio and her -colonel had been intimate before he went to -France, and now that he was back with medals -and only a right arm, the friendship had taken -the turn to which such friendships are liable. -That he was one of the Strouds of the famous -Stroud Valley in northern New York put him into -the class with which people like ourselves made -social alliances. When Vio, in the early days of -her supposed widowhood, had met him at Palm -Beach there was nothing to prevent their being -sympathetic to each other. How far that sympathy -had gone I could only conjecture; but it was -easy to see it had gone pretty far.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to what did not come so directly to the -surface, vague recollections began to form themselves -in my mind. I seemed to remember the Stroud -Valley Strouds as a family with a record. Of the -type which in America most nearly resembles the -English or Irish country gentleman, they made -the marrying of heiresses and the spending of the -money thus acquired almost a profession. Horsy, -convivial, and good-looking, they carried -themselves with the cheery liveliness that -acknowledges no account to be given to any one; and -when they got into the divorce court, as they did -somewhat often, women as well as men, they -came out of it with aplomb. I seemed to recall -a scandal that a few years before had diverted -all the clubs....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I couldn't be sure that this was the man, -or of anything beyond the fact that the central -figure of that romance had been a Stroud Valley -Stroud. That this particular instance of the -race had had a history was stamped all over him; -but it was the kind of history which to a man of -the world imparts fascination. It was easy to -see that he had "done things" in many lines of -life. A little the </span><em class="italics">beau mâle</em><span> of the French lady -novelist, and a little the Irish sporting squire, he -was possibly too conscious of his looks and his -power of killing ladies. A bronzed floridness, -due partly to the open air and partly to good -living, was thrown into striking relief by the -silver hair and mustache not incompatible -with relative youth. He couldn't have been -much over forty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His reception to me was as perfect as if -regulated by a protocol and rehearsed to the last -shade. There was nothing in it I could complain -of—and yet there was everything. A gentleman -ignoring a disgraceful situation of which every -one is conscious would have carried himself with -just this air of bland and courteous contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it was to react against this and to -assert myself a little that I ventured once to cross -swords with him. We had exhausted the movements -of troops on the Rhine, the possible -reception of the President in Pans, and he had -given the Peace Conference six months in which -to prepare the treaty for signature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we shall see," he laughed, in his rich, -velvety bass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He brought out the statement so emphatically -that I was moved to ask:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we see?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What Mrs. Harrowby and I have been talking -about, the end of all this rot as to the war having -created a new world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's putting the cart before the horse, isn't -it?" I asked, maliciously. "The war didn't -create the new world; the new world created -the war."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vio's exquisite eyebrows went up a shade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does that mean anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that the volcano creates the explosion; -not the explosion the volcano. Given all the -repressions and suppressions and injustices, the -eruption had to come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The eruption had to come," the colonel -declared, hotly, "because the Germans planned it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that was only a detail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might call the whole war only a detail—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't get you," he said, stiffly, leaning -forward to place an empty cup on the table in front -of Vio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her I read something surprised that didn't, -however, disapprove of me. Thus encouraged, -I went on. If I hadn't thought these things out -in the monotonous, unoccupied hours at Creed -& Creed's, my stunned brain would not have -been master of them now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only meant that the war was but one of the -forces, one of the innumerable forces, which the -new world in the making—it isn't made yet by -any means—has put into operation. If a house -collapses it shatters all the windows; but you -can't say that the shattering of the windows made -the house collapse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could see by his stare he was literally minded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what—what house is collapsing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The house all round us, the house of this -particular form of civilization. It's sliding down. -It's been sliding down for years. You might say -that it began to slide down as soon as it was put -up, because it was wrongly constructed. A building -full of flaws begins to settle before they get -the roof on, and though it may stand for years -the ultimate crash is only a question of time. -War came as soon as our building began to split; -the building didn't begin to split because the war -came. It was splitting anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That seems to me—" he sought for a sufficiently -condemnatory word—"that seems to me -sheer socialism."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't think it is. The Socialists -wouldn't say so. It isn't anything in particular. -It's just—just fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only?" Vio smiled, with her delicate, -penetrating sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only," I echoed. "But as we belong to a -world that doesn't like fact it isn't of much -importance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bewilderment brought a pained expression to -the handsome, rather stupid, countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the—what on earth do you mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that we've a genius for dodging issues -and shutting our eyes to what's straight before us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean the ruin straight before us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not necessarily, Vio. The collapse of this -particular form of civilization wouldn't mean ruin, -because we'd get a better form. I suppose it's -coming into existence now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know about that," the colonel objected. -"As far as I see, things are pretty much -the same as they've always been, and they're -getting more so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose none of us sees more than we have -our eyes open to. Things of the greatest -importance to us happen, and we don't know that -they're going on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope that that kind of song and dance isn't -going on—the breakdown of our civilization. It -wasn't for that we gave 'em hell at Château-Thierry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, none of us knows what anything is for, -except in the vaguest way. All we can do is to -plod ahead and follow the thread of flame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Follow the thread of what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was sufficiently master of myself to indulge -in a mild laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just an expression that's been in my -mind during the time when I've been—been -floundering about. Name I invented for—for -a principle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this, however, he was not interested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but your collapsing house—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may not come down altogether. I'm -neither a prophet nor a prophet's son. All I can -see is what I suppose everybody sees, that our -civilization has been rotten. It couldn't hold -together. It hadn't the cohesive strength. -Perhaps I was wrong in saying that it was falling -down; it's more as if we were pulling it down, -to build up something better. It's our blind -instinct toward perfection—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But refusing to listen to any more, he got up -to go. A brave man in the presence of enemies -of flesh and blood, intellectual foes frightened -him. At the first sound of their shells he rushed -for his mental dugout which he burrowed in the -ground of denial. "I don't believe that" and -"All tommyrot" seemed to him shelters from -any kind of danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the main point to me was that I had in a -measure not only held my own but got on to -superior ground. I had been able to talk; in -doing so I had got him at a slight disadvantage. -The bit of self-respect inspired by this achievement -enabled me to play the host and accompany -him to the door with the kind of informal -formality to which I had been so long unaccustomed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in performing this small duty I made a -discovery. As he preceded me down-stairs I -remembered seeing the back of his head once -before. It was the kind of head not easily -forgotten. Moreover, I had seen it in circumstances -that had caused me to note it in particular. -Where and when and how were details that did -not at once return to me; but I knew that the -association was sinister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I returned from my mission in showing him -to the door I heard Vio speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in here, Billy. There's something I -want to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was still behind the tea-table, pensive -rather than subdued, resolute rather than unhappy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I liked your talking like that," she began at -once, without looking up at me. "It's—it's the -way we shall have to play the game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A box of cigarettes stood on the tea-table. I -took one and struck a match, the usual -stage-trick for gaining a little time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What game do you mean?" I asked, when I -had carefully blown out the match and deposited -it in an ash-tray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What game can I mean but—but that of -your coming back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, is that a game?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only in the sense of giving us something to -play. We can't just—just live it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why can't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a quick movement she was on her feet, -flinging out her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For all the reasons that I should think you'd -see." She came and stood on the hearth-rug, -confronting me. "Billy, I wonder if you have -the faintest idea of what I'm doing for your sake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've more than the faintest idea, Vio. Some -day, when we're able to talk more easily than we -are as yet, I shall tell you how grateful I am. -Just now I'm—I'm rather dazed. I have to get -my bearings—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She, too, had taken a cigarette, lighting it -nervously, carelessly, puffing rapidly at the thing -and moving about the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there's another thing," she began, -taking no notice of what I was trying to say; "I -don't mind your talking as you did just now, so -long as it's—as it's through your hat; but if it -isn't—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't say that it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what I was afraid of. In the -places where you've been—I don't want to know -anything about them," she interjected, with a -passionate gesture of the hand that held the -cigarette, "but in such places men do pick up -revolutionary ideas, just as they do in prisons!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know that it's a question of getting -revolutionary ideas, Vio, so much as it's one of -living in a revolutionary world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's what I want to warn you against. -It won't go down, Billy, not from you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not from me, in particular?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, why do you make me explain things? -Isn't it perfectly clear? If you're coming back -among your old friends you'll have to be, after -what's happened, more—how shall I put it?—more -conservative, more like everybody else—than -any one. </span><em class="italics">You</em><span> can't afford to have wild -ideas, because people will only say that you re -trying to drag us along the way you went -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I renounced this discussion to ask the question -that was chiefly on my mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio, who's that man that just went out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw me a look from the other side of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You heard. He's—where can you catch on? -He's Emmy Fairborough's brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wasn't there—wasn't there a divorce?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Emmy's? Yes; Lord Fairborough and she -are divorced, but what difference does that -make?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't thinking of Lady Fairborough. I -forgot she had been a Stroud. I meant—I meant -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he? Yes, I think he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Divorced?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, divorced. What of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To whom had he been married?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How should I know? It was to—to some -low creature, an actress or something, the sort -of thing men do when they're young and—and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And wild?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wild, if you like. Why are you asking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I was not sure of being ready to tell her, -so many things had to be formulated first. To -gain more time I lighted another cigarette, and -she spoke while I was doing it. Holding her own -cigarette delicately, as if examining its spark, -she said, with a staccato intonation that -emphasized each word:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, you remember what I said earlier this -afternoon? I can go back to our past and try to -pick it up. I can't go back to anything that -comes after that past and—and before to-day. -Do you understand? It's more than three years -since they told me your section was blown to -pieces at Bourg-la-Comtesse. Most of your -comrades were found—-and buried. You were -missing; but missing with very little hope. As the -weeks went by that little hope dwindled till there -was none. Then came the news that—that all -that time you had been—alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I suppose that Wolf told you..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me a story, or as much of it as I could -listen to. But that's not what I meant to speak -about now. I want to say that—that I bury all -that, deep, deep; only that I can't do it unless -you consent to bury—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything there's been on your side. Is -that it, Vio?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall ask no questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not even if I'm ready to answer them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not even if you're ready to answer them; but -I shall expect you not to ask questions of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that between us there will be a gulf of -silence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She inclined her head without speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why, Vio? Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She swept up to me, throwing away her cigarette, -and laying both her hands on my shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, old boy, I'm your wife, and I'm -trying to help you. I'm trying to help you -because—because—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her nearness, the scent of her person, the -black-opal mystery and fire were like hypnotic -enchantment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you used to—to care for me a little, -Vio? Is it possible that—that I can think that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's part of it, of course. I don't forget -it. But what I remember more is what I've told -you already, that, whatever you did, I sent you -to do it. Now, if there's expiation to be made, I -come in for that as well as you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that we make it together?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that we make it together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having already been bold I grew bolder. -Lifting my hands to my shoulders I laid them on -hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will you—will you let me kiss you on -that, Vio?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once," she consented; "but—but don't—don't -touch me."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i03"><span class="bold large">PART III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So we began what Vio called the expiation, and -what to me was no more than the attempt -to persuade our friends that they didn't know -what they knew. This, according to Vio's -calculations, could be best achieved by never for an -instant showing the white feather of an -uncomfortable conscience. Our assurance was to be -something like the Stroud aplomb on emerging -from the courts of bankruptcy or divorce. To -be unaware of anything odd in one's conduct -helped others to be unaware of it, too. A high -spirit, a high head, a high hand carried one -through difficult situations regardless of the -strife of tongues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I didn't think it necessary to remind Vio that -the strife of tongues could go on even if we didn't -hear it. Nothing else was possible when Wolf's -fatuity blew the trumpet and beat the drum if -the clamor showed signs of dying down. It -wasn't that he told the truth, but that he told -lies so easy of detection. Alice Mountney did -tell the truth as far as she knew it; but where she -didn't know it she supplied the deficiency by -invention. That those so near us should be in -conflict naturally called for comment, especially -when Vio refused to let me speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first few weeks I was too busily -occupied to think of what any one was saying, -seeing that the details I had to arrange were so -unusual. Of the steps taken to become a living -citizen again, and get back my property from my -heirs, I give no account further than to say that -they absorbed my attention. My standing in the -community I was thus unable to compute till -we were into the new year.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time I had taken part in a number of -family events on which I shall touch briefly. At -Christmas we had gone to Washington to spend -the festival with Minna and Tom Cantley. -There we had met Ernestine, in one of the -intervals of her flag-raising, and on the way back to -Boston my brother Dan's ship had unexpectedly -arrived in New York. A series of domestic -gatherings had therefore taken place, at all of -which Vio had worked heroically. As she had -generally hitherto ignored my family's existence -this graciousness was not without its effect. -Where she did so much for my rehabilitation, -those close to me in blood could hardly do less -than follow her example.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They followed it almost to the letter. That -is to say, none of them asked me any questions, -presumably wishing to spare both themselves -and me embarrassment. Once or twice, when I -attempted to speak of my experiences, the -readiest plunged in with some topic that would lead -us away from dangerous ground. If I yielded -to this it was because speaking of myself at all -was the deliberate exposure of nerves still raw -and quivering. I could do it, but I couldn't -do it willingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between Minna and myself there had never -been much sympathy, largely because I was of the -dreamy temperament and she of the sharp and -practical. That I should make beauty a career -in life, and take advantage of the fact that our -father had left me a modest sufficiency to give -my services to a museum of fine arts, shocked -her to the heart. A man should do a man's -work, she said, not that of an old Miss Nancy. -When I pointed out that many of the manufacturers -in New England, whose work had to do -with textiles, came to me for advice, she replied -that she didn't believe it. Her attitude now was -that I had done no worse than she had always -foretold and any one might have expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ernestine, to do her justice, was as tolerant of -me as she was of any one who wasn't a flag. The -Flag having become her idol and she its -high-priestess, she could talk of nothing else. The -nation had apparently gone to war in order that -the cult of the Flag should be the more firmly -established; and all other matters passed -outside the circle of her consideration. She knew -I had been dead and had somehow become alive -again; but as the detail didn't call for the -raising of a flag she couldn't give her mind to it. As -she could give her mind in no greater measure -to Minna's canteen-work or Vio's clothes, I -profited by the generous nature of her exclusions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Dan, when I met him, I hardly existed, -but that might have been so in any case, as we -had never been really intimate. Recently he -had been working with English naval officers -and had taken on their manners and form of -speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, old dear. Top-hole to see you looking -so fit. I say, where can I find a barber? -Got a mane on me like a lion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was our greeting, and the extent to which -our confidences went. He sailed for Hampton -Roads without a word as to my adventures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This he did, I am sure, in a spirit of kindness. -They were all moved by the spirit of kindness, and -the axiom of the less said the better. I confess -that I was mystified by this forbearance, and a -little hurt. Though I had been a fool, I had not -been a traitor; yet every one treated me as one. -I should never have spoken of my two years of -aberration of my own accord; yet when all -avoided the subject, as if it opened the -cupboard of the family dishonor, I resented the -implication.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Tom Cantley with whom I was most at -ease, perhaps because he was not a blood relation. -A big, genial, boresome fellow, he found me -useful as a listener. His rambling accounts of the -doings and shortcomings of the War Trade -Board, and what he would have accomplished -there if given a free hand, I pretended to follow, -because it left me free to pursue my own thoughts. -As he never asked for comments on my part, -being content when he could dribble out his own, -the plan worked well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet it was Tom who awakened me to the -true meaning of my situation. That was on the -day we left Washington, in the station, as Vio -and I were about to take our train. Vio was -ahead with Minna, when Tom suddenly clutched -me by the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, old sport; what about clubs? Boston -clubs I mean. I suppose you're a member of the -Shawmut and the Beacon Hill just as before you -went away. No action has ever been taken in -the matter as far as I've heard. But I wouldn't -press the point, if I were you, not for a while yet. -Later ... when everything blows over ... we -can ... we can see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded speechlessly. It was the most -significant thing that had been said to me yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I assented, weakly. "When everything -blows over we can see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I saw at the minute was that if I -attempted to resume my membership in either of -my clubs there would be opposition. My case -was as grave as that; though why it should be -I hadn't an adequate idea. Annoyed hitherto, -I became deeply troubled and perplexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, when we arrived in Boston -again it was to experience nothing but the same -widespread kindness. True, it was largely from -relatives or from friends of Vio's as admired her -pluck. The tragedy of her life being plain, those -who appreciated it were eager to stand by her; -and to stand by her meant courtesy to me. I -could be invited to a dinner to which I went under -my wife's banner; but I couldn't be admitted -to a club where I should stand on my merit as a -man. The distinction was galling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Equally so I found my position with regard -to Colonel Stroud. He made himself our social -protector, filling in what might be considered -unoccupied ground and defending anything open -to attack. He did this even in our house. -Without usurping my place as host, he fulfilled those -duties which a companion performs for an invalid -lady, passing the cigars and cigarettes after -dinner, and seeing that our guests had their -favorite liqueurs. Though our friends came -nominally to lunch or dine with Vio and me, it seemed -in effect to be with Vio and him. Every one -knew, apparently, that he and she had been on -the eve of a romantic act, which my coming back -had frustrated. Something was due them, -therefore, in the way of compensation; and -considering what I had done they had the public -sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That my mind was chiefly on this situation, -however, I cannot truthfully say. I thought of -it more than incidentally, and yet not so much as -to make it a sole preoccupation. More engrossing -than anything personal to myself was the -plight of the world and the future immediately -before us. With the gathering of the Conference -round the table of the Quai d'Orsay, the new -world, of which one of the phases had been war, -was entering on still another phase even more -momentous. To the mere onlooker, supposing -oneself to be an onlooker and no more, it would -be an exhibition of the grandeur and impotence -of man on a scale of spectacular magnificence. -The January of the armistice will be -remembered as a month of dramatic occurrences -illustrating the yearnings, passions, and fatalities of -the human race with an almost theatrical vividness. -In its very first days the old era sighed -itself out in the death of Theodore Roosevelt, -while on the soil over which the Cæsars had ridden -in their Triumphs, a New World citizen and -President was hailed as the herald of an epoch -altogether new. Almost at the same moment, blood -was flowing in the streets of Berlin, working up -about the middle of the month to the assassination -of Liebknecht and Rosa Luxembourg. The -Americans in Paris, having secured on one day -the right of way for their League of Nations, the -antiphon of opposition burst forth from -Washington on the next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Events like these, and they were many, were -as geysers springing from a caldron in which -the passions and ideals of mankind were seething -incoherently. The geysers naturally caught the -eye, but if there had been no boiling sea they -would not have spouted up. More than the -geysers I watched the boiling sea, and that I saw -all around me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That others didn't see it, or saw it as less -ebullient, made no difference to me, for the reason -that I had been in its depths. Vio didn't see it; -Wolf didn't see it; Stroud didn't see it. Of my -family, only Tom Cantley had vague apprehensions -of what he called "labor unrest"; but this -he regarded as no more than a whirlpool in an -ocean relatively smooth. In Boston generally, -as probably throughout the Union, the issue was -definite and concrete, expressing itself in the -question as to whether America would back a -league of nations or would not. That was the -burning topic of debate; but to me it seemed like -concentrating on the relative merits of a raft or -a lifeboat when the ship is drifting on the rocks. -That our whole system of labor, pleasure, religion, -finance, and government was in process of -transformation I had many reasons for believing; but -I couldn't speak of that without being scouted -as a Bolshevist, or laughed down as pessimistic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I mention these circumstances in order that -you may see that nothing personal could be -wholly absorbing. His exact social status means -little to a man on the deck of a ship that any -minute may go down. His chief concern is to -save himself and his fellow-passengers, with -natural speculation as to the haven they will find -when the rescued have scrambled to the shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, during that month of January, I saw myself -as the victim of circumstances that mattered -less than they might have done had we not been -on the eve of well-nigh universal change. The -life I was leading with Vio was not satisfactory, -but even that was not permanent. The thread -of flame, I was convinced, had not led thus far -without meaning to lead me farther still, and I -counted on that to show me the way. I counted -on that not merely in my own affairs, but in those -of our disintegrating world. We should not be -impelled to pull down our present house till the -materials were at hand for building up a better -one. Vio, Wolf, Stroud, and the bulk of the -American people were right in not fearing -disaster, though wrong in not anticipating a radical -shifting of bases. Their desperate clinging to -worn-out phases of existence might be futile; -but the futility would become apparent in the -ripeness of time. It was not an aspect of the -case that troubled me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What did trouble me was Vio's relation to -Stroud. It troubled me the more for the reason -that in proportion as the vapors cleared from my -intelligence I saw myself with my old rights as -her husband. The old passion was back with me, -with the old longings and claims, even though she -disregarded them. According to the judgment -I was beginning to form, she disregarded them -the more for seeing that her efforts to re-establish -me in Boston hadn't been successful. As -far as she could positively carry me, I went; but -I could cover no ground by myself. The minute -I was alone, I was let alone, simply, courteously, -but unanimously dropped. It was the sort of -general action it is useless to reason with or fight -against; and Vio saw it. There came a day -when I drew the conclusion that she was giving -up the struggle, and that the offer I had meant -to make on the first afternoon of my return would -be accepted if renewed. I was not sure; she was -not communicative, and the signs were all too -obscure to give me more than a vacillating sense -of guidance. My general impression was that she -didn't know the way she was taking, while Stroud -was sure of it. As an adroit player of a game of -which she didn't know the elementary principles, -he was leading her on to a point at which she -would have to acknowledge herself beaten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, in the main, I could only stand by and -watch, because I was under a cloud. It was a -cloud that settled on me heavier and blacker as -January passed and February came in. The -world-seething had its counterpart in the -seething within myself. There were days when my -inner anguish was not less frenzied than that of -Germany or Russia, in spite of my outward calm. -I was still following Vio from house to house, with -Stroud as our guide or showman; but the -conviction was growing that I must soon have done -with it. Not a day nor an hour but seared my -consciousness with the fact that he was the man -whom Vio loved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is not a life," I began to tell myself, -bitterly. It became my favorite comment. I made -it when I got up in the morning, and when I went -to bed at night. I made it when Vio and I -engaged in polite conversation, and when she -informed me of our engagements for the day. I -made it when I entered other people's drawing-rooms, -and when other people entered ours. A -life was a reality; a life was work; a life involved -above all what Mildred Averill called production. -When one didn't produce there was no place for -one. There was no place for me here. With -Pelly, Bridget, and the Finn I had touched the -genuine, the foundational; in lugging carpets I -had done work of which the usefulness was in no -wise diminished by the fact that any other man -could have done it just as well. In my room with -the fungi, on my eighteen dollars a week, I had -slept soundly and lived complacently, in harmony -with whatever was basic and elemental. It began -to dawn in me as a hope that perhaps the windings -of the thread of flame would lead me back to what -was a life, with a new appreciation of its value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then one day, when I was on the stairs of -our own house, coming down from the third to the -second story, I saw Lydia Blair standing on the -landing, outside of Vio's door. Boosey was beside -her, and she was taking a parcel from his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, kid," she said, nodding in my direction. -"Thought I should see you round here some -day. Wonder I didn't do it before." She -addressed Boosey, with another nod toward me. -"He and me were at school together. Weren't -we?" she continued, with her enchanting smile, -as I reached the lowest step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I managed to gasp, "the school of adversity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a mighty good school, too, for a sport. -Do you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Lydia," I began, "what in the name of—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sh-h! Don't swear," was all she said, as -taking Boosey's parcel she opened Vio's door. -Going in softly she closed it behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more Boosey's expression dramatized my -situation. That the master of the house in which -he exercised his functions—even such a master -as I—should be called "kid" by a girl like Lydia -created a social topsyturvydom defying all his -principles. For perceptible seconds he stared -in an astonishment mingled with disdain, after -which he turned on his heel to tell the news in the -kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I was too puzzled by Lydia's reappearance -to tear myself away. What had she to do with -Vio? How did she get the right to go in and -out of Vio's room with this matter-of-course -authority?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a corner of the hall, beside the window -looking over the Common, was an armchair in which -Vio often sat when taking her breakfast up-stairs -and glancing over her correspondence. I sank -into it now, and waited. Sooner or later Lydia -must come out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This she did, some twenty minutes later, dainty -and nonchalant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia," I cried, springing to my feet, "what -in the name of Heaven are you doing here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The parcel she had taken from Boosey was now -undone, revealing some three or four pairs of -corsets. Laying the bundle on the table Vio used -for her breakfast-tray the girl began to roll the -corsets neatly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were so many questions I wanted to ask -that I hardly knew where to begin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long have you been coming to—to see my wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not so very long, a month perhaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you know I was here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that what brought you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced up sidewise from her work, with -one of those glances she alone could fling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> got a nerve. Suppose I said yes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who—who told you where to find me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who do you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Averill?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; it wasn't Miss Averill. As far as I can -make out little old Milly doesn't give you a second -thought, now that she knows you're in the bosom -of your family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course it's true. Did you want to -think she was pining away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, who did tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I want any one to tell me? Ever -since I've been with Clotilde I'm always on the -lookout for new customers. I get a commission -on every pair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it wasn't for the commission you came to -see Mrs. Harrowby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what was it for then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I want you to tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much did you tell me when you disappeared -from the Barcelona over two years ago?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told you as much as I could tell any one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't tell me your name was Harrowby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She swung round from her work with the -parcel. "You didn't—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tapped my forehead. "Shell-shock. I'd—I'd -forgotten who I was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A flip of her slender hand dismissed this -explanation, as she resumed her task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, go on!" And yet she veered back again, -with a dash of tears in her blue eyes. "Say, kid, -I know all about it. You needn't try to put -anything over on me. I know all about it, and -I'm sorry for you. That's what I want to say. -Do you remember how I used to tell you I was -your friend, and that Harry Drinkwater was -your friend, too? Well, we are—even now. -There's something about you we both—we both -kind o' took to. I don't know what it is, but -it's there. It was there when I thought you -might be a swell crook; and if I didn't mind -that I don't mind—this. The only thing I'm -thinking is that you're up against it awful thick; -and so I told Dick Stroud that whoever shook -you the sad hand of farewell I'd be on the spot -as the ministering angel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were so many points here that I could -only seize the one lying, as it were, on top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you—you know Dick Stroud?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had gone on with her work again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Know</em><span> him? Well, I should say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you known him long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Known him ever since ... Say, I'll tell -you when it was. It was after we all came back -on that ship together, and I was still doing the -stenog act for Boydie Averill, before I got Harry -back on the job again. Well, one day </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> guy -floated in, towed by little Lulu. He sure is her -style for fair, or he used to be before he went to -France."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did—did Mrs. Averill introduce him to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He didn't wait for that. He introduced -himself with a look. I didn't need a second one -before I'd read him like a headline. When I -started to go home that evening he was waiting -at the corner to take me in a taxi."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you let him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure I let him. It was a ride. When he -asked me to dinner at the Blitz I let him do that, -too. You saw us. Don't you remember that -nut? that's what you called him afterward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came to me, that sleek mass of silver, -distinguished and sinister at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that was he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was Dick, sure thing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You call him Dick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else would I call him when he wants -me to? But that's giving him away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Giving whom away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vio had come out of her room without our -having heard her. In a tea-gown of black and -gold she stood before us in an almost terrifying -dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is, it was almost terrifying to me, though -Lydia was equal to the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, madam, I didn't know you heard. Mr. Harrowby -was just kidding me about Colonel Stroud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" Moving forward with the air of an -astonished queen, Vio seated herself in the -armchair. "But why should Mr. Harrowby be—what -was the word?—kidding you about anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we're old friends. Ain't we?" She -turned to me for corroboration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good old friends," I said, with some warmth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really! And you never told me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam never asked me. She never asked -me if I knew Colonel Stroud, either. How could -I tell that she wanted to know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I don't want to know. I'm only -interested—" she looked toward me—"that you -and—and this young lady should be so—so -intimate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope madam doesn't mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see," Vio began to calculate. "It's -about four or five weeks since Mrs. Mountney -sent you to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mrs. Averill had sent me to her. You -see, madam, I get a commission on every pair, -and so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so it was a good opportunity to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To improve myself. Yes, madam."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vio's brows came together in a frown. "To -... what? I don't understand you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, madam, it's this way. I've only -taken this corset job to—to get an insight. -I'm not really a saleswoman at all. I'm an -adventuress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the only moment at which I ever saw -Vio nonplussed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you are!" was all she could find to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, not exactly yet; but I'm going to be. -Only, if you're an adventuress you've got to be -a swell adventuress. There's only one kind, and -it's that. But you see, madam, I've never had -enough to do with ladies to be the real thing; and -so when Clotilde put me on to this corset stunt, -I thought it 'd give me a chance to study them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To study—ladies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, madam. An adventuress has got to be -that much of a lady that she can put it over on -a duchess or she might just as well stay out of -the business. Any boob in the movie line would -tell you that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You interest me," Vio said, almost beneath -her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I generally interest people, madam, when I -get a-going. Colonel Stroud says that if I was -to go in for—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not what I want to hear. Tell me if—if -your studies have taught you what you wanted -to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having completed her package, Lydia stood -in the attitude of a neat French maid in a play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the model, madam. That's where the -trouble is. An adventuress has got to be -... well, just so. Did madam ever see Agnes Dunham -as the Russian Countess in 'The Scarlet Sin'? -Well, she's it, only she's too old. She must be -thirty-five if she's a day. I don't know how -many times I didn't go see her; but I couldn't -be that old, and then she talked with a French -accent, so that settled it. Colonel Stroud said -that if I was ever going to do the thing there was -only one woman in the world—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He took a professional interest in you, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my, yes; professional and every other -way. Still does. Awful kind he can be when -he likes; but when he doesn't like! My!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was sorry for Vio. With bloodless lips and -strained eyes she sat grasping the arms of her -chair in the effort to keep her self-mastery. Had -I loved her less I could have been glad of this -minute, because it was giving me what might be -called my revenge. But I loved her too much. -It was clear to me, too, that I loved her more than -I ever did. My return had been a shock to her, -and she had made a strenuous effort to be game. -She </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> game. She had not fallen short of the -most sporting standard, except in matters over -which she had no control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stroud is always like that," I endeavored to -smile, "giving every one a helping hand. He -mayn't be the wisest old dog in the world, but -no one can say that he isn't kind and faithful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As it happened I had better have kept quiet. -Vio sat upright, all the force of her anger turned -upon me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has this girl been anything to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, madam; a mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her endeavor to control herself Vio uttered -a hard pant, eying the girl up and down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh? Indeed? You're young to be ... a mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a little younger than you, madam; and -not half so beautiful. Madam knows that any -woman worth her salt is mother to any man down -on his luck. I don't care who he is, or who she is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you for the information. I hope -Mr. Harrowby has appreciated your maternal care."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he did and he didn't, madam. Just -when I thought he was going to buck up he—he -cleared out, and I thought he must be dead. -Now, I find that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That he's alive. If you had come to me I -could have told you that—that clearing out was -his specialty. You might say he had a genius -for it, if you weren't compelled to call it by -another name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took a long stride toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio, do you mean anything by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What should I mean but—but the fact? -You're a mystery to me, Billy, just as you've -evidently been to—to this young lady. At the -very minute when we hope, as she so picturesquely -puts it, that you're going to buck up, -you—you clear out. You must have a marvelous -eye for your opportunities in that respect. -That's why I say it is like genius. No one who -didn't have a genius for clearing out, still to call -it that, could so neatly have seen his chance at -Bourg-la-Comtesse!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I don't know what I was about to do, because -with my own shout ringing in my ears I became -aware that Lydia had caught me by the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, kid, please don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; let him." Vio's face was strained -upward toward me, but otherwise she hadn't moved. -"Men who run away from other men are always -quick to strike women."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My arm fell. I bent till my face was close to hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did I ever run away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand was thrown out in the imperious -gesture of dismissal I had seen two or three times -already.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Billy! We won't go into that. -You'll—you'll spare me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vio, you believe </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She inclined her head slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I was a—a coward—a deserter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She inclined her head again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that I—" the whole plan spread itself -out before me—"that I pretended to commit -suicide in order to cover up my tracks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more she bowed her head relentlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You </span><em class="italics">believe</em><span> that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, I know it. Every one knows it. I've -stood by you right up to now. But now—" she -rose with a kind of majesty from which I backed -away—"now that you've brought this woman -here, into my house, where I've been fighting -your battles— Oh, Billy, what kind of a man -are you to have—to have a wife like me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I made no attempt to respond to this. I could -only stand amazed and speechless. Perhaps a -minute had gone by, perhaps two or three before -I found myself able to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Vio. Since it's—since it's that way, -and with all the other things—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I couldn't go any farther. There was -another speechless passage of time, during which -we could only stare at each other, regardless of -the white and wide-eyed spectator of the scene. -Turning abruptly, I walked down the long hall -toward the door of my own room. As I did so -Vio said nothing, but Lydia uttered a little broken -cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, kid, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't believe it; Harry Drinkwater -doesn't believe it either. Nobody will believe -it when they've had a word with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I didn't thank her. I didn't so much as -look back. It was only by degrees that I learned, -too, what the two women said to each other when -I left them alone together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was packing in my room when Boosey -brought me a letter. As letters had for so long -been to me a thing of the past I took it with some -curiosity, recognizing at once the hand of my -friend Pelly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="small">DEAR SOAMES,—I suppose I ought to call you Mr. Harrowby -now, but it don't somehow come natural. Soames -you were to me and Soames you will be till I get used to -the other thing, which I don't think I shall. I write you -these few lines to let you know that I am well and going -just the same as ever, though I miss our old times together -something fierce. Would like to know how you are, if you -ever get time to write. Expect you are having a swell time -with all the gay guys in Boston. Friends say that Boston -is some sporty town when you get with the inside gang, -which I don't suppose you have any trouble in getting. -Miss Smith has no one yet for your old room, which is all -repapered and fine with a brand-new set of toadstools, real -showy ones. Mrs. Leeming is sure some artist, and a nice -old girl besides, when she doesn't cry. Had a very nice -time at Jim's the other night; just a quart between him and -Bridget and me; nothing rough-house, but all as a -gentleman should. Bridget could come, as his wife was away -burying an uncle at Bing Hampton. Hope you found your -wife going strong as this leaves mine at present. Had a -very nice letter from her the other day, and answered it on -the spot telling her to be true to me and may God bring her -and me together again after this long parting. Now no -more from</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span class="small">your friend,</span></dt> -<dd><ol class="first last upperalpha simple" start="19"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><span class="small">PELLY. Write soon.</span></p> -</li> -</ol> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is impossible to tell you of the glow that -warmed and lighted me on reading these friendly -lines. They were all the more grateful owing to -the fact that if Pelly believed of me what Vio and -every one else believed, as quite possibly he did, -it would have made no difference. Of the things -taught me in my contact with the less sophisticated -walks in life, the beauty of a world in which -there is comparatively little judging was the most -comforting. There were all kinds of jealousies -there, bickerings, sulkings, puerilities, and now -and then a glorious free fight; but condemnation -was rare. The bruised spirit could be at peace -in this large charity, and in the spaciousness of -its tolerance the humiliated soul could walk with -head erect. Its ideals and pleasures might be -crude; but they were not pharisaical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If I had any doubt as to my plans I had none -any longer. The instinct that urged me back -to the room with the new set of toadstools was -like that of the poor bull baited in the ring to -take refuge amid the dumb, sympathetic herd -of its own kind. I asked only to be hidden -there, to live and work, or, if necessary, die -obscurely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not that I hadn't had a first impulse to try and -clear my name; but the futility of attempting -that was soon apparent. I had nothing to offer -but my word, and my word had been rejected. -In the course of the two or three hours since the -scene with Vio and Lydia, while I had gone to -the station to secure a berth on a night train for -New York and dined at a hotel, I had come to -the conclusion that the effort to explain would -be folly. The mere fact that my doings between -Bourg-la-Comtesse and the </span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span> were still -blurred in my memory would make any tale I -told incoherent and open to suspicion. In -addition to that Vio knew, Wolf knew, and others -knew that I had not offered my services to the -Ambulance Corps of my own free will, while my -letters had painted my horror of the sights I -witnessed with no thought of reserve. My supposed -suicide being ascribed to remorse, the discovery -that I was alive and well and in hiding in New York—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No; the evidence against me was too strong. -The one witness who might say something in my -favor, Doctor Scattlethwaite, had himself not -believed me. He could say that the claim I was -putting forth now I had put forth two years -previously; but there would be nothing convincing -in that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, and there was much in the fact, I -wanted to get away, to get back among those who -trusted me, and to whom I felt I belonged. If -the thread of flame had led me to my old life it -was only to show me once for all that there was -no place for me in it. Knowing that, I could take -hold of the new life more whole-heartedly and -probably do better work there. Already new -plans were springing to my mind, plans which I -could the more easily put into operation because -of having some money at my disposal. Mildred -Averill would help me in that and perhaps I could -help her. If Vio secured a divorce, and I should -put no obstruction in the way of that—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Vio herself came into my room with the -calm manner and easy movement which in no -wise surprised me, as she was subject to such -reactions after moments of excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you doing, Billy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seated herself quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A coat being spread before me on the bed, I -folded the sleeves, and doubled the breasts backward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm packing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I'm going away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night; in an hour or so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"New York first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know yet. Possibly nowhere. I may -stay in New York. Probably I shall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And not come back here any more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's my intention."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you doing it for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking the coat I had folded I laid it in my -suit-case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think you'd see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it—is it because of—of what was said this -afternoon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Partly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not altogether?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pulling another coat from the closet I spread -it on the bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; not altogether."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else is there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing that you'd be interested in. I—I -just want to get away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only in the sense that—that you're part of -the whole."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The whole what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The whole life. It's not a life for me any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not deny this or protest against it. -For a minute or more she said nothing, though as -I crossed the room from the bed to the closet for -more clothes I saw in the glass that she furtively -dashed away a tear. Yesterday I would have -been touched by that; but now that I knew what -she believed of me, what she had been believing -of me during all the weeks since I had come home, -my heart was benumbed. Besides, if she was -in love with Dick Stroud there was no reason for -my feeling pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had begun on collars and neckties when she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What kind of a girl was that who was here -this afternoon?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 79%" id="figure-40"> -<span id="i-had-begun-on-collars-and-neckties"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="I had begun on collars and neckties when Vio said, "What kind of a girl was that who was here this afternoon?"" src="images/img-298.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">I had begun on collars and neckties when Vio said, "What kind of a girl was that who was here this afternoon?"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must have seen something of her for -yourself. I understood from her that she'd been -coming to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's been here three times. Alice Mountney -sent her, and I believe Lulu Averill sent her -to her. I had no idea that she had anything in -her mind than just to sell this new kind of corset."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And had she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't she tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She didn't tell me. If she's said anything -to you, I don't know what it can be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's not—she's not crazy, is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't think so. Why do you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then she's extremely peculiar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're all that in our different ways, aren't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know now whether to take her seriously -or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About—about—Dick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went on with my packing without answering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> think?" she asked, at last. "I -suppose you have an opinion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On what point?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The point she brought up ... as to her -knowing him ... so well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've no opinion about that. I know she -knows him ... very well indeed. At least, -I take it for granted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What makes you do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just having seen them together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I have done that? Men don't—don't -give each other away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then in his knowing her there was something -to—to give away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Evidently."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what about your knowing her yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was different."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Different? How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since she was pressing the question I decided -not to spare her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't wait for her at a street corner as a -form of introduction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Expecting the question, "And did he?" I was -surprised that she should make it. "And would -it be discreet to inquire what your form of -introduction was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was presented to her in all propriety by a -blind boy named Drinkwater, you heard her -mention him, who was my cabin-mate on the -</span><em class="italics">Auvergne</em><span>. He and Miss Blair and I, with some -other people, happened to sit at the same table."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And have you no interest in her besides that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes: she's been a very good friend to me. I -haven't seen her for two years and more; but -that was my fault."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That if you had no interest in her she had an -interest in you, strong enough to—to impel her -to make my acquaintance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With some good end in view, presumably."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With the end in view of giving me the -information that—that she knew Dick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do you call that taking an interest in me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more I declined to give my impressions. -Where Stroud was concerned I had nothing to -say. Now that Vio knew something of the truth -concerning him I wished not to influence her in -any way. The matter seemed oddly far away -from me. The tie between Vio and myself being -broken in fact, as it soon would be in law, I -preferred to leave the subject of my successor where -it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you say," she began after a brief -pause, "that this is not a life for you any more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because it isn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For one reason, because I don't like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" She was not expecting this reply and -it displeased her. "What's the matter with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For me, everything. But it's nothing that -you would understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose I could understand if you explained -to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you couldn't. Or, rather, I couldn't. -The language isn't coined that would give me the -words to tell you. It's not the facts of the life I -dislike; it's the spirit of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there anything wrong with the spirit of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not saying so. I merely dislike it for -myself. For me it's not a real life any more. I -belong to—to simpler people with less complex -ideas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Less complex ideas about what?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About honor for one thing." In my goings -and comings round the room I paused in front of -her. "Among my friends, my real friends, you -can be a coward or a deserter, just as you could -be a murderer or a thief, and no one would pass -judgment upon you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is that ... a virtue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know anything about its being a -virtue; but it is a consolation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I stood looking down on her she said, softly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I passed judgment upon you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been a brick, Vio: you've been a -heroine. The only difference I should note between -you and the people to whom I'm going back is -that you've suppressed your condemnation, and -they didn't feel it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did they ... </span><em class="italics">know</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't tell you what they knew, for the reason -that it wouldn't have mattered. They knew -there was something wrong with me, that I was -hiding something, that I was probably an outcast -of good family; but they gave me a great, big -affection to live in, and thought no more about -it. You've given me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an extraordinarily brilliant flash of -her dark eyes as she lifted them to mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" she interjected. "Have you any -idea of what I've given you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've given me," I repeated, "the great, big -affection to live in, but with something in it that -poisoned the air. I'm grateful to you, Vio, more -grateful than I can begin to tell you, especially -as I know now what you've been thinking all the -time; but you can easily understand that I prefer -not to live in an atmosphere laden with—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we purified that, the atmosphere? What then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It still wouldn't be everything. When I say -I don't like the life, it isn't just because it's cast -me out; it's because for me—mind you, I'm not -speaking of any one else—it's become vapid and—and -foolish, and—and a throwing away of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you find among the people you—you -call your friends that's more worth while?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what it's hard to tell you. I find the -simple and elemental, something basic and fundamental -that the new crisis in existence is telling -us to discover and—and rectify. You remember -what I said a month or more ago to Stroud, that -our building was collapsing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; and I hoped you were, as people say, -talking through your hat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I wasn't. The building is coming -down, right to the foundations. Only the -foundations will remain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're awfully crude foundations, aren't they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. That's just where the trouble is. -The bases of our life are ugly and unclean, and -so we've turned away and refused to look at them. -I'm going back, Vio, to see what I can do to make -them less ugly, less unclean, and more secure to -build on. How </span><em class="italics">can</em><span> we erect a society on -foundations that already have the element of decay -in them before we've added the first layer of our -superstructure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rising, she went to a window, leaning against -it as if tired, and looking out into the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what can you do, all by yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very little; but a little is something. It -isn't altogether the success or the failure that I'm -thinking about; it's the principle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if you're going to live by principles—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've got to live by something. When the -world is coming down about our heads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's doing that, one man can't hold it up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; but a good many men may. I'm not -the only one who's trying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never heard of any one trying it like that -... by going back to the foundational, as you -call it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I think you have. The Man who more -than any other has helped the human race did -just that thing. You're strict about going to -church on Sunday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was slightly shocked. "I presume you're -not going to try to be like Him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps not. I may not aim so high. I'm -only pointing out the fact that going back to the -foundational and beginning there again was His -method. Others have followed it, a good many. -All the work connected with what we call Settlements—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never could bear them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly; but that isn't the point. I'm only -saying that in their way settlement workers have -been feeling out the special weakness of our -civilization, and doing their best to meet it. I -suppose our politicians and clergymen and -economists have been doing the same. The trouble -with them is that they so generally nip the -symptom while leaving the root of the disease that -they don't accomplish much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you accomplish much yourself when you were—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't try. I didn't see what I was there -for. It's only since coming back here that I've -begun to understand why I was led the way I was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half turning round, she said over her shoulder:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you call that being led?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I replied with a distinctness which I tried to -make significant:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Vio; I call it being led. I didn't see -it till I got back here; and even here I didn't see -it till—till this afternoon. And now—now I've -done with all this. I've done with the easy, -gentlemanly life of spending money and being -waited on. I'm not saying it isn't all right; it's -only not all right for me. I've got something -else to do. There was a time, you know it as -well as I do, when a poor man was an offense to -me, and an uncultivated person an abhorrence. -I was a snob from every point of view, and I was -proud of being one. And now—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pulling down the shade and turning completely -round, she stood with her back to the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Billy? And now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no use. I can't tell you. I couldn't -explain if I used up all the words in the dictionary. -It's just a tugging in my heart to get back -where—" I had a sudden inspiration. "Read -that," I said, taking Pelly's letter from my pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood under the central bunch of electrics -while I closed the suit-case and fastened the -straps. Having finished the letter, she handed -it back to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's just—just a common person's letter, as -far as I see, and rather coarse. Boosey might -have written it, or Miles, the chauffeur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's all you see in it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What more is there to see?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just it. That's just where the -inexplicable thing lies. I see, or rather I feel, a -tenderness in it that probably no one could detect -but myself. Even the reference to drinking—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The quart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; the quart. You've got to remember -how small the margin for pleasure is in a life like -Sam's, and how innocently he and Bridget and -Jim can do what they had much better let alone. -They're not vicious; they're only—how shall I -say?—they're only undeveloped. We're not such -saints ourselves, even with our development; and -when all civilization has bent its efforts, church -and state together, to keep their minds as -primitive as possible so that they'll do the most -primitive kinds of work, you can't blame them if they -take their pleasures and everything else primitively. -We've got to have another educational system."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they say our educational system is very -good as it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as it goes; but we still have one system -for the rich and another for the poor, and we -shall never get equality of mind till we have -equality of educational opportunity. But that's -only a detail. It all hangs together. As far as -I'm concerned, it sums itself up in the urging that -takes me back among simple people because—because -I love them, Vio; that's the only word -for it, and in their way they've loved me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She crossed the room aimlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Other—other people have—have loved you, as -you call it, who—who mayn't have been simple."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Y-yes. But—but in the cup they handed to -me there were bitter ingredients. In the cup -I'm talking of there was only ... love. It -was a blind, stumbling, awkward, mannish love, -if you like; but it was ... love. It was the -pure, unadulterated thing, as unconscious of -itself as the air is. The girl who was here this -afternoon is an example of it. For anything I -know, she was an idiot to have come; but she -came, poor soul, because she thought—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what did she think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That if Dick Stroud were out of the way I -should have a better chance with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was still moving aimlessly about the room, -picking up small objects and putting them down -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said—she said he'd been tagging around -after her, it's her expression, for nearly three -years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To my practically certain knowledge that is so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said, too, that she could marry him if -she liked, but that she didn't want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know anything about that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she went with him at all, she said, it would -probably be ... without marriage, as she -didn't wish to be bound to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked up in curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did she say there was any possibility of -her going with him at all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think she did. That's what made me think -her touched in her mind or crazy. She said she -hadn't decided, or something like that; but as -she was going to be an adventuress she had to -begin some time, and perhaps it might as well be -with him as with any one else. She spoke as if -it rested entirely with her to take him or throw -him away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again I decided to be cruel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It very likely does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was standing now by my dressing-table, -and as if my words had meant nothing to her -she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you going to take your hair-brush?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I was forgetting to put it in. Thanks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I went for it she was holding it in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a queer, cheap-looking thing! Where -on earth did you get it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it was at Tours, with the other -things, when—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! I remember." She moved toward -the door. "Your other brushes, the ebony ones -with the silver initials, that I gave you -before—before we were married, are here. They were -with the things found on the bank of that— They -forwarded them to me. Shouldn't -you—shouldn't you like them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, no. This sort of common thing -suits me better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was doing the last things about the room. -She was standing with her hand on the knob of -the door, which was half open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when you're back in New York, Billy, -doing that kind of thing you talk about, shall you -be all alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A second's reflection convinced me that it was -best to be clear about everything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And later?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pulled open a drawer from which I knew I -had taken all the contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean when we're both ... free?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose I put it ... when </span><em class="italics">you're</em><span> free?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then there may be ... some one else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one ... I know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I delved into another drawer, hiding my face. -"Some one you may have heard of; but I don't—I -don't think you know her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I had pushed in the drawer I raised -myself; but I was alone in the room. Ten minutes -later I had left the house without a good-by on -either side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the door-step, in my working-man's costume, -and with the everlasting bag and suit-case -in my hands, I looked up at a starry, windy sky, -with the trees of the Common tossing beneath it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, what an end!" I cried, inwardly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, as far as my knowledge or purpose went, -an end it was.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii03"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Noble intentions being easier to conceive -than to carry out, it is hardly surprising -that on settling again in New York I found myself -"let down." The sense of adventure was out of -it, while that of the mission had crept in. The -old friends were still the old friends; but if my -intercourse with them was not less spontaneous -it was certainly more self-conscious. Back in my -squint-eyed room, with the new paper and the -more showy set of fungi, the knowledge that I was -there because I chose to be there, and not because -I couldn't help it, marked all my goings and -comings with a point of interrogation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In some measure, too, it was a point of -disapproval. That is to say, those who welcomed -me back took me somewhat in the spirit of a -"returned empty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes, of course, if you want it," was Miss -Smith's reply to my request to have my old room -back again; but her intonation was not wholly -that of pleasure. "We thought, my sister and I, -that your social duties in Boston would restrict -your movements for the future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had pricked their little bubble of romance, -and they were disappointed. That one who had -been their lodger was now with the Olympian -gods was a tale to be told as long as they had a -room to let, and to every one who rented one. -I saw at once that I couldn't ask them to believe -that I had come back of my own free will. The -very magnitude of my hopes compelled me to be -silent with regard to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Punk!" was Pelly's comment, when I braced -myself to tell him I had found home life -disillusioning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was across the table of the familiar eating-house, -as we took our first meal together. I was -obliged to explain myself for the reason that in -the back of his mind, also, I read the conviction -that I hadn't "made good." Compelled to be -more primitive than I should have liked, I had to -base my dissatisfaction on the grounds of -physical restriction rather than on those of divine -discontent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some of them Boston women will put the lid -on a man and lock it down," he observed further. -"Punk, I call it. Well, now that you've broken -loose, and with your wad, I suppose you'll be -givin' yourself a little run."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I allowed him to make this assumption, thankful -that he should understand me from any point -of view; but it was not the point of view of our -former connection. That a man should be down -on his luck was one thing; but that, having got -on his feet, he should deliberately become a waster -was another. In any light but that of a reversion -to low tastes I could never have made Sam see my -return to the house in Meeting-House Green. -For low tastes he had the same toleration as for -misdemeanors; but he did not disguise the fact -that for a man who had got his chance he -considered them low tastes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Creed & Creed's I received a similar -tempered welcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure here's Brogan," Bridget called out to -the other men, on seeing me enter the cavern -where four of them were at the accustomed work -of sweeping a consignment that had just been -unpacked. Burlap and sheepskins were still -strewn about the floor, so that I had to restrain -the impulse to pick things up and stack them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps I can best compare my return to that -of a spirit which has passed to a higher sphere -and chooses to be for a short time re-embodied. -Denis, the Finn, and a small wiry man, a stranger -to me, all drew near to stare solemnly. My visit -could only be taken as a condescension, not as a -renewed incorporation into the old life. From -that I had been projected forever by the sheer -fact of not having to earn a living in this humble way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, but it's well you're lookin'," Gallivan -said, awesomely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why shouldn't he be lookin' well," -Bridget demanded, "and him with more butter -than he's got bread to spread it on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's different with us," the Finn said, bitterly, -"with no butter and not enough bread, and more -mouths to feed than can ever be filled. I'll bet -you Brogan doesn't think of them, now that he's -got his own belly full."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to me an opening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suppose I did? Suppose I'd come back -to hand down some of the butter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, cut it out, Brogan," the Finn laughed, -joylessly. "I was only kiddin' you. We don't -pass the buck, none of us don't. What you -got, keep; and if you don't, then the more -fool you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Denis's yearning eyes were the only signs -of remote comprehension in the company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure ye don't have to pass the buck just -because y' ask the saints to pray for ye, do ye? -Pray for us, Brogan. Ye've got nothing else to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was another opening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I had, Denis. I've found that I don't -know how to loaf. If you hear of anything—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded, with beatified aspiration in his -leathery old face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, then, if it's that way you feel, the Holy -Mother 'll find ye something, Protestant though -y' are, just as sure as she showed ould Biddy -Murphy, and her a Protestant too, that me -mother knew in Ireland where there was -two-and-sixpence lyin' in the mud, and she with the -rent comin' due the next mornin': This is the -new Brogan," he continued, with a wave of his -hand toward the dark, wiry man, who responded -with a grin. "He can't talk our talk hardly not at -all, not no more than the monkey I used to tell -you about. A Pole he calls hisself; but I nivver -heard of no such nation as that till I come to this -country. We nivver had them in Ireland at -all—at all. There was Ulster men, and Munster men, -and men from the County Monaghan; but I nivver -heard tell of no Poles. Do you think they's -have sowls like us? Or would they be like them -Chinees and Japansey men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For Gawd's sake, here's the Floater," Bridget -warned, softly, and every man got back to his work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back at their work they had no time for further -conversation; and in some way, impossible for me -to tell you in words, I felt myself eliminated from -their fellowship. They would always be friendly; -but the knowledge that I was bone of their bone -and flesh of their flesh, which had once been the -outcome of a common need, was no longer theirs -nor mine. I could look in at them in this -non-committal way as often as I chose; but I should -never get any farther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something of the sort was manifest when I next -met Lydia Blair. Our standing toward each -other was different. Little as she had understood -me before, she understood me less in this new rôle -than in any other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You sure are the queerest guy I ever met," -she said, at one time in the course of the evening. -"I sometimes wonder if you're all there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that was after I had been foolish enough -to try to make her see my point of view toward -life, and failed. Before that she had been sympathetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Our first conversation had been over the telephone, -when I had called up Clotilde's to ask if -Miss Blair had returned from Boston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Blair at the 'phone," was the reply. -"Who's this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somewhat timidly I said I was Mr. Harrowby, -repeating the name twice before she recognized -it as mine. Having invited her to dine with me -and go to the theater I got a quavering, "Sure!" -which lacked her usual spontaneity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't seem pleased," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm pleased enough. I'm only wondering -if—if you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why shouldn't I be, when I've asked you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I put my foot in it for fair, didn't I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean in Boston? Oh, that was all right. -I know you meant to do me a good turn; and -perhaps you've done it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I </span><em class="italics">meant</em><span> to; but I sure did get a lesson. -My mother used to tell me to keep my fingers out -of other people's pies; and I'm going to from this -time on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the evening, seated opposite me at the little -table at Josephine's, with the din of a hundred -diners giving us a sort of privacy, she told me -more about it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, it was this way: He'd always been -talking to me about this rich young Boston -widow he'd met at Palm Beach, trying to get my -mad up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the sort of thing he </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> say. He's -a good judge of a woman, you must admit; and -he thought she was about the classiest. It was -when I began to tell him what I wanted to be that -he sprang that on me, said she was the model for -me to study, and that when it came to the dressy -vampire Agnes Dunham wasn't in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he call this—this Boston lady a dressy -vampire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he didn't mean that. It was only that -for any one who wanted to be a dressy vampire -she was a smart style. A vampire mustn't look -a vampire, or she might as well go out of business. -The one thing I criticized in Agnes Dunham in -'The Scarlet Sin' was that a woman who advertised -herself so much as an adventuress wouldn't -get very far with her adventuring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see. You'd go in for a finer art."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd go in for pulling the thing off, whatever -it was; but that's not what I want to tell you. -To go back to what he was always saying about -this Boston lady, it made me crazy to see her. -In the corset business I'd got intimate with a good -many society women, and most of them were -gumps. For one good vampire there were a -hundred with the kick of a boiled potato. That -made me all the crazier to see, and I thought -about it and thought about it. Then, one day, -Harry called me on the 'phone to say— fxsYou see, -he's living with the Averills, and when that -Mrs. Mountney— Well, when he told me who you -were, and that the lady wasn't a widow any more -than I am, well, I simply laid down and passed -away. To think that </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, the fellow we'd been -putting down as a mystery and a swell crook—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you put me down for then when -you found out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We didn't get a line on it all at once. That -was later. Mrs. Mountney told Lulu, and Dick -Stroud told me, and so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you all believe what you heard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was pretty hard not to, wasn't it? after the -queer things you'd been doing. There was just -one person who stuck it out that it wasn't true; -and that was little Milly. She didn't say much -to the family; but to me she declared that if all -the armies in France were to swear to it, she'd -still know there was some mistake. She's another -one I can't make out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can't you make out about her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whether she's got a heart in her body, or -only a hard-boiled egg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I fancy she has a heart all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to fancy the same thing, or rather I -took it for granted; but ever since— Well, she -just stumps me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She reverted to her errand in Boston and what -came of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't till I began to hear of what was -going on there that it seemed to me—" the veil -of tears to which her eyes were liable descended -like a distant mist—"that it seemed to me a -darned shame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What seemed to you a darned shame in particular?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, first that Dick Stroud should be pulling -the wool over any other woman's eyes, especially -a rich one, and then that he should be upsettin' -your apple-cart when you'd had so much trouble -already. After that it all came easy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What came easy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Getting to know Mrs. Harrowby, and all the -rest of it. The first once or twice I didn't see how -to bring in Dick Stroud's name without seeming -to do it on purpose; but after I met you in the -up-stairs hall, why it was just natural. Say, -you copped a peach when you got married; do -you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you say that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I've got eyes in my head; and, say, -she's the one I saw you with that time I told you -about, ever so long ago, and it must have been -in New York. I suppose some guy had taken -me to a swell restaurant to blow me in for a -dinner; but anyhow she was the one. The minute -I saw her back I knew there were not two such -</span><em class="italics">speaking</em><span> backs in the world. As for me modeling -myself on her, well, an old hour-glass pair of stays -might as well try to be Clotilde's Number Three -Coar Pearl. And, say, she's some sport, isn't -she? When I told her more about Dick Stroud -and me, after you'd gone away that afternoon, -she never turned a hair. Mrs. Mountney says -she was going to marry him if you hadn't turned -up, and even now he's hoping to marry her; but -when I let her have the whole bunch of truth, she -took it like a rag doll will take a pin-prick. Never -moved a muscle, or showed that it wasn't just my -story, and not a bit her own. Of course I took -my cue from that—it was my line all along—and -was just the poor working-girl telling her life -history to a sympathetic lady, just as they hand it -out in books; but she carried the thing off -something swell. In fact, she made me more than -half think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" I questioned, when she held her idea -suspended there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe I'll tell you. There are things -a man had better find out for himself; do you -know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sha'n't find out anything for myself," I -said, "because—because I've given up the fight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at me with eyes wide open in -incredulous horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've given up the fight for a peach like -that! Well, of all the poor boobs!" Leaning -back in her chair she scanned my appearance. -"I thought there was something wrong when I -saw you got up like that. You can beat Walter -Haines, the quick-change man, when it comes to -clothes, believe </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. What have you got on now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I explained that it had been my Sunday suit -during the time I had been working at Creed & -Creed's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for Gawd's sake go and take it off, before -we start for the theater. I'll wait for you -here. You can go and come in a taxi. I've been -looking at you all along, and thinking it must be -the latest wrinkle from Boston. Boston </span><em class="italics">has</em><span> -funny ways, now hasn't it? And so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was here that I ventured on the exposition -of my new scheme of life, getting no appreciation -beyond the question as to my sanity quoted -above. Later in the evening as, after the theater, -I drove her back to Miss Flowerdew's in a taxi, -she summed up the situation thus:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look-a-here! I never did take stock in that -bum story of your being a quitter on the -battlefield; but now I sure will if you walk out and -hand the show over to Dick Stroud. Why, he's -worth two of you! Look how he sticks! He'll -get </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> one of these days, just by his sticking, if -I'm not careful; and when it comes to a woman -like that— Why, I'm ashamed to go round with -such a guy. And say, the next time you ask me -to dinner, you'll not be got up like the bogie-man -dressed for his wife's funeral. You'll look like -you did the other day in Boston, or the first time -I saw you, or it will be nix on little Lydia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drinkwater's tone was similar and yet different. -It was different in that while his premises -as to "sticking" coincided with Lydia's, his -conclusions were not the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps he was not the same Drinkwater. -More than two years having passed since I had -seen him, I found in him more than two years of -development. A crude boy when last we had -met, association with a man like Averill, -combined with his own instinct for growth, had made -him something of a man of the world not the less -sympathetic for his honest pug-face and his -blindness. The fact that he asked me to dine with -him at his university club was an indication of -progress in itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave me his confidences before I offered -mine, sketching a career in which stenography -figured as no more than the handmaid to a -passion for biological research. From many of the -details of research he was, of course, precluded by -his blindness; but his methodical habits, his -memory, and his faculty for induction had more than -once put Averill on the track of one thing when -looking for another. It was thus that they had -discovered the </span><em class="italics">ophida parotidea</em><span> while experimenting -for the germ of the Spanish influenza. -Incidentally, his salary had been creeping upward -in proportion as he made himself more useful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Lydia's been a wonder," he declared, -his face shining. "Talk about sticking! The -way that girl's stuck to me in every kind of tight -place! Always thinking of other people and how -to pull them out of the holes they get into! In -the Middle Ages she'd have been a saint. Now -she's just an up-to-date New York girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time he had finished this rhapsody I -was ready to tell him a part of my own life tale, -on which I found him more responsive than any -one I had met. As to my mental misfortunes in -France he accepted the narrative without -questioning. When I came to what I painted as -domestic conditions outlived on both sides he -passed the topic over with the lightness born of -tact. You see it was an altogether older and -more serious Drinkwater with whom I had to -deal; and yet one not less enthusiastic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I discovered this when, with much misgiving, -I hinted at the task to which I wished to dedicate -anything left in my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got it, old boy," he half shouted, -slapping his leg. "There are three or four big jobs -through which we white Americans have got to -save our country, and among them the free play -of class-contribution is almost the first. Say, -these fellows that go jazzing about class welfare -get my goat. Class co-operation is what we -want; and it's what classes come into existence -to give. You can't suppress classes, not yet -awhile at any rate, in a country full of inequalities; -but what we can do is to get the classes that -form themselves spontaneously to take their gifts -and pass 'em on to each other. Each works out -something that another doesn't, and so can -benefit the bunch all round. Say, Jasper, you'll hit -the nail of one of our biggest national weaknesses -right on the head as soon as you've learned how -to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but the learning how to do it is just where -the hitch seems to come in. I've been in New -York three weeks and I'm just where I was when -I came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, I'll give you a line on that. Do you -know how a young fellow in a country town—I -don't know anything about swell places like New -York—becomes a barber?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said I didn't, that I had never given a thought -to the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he doesn't learn, and nobody ever -teaches him. He just sits round in the barber -shop, brushing hats and hanging up overcoats, -and wishing to the Lord he </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a barber, and all -of a sudden he </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> one. He's watched the shaves -and hair-clips, hardly knowing he's been doing it, -but wishing like blazes all the while, and at last -it comes to him like song to a young bird. Now -you've got to sit round. Sit tight and sit round. -Wish and watch, and watch and wish, and the -divine urge that turns a youngster into a barber, -because that's what he's got his heart on, will -steer you into the right way. This isn't going -to be anything you can learn, as you'd learn to -drive a motor or dissect a dead body. It won't -be a profession, it'll be a </span><em class="italics">life</em><span>, that'll show you the -trick. Don't try to hurry things, Jasper; and -don't expect that three weeks or three months -or three years are going to make this mum old -world fork you out its secrets. Just stick, and -if you don't do the thing you're aiming at you'll -do another just as useful. Why, the doctor was -going to chuck all his experiments on the -influenza bug when I persuaded him to keep at it; and -so he discovered the thing that scientists have -been after since Dockendorff thought he'd tracked -it down as long ago as 1893. All </span><em class="italics">sticking</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii03"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I confess that I was comforted by these -hearty words, and braced in a determination -that was beginning to splutter out. Drinkwater's -divine urge was not unlike my own thread of flame -and Denis's Holy Mother, who was a light even -to the feet of Protestants. It was the same -principle—that of a guide, an impulse, an -illumination, which our own powers could generate when -lifted up to, and associated with, the universal -beneficence. I decided to take to formula, -"Wish and watch, and watch and wish," as the -device of my knight-errantry. As a matter of fact, -by the sheer process of wishing I secured a -secondary position for myself in the textile department -of the Metropolitan Museum, while by that of -watching I found that one of Bridget's boys and -two of the Finn's had aptitudes highly worth -developing right along this line. It wasn't much; -but it was a beginning in the way in which I -hoped to go, and might lead to something more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In all this time, as you can imagine, Vio was -my ruling thought, and guessing her intentions -my daily occupation. Since she presumably -wanted a divorce, there were doubtless grounds -on which she could secure one by going the right -way to work; but as to whether she was doing -this or not nothing had yet been said to me. -Nothing was said to me of any kind. I had not -written to her, nor had she to me; and my other -communication with Boston was only through -my bankers. Even that was growing more -irregular since I had changed my business address -to Meeting-House Green.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I was chiefly seeking was forgetfulness. -Lydia had reproached me with being a "poor -boob" in giving up the struggle for Vio's love; -but Lydia hadn't known the wound Vio had -inflicted. The more I thought of that the more -I felt it due to the dignity of love to attempt -neither explanation nor defense. On mere -circumstantial evidence Vio had believed me guilty -of the crime she would probably have rated as the -blackest in the calendar. I couldn't forgive that. -I had no intention of forgiving it. The more I -loved her the less I could forget that she had -returned my love in this way. The most -chivalrous thing I could do, the most merciful toward -her, and the most tender was what I was doing. I -could leave her without a contradiction, so -justifying tacitly whatever she may have thought, -and putting no restraint on her future liberty of -action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said so to Mildred Averill when we talked it -over about the middle of March. I had not -intended to renew this connection unless a sign was -made from the other side; but it was given in the -form of a line from Miss Averill begging me to -come and see her in the apartment she had taken -for herself in Park Avenue, where at last she had -a little home. Knowing that my duties kept me -at the Museum on week-days she had fixed the -time for a Sunday afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It will be remembered that we had met in the -previous December, so that I found little change -in her now. As I had noticed then, she had -grown more spiritual, with an expression of -restfulness and peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's because I don't struggle so much," -she explained, in answer to my remark on this -change; "I don't fight so much. I'm not nearly -the rebel I used to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does that mean that you've made up your -mind to let things go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; to let things come. That's what I -wouldn't do before. I wanted to hurry them, to -force them, to drag them along. I begin to see -that life has its own current upward, and that -we succeed best by getting into it and letting -it carry us onward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But doesn't that theory tend to take away -one's own initiative?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know that initiative is any good if it's -directed the wrong way. Did you ever watch a -leaf being carried down-stream? As long as it's -in the current it goes swiftly and safely. Then -something catches it and throws it into some little -side-pool or backwater, where it goes fretting and -swirling and tearing itself to pieces and never -getting anywhere. Well, it's something like that. -I was in a side-pool, lashing round and round and -churning my spirit, such as it is, into nervous -irritations of every kind, making myself the more -furious because my efforts were to no purpose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how did you get out into the current again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By wishing, in the first place. It began to -seem to me such a foolish thing that, being given -all the advantages in the world, I could do -nothing but frustrate them. I was like a person with -a pack of cards in his hand, not knowing how to -play any game. I longed to learn one, even the -simplest; and I think it was the idea of the -simplest that saved me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not sure that I get that, the simplest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's nothing abstruse or original. I -suppose it's no more than the accepted principle of -doing the duty that's nearest. Hitherto, I'd -felt that nothing was a real duty but what was -far away. Then I began to see that right under -our own roof— You see, Boyd and Lulu weren't -very happy, and I'd been leaving them to shift -for themselves while I tried to do things for -people like Lydia Blair and Harry Drinkwater, -and a lot of others who were perfectly well able -to take care of themselves. So I began to -wonder if I couldn't ... and to wish.... And it's -so curious! The minute I did that the things I -could do were right there just as if they'd been -staring me in the face for years, and I hadn't had -the eyes to see them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sort of things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hardly worth naming when it comes to -words. Not big things, little things. If Lulu -wanted something she couldn't find in New York, -a particular sort of scarf or piece of music, no -matter what, I'd tell Boyd and he'd send for it; -and, of course, you see! Or if Lulu said anything -nice about Boyd, which she did now and then, I'd -make it a point of telling him. That's the sort -of thing, nothing when you come to talk about it, -and yet in practice— That's what I mean by the -simplest, the easiest, and most natural; and so -I formed a kind of principle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind telling me what it is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that, whoever you are, your work is -given you; you don't have to go into the -highways and hedges to look for it. That queer -boy, Harry Drinkwater, gave me the secret of -it first. I asked him one day how it was that, -in spite of all his handicaps, he managed to get on -so well. He said he had only one recipe for -success, which was wishing and watching, and -watching and wishing. He said there was no -door that wouldn't open to you of its own accord -if you stood before it long enough with that -Sesame in your heart. I remember his saying, too, -that in the matter of work, desire—desire that's -not wrong, of course—was our first point of -contact with the divine, since the thing that we -urgently wish to do is the thing by which we -re-express the God who has first expressed Himself -in us. The most important duty, then, is to find -out what we really want, and then to wish and -watch. Most of us don't know what we want, -or, if we do, we're not clear enough about it, and -so we get lost in confusion, like travelers in a -swamp. Of course he said it all much more -quaintly than I'm doing it; but that was the gist, -and it helped to put me into the line of thought -in which I've—I've found content."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is, you analyzed first what it was you -really wanted to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly; and I discovered two things: first, -that I didn't want anything half so much as to -help—I've told you that before—unless it was -the happiness of the people to whom I was nearest. -I found, too, that if I began at the beginning -and followed the line of least resistance I'd get -farther in the end. Up to that time I'd begun -in the middle, and so could get neither backward -nor forward, as I used to complain to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having thought this over, I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're fortunate in having the people to -whom you're nearest close enough to you -for—for daily intercourse and influence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was distinct significance in her response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I'm fortunate in never having turned -my back on them as long as they were in need of -me. Do you remember how I used to want a -home of my own? Well, something kept me at -least from </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. Whenever I came face to face -with doing what I've felt free to do at last, there -was always a second thought that held me back. -If Boyd and Lulu had had children it would have -been different. But Lulu didn't want any till—till -lately, and so I felt that something was needed -to ease the grinding of the wheels between them. -I did recognize that. But now that they've got -the little boy—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Got a little boy?" I said, in astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes. Didn't any one tell you? Two -weeks old to-day, and such a darling! One day -he looks like Lulu, and the next like Boyd, and -they're both as happy as two children. That's -why I've felt free to be my own mistress, to this -extent, at least. Things do work out, you know, -if you'll only give them half a chance, and stop -fretting. That's another thing," she smiled; "it -came to me one day in church when they were -reading the Psalms, though I'd often heard the -words before without paying them attention. -'</span><em class="italics">Fret not thyself, else shalt thou be moved to do -evil</em><span>.' I suppose people worried three thousand years -ago just as we do to-day; and had to be told not -to. Well, I've tried not to </span><em class="italics">fret myself</em><span>, and I've -got on, oh, so much better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so serene that as I passed my cup for -more tea I ventured on something from which -otherwise I should have shrunk:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a little surprised that in your analysis of -the things you really wanted you've forgotten -the one most people crave for first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took this with her customary simple directness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, I haven't. It's only that something -seems to have been left out of me that—that I -don't demand it as much as many other women; -and then—it's hard to put into words—the -conviction has come to me that—that whenever I'm -ready for it I shall get it. I'm not ready for it, -yet." Her amber eyes rested on me with the -utmost truthfulness. "It's odd; but I'm not. -The very fact that I don't demand it yet, some -women, you know, are like that, and I suppose -some men, but that very fact shows that it's -wiser not to congest one's life by tackling too -many things at a time. The one thing I'm growing -certain of is that it all depends on oneself as -to whether or not the windows of heaven are open -to pour us out blessings, and that whatever I -want, within reason, I shall get in the long run."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was partly this theory of life, and partly -a sense of assurance and relief, that led me on -to talk of my personal situation. As Drinkwater -had done, she dismissed my mental misfortunes -as incidental, interesting pathologically, but not -morally decisive. As to my return to New York -after having actually found my way home I felt -obliged to give her some explanation. It was -while I was doing this that she asked, as if -casually:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you like Colonel Stroud?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I said, bluntly. "Do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can see that he has a sort of fascination -... for other women." She nodded, more -thoughtfully, "I don't trust him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither do I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought not. That's what makes me wonder—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated so long that I was compelled -to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonder, what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I had better not go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only will on condition that you authorize me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I authorize you to say anything you choose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, since you </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> trust him, I -wonder how you could expose any woman to—to his -influence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I don't. The—the events all took -place while I was away, and I've no control -over them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No control, perhaps; but there are other -things in life besides control."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know that; but what things, for instance, -do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, lots of things." She looked about the -room as if not attaching much importance to -her words. "Love, for one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in this case love has to be counted out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you ever count out love? I thought -that was the one permanent factor in existence, -though the skies were to fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may be a permanent factor, and yet have -to remain in abeyance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! Who ever heard of love remaining -in abeyance? You might as well talk of fire -remaining in abeyance when it's raging, or water -when it's bursting a dam, or any other element -in active operation. If I loved any one, no -matter how little, I should want to save them -from a man like Colonel Stroud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In spite of the fact that you'd been considered -guilty of—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what does it matter what any one thinks -of so poor a thing as oneself? I mean that -oneself </span><em class="italics">to</em><span> oneself is so very unimportant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I know that there are other points -of view, and that from some of them oneself </span><em class="italics">to</em><span> -oneself is the most vital of all considerations. -But in the detail of what other people think of -one—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even when the other people are those of -whom you think most in all the world?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us think most of them then. Don't let -us think most about ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you suppose I'm thinking most about -myself now? I assure you I'm not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed again, not lightly, but rather -pitifully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must leave you to judge of that."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv03"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I did judge of it, all through that spring, -coming more and more to the conclusion that I -was right. It was not the only occasion on which -Mildred Averill and I talked the matter over; -but it became at last a subject on which agreeing -to differ seemed our only course. The time came -when I remembered with an inward blush that -I had once feared that this clear-eyed, well-poised -girl, who had really found herself, might be in love -with me. What her exact sentiment toward me -was I have never been able to name further than -to put it under the head of a "deep interest." Had -circumstances been in our favor that interest -might at one time have ripened into something -more; but from that she was saved by the -instinct which told her that, in spite of my -assertions, as to which she nevertheless didn't charge -me with untruth, I was a married man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One more detail I must add concerning her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On a Saturday afternoon in early May I had -gone to her to talk over the great news of the day, -that the peace terms had been handed to the -enemy at Versailles. It must be remembered -that she was the one person, outside my colleagues -in the Museum, with whom I could discuss the -topics nearest to my heart. With Pelly, Bridget, -the Finn, and even with Miss Smith, I had -friendly arguments as to the League of Nations -and similar matters of public concern; but they -rarely went beyond the catchwords of the newspapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear father," Miss Smith would say, -gently, "who was an eminent oculist in his time, -Doctor Smith, you may have heard of him, used -to say that his policy was to keep this country -out of entangling alliances. That was his -expression, entangling alliances. I always think of it -when I see foreigners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From awl I hear," Bridget informed me, "this -here League o' Nations they make so much talk -about is on'y to help the English to oppress Ireland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will it bring down prices?" the Finn demanded, -if ever I spoke of it with him, and when I -confessed that I couldn't be sure that it would, -he dismissed the theme with, "Then that's all -I want to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Punk, I call it," was Pelly's verdict, "unless -Lloyd George is for it; and whatever he says -goes with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This being the scope of my conversations on -the subject it became a special pleasure to air my -opinions with one who, while not always agreeing -with me, took in such matters the same kind of -interest as myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were, therefore, in what is called the thick -of it when a shuffling and laughing were heard -from the hall. Suspending our remarks to look -up in curiosity we saw Lydia come in leading -Drinkwater. From the festive note in their -costumes Miss Averill leaped to a conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">No!</em><span>" she cried, as the two stood giggling -sheepishly before her tea-table. "You </span><em class="italics">haven't</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We </span><em class="italics">have</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The statement was his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I talked him into it," Lydia declared, laughingly. -"He didn't want to, but I was afraid that -if I didn't tie him by the leg he'd fly the coop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," I asked, "what about your great career?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, I've put that off a bit. I can always -take it up again. Anyhow, you never heard -of an adventuress who wasn't married. She -doesn't have to stay married; but a single woman -who's an adventuress gets nowhere. The -Russian countess in 'The Scarlet Sin' had been -married twice, first to a professor—that 'd be -Harry—and then to a count. I can begin looking -forward to the count right now, because Harry -is what you may call a thing of the past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they giggled themselves out again, to -go and give the news to some one else, Miss -Averill said, whole-heartedly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm glad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thinking of Vio and Stroud I asked why.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because Lydia is safe for a while anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you think she was safe already?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not wholly. There was </span><em class="italics">some one</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one she liked?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, some one she didn't like. That was the -funny part of it. But about four or five months -ago she came to me with so incoherent a tale that -I couldn't make anything out of it. There was -a man, a gentleman she said he was, who wanted -her to go off with him; and to save some one else -she began to think she ought to do it. I really -can't tell you what it was, because I couldn't get -it straight; only there was a wild, foolish, lovely -idea of self-sacrifice in it, and now it's over. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> -won't get her; and if ever any one deserved an -exquisite thing like her it's Harry Drinkwater. -He can't see how pretty she is, of course; but he -gets the essence of beauty that is more than -physical."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We dropped the terms of peace and the League -of Nations and frankly discussed love. I had -already told her that for me, notwithstanding all -the conditions, there was no woman in the world -but Vio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And for me," she laughed, "there's—there's -Lohengrin." My expression must have betrayed -my curiosity, because she went on: "Haven't I -told you that it's all a matter for ourselves -whether the blessings of existence are ours or not; -and what blessing is greater than a good husband -when one wants one? When Elsa was in need -of a defender she went down on her knees, a -method of expressing her point of view, and he -came right out of the clouds. There's always a -Lohengrin for every woman born, and there's -always an Elsa for every man, and whether or -not they find each other largely rests on their -understanding of the source from which Elsas -and Lohengrins come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you're sure of your own Lohengrin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She answered with a laughing air of challenge:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly. Whenever I give the right call -I know he'll be on the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this optimism didn't weigh with me. -Knowing all I did of love and life, the simple -performance of simple tasks began to seem to me -the most satisfying food for men. From nearly -all of those whom I have quoted I made the -synthetic gleaning of bees in a garden of flowers, -building my own little cell for my soul and storing it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I needed such a cell. As May passed and June -came in there was much in the trend of public -life to make those, who had yearned and hoped -and looked forward, cynical. The splendid -spiritual freedom for which people had given their -efforts and their sons was plainly not to be -achieved. If the human race had moved higher -it was not directly apparent at Versailles or -anywhere else in the world; while in America, the -home of the ideal, the land in which so many of -the heart-stirring watchwords had been coined, -passion, selfishness, distortion, extortion, and -contortion were the chief signs of the new times. -North of us Canada, hitherto so tranquilly -industrious, was threatened with internal -convulsion; south of us Mexico, which some of us -had hoped was pacified, was prey to new distress. -For me, to keep my sanity amid all this conflict -of forces, a little secret temple of my own became -a necessity, and to it I retired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It wasn't much. Having built my shrine with -what I had harvested from Drinkwater, Lydia, -Mildred Averill, and the rest, I hid myself -there with some half-dozen disciples. They -were Bridget's boy, the Finn's two sons, and -three or four of their chums whom they had -brought in. Not only did their young affection -give me something I sorely needed in my inner -life, but I had the hope that, building on them, -I was doing something for the future. Grown -men and women were beyond my endeavors. -These fresh souls, with their nearness to God, -understood my faltering speech, which fell so -far short of the ideas I was trying to interpret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were simple ideas, connected with -practical beauty. That is, with the Museum as what -we called our clubhouse, all man's treasures of -material creative art were ours. These we were -taking in their order, beginning with my own -specialty of all things woven, from the crudest -specimens of ancient linens up to the splendors -of the tapestries, and going on to kindred and -allied crafts. Not only art was involved in this, -but history, biography, travel, romance, and -everything else that adds drama to human -accomplishment. To me, with the big void in my -life, it was the most nearly satisfying thing I knew -to reveal to these eager little minds something of -the wonders with which the world was full; to -them, with their ugly homes, cramped outlooks, -and misshapen hopes, it was, I fancy, much what -the marvels of the next world will be to those -accustomed to the dwarfed conceptions of this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saturday afternoons were the days of our -reunions, and we came to the last in June. It was -a fatal day, the 28th, marking the fifth -anniversary of the tragedy through which the new -world began to dissociate itself forever from the -old. As contemporary history was a large part -of our interest, with the development of man's -efforts stage by stage, the occasion naturally -came in for comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On that particular day we were in the great -room, which, as far as I know, has no rival in any -other museum in the world, where the whole -history of ceramic art is visually unfolded in order -from the crude, strong products of the Han, Tang, -and Sung dynasties in China, up through the -manifold efflorescence of European art to such -American works as that of Bennington, Cincinnati, -and Dedham, which may be the forerunner -of a new departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had come to that section of the room where -were displayed the first representative pieces -brought back from the East by merchants and -ambassadors, and so voyages of discovery were -in order. Marco Polo, Vasco da Gama and the -Dutch, English, and Portuguese explorers had -been discussed, and I was in the act of giving to -my boys the story of the origin of delftware as -an attempt to reproduce in abundance what the -Oriental traders brought over only in small -quantities. The specimens of delft being on shelves -but little above the floor, I was crouched in a -half-sitting position, with the lads hanging over my -shoulders. Not till I had finished this part of my -exposition did I rise, to find on turning that a lady -was looking on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recognition on my part lagged behind amazement. -Tall, slender, distinguished, dressed in -black, and somewhat thickly veiled for a day in -June, it was the sort of apparition to make a man -doubt the accuracy of his senses. Before my -lips could frame a word she held out something -toward me, saying simply:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, I came to bring you this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys fell back, knowing by instinct that -the moment was one of dramatic significance to -me and looking on overawed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What I had in my hand I saw at once to be -nothing but a copy of one of the New York papers -that appear in the afternoon. That it contained -some announcement affecting me went without -saying, and a half-dozen terrors crowded into my -mind at once. Without my knowing it she might -have got a divorce; she might have got a divorce -and remarried; she might have lost her money; -I might have lost mine; some one near to us -might be dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held the paper stupidly, staring at her through -the veil, and opening the journal without seeing -it. When my eyes fell on the first page it was -entirely a white blankness, except for a single -word in enormous letters:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">PEACE!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My eyes lifted themselves to hers; fell to that -one word again; lifted themselves to hers once -more. She stood impassive, motionless, waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So—so they've signed it," was all I could find -to stammer out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; they've signed it. I—I thought you -might like to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course." Further than this superficial -fact, I was too dazed to go; but I knew I must get -rid of the boys. Turning to Patsy Bridget, I -said, "Patsy, could you take the other boys home -and see them safely to their doors?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure!" Patsy answered, with the confidence -of fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, we don't want no one to take us home," -the elder of the Finn's boys protested. "Me and -me kid bruvver go all over N'York. Don't we, -Broncho?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another lad spoke up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I come from me aunt's house in Harlem right -down to East Thirty-fourth Street all by meself -and me little sister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Vio who arranged the matter to every -one's satisfaction. With her right hand on one -boy's shoulder and her left on another's she said, -in a tone of quiet authority:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, this is the way it is: The war is over -at last. They've just signed the peace treaty, -and I've come to tell Mr. Harrowby. But now -that we've got peace we've got to go on fighting, -only fighting in a better way and for better things. -Now, you're a little army, with Mr. Harrowby as -your commander-in-chief, like Marshal Foch. -But under him you're all officers, according to -your ages. Patsy is the general, and you're the -colonel," she continued to the elder Finn boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, no, he's not, miss," one of the other lads -declared, tearfully. "I'm older'n him. He's only -twelve goin' on thirteen, and I'm thirteen goin' -on fourteen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, too, was adjusted, and with a dollar from -Vio for ice-cream sodas, the general traped out, -followed by colonel, major, captain, and -lieutenants, each keeping to his rank by marching in -Indian file. I had never before seen Vio in this -light, and something new and human that had -not entered into our previous relations suddenly -was there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left alone with her, I was in too great a tumult -of excitement to find words for the opportunity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you know where to find me?" was -the question I asked, stupidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Averill told me. She said you'd be here -with your boys, and she thought you'd told her -you'd be doing this particular subject. I went -through some of the other rooms first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know you knew her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't till—till lately. I was interested -in making her acquaintance because of things -Alice Mountney said, and you said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did I say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing of much importance, except for -showing me that—that—she was the one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The one you spoke of ... the ... the last -evening. That's ... that's what made me come -to New York, Billy, to see if I could do anything -... to ... to help out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To help out how?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Billy, don't make yourself dull. You -know that nothing can be done unless I, or you, -or one of us, should take the first step."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked, with a casual intonation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's Stroud?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fire flashed right through the thickness of -the veil, but she answered in the tone I had -taken:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. I haven't seen him since—since -that girl—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, is she? I hope it's to some one—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's to some one as true-blue as she."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is true-blue, Billy. I see that now. -She—she must be to have wanted to do what she -did for ... a woman like me, who—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took a step or two toward one of the cases, -where she pretended to examine the luster of a -great Moorish plaque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's an erratic little thing," I said, finding -it easier to talk of a third person rather than of -ourselves, "all pluck, and high spirit, and good -heart, harum-scarum, and yet a great deal wiser -than you'd think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned round from the plaque without -coming nearer to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just want to say that the things she told me, -the things she pretended to betray, were things -I knew more or less already. I'd been coming -to the same conclusions for myself, only I hadn't -quite reached them.... And then you came -back, and everything was so strange ... after -I'd been in mourning for you ... and given -those prints as a memorial in your name! I -wish—" I detected something like a sob—"I -wish you could make some allowances for me, Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minute was a hard one for me, but I stood -my ground:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I make all allowances, Vio; I've no hard -feelings whatever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She advanced toward me by a pace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then will you do this for me? If I can find -a way to—to give you your liberty will you—will -you marry Mildred Averill, and—and be happy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though my heart was going wild I know my -eyes must have been cold as I said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't promise you that, Vio, for a double -reason. First, I'm not in love with her; and -then she's not in love with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I thought she was. Everybody says so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's everybody?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—well, Alice Mountney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can see how Alice Mountney might make -that mistake; but it is a mistake, Vio, and please -let my saying so convince you. I'll be quite -frank with you and say that I thought so once -myself. I'll even go so far as to say that at one -time, if everything had been different, it might -have happened. But—but everything was as -it was, and so— Well, the long and short of it is -that there's nothing in it, and I must beg you to -take that as decisive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—then, who is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one. I've found my work, a very -humble work, as you've just seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very fine and useful work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope so; and I'm not—not unhappy, -specially."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She moved along the line of cases, as if -carelessly examining the contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" she asked, coming to a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Obliged to go close to her, I was careful not -to touch so much as the surface of her clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's just a cup and saucer, Ludwigsburg, an -old Rhine valley factory now extinct. They -liked those little fancy scenes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to be a woman pleading with a man, -doesn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks like that. It probably means nothing -beyond a bit of decoration."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he seems so implacable, while she's down -on her knees, poor thing!" She looked round at -me. "Are you busy here still?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there are always things to do. Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you might walk back to—to the -hotel with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took out my watch, though unable to read -the time even when I looked at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, you're not." There was a repetition -of the catch in the tone that suggested a sob. -"Billy, aren't we—aren't we going to be friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I couldn't soften toward her. I felt no springs -of forgiveness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should you want to be friends with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I can't help it, for one thing," she -cried; "and for another—" Turning away -wearily she began to move toward the door. -"Of course if you don't want to, I can't urge it, -and so must learn to get along by myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something in the last phrase prompted me to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there anything specially wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; only everything specially wrong. If -you had come back to the hotel with me I could -have told you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you tell me now? Is it about—about Stroud?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, Billy. Can't you forget about that? -I have. He's dropped out of my existence. -That was all a mistake, like the other things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What other things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the other things." She pointed to the -big word "PEACE" staring at us from a chair -to which I had thrown the newspaper. "Look at -that. Doesn't it make all the last five years seem -unreal, like a nightmare after you've got up? -Well, that's the way I feel now ... about -... about—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. I never should have thought it -at all, only that Wolf and Dick Stroud, and even -the military authorities— But at heart I </span><em class="italics">didn't</em><span> -believe them—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean that—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded without waiting for me to finish -the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I want it very plainly, Vio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you as plainly as you like, Billy, -but—but not now. I'm too worried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what about? Is it—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, everything!" she burst out, desperately. -"Money for one thing. Didn't you see how -shabby the house was, and run down?" The -sobs began to come freely now, and without -restraint. "And—and Lulu Averill has a little -boy, a perfect darling, and our little Bobby—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go back with you to the hotel," I said, -quietly, "only, don't—don't cry here, with people -coming in and out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dried her eyes, drew down her veil, and -took her sunshade from a corner. Picking up -the paper she had brought, I folded it and slipped -it into my pocket. I began to wonder if it might -not prove a souvenir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way to the main exit we passed through -a corridor lined with cases of old silver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think your boys would like a day -with those things?" she asked, with the slight -convulsion of her throat that a child has after tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure they would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could—I could take them, some day, when -you didn't want to go, if you'd let me. It's one -of the few things I know something about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid it would bore you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused for just an instant. "Bore me? -Billy, nothing will ever bore me again so long as -you—you let me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she could say no more we resumed our walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out in the open a boy rushed up to us, a Slavic -creature with huge questioning eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace, mister! Peace, miss! Buy one! Great -historic 'casion!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were like doves, all up and down the -avenue, white, fluttering, bearing the one blessed, -magical word. They were in motor-cars, -carriages, and on the tops of omnibuses—all white, -all fluttering, all blessed, and all magical. Up -and down and everywhere the cry burst from -hundreds of raucous little throats:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace! </span><em class="italics">Peace</em><span>! PEACE!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's like coming out into a new world, isn't -it?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a new world, for me. Do you remember -saying that day when you first came home -that the new world made the war? Now it's -made something else, in which it seems to me -there'll be just as much struggle called for, only -with a difference. Then the hard things were -done to break us down; now they may be just -as hard, only they'll be to build us up. The -East isn't farther from the West, is it, than these -two motives? I've never wanted to build up -anything in my life; but now I feel as if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more we walked silently among the doves, -listening to that throaty, lusty cry that was sheer -music:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace! </span><em class="italics">Peace</em><span>! PEACE!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had come to that avenue in the park sacred -to little boys and girls, when she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a darling, Lulu Averill's baby; and -they—quite understand each other—now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This second reference prompted me to give -her a long sidewise look, but she did not return it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps—" I ventured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Billy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was barely a sigh, but for the minute it was -enough for me, as she pressed forward, with -veiled profile set, like one gazing into the future.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE THREAD OF FLAME</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45898"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45898</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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