diff options
Diffstat (limited to '49632-h/49632-h.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | 49632-h/49632-h.html | 16240 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 16240 deletions
diff --git a/49632-h/49632-h.html b/49632-h/49632-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index 282515e..0000000 --- a/49632-h/49632-h.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16240 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version='1.0' encoding='utf-8'?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Docutils 0.12: http://docutils.sourceforge.net/" /> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg common docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles common to HTML and EPUB. Put styles -that are specific to HTML and EPUB into their relative stylesheets. - -:Author: Marcello Perathoner (webmaster@gutenberg.org) -:Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - -This stylesheet is based on: - - :Author: David Goodger (goodger@python.org) - :Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - - Default cascading style sheet for the HTML output of Docutils. - -*/ - -/* ADE 1.7.2 chokes on !important and throws all css out. */ - -/* FONTS */ - -.italics { font-style: italic } -.no-italics { font-style: normal } - -.bold { font-weight: bold } -.no-bold { font-weight: normal } - -.small-caps { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.gesperrt { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.antiqua { font-style: italic } /* what else can we do ? */ -.monospaced { font-family: monospace } - -.smaller { font-size: smaller } -.larger { font-size: larger } - -.xx-small { font-size: xx-small } -.x-small { font-size: x-small } -.small { font-size: small } -.medium { font-size: medium } -.large { font-size: large } -.x-large { font-size: x-large } -.xx-large { font-size: xx-large } - -.text-transform-uppercase { text-transform: uppercase } -.text-transform-lowercase { text-transform: lowercase } -.text-transform-none { text-transform: none } - -.red { color: red } -.green { color: green } -.blue { color: blue } -.yellow { color: yellow } -.white { color: white } -.gray { color: gray } -.black { color: black } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.left { text-align: left } -.justify { text-align: justify } -.center { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.centerleft { text-align: center; text-indent: 0 } -.right { text-align: right; text-indent: 0 } - -/* LINE HEIGHT */ - -body { line-height: 1.5 } -p { margin: 0; - text-indent: 2em } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.title, .subtitle { page-break-after: avoid } - -.container, .title, .subtitle, #pg-header - { page-break-inside: avoid } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { text-align: justify } - -p.pfirst, p.noindent { - text-indent: 0 -} - -.boxed { border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -.topic, .note { margin: 5% 0; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -div.section { clear: both } - -div.line-block { margin: 1.5em 0 } /* same leading as p */ -div.line-block.inner { margin: 0 0 0 10% } -div.line { margin-left: 20%; text-indent: -20%; } -.line-block.noindent div.line { margin-left: 0; text-indent: 0; } - -hr.docutils { margin: 1.5em 40%; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; } -div.transition { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.vfill, .vspace { border: 0px solid white } - -.title { margin: 1.5em 0 } -.title.with-subtitle { margin-bottom: 0 } -.subtitle { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -/* header font style */ -/* http://dev.w3.org/csswg/css3-fonts/#propdef-font-size */ - -h1.title { font-size: 200%; } /* for book title only */ -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-1 { font-size: 150%; margin-top: 4.5em; margin-bottom: 2em } -h3.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { font-size: 120%; margin-top: 2.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em } -h4.title, p.subtitle.level-3 { font-size: 100%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; font-weight: bold; } -h5.title, p.subtitle.level-4 { font-size: 89%; margin-top: 1.87em; margin-bottom: 1.69em; font-style: italic; } -h6.title, p.subtitle.level-5 { font-size: 60%; margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2.5em } - -/* title page */ - -h1.title, p.subtitle.level-1, -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { text-align: center } - -#pg-header, -h1.document-title { margin: 10% 0 5% 0 } -p.document-subtitle { margin: 0 0 5% 0 } - -/* PG header and footer */ -#pg-machine-header { } -#pg-produced-by { } - -li.toc-entry { list-style-type: none } -ul.open li, ol.open li { margin-bottom: 1.5em } - -.attribution { margin-top: 1.5em } - -.example-rendered { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted red; padding: 1em; background-color: #ffd } -.literal-block.example-source { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted blue; padding: 1em; background-color: #eef } - -/* DROPCAPS */ - -/* BLOCKQUOTES */ - -blockquote { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -blockquote.epigraph { } - -blockquote.highlights { } - -div.local-contents { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -div.abstract { margin: 3em 10% } -div.image { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.caption { margin: 1.5em 0 } -div.legend { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.hidden { display: none } - -.invisible { visibility: hidden; color: white } /* white: mozilla print bug */ - -a.toc-backref { - text-decoration: none ; - color: black } - -dl.docutils dd { - margin-bottom: 0.5em } - -div.figure { margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em } - -img { max-width: 100% } - -div.footer, div.header { - clear: both; - font-size: smaller } - -div.sidebar { - margin: 0 0 0.5em 1em ; - border: medium outset ; - padding: 1em ; - background-color: #ffffee ; - width: 40% ; - float: right ; - clear: right } - -div.sidebar p.rubric { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-size: medium } - -ol.simple, ul.simple { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -ol.toc-list, ul.toc-list { padding-left: 0 } -ol ol.toc-list, ul ul.toc-list { padding-left: 5% } - -ol.arabic { - list-style: decimal } - -ol.loweralpha { - list-style: lower-alpha } - -ol.upperalpha { - list-style: upper-alpha } - -ol.lowerroman { - list-style: lower-roman } - -ol.upperroman { - list-style: upper-roman } - -p.credits { - font-style: italic ; - font-size: smaller } - -p.label { - white-space: nowrap } - -p.rubric { - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger ; - color: maroon ; - text-align: center } - -p.sidebar-title { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger } - -p.sidebar-subtitle { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -p.topic-title, p.admonition-title { - font-weight: bold } - -pre.address { - margin-bottom: 0 ; - margin-top: 0 ; - font: inherit } - -.literal-block, .doctest-block { - margin-left: 2em ; - margin-right: 2em; } - -span.classifier { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-style: oblique } - -span.classifier-delimiter { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -span.interpreted { - font-family: sans-serif } - -span.option { - white-space: nowrap } - -span.pre { - white-space: pre } - -span.problematic { - color: red } - -span.section-subtitle { - /* font-size relative to parent (h1..h6 element) */ - font-size: 100% } - -table { margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; border-spacing: 0 } -table.align-left, table.align-right { margin-top: 0 } - -table.table { border-collapse: collapse; } - -table.table.hrules-table thead { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 0 } -table.table.hrules-table tbody { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows tr { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 0 0 1px } -table.table.hrules-rows tr.last { border-width: 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows td, -table.table.hrules-rows th { padding: 1ex 1em; vertical-align: middle } - -table.table tr { border-width: 0 } -table.table td, -table.table th { padding: 0.5ex 1em } -table.table tr.first td { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last td { padding-bottom: 1ex } -table.table tr.first th { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last th { padding-bottom: 1ex } - - -table.citation { - border-left: solid 1px gray; - margin-left: 1px } - -table.docinfo { - margin: 3em 4em } - -table.docutils { } - -div.footnote-group { margin: 1em 0 } -table.footnote td.label { width: 2em; text-align: right; padding-left: 0 } - -table.docutils td, table.docutils th, -table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th { - padding: 0 0.5em; - vertical-align: top } - -table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name { - font-weight: bold ; - text-align: left ; - white-space: nowrap ; - padding-left: 0 } - -/* used to remove borders from tables and images */ -.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - border: 0 } - -table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important". - The right padding separates the table cells. */ - padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */ - -h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils, -h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils { - font-size: 100% } - -ul.auto-toc { - list-style-type: none } -</style> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML. -*/ - -/* FONTS */ - -/* em { font-style: normal } -strong { font-weight: normal } */ - -.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } -.gesperrt { letter-spacing: 0.1em } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.align-left { clear: left; - 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 LOVE CHASE</title> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-08-06" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Love Chase" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="49632" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Felix Grendon" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1922" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Love Chase" /> - -<link rel="schema.DCTERMS" href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" /> -<link rel="schema.MARCREL" href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" /> -<meta content="The Love Chase" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="/home/ajhaines/love/love.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> -<meta content="2015-08-06T17:14:10.904729+00:00" name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49632" /> -<meta content="Felix Grendon" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2015-08-06" name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-love-chase"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE LOVE CHASE</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="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 in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Love Chase -<br /> -<br />Author: Felix Grendon -<br /> -<br />Release Date: August 06, 2015 [EBook #49632] -<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 LOVE CHASE</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="container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE LOVE CHASE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">FELIX GRENDON</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of -<br />"Will He Come Back?", "Nixola of Wall Street," etc.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BOSTON -<br />SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY -<br />PUBLISHERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT, 1922</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY -<br />(INCORPORATED)</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Printed in the United States of America</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY -<br />CAMBRIDGE, MASS.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>PART I. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#rebellion">Rebellion!</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>PART II. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#love-among-the-outlaws">Love Among the Outlaws</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>PART III. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#janet-on-her-own">Janet on her Own</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>PART IV. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#nemesis">Nemesis!</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>PART V. </span><a class="reference internal" href="#hearts-and-treasures">Hearts and Treasures</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">THE LOVE CHASE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"But who, alas! can love and still be wise?"</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>LORD BYRON</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The right to rebellion is the right to seek a higher rule</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>and not to wander in mere lawlessness."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>GEORGE ELIOT</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="rebellion"><span class="bold large">PART I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">REBELLION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER ONE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A young man of twenty-seven, a dashing Count d'Orsay -type, was sitting astride a chair in flat number fifteen, one -of the three-room flats in the Lorillard model tenement -houses. He was alone in the room but evidently not in -the flat, for he was directing animated remarks at one of -two closed doors that flanked a projecting china cupboard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's to be a masked ball, Cornelia," he was saying, "and -I'm going as the head of John the Baptist."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two feminine voices, one from behind the door, laughed -merrily. Much pleased, the young man continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or I might go as a Spanish cavalier. The costume in -Whistler's painting of 'Henry Irving as Philip II' would -suit me to a T."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude, I know what you're thinking of," returned a -well-pitched voice behind the right door. "You're not -thinking of the part of Philip II, but of the part of Don -Juan, in which you expect to be irresistible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gee," added kittenish tones behind the door. "It'd -be a good sight better if he went as a penitent friar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leading you attired as Salome, I dare say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, I mean to go as St. Cecilia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude burst into mocking laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd need seven and seventy veils for that part, -Mazie," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he subsided, the same languid, purring tones -replied from the left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Claude, you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> got a head. But so has a pin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naughty kitten, showing its claws in company!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lothario!" cried Cornelia, from the right. "No -quarreling before supper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I need a little excitement to give me an appetite," -said Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got up, walked around the room several times and -then stopped in front of the left door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you'd hurry up, Mazie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary, I'm on my fourth step," purred her voice in -reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can fairly see you dressing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through Mazie's door came a coloratura shriek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In my mind's eye, that is," added Claude, after a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Resuming his seat he addressed the right door again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, shall we go to the Turk's or to the Spaniard's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry, Lothario, but I've got a date with 'Big -Burley' for tonight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hutchins Burley? Then have a good time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As his skeptical inflection belied his words, Cornelia -asked for an explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hutch is in a devil of a temper," declared Claude grimly, -"because Rob covered him with ridicule at the Outlaw -Club."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave it to Robert Lloyd!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This exclamation from the right door was followed by a -peremptory command from the left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, wait a moment—I can't hear you, Claude—and I -can't find my garter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ignoring Mazie's cries of distress, Claude proceeded to -explain to the right door that Burley's temper had been -ruffled that afternoon at a meeting of the Outlaws, a club -for young radical and artistic people which they all -belonged to, and which, since the recent signing of the -armistice, had more than trebled its membership. Friction had -arisen from the contact of two facts: the need of money -to provide the club with larger quarters, and the proposal -to hold a public masked ball as an easy means of raising -the money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley, who had organized the Outlaws, -sponsored this proposal, but some of the members opposed it -on the ground that, in the existing state of public opinion, -a radical club might get a black eye from the improprieties -or the hooliganism that outsiders could practice under cover -of the masks. "Big Burley" had flattened out most of -the opposition with his usual steam-rollering bluster, the -Outlaws, like more timid gentry, being victims of a popular -superstition that a noisy debater is always in the right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Leading the minority, Claude had moved the substitution -of a restricted costume ball for the free and easy -masquerade. He was ably seconded by his friend Robert Lloyd, -whose short satiric speech won over many supporters, so -many that "Big Burley" fairly swelled with the venom -of frustration. Claude assured Cornelia that, if a narrow -majority had not finally declared itself in favor of the -masked ball, Burley would certainly have exploded. As it -was—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Further explanations were cut short by the opening of the -door on the left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary, I'm on my last step," announced the occupant, -standing on the threshold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie Ross was taller and slenderer than her purring -tones foreshadowed. Her intimates knew that, in addition -to being extremely pretty, she was extremely bad. Young -as she was, her looks were already enameled with cruelty. -A long procession of lovers had left her wholly incapable -of tenderness or shame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the cadenced poses of a Ziegfield "Follies" girl, -she walked to Claude's chair and stood beside him -invitingly. He opened his arms and drew her on his lap. She -struggled just enough to put zest into the embraces he -immediately engaged her in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't invited me yet," she said, pouting. "Do -you think I don't eat or drink?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goddesses and sylphs live on nectar and ambrosia, you -know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you're talking, old dear. But let me give you a -tip. Those dishes don't figure on the menu of a cheap -Turkish restaurant in the gas house district. I do believe -you can get them at the Plaza or the Ritz, though."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude's reply to this hint was to launch into caresses -so daring that Mazie took alarm. She was in the habit -of giving much less than she received, and she had not as -yet received very much from Claude. Therefore she wriggled, -with some difficulty, out of his grasp. Perhaps she -also desired to anticipate the entrance of her chum. At -any rate, Cornelia just then opened the door on the right.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Time I came in," she remarked; glancing significantly -from one to the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Mazie, looking the picture of wounded -innocence. "Since Claude came back from the firing line -in France—or was it gay Paree?—liberty and license look -alike to him. All the same, my beamish boy, there's a -boundary between the two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boundaries exist only to be extended," chanted Claude, -delighted with his own audacity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know which of you is the more incorrigible flirt," -said Cornelia, half in reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to the pot calling the kettle black," cried the -"Follies" girl. "Somebody pass me a whiff of brandy to -uplift me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be vulgar, Mazie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie's answer was to tango to Cornelia's cupboard, -singing provocatively:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"I learnt more from Billy,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the day I stayed from school,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Than teacher could have taught me in a week."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She would have said and done much more than this to -annoy Cornelia. But she remembered in time that her -sayings or doings might offend Claude Fontaine who, in -the words of a fellow Outlaw, was "rich, but refined." She -never knowingly gave offence to any form of wealth whilst -there was hope of exploiting its owner even on the smallest -scale. Besides, she was more than a little afraid of -Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After helping herself to an undiluted drink, she pranced -back to the studio couch and flung herself upon it, face -downwards, with the abandon of a Russian ballet dancer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank the Lord it's to be a masked affair," she called -out to the others. "What'd be the good of a regular -look-and-see ball? Nowadays men are that timid, you can't -have a lark with them unless they don't see what they're -doing, nor who they're doing it with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you throwing stones at me?" asked Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, at Robert Lloyd. What's he doing in these diggings, -anyhow? Why, he's a regular pale-face. If he's the new -man—you know the kind—the kind that won't kiss a girl -in the dark without first asking her permission—then give -me the old Nick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't blame it all on poor Cato," Cornelia intervened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia Covert was about thirty, blonde, loose-framed -and of medium height. Her rich golden hair sounded a -dominant note of which her pupils and her eyebrows were -overtones. A firm, square chin heightened an illusion of -strength with which her form invested her, but which her -pale coloring and listless eye did not support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude sided with the strait-laced party, too," she -reminded Mazie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well," said Claude, flushing slightly, "I'm really -quite glad that the minority lost. To tell the truth, what -I chiefly objected to was Hutchins Hurley's cockiness. -Personally I prefer a masked ball. I haven't got Robert's -interest in backing the radicals or keeping their reputation -spotless. Let's risk it, I say. It's a case of nothing venture, -nothing have, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Robert was the real leader of the rumpus all the -time," said Cornelia, sweetly. "I thought so. Still, I'm -free to say that I admire his courage in defying 'Big -Burley.' Especially when I think how afraid of Hutch all -the Outlaws are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude rose to his full stature and walked to the head of -the couch where he stood, handsome and commanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I afraid of him?" he asked, amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you generally agree with him, Lothario."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He received this jab with a smile. He supposed Cornelia -to be speaking only of bodily fear, and as his physical -courage and strength were unusual, the shaft glanced off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean," said Cornelia, "that, like Big Burley, you are -an anarchist at heart, only not such a wicked one. You -work within the law, he works without."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude was preparing a vigorous assault on any theory -that placed Burley and himself in the same class, when a -ring at the outer door took the opportunity away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWO</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That part of the city of New York which the older charts -describe as Kips Bay, now encompasses the East Thirties, -Forties, and Fifties. It is a section of Manhattan famous -in song and story. Here in 1635 came Jacobus Kip, the -learned Dutch patroon and, with bricks brought from -Holland, built a farmhouse on land where St. Gabriel's Park -and an astonishingly well-stocked library now flourish. -Here Washington had another site for his movable headquarters -while, on the heights of Murray Hill hard by, he -rallied his troops against the redcoats. Here in Artillery -Park (at First Avenue and Forty-fifth Street), Nathan -Hale was executed. And here at Turtle Bay (where the -East Forties now end) the "Quality" had a fashionable -bathing beach in the early eighteen-hundreds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of these historic memories the average Kipsian is ignorant, -quite contemptuously ignorant. Far livelier realities -occupy his thoughts. In the heart of modern Kips Bay -there are slums, stables, hospitals, asylums, and model -tenement houses, five features ranged in an ascending order -of precedence from the neighborhood's point of view. Kips -Bay is keen on this order of precedence. No lady of the -White House giving her first State Ball could well be -keener.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slums rank lowest in the neighborhood's appraisal because -they are the natural or routine habitat of the human -species there. Stables go a peg higher, not because they are -dirtier, or because artists frequently turn them into studios -but because they serve as club houses for professional -gangsters, and because a crack gunman is at once the pride -and the terror of his district. Hospitals outclass the stables -by the same law of human nature that makes an extra -holiday outclass a Sunday. For the hospital is a sort of -haven in which the true-born Kipsian expects, now and -then, to spend a furlough from the ravages of alcohol, from -undernourishment, or merely from the wear and tear of the -industrial machine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In their turn, the hospitals yield the palm to the several -asylums which, adjoining the hovels of the destitute, -provide the infirm, the defective, or the insane with all the -comforts and luxuries of the rich. Easily the handsomest -buildings in the neighborhood, the asylums stand unrivalled -in aristocratic prestige. And this is not due to a Kipsian -gratitude for charity, nor to the growing artistic cultivation -of the masses. It is due to an inborn respect for -plutocracy, a respect that persists in the heart of every -Kipsian, no matter how loudly he may applaud the labor -agitator who assures him that an asylum is at once a -monument to the uneasy consciences of donors and a -sepulchre for those soldiers of industry who do not perish -in active service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would be as difficult for the Kipsian to explain to -the outside world why his model tenements outrank -asylums as for the outside world to explain to the Kipsian -why a civilian Secretary of the Navy can give orders to -the uniformed Admiral of the Fleet. In either case, the -simplest course the perplexed brain can pursue is to accept -the facts on faith.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is precisely what the Kipsian has done—he has -accepted both the civilian Secretary and the model -tenements on faith. Nevertheless, the facts quite pass his -understanding. The model tenement, he has heard, was -built in his midst for the likes of himself, for toilers at -the border line of pauperism. It was built, moreover, to -accustom him to habits of cleanliness and thrift. -Unfortunately, the rooms are too small to hold his furniture, or -the furniture is too bulky to leave room for cleanliness. -In any case, the rents are so high that only the "aristocrats -of labor" can afford to pay them, and the "aristocrats of -labor" are not so low as to merge their fortunes with the -denizens of Kips Bay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Because their habits, their pocketbooks, and their pride -are thus offended, native-born Kipsians have unanimously -fought shy of the model tenements. And these evidences -of concern for the welfare of the masses might have proven -a poor investment for public benefactors, had not the -situation been saved by sundry artists, writers, actors, -singers, promoters, efficiency engineers, socialists, -anarchists and dynamitards who promptly rented every -available apartment besides filling up a long waiting list of -impatient applicants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the simple-minded natives of Kips Bay, the model -tenementers stand clean beyond the bounds of everyday -belief. Here are people who plainly hail from comfortable -homes, and yet voluntarily set up housekeeping in the -slums; who neither work by day nor sleep by night; who -flirt with riches and coquet with poverty; and who go to -and from their abodes, one day in rags, the next in motor -cars. By such contradictions respectable Kipsians are -completely mystified. But having grown accustomed to -their mystery, they have ceased to hate it. They have -even begun to pay it the compliment which idolatrous -man usually pays the unfathomable: they worship it above -all the things that they can fathom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus it has come to pass that, within the confines -of Kips Bay, the model tenement lords it over the asylum -for the insane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The model tenementers affect a lofty indifference to this -high rank; also to the slum-dwellers who confer it. They -affect an even loftier indifference to the existence of the -newer model tenements in the East End Avenue and John -Jay Park neighborhoods. When comparisons are instituted -between these more modern, more luxurious structures and -their own, the Lorillarders smile superiorly and say: "Let -Kips Bay renegades with a sneaking preference for uptown -respectability migrate to John Jay Park, or better still, to -Hell Gate! We want no truck with them. The one and -only Lorillard speaks for itself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If you probe further they will ask you to lift up your -eyes at night to their electrically lighted pagoda roof and -then tell them why they should not be content to be "a -twinkling model set in a sea of slums." No. Impossible -to get them excited by sly disparagements or open -comparisons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Impossible, that is, unless your comparison brings in -Greenwich Village. Dare to assert that the model tenement -district reminds you of Greenwich Village or the Latin -Quarter of Paris, and you will encounter an explosion. You -will learn to your sorrow that the cold model tenementer -is not cold at all, that he is a volcano covered with a very -little snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He will bombard you with: "Greenwich Village me eye! -Liken us to a fake Bohemia, to a near-beer substitute for -the Parisian Latin Quarter! Say, where did you get that -stuff? We don't imitate the Latin Quarter or any other -foreign quarter. We are an American quarter. We are -the Kips Bay model tenement quarter—and that is all -there is to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He will swear that the differences between Greenwich -Village and Kips Bay are too numerous to record. He -will challenge you to scour the Village for a parallel to -the Kips Bay Outlaw Club with its professional news-faker -for president, its one-legged gunman for sergeant-at-arms, -and its purser-of-a-pirate-ship for treasurer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, he may admit a superficial resemblance in the -matter of devotion to art. But he will point out that the -artistic set in Greenwich Village is almost the whole village, -whereas the artistic set in the model tenements is but a -small part of Kips Bay. He will assure you that: "The -Village takes up </span><em class="italics">Love for Love's Sake</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">Art for Art's -Sake</em><span>. We have no use for that kind of bunk. We take -up Art and Love for the sake of anything and everything -but Love and Art; for the sake of politics or money, or -just for the sake of excitement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The way the purser-of-the-pirate-ship expresses the -difference is: "We go in more for powder than for paint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By powder he means gunpowder.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in these Lorillard tenements (named after Westing -Lorillard, the well-known brewer and philanthrophist who -endowed them) that Cornelia Covert and Mazie Ross -occupied apartment number fifteen, (two bedrooms, kitchen -and bath). And it was by a ring of number fifteen's bell -that Claude Fontaine was cut short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Cornelia went to the door, Mazie transformed the -kitchen as if by magic. She wafted a heap of soiled dishes -into a basin in the cupboard, deftly concealed the stove -behind a Japanese screen, and then converted the -washtubs into a table by covering them with a pretty denim -cloth. Tubs, in a sitting-room, offended her sense of -propriety, even when they were porcelain tubs, as these were, -with fine zinc tops. But the denim cover blotted out -iniquity, on the principle that what the eye can't see, the -heart don't grieve! Fortunately. For the limitations of -a three-room apartment left no choice but to employ the -one fair-sized room in the triple capacity of kitchen, -dining-room and sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tapping her dainty hands against each other to brush -away the dust, Mazie faced the newcomer, a young man -about Claude's age.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's only Rob!" she exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By which Mazie means to say, Cato, that we trembled -for fear you were Hutchins Burley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you expect him?" asked Robert, turning to Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Burley's going to take me to supper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That man foils me at every turn," said Robert with -mock gravity. "I wanted to take you to supper myself. -Cornelia, you have no intuition whatever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how do you do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia had a whimsical way of using this salutation -as a mild rebuke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie, who was perched on the quondam tubs so that -Claude could get the full benefit of a very shapely pair -of legs, made a grimace at Robert Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that isn't the third invite this evening! Cornelia, -you're a perfect pig. Rob, pale face never won fair lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mazie, your ignorance of human nature is appalling," -said Robert. "What you really ought to say is that pale -faces never count their chickens till they're hatched."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that so, Mr. Cleverdick? Well, listen to me. Cornelia -likes her men in three dimensions, not in two. That's -why she's going out with Hutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if Rob is two dimensions," said Claude, "Hutch -is eight or ten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert joined in the general laughter; Mazie's manner -was really very friendly to him, although the banter -sounded spiteful. Cornelia now insisted that they were -all to join her and Burley at supper; and Robert, under -pressure, consented to make a fifth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert was by no means as unprepossessing as Mazie's -brusque remarks might have led one to infer. True, he -was not handsome, dashing, and meteoric like Claude -Fontaine. He was of medium height and slender, with a figure -touched by poetry and grace. Women described him as -"so nice" until, scorched by his flaming spirit, they learnt -that ideas, and ideas alone, could make him incandescent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucky you left after Hutchins bowled us over," he -said to Claude. "The rest of the meeting was dry as -dust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought as much," said Claude. "What happened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was voted to supplement the main affair of the ball -with a few side features."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like a raffle, a fish pond, and—several other things that -I fear I paid no attention to. All I remember is that I -was deputed to get some one to act as a fortune-teller."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia's the girl for that," cried Mazie. "She's a -regular clip at reading palms, men's palms especially. Oh, -she can do it slick. Why, she can give you a worse -character than Chiro."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What luck. The fact is, Cornelia, the committee had -you in mind. May I count on you? You shall be mistress -of a gypsy tent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, </span><em class="italics">Robert le Diable</em><span>, a thousand times, no! Don't -you know my habits better than to invite me to a ball?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had pleased Cornelia to "live in seclusion" as she -called it, for some time past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you don't go to dances, Cornelia. Neither do -I. But think of the opportunity we'll have of talking -undisturbed and finding out what other dislikes we have -in common. While the rest go on with the dance, our -joy will be unconfined."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! And in return for your improving conversation, -I'm to make up characters for silly people who never -had any? No, thank you. I don't propose to spend half -an evening letting tiresome people bore me, and the other -half watching the fine art of dancing degraded into an -orgy of fox-trots and jazz steps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie stuck her tongue out when Cornelia wasn't looking, -and Claude responded with a sympathetic wink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be a spoil-sport, Cornelia!" said Mazie, hitting -the nail on the head. "What is Rob to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, what is poor Robin to do, poor thing?" echoed -Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia plainly enjoyed the sensation her blank refusal -created. But her elation subsided when she caught a -glimpse of Mazie and Claude in a stealthy interchange of -grimaces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do nothing," she replied tartly. "Or ask Mazie. She'd -make a capital gypsy with her dark hair and velvet paws. -And she could eke out her fortune-telling with her -monkeyshines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, old girl. But I'll take Claude's tip and go -as Salome, and I'll dance my feet off just to tantalize you. -If the boys want me to, I'll do the dance of the seven veils -for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">All</em><span> seven?" asked Claude, affecting an air of seasoned -rakishness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All </span><em class="italics">but</em><span> the seventh will be one too many if Big Burley -is present," said Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so, Cornelia," said Claude. "A good reason for -you to come and see that Mazie behaves herself. And -that Big Burley does likewise. As the Gypsy Queen you -may be able to keep him in order by predicting dire -disasters for him. For he's a regular old screen villain: he -fears nothing but the fictitious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lothario, in the present state of my own fortunes, I'm -not keen to tell other people their fortunes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but come anyhow. If not as a gypsy, then as a -ballet dancer or a columbine. Or anything else that takes -your fancy. We won't let you stay at home, so get that -out of your head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silly boy," said Cornelia, with a prolonged, musical -laugh. "A ballet dancer's dress calls for the most cast iron -of corsets. Do you see me putting on those abominations? -No. Not even for love of you, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was fond of drawing to the attention of her men -friends the fact that a corset was an article she rigorously -abjured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the boys know you never wear the iron maiden," -said Mazie tartly. "All the Outlaws know it by heart. -But they won't treat you any the worse for it, Corny. Men -like a girl to be squashy—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Provided there's not too much to squash," Claude thrust -in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your remarks are all highly illuminating," said Robert -Lloyd addressing the company. "But they don't help me -out of my box. Remember, I promised the committee to -get Cornelia for the gypsy act."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, my frisky youth," exclaimed Mazie. "Expect -Cornelia to hide her golden coiffure under a shopworn wig! -Guess again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mazie's shot is a good one," said Robert. "Cornelia, -you can't refuse on no better ground than that helping -us would put you out of countenance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of hair," corrected Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of spite," added Mazie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," replied Cornelia, reluctantly yielding to this -concentrated fire, "I won't go myself. But I'll get you some -one else. I have a dear little girl in mind who is as -charming as she is original."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this paragon?" interrupted Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a Brooklyn girl. Her name is Janet Barr."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet Barr!" exclaimed Robert. "Why, you can't get -</span><em class="italics">her</em><span> to come to an affair like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I know her family well. She lives in an atmosphere -of Puritan blue laws perfumed with brimstone and -sulphur. Her mother—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She'll come," interrupted Cornelia, with supreme -confidence. "But Claude is bored, Mazie is making sheep's -eyes, and I'm hungry—let's go to supper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about Big Burley," protested Mazie. "Aren't -you going to wait for him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> may if you like. I'm too hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Cornelia saw a chance of tormenting some one, she -could move with celerity. Her coat and hat were on in -a twinkling, and she was ready to go while Robert and -Claude were still fumbling for their hats and coats, and -Mazie sat irresolute on the washtubs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But really, Cornelia, if somebody doesn't wait for -Burley—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bother Burley! He should have been here a quarter -of an hour ago. If it'll quiet you, however, I'll tack a -note outside the door, telling him to follow us to the Asia -Minor Cafeteria."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Secretly gloating over the prospect of Burley's chagrin, -she suited the action to the word. While she was writing -the note, Claude said to Robert:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear Big Burley will chalk up another black mark -against you. He's your boss on the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>, -isn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. His word is law there since he wrote up the -Montana dynamite trial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," said Cornelia. "He won't take it out on -Robert. I'll see to that. He has vicious bursts of temper, -but he's not bad to the core."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, every tiger-tamer thinks his pets are full of -the milk of human kindness. You must excuse a layman -for taking a more cautious view. Rob's bread and butter -depend on the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert cut him short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't worry, Claude," he said. "I've nothing to lose -but my chains, and I've you and the girls and a merry -evening to gain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good, Cato, good!" cried Cornelia. "I like your spirit. -You shall go with me. You, Claude, for being saucy, may -stay behind and tarry till your bonnie Mazie's ready. Or -you may wait for Hutchins Burley and, if possible, avert -the wrath to come. Meet us at the restaurant, Mazie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words, Cornelia took Robert by the sleeve -and marched out, leaving Claude staring blankly after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon my word!" said the young man, as much amused -as he was vexed. "Look sharp, Mazie, will you?" he -added, after a moment's pause. "We may yet catch up to -them, if you don't put too fine a point—on your complexion."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But despatch was not Mazie's forte. And so, while she -was still prinking in the bedroom, and Claude was cooling -his heels in the kitchen, Hutchins Burley arrived. When -Claude opened the door, the hulking Falstaffian form -entered, puffing and panting, overheated with liquor as well -as with climbing the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't kept the old girl waiting, have I?" he gasped, -between breaths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," said Claude, evasively. "She has gone ahead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley, who had evidently not seen the note Cornelia -had tacked on the door, acted as if he had not heard -Claude's remarks either. He tramped to the door of the -first bedroom, opened it unceremoniously and, when he -found it empty, stalked noisily to the second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where the devil is Cornelia?" he demanded, turning to -Mazie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was hungry and went on to the Asia Minor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Robert Lloyd happened to be here. He went too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sulphurous explosion of oaths testified to "Big -Burley's" feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley was a sinister personage both in newspaper -and in radical circles. Among artists who eked out -their scanty talents with alcoholic inspiration and took a -serious view of the Bohemianism of the Lorillard tenements, -he cut a considerable figure. Others dreaded or -avoided him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curious conclusions might have been drawn from the -fact that, though he hung out with parlor anarchists of -the Outlaw type and was reputed to be a close friend of -real anarchists like Emma Goldman, he was an all-important -member of the staff of the sham-liberal </span><em class="italics">Evening -Chronicle</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no one bothered to draw these conclusions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In truth, few people cared to think long or deeply about -Hutchins Burley. A great hulk of a man, with a pitted -face and shifty eyes, he was a dreadful and repellant figure, -yet one that chained the attention. Some said offhand that -he knew more about Charles Edward Strong, the editor and -owner of the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>, than was good for either -of them. Others believed that his influence had been won -by the sensational hits he had made in "covering" the -Lawrence strike and other big labor outbreaks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One thing was certain. Newspaper Row hated and yet -feared him; the Kips Bay model tenementers eyed him -askance and yet elected him to high office in the Outlaw -Club. A few shrewd observers troubled the placid waters -in both camps by enquiring from time to time: "Can -Hutchins Burley serve both Park Row and the Radicals?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wine was not one of Burley's weak points: he could -stand any quantity of it. But women touched his Achilles' -heel. On this point he was like Falstaff, "corrupt, corrupt, -and tainted in desire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hence his explosion at Claude's news. The picture of -Cornelia gallivanting off with Robert made his great frame -shake with rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does she mean by going off with that puppy?" -he snarled, ejecting the words from the left side of his -mouth. "Don't she know better than to break an -engagement without so much as a by-your-leave?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie tried to coax him into a good humor. But the -sweeter her advances, the blacker grew his passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, get over it, Hutch," said Claude at last. "After -all, if you make an appointment for seven, you can't expect -Cornelia to wait until eight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She'd have waited but for that thundering young cad," -shouted Burley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't go on like that, Hutch," begged Mazie in a -panic. "You know he's Claude's friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's nothing," said Claude urbanely. "Names -won't hurt Rob. If it relieves your feelings, Hutch, swear -at me, too, from the bottom of your heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude had a temper of his own. But the chief instinct -of his social existence was to stave off the -disagreeable—except where his own desires were thwarted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ready, Mazie?" he continued. "Well, then, we might -as well go. Calm down, Hutch, and come along with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be damned if I do. I won't eat with a girl that -breaks an engagement, or prefers a snorting, bouncing, -snapping little cur to me. Just wait till he comes snivelling -along for the next assignment. I'll show him what's what!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, cool off!" exclaimed Claude, whose patience was -thoroughly exhausted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a second it looked as if Burley would hurl himself -upon the younger man. But as Claude's athletic frame -seemed fully prepared for the contingency, he picked up -his hat, glared himself past Mazie, and fumed his way -to the door. He stopped at the threshold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just let the beggar sneak in tomorrow!" he shouted, -his left jaw moving with a grotesque, machine-like rhythm. -"I'll kick him into kingdom come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude smiled disdainfully, turned his back on Burley, -and went to comfort Mazie, who was making the most -of the pose of Dulcinea in distress.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER THREE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One morning a letter addressed to Miss Janet Barr was -delivered at a house in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn. -The writing was legible enough, but a new and somewhat -flustered servant placed the letter next to Miss Emily -Barr's plate. This young lady, Janet's older sister, was -the first member of the family to reach the breakfast table. -She was one of those well-filled-out single women who -abound in the better districts of Brooklyn, and who look -more matronly than a great many married women, perhaps -because their figures have not been pared down by wedlock -in middle-class circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Casually she picked up the envelope and opened it. -She laid the enclosure down before she had read very far, -took it up again, laid it down a second time, and then -surveyed it with painful indecision. Finally she rang for -the maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Laura, have you called Miss Janet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet, Miss Emily. She told me not to call her before -half past eight this morning. She said—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind. Don't call her until I tell you to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, ma'am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the girl had gone, Emily took the letter and went -upstairs to the back sitting room. She did not allow the -turmoil within her to disturb her dignity or quicken her -pace. She found her mother seated in a rocking chair -and musing over a passage from the Bible that lay open -on her lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, my child," said Mrs. Barr, as her -daughter entered. "You must have made short work of -breakfast. Are you late?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, mother, I've brought you a letter I opened by -mistake. It is directed to Janet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, just lick it together again," she said, with -arid humor, "and lay it beside Janet's plate. She'll never -know the difference. You know Janet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr's levity appeared to distress Emily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not what's troubling me, mother. I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated and held out the envelope with a good -imitation of helplessness. Her mother stopped rocking and -looked in some astonishment from Emily to the letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr was a tall, well-set woman, whose rigid bearing -was but little softened by her refined surroundings. She -was neither thin nor fleshy; there was something solid and -conservative about her that suggested the Chinese wall. -Solidity was her pronounced characteristic, solidity of soul -no less than solidity of body. Her face was hard; it was -full of lines that looked like razor edges drawn in gall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr had been beautiful in her youth and might -still have been so had she not sacrificed everything—everything -but her love of comfort—to a greed for power. Experience -had taught her that a fit of sickness was a right -royal prop to domestic tyranny. Thus she had cultivated -ill-health until nothing saved her from being a professional -invalid but her naturally strong constitution and an -inherited playfulness which still occasionally emerged between -long fits of bad temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was the president of the King's Daughters' Society -in a local Presbyterian church, and, as she was preparing -for a meeting that day, she cut Emily short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Emily, what do you want me to do?" she said, -less amiably than before. "I'll explain it to Janet if you -like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand, mother. I not only opened the -letter, I read part of it before I realized my mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not a crime, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—But what I read amazed me. It seemed all of a -piece with Janet's strange behavior of late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed? Who is the letter from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily flushed slightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, I told you I didn't read as far as that. I -couldn't help seeing the first line, however. And that -confirmed the suspicion we have both had, that Janet has -been falling under bad influences."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Emily, is some man corrupting her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks like a woman's hand to me. What do you -think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily gave the letter to her mother, who scrutinized -the handwriting for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said at length, "there can be no harm in -your repeating to me what you inadvertently saw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like to say anything that may turn out to Janet's -disadvantage," said Emily, with an effect of reluctance -that deceived even herself. "It will seem almost like -betraying a confidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Emily. If evil threatens Janet, it is your -duty as a sister to warn me, and my duty as a mother to -protect her. Our consciences would reproach us if we failed -in this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Janet and I were such good friends—would be still, -if she had never met those Lorillard tenement people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily said this with the bitterness of outraged feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in a studio in one of the model tenements in Kips -Bay, three weeks before, that Janet had met Cornelia and -other people of radical tendencies. Emily had once enjoyed -a monopoly of Janet's heroine worship. The friendship -between the sisters had cooled some time ago, but Emily -had chosen, rather arbitrarily, to look upon the Lorillard -incident as the turning point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can understand your feelings, my dear," said Mrs. Barr. -"Their delicacy does you credit. But if these people -you mention—anarchists and Bohemians, I think you called -them—are trying to lure my Janet into wicked ways, it -is time for a mother to interfere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of these words, she hesitated to read Janet's -letter, open though the envelope was. Her domestic -tyranny had its humanly illogical side, and there were -certain rules of good breeding which she observed as -scrupulously as she imposed them. Not once since her two girls -entered High School had she opened their letters or so -much as read them by stealth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are sure that it comes from one of those tenement -persons?" she asked, picking up the letter again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes. I'm sure I recognize the handwriting. But, -mother, do you think we ought to read it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the very point Mrs. Barr had been mentally -debating. Emily's feeble protest had the effect of -stimulating her to a quick decision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing could be further from my mind than any wish -to pry into Janet's legitimate private affairs," she said -magisterially. "But here is a letter opened by mistake. -From what you read by accident we may infer that it -throws a light on those recent actions of your sister's that -have caused us all great pain. I shall never let considerations -of delicacy or etiquette deter me from an action -that my conscience tells me is right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A look of sanctified resignation passed over Emily's face -as her mother took out the enclosure and read the following:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Friday morning.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Dear Araminta:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Have you heard me speak of the Outlaws? They are -artists and writers who live beyond the pale of convention, -and in an atmosphere painful to the wealthy, purse-proud -darlings of our nation. In order to enjoy their outlawry -unmolested, they wish to produce club quarters from -which artistic elegance is by no means to be banished. -Such quarters cost money. To raise the necessary funds -a masked ball will take place two weeks from today, and -those who come to dance to the tunes must help to pay -the piper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This means that it has been proposed to add one or two -tributary features to the main function. Remembering your -wizardry at palm reading, I concluded that your raven locks -and appealing eyes would be a perfect match for a gypsy -costume, and that a dear little gypsy who could tell wise -people their virtues and foolish people their fortunes would -be a priceless asset. I know you don't believe in palmistry -any more than I do, but isn't it your very scepticism that -enables you to practice the art with a dash of diablerie that -carries conviction?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If you won't accept, I may be obliged to play the -gypsy myself. Can you picture my straw-colored plaits -in such an Oriental role? But I know your artistic -sense will not permit me to do with amateurish bungling -what you can do with professional skill. Besides, two -peerless young gentlemen, whom I could name if I chose, -will pine away with melancholy if you refuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before you answer "yes" or "no," come and spend -Wednesday afternoon with</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours devotedly,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Cornelia.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Barr turned the letter over to Emily, who read it -while her mother grimly closed the Bible and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought as much!" cried the young lady, as she -reached the signature. "It's from Cornelia Covert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is she, pray?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you remember the girl who created a scandal by -running away with Percival Houghton, the English artist?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who already had a wife and children in England?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that was Cornelia Covert. You may recall that she -was one of my school friends, when we lived in McDonough -Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't remind me of her past," said Mrs. Barr curtly. -"Her present is bad enough. Ring for Laura, please. How -did Janet come to know her? Through Robert Lloyd, -perhaps. Has she been meeting him again, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. It came about in this way. Cornelia left Mr. Houghton -not long after their elopement. Or, more likely, -he left her. At all events she returned to New York. -She was brazen enough to celebrate the occasion. She -invited Janet—Janet, though I was her classmate—to a -big party in the Lorillard tenements."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I remember aright, Janet asked you to go with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But I declined as soon as I heard that tenement -artists, movie actors and other queer people like Robert -Lloyd were to be present at the affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The party was given, so Janet assured me at the time, -by some society woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was held in Miss Lucy Chandler Duke's studio. I -did not know then that the Chandler Dukes were radicals -as well as millionaires. And, as Janet begged me very hard -not to tell you the particulars, I kept the matter a secret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr tingled with irritation at what she chose to -view as Janet's deceit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said a great deal about the Chandler Dukes!" she -exclaimed bitterly, "and nothing at all about Cornelia -Covert or Robert Lloyd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not think Janet would misuse the occasion to form -a fast and furious friendship with a person like Cornelia -Covert," said Emily, insidiously fanning the flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she gave less thought to the pomps and vanities of -the world, Emily, she could have declined, as you did. -But you should not have promoted her deceit. See what -comes from walking in the ways of ungodly people. Janet -hobnobs with unbelievers, you are deprived of a sister's -companionship, and I must give up an important meeting -at the church. That is how the flesh and the devil waste -the Lord's time. I pray God to help me bear with the -weaknesses of your father and the sinfulness of his -daughters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Laura, the maid, came in just then and was despatched -with an urgent summons for Miss Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr's resources of anger were so considerable that -when one member of the family displeased her, everyone -else received a share of the overflow of her wrath. The -weaker the member the more generous the share. Mr. Barr, -by all odds the weakest member of the family of -which he was the Biblical head, usually bore the brunt of -every domestic storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was in the fairly safe haven of his own room -on the top floor. In his absence Emily almost regretted -the part she had just played. Being the only available -victim for the moment, she had to act as lightning -conductor, much against her will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The maid had not gone very far in her quest of Janet -before that young lady herself burst somewhat incontinently -into the sitting room. Her slender mobile body with the -lustrous black hair and the gray eyes full of life and -intelligence, made her a striking contrast to her two inflexible -relations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, children," she cried, without paying the -atmosphere any special attention. "How's this for the -role of the early bird? Spare your praises, Emily. It's -papa's doing. He's getting up now. And I suppose he's -anxious to advertise the unearthly hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two petrified figures quite chilled her prattling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is anything the matter? You haven't swallowed -a sour plum, Emily, have you?" she asked, facing them -both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet," said Mrs. Barr, in a tone that would have frozen -quicksilver, "I wish to speak to you for a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have I done now?" asked Janet, sitting down and -looking speculatively from her mother to her sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By mistake Emily opened a letter addressed to you. -Laura had put it beside her plate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that why you're so glum, Emily? How silly. Don't -give, the matter another thought, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily looked very uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's from Cornelia Covert," she said, averting her eyes -from Janet's, and the mother added with asperity:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It invites you to mingle with certain persons who call -themselves Outlaws."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really? You and Emily have the advantage of me. -I haven't read the letter yet. May I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily silently relinquished the missive and Janet calmly -read it, while the others looked on, keeping their vexation -warm. Mrs. Barr spoke as soon as Janet had finished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> read the letter," she declared with emphasis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, mother, you may read all my letters if you wish -to. But I think I might be allowed to see them first. I -am twenty-four, old enough, therefore, to get my -correspondence uncensored."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are my daughter, Janet, and if you were forty-four -instead of twenty-four, it would still be my duty to guard -you against evil influences, and to look after your spiritual -welfare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see how your spiritual guardianship affects my -legal right to my own letters." She added scornfully: -"Am I to consider Emily as one of my moral guardians, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was not easily aroused. When she was, she spoke -in low cold tones that irritated her listeners more than -the sharpest abuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I read the first sentence accidentally—" began Emily -indignantly. Mrs. Barr interrupted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well that I have made it a rule not to -interfere with your correspondence," she said, acridly. "But -I consider that what Emily saw by chance justified me in -making this case an exception, especially as you have been -so diligent lately in wasting the Lord's time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a pet phrase of Mrs. Barr's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand the charge," said Janet, like a -prisoner in the dock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I refer to your recent godless behavior."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Godless!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well what I mean: your flagrant -absence from services, your irreverent remarks when a -religious topic is discussed, your readiness to put frivolous -pleasures before church duties, and your studied avoidance -of all the friends of the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except Robert Lloyd," interjected Emily, pointedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why drag in Robert?" said Janet, flashing a look at -her sister. "You got mamma to forbid him the house a -whole month ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had every reason to believe Mr. Lloyd to be an -atheist," said Mrs. Barr, who thus concisely classified all -disbelievers in revealed creeds. "That is why I requested -you not to invite him here again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leaving me to the edifying companionship of Emily's -stuffy pedagogue friends," said Janet, in a white heat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We needn't pursue that matter now, Janet. What I -wish to say at present is merely that a masked ball is out -of the question. A masked ball! What are you thinking -of, my child? Not to say that the invitation comes from -people who are perfectly impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible!" cried Janet, bursting out under terrible -pressure. "They're quite possible for me. Do you expect -me to chum up with Emily's high school cats, or the old -maids from the King's daughters, or the decrepit old ladies -from your missionary club?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother fairly reeled at the impudence of the attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This from Janet, of all people! The girl had always -been a mild-tempered and tractable child. That is, she -had been entirely tractable except for half a dozen fits -of rebellion so scattered in point of time and so completely -suppressed in point of fact that they could conveniently be -overlooked. But a face-to-face defiance of a maternal -decree was a new and startling departure. It was an -unheard of act, such as Mrs. Barr could ascribe only to -the promptings of the Evil One, inducted into Janet's -acquaintance by her Kips Bay friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr came of an old New England family with -Puritan traditions reaching back beyond Cotton Mather -and the witch huntings. It was inconceivable to her that -a daughter should be allowed to address a mother as Janet -had just addressed her. It was inconceivable to her even -in the spring of 1919, when the civil war between parents -and children (or rather, the uncivil war between the young -and the old), though raging furiously in the dynamic -centers of New York, London, Paris and Berlin, had not -produced so much as a ripple amongst the Barrs of Brooklyn -or the Barrs anywhere in the wide world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do, Janet," she said, rising to her full stature -and assuming an expression that gave every line of her -face its crudest edge. "Your language confirms my worst -fears. I shall say no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet wished that this were true, but she knew it was -a mere euphemism. And, indeed, her mother continued -with icy piety:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall pray that understanding may be given you to -realize that happiness comes from the spirit, not from the -flesh, from an exaltation of the heart, not from the pleasures -of dances and parties. As for this Cornelia Covert, her -reputation is such that you should shrink from linking your -name with hers. A woman who has lived in an unholy -alliance with a man is no friend for an innocent girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Innocent! Am I more innocent than she is, or simply -more ignorant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet!" remonstrated Emily, "how can you speak in -this way—when our sole object is to help you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help me! Please don't make me laugh, Emily," Janet -cut in, bitterly. "A little more of this help of yours and -mother will have no difficulty whatever in arguing me down -to the ground."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't propose to argue with you, my dear," said -Mrs. Barr, motioning to Emily, who flounced angrily upstairs. -"I simply say that I don't approve of this masked ball. -One thing more. I wish you to promise not to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was really terrified at her mother's icy tone, but -as her convictions were deeply involved, she replied with -obstinate defiance:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry, but I see no reason for giving such a promise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said her mother, adding, with a veiled -menace in the harmless words: "Remember, you don't go -with my approval."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll go without," muttered Janet under her breath, -as her mother majestically left the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet stood alone, her hands clenched in nervous tension. -How passionately she resented her mother's domestic -tyranny! In the narrow, intolerant religious atmosphere of -Brooklyn, she had endured it long enough, endured it since -childhood as one of the mysterious dispensations of -Providence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mind was flooded with hatred of the Barrs and all -that they stood for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Barrs were a characteristic product of the American -environment. Mrs. Barr belonged to a decadent branch -of an old Mayflower stock connected with the Bradleys, -the Saltonstalls, and other well-known New England names. -She had married the American born son of a Scotch -immigrant; but, as she ruled him with a rod of iron, few traces -of his gentler European parentage had slipped into the -household or stayed there long if they had. For Mrs. Barr -charged the family atmosphere to its full capacity with -all the narrowness, harshness, and spitefulness of her own -Puritan inheritance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Lloyd had assured Janet that her family was as -typical an American family as could be found east of the -Alleghanies. Its Puritan (or rather, Impuritan) tradition -was depressed still further (if that were possible) by -contact with the low standard of living introduced during a -century of reckless and promiscuous immigration. Its -leading tradition was the enforcement of an absolute veto upon -all social experiments, a veto springing not from love of -life or regard for the community but from hatred of life -and contempt for the individual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Robert, too, (in their brief acquaintance) who -had pointed out that families like the Barrs were to be -found everywhere in the wide world. But it was in -backwater places like Brooklyn that they congregated densely -enough to work mischief. It was from such points of -concentration, all too numerous in America, that their -outstanding traits spread like an infectious miasma upon all -surrounding efforts at progress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet did not need to be told that one of these outstanding -traits was a devotion to the cult of doing nothing. Doing -nothing with a restless intermittency and an extravagant -expenditure of undirected force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doing nothing! Janet had learned that this was not the -same as having nothing to do. It was a religion of serried -"thou shalt nots" applied with passionate rigor to all -adventurous departures from the routine of everyday life. -Doing nothing meant the avoidance of actions contrary -to custom, law, or the supposed requirements of comfort. -As regards herself, it meant a studied observance of -restrictions, which your own interpretation of law, or custom, -or abstinent </span><em class="italics">appetite</em><span> (with a light accent on the </span><em class="italics">appetite</em><span>) -prescribed for you. As regards your fellow man, it meant -his rigid observance of restrictions which not his, but your, -interpretation of law, or custom, or </span><em class="italics">abstinent</em><span> appetite (with -a heavy accent on the </span><em class="italics">abstinent</em><span>) prescribed for </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It meant an aggressive policy of wholesale and -indiscriminate prohibition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had often listened, at first unwillingly, later -receptively, to Robert's elaboration of the idea. His views had -shaped themselves in some such way as this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tradition in which Janet's childhood was moulded -was that baser, narrower, lower class American tradition -which has always been at grips with the heroic patrician -spirit of the Declaration of Independence. It was a tradition -of negation, restriction, deprivation; of deprivation for -yourself within reasonable limits, and of deprivation for -your neighbor within no reasonable limits at all. It was a -tradition that rallied opposition to Sunday newspapers, -Sunday novels, Sunday theatres, and Sunday sports, besides -minutely networking itself through a thousand insidious -channels into all sorts of social behavior every day of -the week. It was a tradition, not of the magnificent </span><em class="italics">no</em><span> -of self-control but of the demoralizing </span><em class="italics">no</em><span> of compulsory -rectitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, it was the tradition from which the successive -prohibition movements—beer, sex, manners, and what -not—have drawn their ethical backing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Families like the Barrs were the moral backbone of a -strong section of American public opinion. Their prejudices, -jealousies and pruderies pitched the tone of national -manners, fixed the standard of public taste, curbed the -flight of the country's artistic genius, and gave an American -the same cultural standing as against a European that a -citizen of Boonville held as against a full-fledged New -Yorker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The same causes erected an Anthony Comstock into a -national figure better known than the President's cabinet, -gave rise to episodes like that of Maxim Gorky, and made -a raid on the women bathers at Atlantic City a topic -of serious discussion throughout the country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Robert's view, the Barrs of America prided themselves -on the cast-iron taboos they had laid on all decent -and civilized manifestations of sex. They had eliminated -every natural, healthy and spontaneous expression of the -sex instinct from American books, music, pictures and -daily intercourse. This was their first contribution to -Western culture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their second contribution—and they frankly gloried in -it, too—was that they had morally sandbagged all dissenters -and almost completely crushed the spirit of dissent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For they believed—these Barrs of America did—that -force is the only effective form of moral propaganda in -the world. They believed this with all the fanaticism of -intolerance and stupidity. Force and repression were the -only two things they did sincerely believe in, though they -would have died sooner than acknowledge this. Not theirs -the aim of replacing lower forms of enjoyment by higher -ones, baser religions by nobler ones. Theirs was the modest -if unavowed mission of improving on the example of Jesus -Christ. In a moment of divine (and regrettable) weakness, -Christ had suffered torture for his enemies. The Barrs -undertook the pious duty of counteracting this weakness -by making </span><em class="italics">their</em><span> enemies suffer torture for Christ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this atmosphere of moral taboos and sex repression, -Janet had grown up like an alien spirit in a foreign land. -From the very first stirrings of intelligence, some independent -strain in her had set her in antagonism to her environment. -She had not been fully conscious of this antagonism, -much less of the issues involved, and she had seldom given -battle directly to her mother's despotism. But even when -she had bowed her head to the force of argument or to the -argument of force, her heart had remained untouched. She -had knuckled under time and again, but her service had -been lip service and her homage the homage only of the -knee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a situation she had but dimly realized when she -first met Robert Lloyd. His sensible views and galvanic -realism had startled her out of her half-hearted acceptance -of a decrepit tradition and carried her at one bound from -the shadowy Brooklyn existence of the age of -Praise-God-Barebones to the vivid actuality of the age of the -airplane. The first novelty of contemporary life had been -overwhelming. She felt as though she had lost consciousness -in the seventeenth century and, like the fabled princess, -had lain in a twilight sleep until Robert Lloyd had -awakened her to the throb and stir of the twentieth century.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her friendship with Robert had begun shortly after the -end of the war, the great World War from which the Barrs -had learnt as much as a blind man learns from a mirror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chance had next thrown her into the arms of Emily's -classmate, Cornelia Covert. Cornelia had taken her in hand -and brought her into the free and easy atmosphere of the -Lorillard model tenements in Kips Bay. Her furtive visits -to Cornelia's flat had led her by gradual stages into the -stress and clash of the metropolis until, what with one new -experience and another, she began to distinguish the -trumpet-tongued voices of her own generation and to feel in her -soul the resurgent willfulness of the modern age.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And now, here she stood, the fire of life stirring her -blood, the long arm of her mother's power fettering her -movements. If only she were in Emily's shoes! Emily -had been sent to college and had later achieved economic -independence in the profession of high school teacher. -But Emily had always had an instinct for taking care of -herself. Janet wished she had half her sister's practical -sense, and bitterly reproached herself for having been fool -enough to yield to her mother's hankering after gentility. -It was Mrs. Barr's belief that the family prestige would fall -irrecoverably below the rarified heights where the Cabots -or the Saltonstalls were presumed to move, unless one -daughter, at least, was kept free from the lower class stigma -of earning her own living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, under pressure, Janet had stayed home to become -a fine lady, although the limited circumstances of the Barrs -obliged her, in effect, to become a domestic servant. For -a year past, however, she had been laying desperate plans -for going out on her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, little girl, good morning!" interrupted a cheery -voice at her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, father," replied Janet, to a tall, -well-preserved, stately man who kissed her very affectionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your mother sent for me, Janet," said Mr. Barr -anxiously. "What's the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm the matter. She has been pitching into me for -receiving an invitation to a masked ball. </span><em class="italics">I've been wasting -the Lord's time</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she blow you up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down, father, down. I feel very small, I can tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was of too cheerful a temperament to be sad very -long. She and her father habitually exchanged death-cell -jests, and even her present gloom was not too thick to be -dispelled with a quip. Her father burst into a loud and -hearty laugh which he moderated considerably on remembering -that he still had his wife to face. His camel-like -virtues, which had carried him tolerably far in business—he -was manager of a small branch of the Wheat Exchange -Bank—had not saved him from being a thorough -nincompoop at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Barr had the form of a patrician but the spirit of -an obedient slave. Janet despised him for his complete -submission to his wife, yet she had one bond of sympathy -with him. Though he dared not raise hand or voice against -the system of vetoes and taboos under which the Barr -family lived, he disliked the system and understood her -hatred of it. Janet often wondered whether he was not the -passive carrier of some rebellious British strain which, in -herself, took the shape of active insurgency against -Mrs. Barr's American passion for denying the body and -mortifying the soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother is waiting for you upstairs," she said, trying to -feel sorry for him. "She means to give you a scathing -address on the moral failings of your youngest daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose </span><em class="italics">I'll</em><span> get a piece of her mind, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Depend upon it. The same old </span><em class="italics">piece</em><span> that passeth -understanding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's all in the day's work—it's family life," said -the old gentleman, trying to keep up a brave front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shuffled off with a rueful smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet almost felt ashamed of her malice as she watched -his reluctant steps and pictured his terror of her mother. -His kindliness and good nature had once endeared him to -her. But she could not check a growing contempt for his -weakness of character. It was clearer to her every day -that her mother's cruel bigotry had not been half so fraught -with tragic consequences as her father's spinelessness and -moral cowardice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Family life—all in the day's work!" she repeated to -herself with a trembling lip. "Well, I don't mean to have -a lifetime of days like this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she went upstairs to her own room and wrote -Cornelia Covert a note of acceptance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER FOUR</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"There, isn't she sweet?" said Cornelia to Robert, as she -put the last touch to a pomegranate sash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was referring to Janet, whom she had costumed with -all her artistic cunning as a sort of gypsy Carmen. The -night of the Outlaws' ball was at hand; and Cornelia's flat, -number fifteen of the Lorillard model tenements, was the -rendezvous for several of the maskers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't she </span><em class="italics">beautiful</em><span>?" insisted Cornelia, pitching her -languid voice high. She pointed proudly to her handiwork -(rather than to its wearer), for she was determined to -have it admired by all who stood near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is charming, and her voice is beautiful," said -Robert, in cool dispassionate appraisal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one ever called my voice beautiful before!" said -Janet, with unfeigned delight, in spite of the scientific -detachment of Robert's tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall make you conscious of </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> your attractions, if -you'll give me time," added Robert, with much more fervor -than before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ought we to be conscious of our attractions?" asked -Janet dubiously, for in the Barr environment it was bad -form to call attention to anything but detractions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The immemorial Barr practice bound members of the -same family to make the worst of one another's good -qualities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly," answered Robert. "A wise man should take -care to know his good points no less than his bad points, -precisely as he takes care to know his assets as well as his -liabilities."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, leave it to Cato," cried Cornelia mockingly. She -had a nickname for each of her friends. "He'll tell you -all about yourself, until your soul will cease to seem your -own. He'll beautify you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if he only will!" cut in Janet, with one of her fluent -graceful gestures which it was a rare delight merely to see. -"I can stand no end of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll beautify you—morally, my dear," concluded Cornelia. -"His conversation is so improving. He re-creates -people in his own image. It's his specialty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's fine gray eyes narrowed to a hostile glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's my mother's specialty, too," she said, coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, look here—" cried Robert, springing up from his -chair in impetuous protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had good reason to know how unflattering the comparison -was. Before he had a chance to say more, Cornelia -hurriedly interposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's one important difference, Araminta," she said. -"Your mother believes that beauty is simply goodness; -Cato believes that goodness is simply wisdom. He'll turn -you into a likeness of Minerva, with your wonderful raven -locks metamorphosed into hissing feminist serpents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The outer door opened and Mazie Ross burst in attired -as Salome and looking as wicked and tempting as if she -were a bacchante straight from the Venusberg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, hasn't Carmen got her war paint on yet?" she -called out, frowning on the group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a pretty tableau she beheld. Robert, with folded -arms, stood before the two young women, posed for a -tremendous vindication. Cornelia, kneeling at her charge's -feet, was absorbed in a final adjustment of the skirt; Janet, -with outstretched arms, had just wheeled a full circle in -response to her friend's touch. The two women were a -picturesque pair, Cornelia's golden hair and alabaster skin, -vitalized by the excitement, forming a vivid contrast to -Janet's darker coloring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please page the olive complexion and the Castilian -nose," continued Mazie, in a merciless illumination of the -favorite's two weak points.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet certainly lacked the challenging physical beauty -that makes men forget the mental limitations of an Emma -Hamilton or a Mme. de Recamier. Not that she was poor -in physical charm. Far from it. She was straight and -slender, with waving black hair, an exquisite complexion, -and expressive gray eyes. Hers was a face that sobered -naturally into thoughtful sympathy and softened readily -into merriment or gentleness. True, her features lacked a -chiseled perfection, (if that is perfection). But it was not -for her body but for her spirit that she both craved and -inspired love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's the big delay?" asked Mazie, flouncing -somewhat impatiently to the covered washtubs on which -she perched herself in such a way as to advertise extensively -her new and pretty underthings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cato is about to exalt us to rare moral heights," said -Cornelia, resuming her scrutiny of the costume of Carmen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She thinks I'm a hard-shelled Puritan," said Robert, -appealing to Mazie for support. "Do you agree with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, give us a cigarette and stop your spoofing," said -Mazie, who had a dread of high-flown talk. "I'm surprised -that Rob's parson poses take you in, Cornelia. Believe me, -he's just like other men when you get him alone on a starry -night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert blushed, Janet's two rows of long lashes parted -wider, and Cornelia gave a queer coloratura laugh. But -Mazie's satisfaction at securing the spotlight was short -lived; somehow or other, Janet speedily became the center -of attention again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Other Lorillarders bound for the Outlaws' ball now began -to pass in and out of Cornelia's flat. They were mostly -young men and women who represented the various social -strata found in the Kips Bay tenements. They brought -with them gayety, laughter and high spirits, and spent -their time circulating boisterously through the apartment, -gossiping on the coming event, and comparing notes on the -glamor and glitter of costumes modeled upon every -conceivable suggestion of history, legend or myth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was thrilled with the excitement, the infectious -spirits and the easy camaraderie. She noticed that there -was no chaperonage or standing on ceremony whatever, and -she was struck with the entire absence of self-consciousness -between the sexes. Young men and women went in and -out as they pleased, helped themselves to Cornelia's ice -box and piano as fancy dictated, and bantered, flirted, -kissed, or exchanged partners without stint or scruple. On -the face of it, all concerned seemed in full accord with the -scheme of "what's mine is yours, and what's yours is -everybody's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor could she help contrasting these cheerful faces, this -genial abandon, this entire lifting of social constraint, with -the gloomy looks, circumscribed permissions, and moral -strait-jacketings of her Brooklyn home. With all their -faults, Cornelia Covert and Mazie Ross appeared to -suggest happiness and freedom as much as Mrs. Barr and -Emily suggested gloom and repression. And the model -tenements lost nothing in the comparison by having all -the attraction of novelty. If at that minute, Janet had had -to choose between a Paradise of Barrs on the one hand, -and the flesh, the devil and the model tenements on the -other, it is not to the Paradise of Barrs that she would -have given the palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Janet met Cornelia's friends in turn, and gave the -men amongst them a new sensation on account of her -artless candor, Mazie coquetted freely with the successive -males that fluttered around her and displayed unlimited -skill in extricating herself from sundry intemperate -advances. Growing tired of this sport, she pushed her last -admirer brutally off the tubs and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, what's the matter with Claude? He should -have shown up ages ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lothario rang me up about half past eight," said -Cornelia sweetly. "He isn't coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't coming! Why, he promised to be my escort," -Mazie cried out in a harsh strident voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie's voice was not her strong point. Whenever she -opened her pretty mouth, she shattered many illusions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's going to the ball. But he has changed his -mind about coming here first. I suppose he doesn't want -any of you to know him by his costume."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie's irritation was unbounded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None of our crowd are keeping each other in the dark," -she said. "What's struck him? There'll be plenty of -strangers to play the devil with. If Claude has backed -out, who's to take us, old girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Robert's here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert! </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> can't keep Hutchins Burley from persecuting me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or you from persecuting Hutchins Burley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be nasty, Cornelia," said Mazie, jumping angrily -down. "You take the cinnamon bun, anyway. Why didn't -you pipe up sooner with the news that Claude had rung up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite forgot to," said her friend, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgot to!" said Mazie, not concealing either her -incredulity or her vexation. "A fat lot you did. It's your -spite. Your refusing to come to the ball is spite, too. Just -spite. I suppose you think that since you can't have -Claude, nobody else shall have him, either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think about Lothario at all," said Cornelia, -demurely placid, as she could afford to be in view of the -infuriated state in which Mazie burst from the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The silence which had fallen on the scene during this -conflict was soon broken, and gayety was gradually -restored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is Lothario?" asked Janet, recovering her spirits -more slowly than the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Claude Fontaine, the son of Fontaine the jeweler. -You know Fontaine's, the big jewelry and art establishment -on Fifth Avenue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he's </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> Fontaine. Very good looking as well -as very rich. All the Lorillard girls are dippy about him. -So am I. And so will you be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think so?" asked Janet, hopefully, for she was -thirsting for any new experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure of it. But I hope you won't dream of marrying -Lothario. Chiefly for the reason that it would be useless. -He comes here too well armed and well seasoned against -matrimonial schemes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She added that, in spite of this obvious fact, nearly all -the Lorillard girls of the Outlaw brand had their caps set -at the young millionaire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On principle, they're all opposed to marriage," she -proceeded. "But they're all ready to sacrifice this principle -in such a very profitable cause."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This bitter remark was the first hint Janet received of -a cleavage between Cornelia's theories and the theories -or practices of the other model tenementers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mazie wants to marry him, too?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marry him?—Well, </span><em class="italics">get</em><span> him," answered Cornelia -languidly. "Mazie has the mating instincts of a pussy cat -and the brains of a pigeon. Hello, where's Robert?" she -added, missing him. "He slips away the moment one's -eyes are taken off him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As if in answer to her call, Robert came back, bringing -Mazie in tow. Shortly after her wrathful exit, he had -unobtrusively gone out to smooth down her ruffled feelings. -An explosion of Mazie's temper was like the backfire of a -motor car; there was a loud report and much smoke, but -no damage done or permanent hard feeling caused—at -least, not to herself. Thus, a good dose of flattery, which -Robert skillfully administered, had set her going equably -again; for, besides being dependent on Cornelia, Mazie -was too much occupied with the satisfaction of her desires -to prolong a quarrel in support of her rights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A symphony of cooings re-established peace and good -will amongst the three young ladies; and these dulcet -sounds blended easily with the mirth of the other -masqueraders in the flat. In an access of joy, Mazie took -Janet romping through the rooms. Robert used this -occasion to whisper in Cornelia's ear:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I satisfied Mazie that you weren't staying home to -meet Claude, by convincing her that you had an -engagement with me," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I?" She tried to hide her pleasure, immense as -it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope so," he replied, using far less tact with her than -he had with Mazie. "These entertainments don't interest -me at all. And, as I'm pledged to bring the girls home, -it will be much more fun to spend the interval chatting -with you than being bored at the ball."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's face fell. With admirable self-control she -said she meant to stay up for the girls, and would be glad -of his company, though he might feel free to change his -mind if he chose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet now detached herself from Mazie, put her arm -through Robert's, and begged him to hasten and join the -merry-makers who were already filing out. This was her -first ball, anticipation had cast a glamor over everything -that was or was to be, and excitement had set all her -nerves a tingle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a last concerted effort to dissuade Cornelia -from remaining alone. It was unsuccessful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Janet drew Robert through the doorway and, as -she joined the procession of celebrants, her heightened -senses quite transfigured her. This fact was not lost on -Cornelia or Mazie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a pretty pair!" said the latter mockingly. "Just -watch them doing that snappy stuff with the eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie had stayed behind for a moment to give Cornelia -a parting shot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better change your mind, Corny. A swell chance -there is of Robert coming back here now that Janet's got -him hooked. Come along, dearie, do. See here, I'll give -you a tip. You can rile a good many more people by -going to the ball than you can by staying here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia shook her head disdainfully at this satire on -her motives. Yet disdain was not her strongest emotion, -Mazie's shaft having struck too deep for an answer.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Towards midnight, the Outlaws' Ball in the old Murray -Hill Lyceum on 34th Street had almost hit its stride. Two -bands, an Hawaiian Jazz and the Kips Bay Roughnecks, -furnished the music, and what with the crash and blare -of instruments, the dazzle of costumes, the clouds of -confetti, and the swirl of dancers, masked and unmasked, the -dense motley crowd appeared to be squeezing the last ounce -of pleasure out of its mad adventure in search of "a good -time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's appearance in her Spanish robes with the genuine -Castilian mantilla, the high tortoise shell comb, and -the silk Andalusian shawl flaming brilliantly against her -dark hair, was one of the sensations of the evening. Robert's -somber monk's cowl at her side subtracted nothing from -this sensation. He conducted her through the mazes of the -upper dancing floor and then brought her back to the -gorgeous gypsy tent that had been set up on the floor below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There she began to play the gypsy fortune teller with -as much subtlety as the professional exertions of the -musical Roughnecks permitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert stood near the tent as a sort of self-constituted -watchman and bodyguard extraordinary. As John Barleycorn -was being liberally dispensed in the refreshment room, -a number of tipsy masqueraders soon turned up, and some -of these roistered into Janet's tent despite Robert's efforts -to fend them off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley was among those who presently appeared -on the scene. It was after Mazie Ross had repeatedly -toyed with his erotic instincts and incited his hot pursuit -only to defeat him at a point just short of possession. In -a fury of frustration, he had descended to the first floor -to inflame his passions further at the public bar. Thus -inspirited, he propelled his Falstaffian proportions into the -gypsy tent and requested Janet to read his palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His breath alone would have decided Janet to refuse. -But when he interrupted her first sentence by tearing off -her mask and importuning a closer acquaintance with the -face behind it, she pushed abruptly past him and, running -outside the tent, waited for him to leave it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With surprising alacrity Hutchins Burley bundled after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a lively little kipper," he shouted, filled with -liquor and desire. And he wildly reached out one arm to -clasp her around the waist. But Janet, uttering a low cry, -dodged and slipped past him, while Burley's flopping arms -were caught firmly by two men who had sprung forward -for this purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of these was Robert. The other was a tall, unobtrusive -man who had quietly but deftly detached himself -from the throng.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The attention of several people had been arrested by -Janet's cry and flight, and these now pressed forward to -learn what the trouble was. A confusion of queries, -blusterings and exclamations followed, during which the -Roughnecks struck up the "Nobody Home" rag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley had recovered some of his wits under -the compulsion of several menacing faces around him. -Seeing him become tractable, Robert contemptuously flung off -the arm he held and walked away towards Janet. Burley -followed his receding steps with a malevolent glare, and -then turned savagely on the tall quiet stranger who was -still holding his other arm in a grip of steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leggo my arm," he bellowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A word in your ear, Mr. Burley," said the quiet one, -relaxing his grip. "Plain clothes men are in the crowd. -If you kick up a shindy, you'll be giving them what they're -looking for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who the devil are you?" sputtered Burley, with -the air of a man who is not to be easily frightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nobody in particular," said the quiet man in a low -voice. And, before he could be questioned further, he had -melted unobtrusively into the crowd.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A little later, Robert led three jovial young maskers into -the gypsy tent. The foremost was dressed as </span><em class="italics">Charles -Surface</em><span> and had quite enough gay confidence to do justice to -the part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So here's the Outlaws' piece of resistance," he called -out merrily. "We'll see whether she can do half as much -justice to my palm as to her lovely gypsy shawl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down at Janet's little table and held out his hand. -She took it, examined it gravely for some seconds, and then, -in her fine clarinet tones she reported swiftly, without a -pause, and getting almost breathless towards the end:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are handsome, graceful, false and cruel. You've -been a good soldier, but you'll become a poor poet. I see -you divided into three parts: part one—Charles Surface; -part two—Joseph Surface; part three—Sir Peter Teazle. -What a pity your name isn't Henry! For you are as -dashing as Henry the Fifth, as amorous as Henry of Navarre, -and as kind to women as Henry the Eighth. You will be -married twice, but how many hearts you will break I dare -not reveal. Your own heart is a safe deposit vault, -fireproof and loveproof both. Hapless and witless damsels -without number will try to blow it up or melt it—without -success. One girl alone will refrain from the attempt, -realizing the utter uselessness of piercing this too, too solid -flesh—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," cried the young man, drawing away his hand, -the laughter and jibing endorsements with which his -comrades greeted the several revelations, proving too much -for him. "I don't call this a fortune: I call it a raw -deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No use abusing the cards," said Janet, still affecting the -utmost gravity. "The cards never lie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't they, Miss Gypsy? That's where your -professional prejudice blinds you. Take your discovery that -I'm a poor poet, for instance. Well, the fact is, I'm no -poet at all. I never so much as wrote a couplet to a girl -in all my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said: you </span><em class="italics">will become</em><span> a poet," remarked Janet, gently -correcting him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when will that be, pray?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet hastily cut the cards anew, dealt out five cards, -and held out the Queen of Spades to the onlookers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When a dark lady enters your life," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dark lady </span><em class="italics">has</em><span> entered my life," he said, his voice -vibrating seductively. "Entered it with a very poor opinion -of me, it seems. But I shouldn't call her the Queen of -Spades. I should call her Janet, the Queen of Clubs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clubs, because I scored so many good hits?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, because a Queen of Spades must have lustrous -black eyes, and yours are heavenly gray. Come, let's -unmask, and see who's the better fortune teller of the two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude pulled off his mask and stood, handsome and -challenging, waiting for her to follow suit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was very good to look upon. Handsome, graceful -and proud, there was just enough disdain in his perfect -manner to make every woman adore him and long to -enslave his flawless form. He had wonderful blue eyes, -a delicate mouth, a fine nose and a penetrating sympathetic -voice. Great ease, great daring and great energy of animal -passion gave him a hundred opportunities to show his fine -points to excellent advantage. To qualities that almost -made riches superfluous, riches were added. No wonder -he seemed to be a darling of the gods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's pulse was distinctly quickened by the telling -exterior of this dazzling young man. And when she -unfastened her domino and met his glance with her fearless -gray eyes, his thrilling moment came. He was not greatly -impressed with her looks, his social training having biased -him towards more fashionable types of beauty. Yet a -magnetic ecstacy set him on fire and sent rapturous -messages throbbing along his nerves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was an enthralling moment, one that seemed mysteriously -to link up his being with other blissful moments in -previous existences. Strange! Each time that he experienced -this emotion anew, he was sure it was unique, sure -it was not in this life that he had experienced it before. -Stranger still, though it was as deep as the full flooded -river of life itself, it was as transitory as an electric spark -or a flash of lightning. The moment was poignant, intoxicating, -miraculous; yet by no fraction of an instant could -it be prolonged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, within a second or two, Claude and Janet were -chatting about a good many matters which did not bear -in the remotest way upon this magnetizing spark. Still, -they chatted with an excited recklessness, and as if their -essences were held together by a subtle force, a force whose -irresistible urgency they would neither have dared to -acknowledge nor wished to dispute.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Steeped in the enjoyment of the moment, Janet hardly -noticed that Robert had tacitly resigned his watchful care -of her to Claude Fontaine. She began to neglect her -fortune telling duties as one result of this displacement, for -Claude's appropriation of her time grew as his visits became -more frequent. Nor did he share her compunction on this -score. Far from doing so, he cajoled her into dancing with -him again and again. In the intervals, he escorted her -from one end of the reception floor to the other, introducing -her to the groups he considered worth while. Thus she -shared (much more fully than she desired to) the curiosity -which his brilliant presence excited and the gossip which -it was everywhere a signal for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's an interesting stunt," said Claude to his partner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He indicated a group of young people amongst whom -she instantly recognized Robert and Mazie. Two others -claimed her attention. In the center of the group was a -young woman with a high color and a very energetic -manner, who had adopted an unusual plan for swelling the box -office receipts. She was making impromptu busts in putty -of all who could afford a contribution, no reasonable sum -being refused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Claude and Janet came up, the sculptress had just -finished modelling a head of Robert; and a remarkably -spirited likeness it was. Robert was greatly taken with -it, but his satisfaction was mild beside that of the artist, -who handled the fragile image as though it were the apple -of her eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two thoughts struck Janet. One was that Charlotte -Beecher's fuss over the statuette of Robert Lloyd was -excessive. The other was that she now, for the first time, -missed the living model. But this discovery, as well as -her criticism of the sculptress, was promptly swallowed up -in the kaleidoscopic whirl of meeting still other characters -belonging to the strange new society into which she had -been flung.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, she contrived to recall Robert to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a wonderful head Robert has!" Miss Beecher was -rhapsodizing, while she glanced sentimentally from the -statue to the living model. "I declare, it's all brain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It sure is!" echoed Mazie, mockingly. "But it's not a -patch on his wonderful heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid her hand on the spot where she supposed this -organ to be, and added, without crediting the epigram to -Cornelia who had originated it:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all brain, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everybody laughed, Robert no less heartily than his -neighbors. Everybody, that is, save Charlotte Beecher, -whose sharp glance at Mazie softened to tenderness as it -swept on towards Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The second person to fascinate Janet was a youngish -woman in a Syrian dress of many boldly brilliant color -clashes. Contrasts as startling were achieved by her coal -black hair, her pale olive skin, and the gorgeous green -pendants attached to her ears. She had the barbaric -picturesqueness of a White African Queen straight out of Rider -Haggard, and about as much credibility. But she posed -with unlimited self-confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So speculated Janet. The next moment she reminded -herself of the necessity of keeping an eye (and perhaps a -string) on Robert Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was nowhere to be seen. In his usual insidious -fashion, he had taken French leave while the circle of -spectators was absorbed in the ritual of weaving gossip -amongst themselves or blessing Miss Beecher's next putty -statuette with lavish adjectives and exclamations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His disappearance piqued Janet. But the exhilaration -caused by all the enchantments of the ball and all the -thrills of Claude's gallantry and charm, did not permit her -to allow any one emotion more than a fleeting hospitality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude watched his chance of enticing her to another -novelty. On the way, she begged him to enlighten her -about the people she had just met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me all about the sculptress and about the Rider -Haggard lady with the earrings," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude explained that these ladies were both considered -freaks even among the Outlaws: Charlotte Beecher, -because she was an heiress who wore a working girl's clothes -and toiled harder with the sculptor's chisel than a day -laborer with a pickaxe; Lydia Morrow, not so much because -she had a flair for spectacular dresses, Leon Bakst colors and -startling jewelry, as because her authorship of half a dozen -best sellers had given her almost unlimited means to gratify -these vagaries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia Morrow? I don't seem to know the name," said -Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia Dyson, her maiden name, is the name she writes -under."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This name Janet knew well enough. It was a familiar -name wherever American magazines flourished; even among -the Barrs of Brooklyn it was a household fixture. The -stupendous fact was that Lydia Dyson's novels of approximated -naughtiness, sensual slush and disembowelled passion, -appeared serially and simultaneously in magazines -with as different a clientele as the </span><em class="italics">Saturday Morning Post</em><span>, -the </span><em class="italics">Purple Book</em><span>, </span><em class="italics">Anybody's</em><span> and the </span><em class="italics">Women's Bazaar</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude added that he had his own reasons for calling the -two young women freaks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All these people are loony on the subject of love," he -said, with a wave of the hand that appeared to include the -whole membership of the ball. "Some because they've had -too much of it, but more because they've had too little. -Mazie is one of a small group that is suffering from surfeit. -But Charlotte and Lydia belong to the other class. -Charlotte wants a husband without a whole lot of love, and -Lydia wants a whole lot of love without a husband. As -for Mazie, there's nothing left for her to want but a rich -protector, with as little love in the bargain as possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This offhand analysis set Janet to wondering what -Claude's own conception of love might be. He went -blithely on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The difficulty with Charlotte is that she's too particular; -with Lydia, that she's not particular enough. Not -one-tenth particular enough for Gordon Morrow, her husband, -who lives on her money but won't be kept in his place. -He actually presumes to be furiously jealous. But, -however comic a figure he may cut, who can blame him for -drawing the line at a blackguard like Hutchins Burley? -Here's Hutch staggering this way, now. After you, the -impudent beggar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, in this quarter, Burley had little luck. Janet -shrank away from him, and Claude froze him off as he -had already done two or three times that night. -Envenomed, but nothing daunted, Hutchins Burley careered, -none too steadily, over to the circle around the sculptress. -Claude watched him disgustedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Morrow catches him pawing all over his wife, there'll -be trouble. And Lydia Dyson's not the woman to lift her -little finger to avert it. She has a theory that 'Big Burley' -is a sort of twentieth century edition of the Cave Man, a -theory she is not above putting to the proof. Husband or -no husband, a big scene is nectar and ambrosia to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked anxiously back at Charlotte Beecher's group. -"Let's go away from here," he said, taking her arm with -protective tenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we go back to the tent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to take you much further than that. You are -too wonderful and genuine to fit into this hothouse crowd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet liked his pretty speeches, but she had not yet had -her fill of the carnival of pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude's fears were only too speedily realized. Hardly -had he returned Janet to her gypsy tent, than shouts and -screams ascended from the sculptress' quarter. Claude -hastened to the spot and found two knots of men pulling -Burley away from Lydia's husband and heightening the -disorder in the act.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commotion now took a new turn. Burley had not -forgotten the man who had cold-shouldered him out of -Janet's way several times. As soon as he laid eyes on -Claude and observed him assisting Charlotte Beecher in -a feverish effort to save her putty models, his rage reached -its climax. Every ounce of his bulky weight was put into -a titanic pull that jerked him loose from those who -restrained him. Using his momentary freedom to snatch up -the little bust of Robert, he flung it at Claude's head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No diamond shark can come butting in here," he shouted, -in a purple fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bust went far wide of its mark. But not the taunt. -It stung Claude into sudden violence, so that he sprang -towards Burley with the object of thrashing him. Thirty -or forty people having now been drawn into the melee, -however, he was saved the ignominy of a public brawl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the height of the turmoil Claude's arm was clasped -by an iron hand. It was the hand of a tall immaculate man -who spoke to him in a low calm voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A word of warning, Mr. Fontaine," he said, urging him -away from the fracas. "Get your friends out of here at -once! Detectives are about to raid the place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Detectives! Are you one?" asked Claude, more or less -bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not particularly," was the whimsical reply of the -stranger, who then moved decisively away and evaporated -as suddenly as he had turned up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as Claude rallied his wits, he acted swiftly. He -persuaded Charlotte Beecher, who happened to be near, to -follow him; and then took the shortest cut to the gypsy -tent, where Janet greeted his return with a happy cry of -relief. Excitedly he warned her of the raid, and urged -her to lose no time in preparing to leave with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She obeyed, not without a pang of regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Regret? It was not parting with the musical Roughnecks, -though they were better than their names; it was -not turning her back on the dancing, though this had -intoxicated her; and it was not saying farewell to the riot of -color, costume and confetti, though these had put her in -an ecstacy of delight. At least, it was not an extravagant -hunger for these pleasures. And she certainly had nothing -but measureless disgust for a crowd of brawling, shouting, -turbulent men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why regret then?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was merely because of the obvious difference between -her joyless home and this night's experience. Beside the -deathlike stagnation of the Barrs of Brooklyn, the movement, -intensity and go of the Outlaws had what she cheerfully -accepted as the quality and flavor of reality. "This -is life," a still, small voice cried within her, meaning that -this was at least a fairly good imitation of life on its gayer -side. And she revelled unblushingly in the enchantment -that her ignorance of pleasure and her natural high spirits -had cast around Kips Bay, the model tenements, Cornelia, -Robert and Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ah yes, and Claude! With Claude at her side she -doubted whether she should mind even a raid. Indeed, -wouldn't it be rather fun to be caught in one? And so, -while Claude was preoccupied with piloting his charges -to safety, Janet half hoped that she might not be cheated -of a practical answer to her question.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile the quiet stranger had contrived to get into -one of the twisting, struggling whirlpools of men in the -fracas, and to insinuate his immaculate person next to -Hutchins Burley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a care," he said, in Burley's ear. "In another -minute this rough-house will be cleaned up by plain-clothes -men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who in hell </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> you?" yelled Burley, none too pleased -with the features of the man who had warned him before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, nobody in particular," answered the stranger -coolly, and beginning to edge rapidly away. Burley -tramped after him, his befuddled wits somewhat cleared -by the recent pummelling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then how the devil did </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> spot the cops?" he said, -ploughing his way ruthlessly through human obstructions. -"Do they whisper the secrets in your beautiful ears?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, secrets are always coming my way," was the -nonchalant answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mysterious one halted as soon as he had put several -yards between himself and the mob. Cool and self-contained, -he was a striking contrast to Hutchins Burley as -the latter, dishevelled, muttering and out of breath, bore -down upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Burley, you'd better go, while the going's good! -Here's an emergency exit. Good night. I'll look you up -in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While the stranger's unobtrusive figure merged into the -environment, Burley took the hint with loud Falstaffian -clatter. He had barely passed through the door, when the -lights went out and the raid actually began.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER FIVE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>During the Outlaws' Ball, Cornelia sat alone in the -Lorillard apartment. Had she dressed for the masquerade -she had declined to attend? One might have been pardoned -for thinking so. To a piece of black satin, draped around -her in sensuous lines, a girdle of tangerine velvet added -the sole touch of color. It also served to draw her dress -in high above the waist and to bring out the burnished -gold of her hair. The fabric was ingeniously held together -by pins, Cornelia being an advocate of a mode of dressing -or draping that dispensed with sewing as much as possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One handsome shoulder was bare; and this arrangement -detracted nothing from the garment's look of insecurity. -Cornelia's men friends were apt to be on tenterhooks lest -her pinned dresses should suddenly come to pieces. It -was an emotion she was not altogether unconscious of, or -wholly displeased with.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the very last she had persisted in her refusal to -take part in the festivity, and had held out firmly against -the friendly blandishments with which Janet, Robert, -Mazie, and Hutchins Burley had successively tried to shake -her determination. She defended her position by declaring -that dancing bored her to distraction, not to mention that -the current dance forms, the fox trot, the jazz steps and -the glide, seemed to her to be unspeakable profanations -of a fine art.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With this explanation her friends had to be content, while -they guessed at the true reason for her refusal. Claude -hazarded the view that her real motive was a dread of -emerging in public while her affair with Percival Houghton, -the artist, was still fresh in everybody's memory. Mazie -repeated her laconic opinion that Cornelia could spite more -people and attract more attention by being missed than by -being present.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About eleven o'clock some one rang. When Cornelia -opened the door, she was confronted by an athletic young -man whom she recognized as the occupant of apartment -number thirteen, the one next to her own. Mistaking her -dress for negligee, he apologized profusely and then -explained that the gas in his room having suddenly given out -he needed a twenty-five-cent piece to set the meter in action -again. Cornelia observed that whereas his form was the -form of the roaring lion, his voice was the voice of the -cooing dove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I always keep an extra quarter on the mantelpiece," -he said, coloring with embarrassment, "but the light went -down all of a sudden, and in the dark I couldn't locate -the pesky coin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia hastened to get the necessary money. Returning, -she sympathized with him upon the fickleness of -quarter meters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horrid, mercenary things! I'd give them 'no quarter,' -if I dared, wouldn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—the light always goes out in the dark," he said, -quaintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was obviously anxious to make a good impression, -and ill at ease because of this anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just wait a second, will you, Miss," he said, as she -handed him the money. "I'll give it back right away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As his door was only a few feet away from hers, she -waited in the hall and looked curiously into his room after -he had lighted up. She noticed that the place was filled -with gymnastic paraphernalia—clubs, dumb-bells, weights, -and a boxing bag apparatus. Meanwhile, he rummaged -through the articles on the mantelpiece until he discovered -the missing money tucked snugly away in an empty match-box.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know how it got there," he said, ruefully. "I -guess I meant to put it underneath, but slipped it into the -box absent-mindedly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled. "You have a complete pocket gymnasium," -she commented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'm pretty well rigged out," he replied, delighted -at her show of interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was very much impressed with her appearance, which -mirrored a world socially more elevated and more beautiful -than his own. He racked his wits for an excuse to detain -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this how you keep in trim?" asked Cornelia, indicating -the apparatus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I'm a professional wrestler and a physical culture -expert," he went on, fumbling in his pocket for a visiting -card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I see. It's business, not pleasure." She did not -look at the card, but flashed eloquent glances at his figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it," he replied, emboldened by her mute flattery. -"Will you come in and let me show you around? Young -ladies aren't always interested in these things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another time. It's too late now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her phrases emerged so curtly and her relapse into -frigid conventionality was so abrupt that the young man -stammered a hurt good night, and rather hastily closed his -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia gained her sexual gratification in diluted but -frequent doses. Without being a deliberate flirt like Mazie, -she instinctively tried out the subtler weapons of sex on -every man she liked and, since her appearance was both -striking and agreeable and her likings fairly far flung, -men often responded to her charm with a crudeness that -gave her great offence. She seemed unconscious of the -incitement in her manner; when, on one occasion, Robert -pointed it out, she denied the charge with mingled passion -and surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was quite true that she took no pleasure in -arousing a man's desire. All her pleasure was derived from -baffling it. Curiously enough, an enamored man was an -object which aroused in her only a feeling of distaste. And -the presence of this feeling satisfied her that she was the -innocent victim of his condition rather than the responsible -author.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it was this attitude of Cornelia's that Robert -had in mind when he said that there was an indefinable -suggestion of latent wickedness about her, of wickedness -she had neither the vitality nor the courage to live up to. -How much her luckless amour had to do with her inverted -sex emotions, it would be hard to say. Robert's private -view was that it had thrown her into the society of people -like the Kips Bay tenementers who, by all current moral -standards, were not "respectable." He also held that it -had inspired her with a passion for respectability, as secret -and as strong as the drunkard's longing to be considered -a sober man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After her neighbor's retirement, Cornelia looked at his -card. In the middle was inscribed the name "Harry Kelly" -and underneath appeared: "The Harlem Gorilla, Champion -of the Mat."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was an hour or more before the doorbell of suite -number fifteen rang again. This time the visitor was -Robert Lloyd. His entrance drove Cornelia's languor away. -But she concealed her immense delight and received him -neutrally enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't endure the monotony of the ball another -minute," he declared. "You've no idea what a relief it -is to be able to come here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was so monotonous, Cato?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What wasn't!" said Robert, taking off his overcoat and -revealing the black friar's hood and gown that had served -him during the evening. "The music, the dancing, the -ogling, the drinking, the sickening coquetry, the silly -speeches to and from brainless companions—in short, -everything!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear!" exclaimed Cornelia. "At a ball, what can -you expect?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I know I'm a fool for my pains," said Robert, -laughing off the vexation he felt at having frittered away -a whole evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to undo the girdle of his gown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop!" she cried. "I haven't had a really good look at -your costume."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I at yours," he said, noticing how her dress lapped -and caressed her form. He praised the effect freely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pleased, she went to his side, pulled his hood over his -head, set his girdle and gown aright, and then stepped back -to inspect the result, clapping her hands in approval as -she did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the devil is sick of the world, the devil a monk -would be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil a monk am I!" said Robert, "unless an -unholy rage at the world is a first-class qualification for -monastic honors."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert, the part fits you to perfection. It's astonishing -how neatly you manage to blend the temper of a devil with -the austerity of a monk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not astonishing at all," said Robert, divesting himself -of the costume. "Like most young men I have a craving -for pleasure, excitement and female society. That's what -you call the devil in me. But my observation is keen -enough to show me that, under present social conditions, -I can't give this craving either a temperate or an honorable -satisfaction. So I repress it as much as common sense -allows, and you call that repression austerity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cato, you ought to be writing tracts for the Ethical -Culture Society instead of newspaper articles for Hutchins' -wicked </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>. What are you doing among the -Outlaws instead of in a goody-goody Sunday School?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her raillery in good part.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Every journalist is a patcher-up of unconsidered trifles," -he said. "He makes a crazy quilt of them as orderly and -coherent as he can. Well, where can I get the raw material -I need in greater supply than in this little community of -criminality and sentimentality, of Radicalism and bad -debts? Kips Bay is an inexhaustible mine of police news -and town talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can't say that your kind stay among us has -broadened you out much, Rob!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" he replied, amused at the shot. "I suppose I do -grow more squeamish every day. Nothing like a steady -diet of police episodes for purifying purposes. It acts the -way some nauseous drugs do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're perfectly detestable," she cried. She didn't like -anybody but herself to disparage Kips Bay. "You've put -your mind in a prison, Rob. Your symptoms require a -drastic remedy. If I were a physician of the soul, I should -prescribe marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be a Job's comforter, Cornelia. I said I wanted -female society, not female satiety. And, by the way, since -when did you begin to advocate marriage as the door to -freedom? You have always denounced it as the trapdoor -to slavery."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't advocate it for women, and even for men I -recommend it only in the most desperate cases."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mine isn't desperate. But Hutchins Burley's is, -judging from his conduct at the ball tonight. You might -prescribe for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's past all treatment. What do you think he -told me in strict confidence yesterday? That he's weighed -down by a great sorrow; too many women find him -irresistible, and persecute him to death with their lovesick -attentions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I call that a new form of persecutional mania."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was in dead earnest, Rob. He called himself a -martyr to love, fancy that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he seemed to be a remarkably willing martyr -tonight. He buzzed like a huge wasp from one pair of lips -to another. When he got to Mazie, who unfolds her petals -so alluringly, he became quite intoxicated."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which means that Mazie acted in a perfectly shameless -way, as usual."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose mind is a prison now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you mean," said Cornelia acridly. -"Please don't assume that, because I no longer believe in -marriage, I've turned my back on decency and good manners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is breaking a butterfly on a wheel, Cornelia. The -fact is, Mazie doesn't have to </span><em class="italics">act</em><span> to produce the peculiar -behavior in men which I described. You know that quite -well. She is what Joseph Conrad calls 'one of the women -of all time.' I'd call her a throw-back with the emotions -and appetites of a cave woman and the thoughts and looks -of a Ziegfield chorus girl. It's not by acting shamelessly, -or by acting at all, but by just passively being herself that -she sets a man's blood boiling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man's blood boils so easily—like a kettle on a -mountain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be fair, Cornelia. Some men's blood does, yes. Men -on Mazie's own level. Burley's one of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Cornelia, waiving the point, "what did -Hutchins do, or rather undo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd better not go into details. He played several -questionable pranks. Once, it looked as though he were on -the point of seizing Mazie by her locks and dragging her, -stone-man fashion, to his lair. Even Mazie had to act -then, really to </span><em class="italics">act</em><span>, for she was after bigger game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean, Claude?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But Claude had no eyes for the woman of all time. -His gaze was absolutely absorbed by a new star of the first -magnitude, a star not charted in the heavens before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this starry wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was Janet Barr."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to say the name casually, but Cornelia's jealous -ear detected a caressing tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hard on Mazie, wasn't it?" he pursued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On Mazie least of all," she said pointedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shaft missed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Burley got the worst end of it," he went on -innocently. "I dare say Mazie consoled herself easily enough. -But Burley's aspirations have met more than one jolt -to-night. When he made a dead set at Janet—that was -another rebuff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert described the riotous scene outside the gypsy tent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, as I've already told you, Mazie gave him the -slip; with the result that I've never seen Burley more -completely divested of his first-prize bumptiousness. -However, he soon pulled himself together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodness knows there must have been plenty of Outlaw -girls ready to lay balm on the big scamp's wounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And I needn't remind you that many of these -young ladies believe in free speech, free men and free love. -Well, Hutchins made the rounds of those he knew and -publicly challenged them to live up to their pretensions. -His proposals were brutally frank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The girls received them with amusement, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They received them with scornful resentment—just like -ordinary conventional creatures. That was what was so -surprising. For Hutchins was simply a man who took -their professed opinions at face value. 'Darling,' he would -say bluntly, to one of his pets, 'Darling, I like you and -your ruby lips. If you like me and are not otherwise -engaged, suppose we go off to Paradise.' It was raw, of -course. But you can't say it wasn't what is called 'free -love'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Rob!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. They were every bit as scandalized as you -are. After gasping for breath, they called for their escorts. -Whereupon I concluded that instinct is mightier than opinion -and that the beliefs we inherit are vastly stronger than -the beliefs we acquire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia ignored this piece of satire. And Robert then -told how Burley had resumed his pursuit of Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luckily, Claude held him off," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another champion! Little Janet must be quite the -belle of the ball."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's been much in demand. There was the gypsy -tent, remember. When it comes to innocent credulity, a -radical's capacity is just as great as any honest man's. So -what with examining scores of palms and eluding Hutchins -Burley, Janet might have died from exhaustion but for -Claude's gallant interference."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just like Claude's knight-errantry," she said. "He has -always had a passion for novelties."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the novelties have usually returned the passion!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia felt a twinge of jealousy. But as Janet had -evidently not been very attentive to Robert, and had even -hurt his feelings, she was hardly conscious of the emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet is young, impressionable and fresh from a Puritan -home," she said, with a languid air of detachment. "Small -wonder if Lothario's dash and distinction have captivated -her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They fell to talking of Janet's history, and Robert spoke -of the surprising change in her sphere of interests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A month ago she was demure enough to have stood -model for the heroine of </span><em class="italics">Miles Standish</em><span>. She could hardly -be induced to drink at a soda-water fountain on a Sunday. -Now she is full of 'equal pay for equal work.' And she -appears to have a voice as well as a vote. I'm told that -she reads the </span><em class="italics">Liberator</em><span> and that she broke the last Sabbath -by attending a meeting of the new Labor Party in Madison -Square Garden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's been under my wing for several weeks," said -Cornelia, proudly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cornelia's assumption that she was entirely responsible -for the change in Janet's outlook on life was without -warrant. Yet she was so self-satisfied as scarcely to suspect -that Robert had anything to do with the matter; and it -was interest in the man rather than curiosity about the -girl that caused her to question him about his previous -acquaintance with Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She learnt that Robert's mother was not a very distant -cousin of Mrs. Barr, and that both ladies had spent their -girlhood in the same Connecticut town, where they had -been friends until Mrs. Lloyd married and went out West. -When Robert left Los Angeles, he bore this relationship -in mind and, on the strength of it, paid his respects to the -Barrs soon after settling in New York.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia inferred that the young man's acquaintance with -the Barrs had continued on a very superficial footing. -Robert knew better than to undeceive her. As a matter -of fact, he had repeated his visits to the Barr household -for the simple reason that there had sprung up between -himself and Janet a mental fellowship which the hostility -of her mother, the timid aloofness of her father and the -envy of her sister had been able to obstruct but not to -destroy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had more than repaid him for the inhospitality of -her relatives. She in turn amused, puzzled, inspired and -electrified him. So much unsophistication in the midst of -a guileful city, so much candor surrounded by pious -make-believe, above all, so much eagerness for experience held -in leash by a vegetating family routine, had filled Robert -with the hope that he might play Pygmalion to her Galatea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Galatea, however, did not exactly go into raptures over -Pygmalion. Though her insurgent nature was full of silent -sympathy with Robert, her instincts were so much under -the bondage of the Barr atmosphere as to prevent her from -fully estimating his worth. Still, she conscientiously -followed up the leads he gave her. She made her first -bewildered acquaintance with the new paintings, the new -music and the new social sciences. She began to look -forward to copies of the </span><em class="italics">Republic</em><span>, the </span><em class="italics">Nation</em><span>, the </span><em class="italics">London -Statesman</em><span>; and she joined him in reading the great -contemporary writers: Bernard Shaw, H. G. Wells, Anatole -France, Romain Rolland. In short, she ranged with silent -delight through the new world of modernity that he opened -up to her, though it had to be explored in an obstinate -little way of her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As her unofficial pilot Robert was very happy and might -long have held the post but for a fatal blunder. Mrs. Barr -learned one day that he had tempted Janet to attend a -performance of Shaw's "Blanco Posnet," given on a Sunday -by the Stage Reform Players. According to Emily, her -informant, this play was immoral, not to say blasphemous, -as was proved by the refusal of the British censor to license -its performance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a flagrant breach of holy writ, family propriety -and the Sabbath, raised a domestic tempest to which Janet -deemed it wise to bend. Robert was forced to discontinue -his visits. What he did not tell Cornelia was that, during -the last two months, he had regularly met Janet at Brentano's, -where she had formed the habit of browsing through -the new books and magazines every Friday afternoon.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER SIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>These facts Robert had his own reasons for hiding from -Cornelia. To cut the cross-examination short, he walked -up to a miniature portrait that hung on the wall over -Cornelia's desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you keep this picture of Percival Houghton -enshrined here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" asked Cornelia, taken by surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the only picture in the room," replied Robert, -evasively. "The face is that of an esthete under the -influence of paranoia. It positively stares one out of -countenance. Whenever I enter the room, I feel as if I mustn't -take a seat until I've bowed before it thrice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not responsible for other people's erratic -feelings." Cornelia would have spoken with less acerbity if jealousy -had prompted Robert's remark. But his cool sardonic tone -eliminated the theory of a jealous motive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon the explosion, Cornelia. But why must this -man of all men be the presiding genius of your room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know the reason very well, Robert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unfortunately, yes. You won't let your friends forget -it. By keeping this portrait in evidence, you actually force -the reason on people's attention. Do take him down, -Cornelia, swathe him in incense, and lay him away amongst -your most cherished souvenirs. Replace him, if you must -replace him, with a picture of Saint Francis or Savonarola."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bristled up under his ironic words. Her craving for -admiration vanished in her resentment of disapproval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am proud to have known Percival Houghton, and to -have been his friend. Thanks for your recommendation, -though I'm not aware of having asked for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be angry. You must own that you constantly -remind your visitors of this Houghton affair, though what -advantage it is to your position and influence, Heaven only -knows. Let sleeping dogs lie. Believe me, Cornelia, half -the tragedies in life result from forgetting what we ought -to remember; the other half from remembering what we -ought to forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not ashamed of the Houghton affair, as you call -it," said Cornelia coldly. "Why should I be? It was one -of those rare friendships that are quite beyond the -perception of vulgar-minded, low-thoughted souls. What other -people think of it concerns me very little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She really believed this, although it was very wide of -the mark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," she went on melodramatically, "of the spiteful -gossip behind my back. I know of the scarlet colors in -which my relations with Percival Houghton are painted -by my enemies. Let them declaim against me! To a few -real friends I have told the truth. They believe me, and -that is all I ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had in fact taken more than one friend into her -confidence. It was a common saying in the Lorillard tenements -that the token of admission to Cornelia's inner circle -was the almost sacramental rite of receiving her account -of the Houghton episode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The corner stone of this account—the supreme article -of faith!—was the point that she and Percival Houghton -had rigorously abstained from sexual intimacy throughout -their voyage together in the same stateroom. Not from -moral scruples, be it noted, but from a desire to prove to -the world that free love and the severest tax on self-restraint -were perfectly compatible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia held passionately to the delusion that her -account was accepted in every jot and tittle. Robert knew -that behind her back, most of her friends greeted it with a -cynical smile and pronounced it a pardonable but much -too elaborate invention. When some one referred to -Cornelia's assertion that the voyage to England had involved -no infraction of the seventh commandment, the women -would say contemptuously: "If you're going to be killed -for a lamb, you might as well be killed for a sheep." The -men, more vulgarly, would exclaim: "What a shame if -they wasted a chance like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley, in one of his most egregious moments, -wagered any amount that Cornelia wasn't half as big a -fool as her story made her out to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was owing to these and other coarse pleasantries -circulating at her expense that Robert wished he could make -Cornelia look the facts in the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What he regretted most of all, however, was that she -seemed entirely to misconstrue the visits of the many men -who sauntered in and out of her rooms. They came with -the expectation voiced by Oscar Wilde, that "she who had -sinned once and with loathing, would sin again many times, -and with joy." Clearly, they hoped to profit by the -repetition. But this was a truth to which Cornelia was -obstinately blind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, Robert," she said, aggrieved at his silence, "used -to be counted among those who believed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am still. Good Heavens, Cornelia, why should I, -of all people, doubt your words? Think of my situation. -Here am I, alone after midnight in an apartment with a -young and interesting martyr in the cause of free marriage. -And what do we do? We discuss the subject of sex affinities, -with a complete suspension of conventional reserve. -Yet I couldn't so much as kiss you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, couldn't you?" said Cornelia, in a half mocking, -half challenging voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This tremendous talk, all about herself, had completely -revitalized her spirits. She sat forward intent on Robert's -every word, the movement causing her dress to fall low -in front and show all her languid beauty at its best.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he said, gazing at her and striving hard to steady -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?" she murmured, in scarcely audible -tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," asserted Robert firmly, returning to an almost -inhuman perfection. "If I began to make love to you, I'd -be turned out in a twinkling. But who would believe this? -Not a soul. If you were to tell the facts to our fellow -tenementers, they would laugh you to scorn, and if </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> were -to tell them, they would send me to the Bloomingdale -Asylum. Yet my virtue is quite safe with you, Cornelia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You hardly do yourself justice, Cato," she said, biting -her lips, and adjusting the neck of her dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, men are more or less passive agents in these matters. -I'm safe with you because your radicalism, with all its -offshoots into free love, free thought and free religion is -only skin deep. You are a fascinating instance in the flesh -of the great modern feminist dilemma: the demand for -independence and respectability coupled with the fatal -longing to be a Cleopatra, 'one of the women of all time.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Piqued at his innuendoes, Cornelia was getting ready to -launch an acrid retort, when the door bell rang. It was -one of those vicious jangles with which only a policeman -or a pedlar ventures to announce himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man who roistered into the apartment was -Hutchins Burley.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was difficult to think of this corpulent, bullying -brawler as one of the leading newspaper men of the -metropolis; he looked so very much more like a shoddy loafer -from the underworld. His legs were still fairly steady, -although his head was quite the reverse. His alcoholic -exertions had been so ardent, however, that he sank on -the couch with a loud snort of satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Janet Barr?" he demanded, after getting his -breath. "I followed her to Charlotte's flat, but she wasn't -there. That's where Lydia Dyson said she was going to, -the little liar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia shook her finger at him in mock remonstrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have seen quite enough of Janet for one night, -Hutch, judging from reports that have reached me. I'd be -doing no more than was good for you if I put Mrs. Burley -on your trail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What d'ye think Lizzie'd do?" he roared. "She'd -scratch your eyes out for your pains!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave himself up to a burst of horrible guffaws. As -Robert looked at the man's gross, overheated, pitted face -and at the Falstaffian neck and trunk, he was overcome -with intense disgust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This disgust was only in part shared by Cornelia. True, -she did not relish Burley in his present drunken condition, -but ordinarily she confessed to a curious weakness for him. -"There's something about the brute that I like," she once -frankly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found his grossness and animal passion a relief from -the refinement and fastidiousness of men like Robert. -There was a certain quantitative satisfaction in the -spectacle of his enormous bulk at her feet. Anyhow, all male -slaves looked alike to her, the fact being that her appetite -for attention or devotion was at once undiscriminating and -insatiable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Burley had turned to Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, my boy," he said, clamorously, "when you -marry, get a good stupid dray horse like my dame. One -that'll believe in you even if God Almighty's against you. -A good plodding dray horse. That's the best recipe I know -for marital felicity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an explosion of repellent laughter he roared out his -self-applause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know as much about women as about this tunic -I'm cutting out," said Cornelia, rebuking him mildly with -her voice, but not at all with her eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Corny," said Hutchins, in high excitement, "I'll -tell you what I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> know about them." He rose from the -lounge and dumped himself amorously on one of the arms -of her easy chair. "There are only three things a man -need do to make a hit with women: give 'em food, give 'em -clothes, give 'em hugs. It's a sure-fire rule for managing -them, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He roared louder than ever. Robert wished Cornelia -wouldn't encourage him under a pretense of doing the -reverse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Hutch, go home, please," she said, prompted by -his silent disapproval. "You'll wake up all the neighbors -with your loud laughter. Remember, the walls here are -as thin as cardboard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By way of answer, the irrepressible roisterer put his arm -familiarly around her waist and tried to draw her back into -the chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be human, Corny, old girl," he said. "Don't be a -psychic adventuress. I've got to stay somewhere tonight, -and I might as well stay here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia wrenched herself from his grasp and, opening -the outer door with a tempestuous gesture, told him to leave -at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better go, Hutchins," said Robert, quietly. -"Cornelia will be more than a match for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley began to abuse him at the top of his lungs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a penny, I'd break every bone in your body," he -shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give you twice that sum to refrain," said Robert -coolly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley's latent bestiality was now thoroughly aroused. -Breathing threatenings and slaughter, he advanced towards -Robert, working himself into a greater passion and shaking -his fist more savagely every step of the way. Cornelia -screamed and threw herself in the huge man's path. After -a tussle of a few seconds, during which her cries rang -through the open door, he shoved her forcibly aside. -Robert's slim stature was already poised for the uneven -combat, when a tall, agile, coatless figure dashed in from -the adjoining apartment and deftly arrested the fist that -Burley was sending with considerable momentum towards -Robert's pale face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This way out!" exclaimed the newcomer in a voice -almost ludicrously gentle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was nothing gentle about his strength. The -thwarted man sputtered abusive, incoherent indecencies. -In vain. His expletives were cut short by two hands of -steel that whirled his lumbering hulk forward, steered him -past Cornelia with professional adroitness, and escorted him -irresistibly into the corridor. A moment later an inchoate -mass of humanity was torpedoed, with projectile swiftness, -down the first flight of stairs. To make doubly sure, the -direct actionist followed his missile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rumblings, sputterings and groans ascended discordantly -up the stairway. Presently the noise grew fitful and then -more and more subdued, as if some one had damped Vesuvius -or banked its fires for the night. At length came -silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia had sunk into a chair over which Robert was -solicitously bending when Burley's subjugator returned. -In reply to Cornelia's thanks he blushed like a boy and hid -his embarrassment by edging towards the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hall outside he deprecated Robert's warm words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just practice work," he said, in the same mild voice and -Manhattan accent. "A little trick of concentration. A man -brings all his muscular power to bear on a few weak points. -</span><em class="italics">And</em><span> joints. The Japs can teach you. So can I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew a card from his waistcoat pocket. Meanwhile, -Cornelia, who had followed Robert to the door, chanted:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are wonderful, Mr. Gorilla, wonderful! How </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> -you accomplish it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Miss, a child could do it. The main thing is to -be a powerful breather; you can't do much if you're only -a powerful eater or drinker. You've got to fill your lungs -and your bel—your abdomen, with good fresh wind; then -you travel on velvet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave Robert his card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in and I'll show you," he said cordially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes meeting Cornelia's again, the vanquished victor -withdrew in evident confusion to his retreat in number -thirteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert looked at the card and turned it over to Cornelia. -She recognized with a smile the legend about Harry Kelly, -the Harlem Gorilla and Champion of the Mat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="love-among-the-outlaws"><span class="bold large">PART II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">LOVE AMONG THE OUTLAWS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER SEVEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Janet awoke at eleven, it took her several moments -to recollect that she was in Cornelia's apartment in Kips -Bay, where Claude had left her before dawn. She could -hear Cornelia bustling about in the living room, but she -stayed in bed a little longer to luxuriate in memories of the -preceding night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got lightly out of bed and stood before the mirror -over the chiffonier. But she was less preoccupied with the -image in the looking glass than with mental pictures of the -night before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the bright light of day, the glamour of some of -these pictures took on the effect of tinsel. But Janet could -still thrill to the excitement of the raid on the Lyceum, -the pell-mell escape, the violent dispersal of the mobs in -Murray Hill and the hurried collection of a troop of -Outlaw refugees and their nocturnal march through Kips Bay -streets under the leadership of Claude Fontaine. It had -been a very festive troop, swelled by stragglers all the way -to the Lorillard tenements, where the party camped in -Charlotte Beecher's double flat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the long merrymaking that followed, Janet cared to -remember only the occasions when Claude Fontaine was -at her side and at her service. How vividly she could -picture him in the dashing part of Charles Surface, his -handsome face tinted with rich, young blood, and his eyes -of such brightness and depth that surely no infamy could -ever dull them!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A knock cut this day dreaming short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Araminta?" said Cornelia, entering -melodramatically. "And what does the Sleeping Beauty -want for breakfast?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm hungry enough to eat sticks and stones and puppy-dog's -bones," replied Janet. "But I won't murmur if you -have gentler fare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Cornelia insisted that dressing should be deferred until -after the meal, Janet tripped to the breakfast table in her -nightgown, her curly hair hanging down to her shoulders. -Cornelia, her figure lapped precariously in a simple dress, -which she had made and pinned together at a cost of fifty -cents all told, sat down opposite her young guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a picnic!" exclaimed Janet. She was filled with -glee at the wrapping paper neatly spread out in place of a -table cloth, at the cups, saucers and dishes all made of -agateware, and at the compressed paper plates for the -slices of bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it isn't a Barmecide's feast, by any means," said -Cornelia, who was amused at Janet's artless joy. "The -plates may be made of paper, but they are fresh and so -are the eggs and bacon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She set these articles on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the principal dishes are of agateware," she said, -in answer to a question of Janet's. "I've got four of -everything necessary—four cups, four saucers, four glasses, -four knives, four spoons, and so on. But don't imagine -that we have wrapping paper for a table cloth every day. -Dear, no! That's only for guests of honor and on Sundays. -On week days we use newspapers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a novel way of taking one's newspaper with one's -meal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's old news. I always use the newspaper of a -week ago. And it's curious how often I run across some -interesting bit of politics or scandal that escaped me a week -before. Sometimes, while devouring a roll, I catch myself -in the midst of a slobbery article by Hutchins Burley in -the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>. The wretch is running a series of -articles called: 'The Soul of Woman under Freedom.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave Janet a circumstantial report of the encounter -with Burley during the night. Janet followed this -narrative with sympathetic interest, and wished that she and -Claude had arrived in time to prevent the occurrence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But then your knight-errant would have missed his -opportunity," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think of the loss! By the way, I met him this morning, -Araminta."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In ambush at the door?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, in the hallway downstairs. I had gone out for some -cream. On my way back I ran right into his arms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With what result?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very little. He exhausted his eloquence in stammers -and deaf mute lingo. And when I thanked him again for -last night's service, he promptly took to his heels. It was -cruel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The course of true love always is, Cornelia."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia, pleased at the implied assumption that she had -inspired a romance, dwelt with gusto on the hero's exploit. -For the fiftieth time she described the skill and celerity -with which "the physical culture expert" had propelled -Burley from the apartment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At the Outlaws' Ball, Mr. Burley called Claude a -diamond smuggler," said Janet, by way of changing the -subject. "What did he mean? Do people accuse the Fontaines -of smuggling?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never heard of such a thing," replied Cornelia. -"Merchant princes like the Fontaines would hardly stoop to -that. Besides, it wouldn't pay them. Did Claude notice?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and he seemed to mind it very much. His whole -appearance changed as if he had been stung into sudden -fury. But he controlled himself bravely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What else could he do with the belle of the ball at his -side? He's always a man of the world—when in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not in private?" asked Janet, anxious to get to -the bottom of this veiled aspersion. Cornelia's reply was -evasive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine summer's day will often end in a burst of terrifying -thunder and lightning," she said. "Lothario has plenty -of good looks and plenty of temper. A man who is -accustomed to find people submitting to his will, easily gets -indignant when he meets with opposition."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sighed as if she could tell much more about Claude -Fontaine if she chose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't blame him for getting enraged at the -abuse of that horrible man," said Janet, sturdily defending -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor do I. Once in a while a thunderbolt will strike the -wicked as well as the good, won't it? Claude was quite -justified this time, no doubt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How does he happen to come among the Outlaws, -Cornelia? He doesn't seem to belong to them exactly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't pretend to. He walks among us humble -tenementers like a god among his creatures. Distinctly Like -a god, Araminta. That's the footing on which he associates -with mere human beings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet he's hail fellow well met with Robert and Mazie and -the others," protested Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes, but don't let that deceive you. Jupiter was -hail fellow well met with many a mortal, especially with -many a mortal maiden. You remember that he visited one -earthly princess in a shower of gold. That is what Claude -does. He visits the model tenements in—or perhaps I -should say with—a shower of gold. I mean," she added, -"he doesn't think of marriage with a girl on Mazie's level. -Nor with a girl on yours or mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This shaft did not miss its mark. But it perplexed Janet -more than it wounded her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought that made no difference to you," she said, -for she had already been favored with some of Cornelia's -destructive criticism of the institution of marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It makes no difference to </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>," said Cornelia. "But in -this stifling room I can't explain myself as I'd like to. The -spacious blue skies and the free pure air of the Hudson -will be a more fitting background for the story I'd like to -tell you. Put on your things, Araminta, and we'll go for -a charming ride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet dressed with promptness and pleasure. She appeared -to have forgotten that Robert Lloyd had particularly -said that he was coming about noon in order to take her -home. Her friend did not remind her. The knowledge -that Robert would go away in bitter disappointment robbed -the outing of none of its zest, so far as Cornelia was -concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude, too, had promised to drop in at Number Fifteen. -This promise Janet bore well in mind. But as his visit -was not to take place until late in the afternoon and there -was thus no danger of missing him, she joined Cornelia -with enthusiasm.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Second Avenue, -where Kips Bay edges its dingy little proletarian stores into -bourgeois respectability, the two young women entered a -car bound for the West Twenty-third Street ferry. It -proceeded at a jog trot along Second Avenue to Twenty-third -Street where it struck the cross-town line west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet felt no annoyance at the snail's pace from which -the car never departed. Manhattan was still a novelty to -her, and this section of the East Side was wholly new.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cornelia made unflattering comparison between the -surface conveyances in Manhattan and the bus transportation -which Londoners and Parisians enjoyed. She was -annoyed by the complacency that New Yorkers displayed -toward their street-car service and the petty provincialism -that actually led them to believe this service to be the -fastest in the world, when in fact it was the slowest. At -the climax of her irritation she gave Janet the benefit of -one of Robert Lloyd's epigrams. Robert had once said -that New York "rapid transit," as it was optimistically -called, was the organized effort of the local traction -magnates to annihilate the specific advantages of modern -electrical machinery. Cornelia did not doubt that in this effort -they had triumphed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jolts with which the car came to a standstill at each -successive street crossing, and the jerks with which it -resumed its languid pace again, would ordinarily have frazzled -her nerves for the day. This time, however, she bore the -ordeal much more composedly. For one thing, Janet's calm -spirit had a soothing influence upon her. For another, it -amused her mightily to have so unsophisticated a -companion to point out the sights to. She caused Janet to -observe the Italian district with its macaroni dens along -the cross streets, the Armenian district with the Eastern -restaurants parading strange Greek-lettered names, and -Kips Bay's fashionable western fringe with its Madison -Avenue hotels, stores and residential palaces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet drank it all in thirstily. Not for a moment did -she regret the defiance she had flung at her mother's wishes -by going to the Outlaws' Ball. On the contrary, this act -of insurgency appeared to have heightened her perception -as much as it had strengthened her self-esteem. She saw -things with different eyes, or believed she did. The people -and the shops fairly brandished a life and reality totally -new to her experience. She longed to be more than a mere -spectator in the tumultuous scene unfolded before her. She -would have given anything to be even a cog—an active -cog—in this giant metropolis whose roar and grime possessed -an immense attraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the North River they left the car. Three big ferry -houses confronted them and Cornelia was undecided which -to take. It was a grave question in her mind, for she staged -the big scenes of her life with as much care as a play -producer. The artist in her at once eliminated the Erie -ferry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Erie boats are too dinky," she said. "Shall we take -the Jersey Central or the Lackawanna?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's take the one that gives the longest ride," said -Janet, for whom the smell of the river quickly cut such -minor esthetic knots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's first and invariable impulse towards any -proposal made by another person was to turn it down. The -reasons she gave for doing so were usually quite plausible, -though sometimes cast in a rather theatrical style.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Jersey's trip is a little longer," she said, "but the -difference is slight. The Lackawanna appeals to me more. -Lackawanna! Don't you love the music in that name? -Besides, Araminta, the Jersey boats are painted a sickly -gray, while the Lackawanna boats are maroon. A wonderful -maroon! And they have a glorious seat on the upper -deck, directly facing the bow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, let's take the Lackawanna," said Janet, to -whom it was all one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were soon ensconced in the very seat on the top -deck which Cornelia coveted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if Janet had any hopes of hearing a great deal more -about Claude Fontaine, she was soon disillusioned. She -did not yet understand her friend, to whom the world was -an audience at a stage play in which Cornelia Covert had -the star part. She speedily learned that Cornelia had not -gone to all this trouble to analyze the love affairs of other -people. No. The moment had been chosen and the stage -had been set to make Janet the recipient of the sacred -narrative of Cornelia's experience with Percival Houghton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tale did not begin until the boat was well under -way, so that Janet had an opportunity to revel in the swell -of the mighty Hudson and to contrast the differing aspects -of the two banks. The Palisaded Jersey side was almost -hidden by huge ocean steamers, except at the spot where -the Castle Point Terrace of Stevens Institute rose serenely -above a forest of quivering masts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet thought the heights of Hoboken quite dwarfed by -the towering office structures of lower Manhattan. Cornelia -interrupted her ineffable story long enough to repeat -another opinion of Robert's without acknowledgment. It -was to the effect that the commercial skyscrapers on the -Hudson were as grimly symbolic of ownership as the castles -that overlooked the Rhine. Did Janet realize that the lords -of these skyscraping fortresses were the masters of the -river and thus of the country on which the river's port had -a strangle hold? In each of the big business edifices, -thousands of mercantile retainers served their liege lords -with pen or typewriter as industriously as ever men-at-arms -flourished crossbow or arquebus in the brave days of old. -Only, the economic factor in the comparison was all in -favor of the industrial barons of today. Their armies, -opulence and power were of a magnitude that would have -caused the robber barons of the Rhine to expire with envy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With these brief interruptions, Cornelia pursued the -even tenor of the story whose narration was the seal and -token of her friendship. What moved her to tell it to -Janet was not the idea of self-defence, or the hope of -softening the shock a friend might receive on learning the -details from a hostile critic. Quite the contrary. She was -inordinately proud of her intimate connection with a man -as famous as Percival Houghton; and she was altogether -anxious that her friends should know of this connection in -the form in which she wished it to be known and hoped to -make it remembered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two years had passed, she told Janet, since Percival -Houghton came to the United States. He was a young -Englishman, well connected, who had gained an immense -vogue as an illustrator. He was said to have "isolated" -several rare types of French and English female beauty, -and fabulous sums had been paid for his portrait studies -in pastel. His press agent having in advance widely -advertised the artist's announced purpose of adding the -American girl to his pictorial conquests, his arrival was -extremely good copy for the newspapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hutchins Burley, with an eye to the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle's</em><span> -large feminine clientele, did not let the opportunity slip by. -He assigned Cornelia, then attached to his paper, to -interview the ambitious Englishman. In her own words, "she -went, she saw, she conquered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the flattering notice in the </span><em class="italics">Chronicle</em><span>, Percival -Houghton sought her out and attended her devotedly. -Cornelia dwelt on the warm friendship that sprang up -between them and on her own quick subjection to his great -personal charm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a wonderful man, Araminta. He had a great -leonine head with wild flowing locks; there was fire in his -eye and music in his voice; and he had that imperious way -with him that opens a path straight to a woman's heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The week before his departure, he made an avowal of -his passion. And she was in a paradise of ecstasy until -the next day, when he sent her by mail a piece of information -he had not had the courage to give her in person. He -confessed to a wife and two children living in England. -In a moment of impetuous boyish idealism—like Shelley's, -he said—he had married a girl who was intellectually -(though not financially) his inferior. Worst of all, she -shared none of his tastes or aspirations. He assured -Cornelia that every day of his married existence had been a -lifetime of exquisite torture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This confession, Janet heard, was the prelude to many -hours of bitter torment. Cornelia said that the one good -outcome of this evil period was that she began to think of -the realities of life for the first time. She was led to -question the moral conventions which she had always taken -for granted and which, she now saw, encrusted the conduct -of most of the people around her. Under the tutelage of -Percival Houghton, who proclaimed himself a free thinker, -as well as a free lover, she became alive to the absurdity -of regarding the conventions of an age as immutable laws -for all time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, at this time, her logic was concentrated on -the convention of marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Percival read out many passages from the great writers -of today—continued Cornelia—from Galsworthy, H. G. Wells, -Havelock Ellis and Gilbert Cannan; and these passages -exposed the unalterable belief of the writers that -marriage, in its existing form, was wrong, conclusively and -crushingly wrong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wrong, she hastened to explain, in so far as it was a -contract that was held to be binding even after the death -of the love on which the contract was based.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She developed the logic of the situation at some length -in arguments with which Janet was greatly impressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You own mother and father hate each other, Janet," she -pointed out. "The result is the cat-and-dog, -bite-one-another's-head-off relationship that passes for family life -in your home. Do you see?";</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet saw, or thought she saw. Anything that could -plausibly be shown to be responsible for family life among -the Barrs was sure to receive her cordial detestation. -Cornelia, certain of her auditor's sympathy, continued her story. -Percival Houghton's solution of the difficulty caused by -his rash attachment was a highly quixotic one. He -proposed that Cornelia accompany him to England, so that -they might together lay the facts before his wife and beg -her to sue for a divorce after he had furnished her with -funds and with technical grounds for the suit. They were -to be open and aboveboard in urging the right of true -lovers to be free from all the shackles of law and tradition. -His wife was not ungenerous, he declared. Moreover, she -had never really loved him; and he persuaded himself and -Cornelia that, face to face with an overwhelming passion, -she would readily consent to an act that was to liberate -three lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, he insisted was the only honorable course to -pursue. It had the precedent of such great names as Ruskin -and Millais. Besides it was the only course that would -not seriously affect his career or completely cut him off -from his children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could Cornelia do but yield? He engaged passage -to England for two, and—she emphasized this detail again -and again—though they occupied the same stateroom, -their union was a union of two souls and nothing more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without giving Janet time to grasp the logic of this -behavior or of its explanation, she continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Percival said it behooved us to show that free love -could rise above the lustful impulses of the flesh. We -were to come to each other clean, so as not to do the cause -of free love an injury."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>England had been the Paradise of her hopes, but it -proved their sepulchre. Scarcely had they docked in the -Mersey when reporters representing news associations -accosted them for information about their "elopement." The -news had been cabled from New York, where they were -featured as "elective affinities." In London, too, they -found themselves headliners in the yellow journals. Needless -to say, the most extreme construction was put on their -journey together. And the escapade of "affinity Houghton" -became an international sensation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did it leak out, Cornelia?" exclaimed Janet. "Had -you told anyone you were going together?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a soul. But my connection with a newspaper was -fatal. A woman journalist is subject to more gossip than -an actress. Every time she's seen with a new man, she's -reported to have ensnared a new lover."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a result of this glaring notoriety, Cornelia went on, -Houghton's manner toward her underwent a radical change. -He remained kind and courteous, but his manner grew cool. -He urged one pretext after another for postponing what was -to have been a historic interview with his wife. In London -he took her to a hotel and left her there alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two days later she received a letter from him, in which -he said that his wife was unalterably resolved to contest a -divorce on any ground, and that the newspaper gossip had -almost irretrievably injured his prospects. He added -that he was as devoted to her as ever. He was, in fact, -broken-hearted, but his clear duty to his family, his -children and his career demanded that they should never -meet again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of this note she made several attempts to see -him once more. She confessed to Janet that she had been -ready to accept any terms he might make, if only he agreed -not to part from her forever. It was for love and not for -marriage that she had sacrificed herself. It was not -marriage but love that she demanded. But he sustained his -pitilessly inflexible attitude. Almost prostrated by the -notoriety which the experience had thrust upon her, she -made a heart-broken return to the United States.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I landed in New York without hope, without health, and -without a home," said Cornelia, dramatically. "But I had -vindicated my belief that love should be free."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To forestall a social boycott, she had proudly decided to -shun all her former friends. To this end she rented a flat -in the Lorillard tenements. And here she had remained -in eclipse, and in receipt of a small allowance from a brother -who was a leading politician in a Western State.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Latterly, old friends of hers, members of the fellowship -of Outlaws, had drifted into her rooms in Kips Bay; and -so she had been dragged—unwillingly, she alleged—from -her retirement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She asserted that she had no ill-will for Percival Houghton, -who would always be the one man in the world for her. -After all, he had sold his birthright for a marriage of -convenience, and he might well feel that he ought to stick to -his bargain, cost what it might. She was persuaded that -his coldness to her in London was merely an iron vizor -clamped upon his real feelings by the ruthless institution -of matrimony. She also appeared to derive some comfort -from the thought that though he was "a soul pirate," -though he had "stolen her soul," his own had been damned -in the process.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet I shall always love him," she said, with tragic -resignation. "I shall never love anyone else. And I shall -never marry. I've suffered enough from marriage as it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ferryboat docked at the Lackawanna Station. -Janet, who had been lost in a reverie, mechanically followed -her companion's suggestion that they take the same boat -back. Cornelia's story—the vivid story of one of the -principals—had a very different coloring from the account -of the "affinity Houghton" scandal which had filled the -front pages of the evening newspapers two years ago. -Janet could still recollect the headlines, the pictures, and -the expansive gossip; also the strange mixture of curiosity -and pious disgust with which she had followed the reports.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could the horrified Janet Barr of that dimly remembered -time be the same girl who was now sitting in the closest -intimacy beside the leading female in the case?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the return across the river, Janet had several questions -on the tip of her tongue, but Cornelia's manner seemed -to discourage inquiries of a too personal kind. However, -Janet did get in:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was Percival Houghton's excuse for refusing to -see you once more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said we could meet only in secret; but that any -continuation of the secrecy was more than he could endure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think that excuse rings true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? I suppose I should say it rings falsely true, -as faith unfaithful always does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it was the evasion of a coward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps. But, Araminta, </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> men are cowards, moral -cowards, I mean. They face bullets sublimely, but they -shiver and shake before an argument. They gayly lose -their lives for a hunting trophy or a football triumph, but -they can't bear to lose their dinners for a belief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, thinking of her father, was inclined to agree with -this view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that why men let women keep up the marriage system?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, it isn't the women who keep up the marriage -system. It's the men! Women just fall into a system -that's ready made for them. Most women are all body -and no soul. Give them the choice between marriage, -which provides for the body while starving the soul, and -some other condition which provides for the soul while -starving the body, and of course they'll choose marriage. -They prefer to hold a man by his lusts rather than by his -spiritual impulses. But the men keep the system up, my -dear. Because of the children they want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Cornelia, I thought it was the women who wanted -children!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So we do. We want them because life demands them -through us; for are we not the mothers of the race? But -that is not the men's reason. It isn't the race that is -calling through them for immortality. Heavens no! It's -their boundless male egotism. And since they know that -they can't live forever in their own selfish little bodies, -they hope to get a new lease of life in the bodies of their -sons. That is why they have built up an institution in -which they can keep their women wedlocked and can make -sure that their children are their own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But perhaps marriage is necessary for the children, -Cornelia. They are the better off for it, at least when -they are very young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you so sure? Remember, loveless marriages seldom -result in healthy offspring. Look at Percival Houghton's -two children. One is a girl with hip disease, the other is -a feeble-minded, flabby anæmic boy. Yet the parents -are both physically sound. Do you think </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> would have -had such children?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her vehemence was over-awing, almost over-bearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not sure I can judge from one case, Cornelia," said -Janet, her firm voice and clear distinct utterance betraying -a will of her own. "But I'm sure that people who marry -and find that they are mistaken in each other, ought to -be able to rectify the mistake. It's horrible to think that -they can't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Now you've come to it. If people find that they -are mistaken in their butchers or grocers, they experiment -until they find the right one. They won't go on eating bad -steaks forever because luck or inexperience landed them in -a poor shop at the first try. But do they take as much -trouble to get the right husband or wife as they do to get -the right mutton chop? They don't. Whatever partner -luck or inexperience hands them at the altar, they put up -with for the rest of their lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder why we don't experiment in marriage as in -all other matters?" asked Janet thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, it's been proposed often enough. By men, -of course. You are too young to remember the furor that -followed when George Meredith proposed trial marriages. -It's an easy thing for the men to propose, since it's the -women who must risk the beginning. The question is, who -is to begin? The plain women daren't, because the risk -is too great; and the fascinating women needn't, because -they get what they want anyway, within the law or beyond -it. Now if ever girls like you, Araminta, on whom the eye -rests with delight, began to experiment—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I've no right to urge my views on individuals. -Besides, you are far too young and inexperienced, my dear, -to be one of the first. Though I'm sure nothing would -suit men like Claude Fontaine better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, Cornelia, you're making innuendos about Mr. Fontaine -again," said Janet. "It isn't fair. If you mean -to take me into your confidence at all, you might do it all -the way through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not another word will you get out of me now, Araminta," -replied Cornelia, with one of the queer laughs she -gave whenever she blocked people's wishes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, fearing to weaken the hold she had upon Janet, -she added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm too famished to talk. Here we are, landing at last. -Come, we'll get a nice lunch. I know you're dying to talk -about the irresistible Claude. I promise to tell you -Lothario's whole history over our cups of tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet begged to be taken to the Y.W.C.A. Cafeteria, -whose good food, self-service and picturesque quarters she -had heard Cornelia extol. When they reached the restaurant, -they saw a very long line of waiting customers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This will never do," said Cornelia, disgustedly. And, -quite unwilling to sacrifice comfort in the cause of -self-service, she dragged the reluctant Janet to a French -pastry restaurant on Fifth Avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> like a waiter and a table cloth," said Cornelia, as -she contentedly resigned herself to these dubious luxuries. -"And I </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> like to scramble for my napkin and my glass -of ice water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a strange thing for you to say," said Janet, -puzzled. "It sounds as though, in spite of your advanced -views, you might at heart be thoroughly in love with -conventional ways."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't put such ideas into your head, silly!" said -Cornelia, giving a high-pitched, self-conscious, stagy laugh, -with which she shut off further personal questions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During lunch, Cornelia contrived to say curiously little -about Claude Fontaine, Janet learning hardly anything she -did not already know. Claude was heir to the great -Fontaine jewelry establishment. He was a social swell. He -was very handsome. And he was trying equally hard to -dabble in modern paintings and not to dabble in modern -amours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His success in both attempts was dubious, according to -Cornelia. Particularly in the matter of the amours. He -was, of course, the greatest catch of his day. In his own -circle, every mother had marked him for her daughter. -And it was to escape the conspiracies of matchmakers that -he had taken up with the Outlaws in the model tenements. -In their unconventional atmosphere, he had hoped to move -and breathe more freely. But if every girl in his own set -was willing to become his wife, every girl in the Lorillard -tenements seemed willing to become his mistress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It appeared that Mazie Ross had been particularly -shameless in setting herself to catch Claude. Somehow or -other, the conversation pivoted chiefly on Mazie, her -selfishness, her neglect of her fair share of the work in flat -number fifteen, and her willingness to sell herself. This -last was the fault which Cornelia proposed to take most -exception to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could get rid of her," she said. "Then you -could come and live with me, Araminta. It would be like -exchanging a room that smelled of last night's stale flowers -for a garden perfumed by fresh roses."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER EIGHT</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No sooner were they back in their Lorillard tenement, -than Robert Lloyd came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Cato, where did you drop from?" said Cornelia, -who was lazily tidying up the rooms while Janet was doing -the breakfast dishes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From the Harlem Gorilla in the flat next door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really! And what did </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> have to say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not much. He isn't a talker like me. He's a doer. He -tried to explain a few tricks in gymnastics to me. But -every second sentence or so the word 'Cornelia' crept into -the explanation. It was decidedly confusing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pray what has the word 'Cornelia' to do with the -subject of gymnastics?" asked the owner of the name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, what! I asked the Gorilla that question myself. -But he simply repeated the name adoringly and looked all -sorts of unutterable things. Beware, Cornelia. He thinks -the sun rises in one of your eyes and sets in the other. -I believe he is planning to carry you off by main force to -his cave, his gymnasium cave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A lot he is! He couldn't carry off a buttercup against -its wishes. Really, Araminta, he's the gentlest and shyest -'wild man' you ever laid eyes on. How he ever came to -take Gorilla for a nickname, I can't imagine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor I," said Robert. "But don't forget that he has -learnt the art of concentrating his enormous strength on -one or two crucial points. Certainly he treated Hutchins -Burley to a good exhibition of his mastery, didn't he? For -all that, he's a very singularly gentle sort of Hercules. If -I had to provide one for you, Cornelia, I'd get a much more -ferocious specimen, if only to pay you out for kiting away -with Janet, after promising me you'd both stay in. I've -been waiting for you since noon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Cato, I'm terribly sorry. In the excitement of -having Janet here, I clean forgot you were coming. Waiting -since noon, were you, poor boy! There's devotion for -you, Araminta. Never mind, Rob. Here she is, now. And -all's well that ends well, I hope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you'd like company on your way home, -Janet," said Robert to her directly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks very much," said Janet, not wishing to lose -Robert and yet not caring to say that Claude had promised -to call for her, if he could possibly get away from business. -Before she could say more, Cornelia interposed. She had -not expected Robert to wait and had not quite swallowed -her chagrin over this surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you happen to be off duty, Rob?" she asked. -"Does the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span> stop work for you on Saturdays?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I've stopped work for the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span> on -Saturdays and all other days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Don't tell me Hutchins has discharged you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia gave up the last pretense of working, and sank -aghast into an armchair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't give him a chance. I discharged myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he had—" she began, setting her teeth vindictively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. In his sober moments, Cornelia, you are -apparently the only mortal soul he stands in some fear of. -It was only because of a sneaking affection he has for you -that he hesitated to fire me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, why throw a good bargain away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A nice position it would have left me in. That of an -understrapper for Burley to play cat and mouse with. Not -if I know it! Burley likes to torture the people in his -power as much as you do, the only difference being that -his weapon is coarse brutality while yours is insidious -charm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your comparisons, Cato, have the merit of being as -unambiguous as they are rude. I trust you gave Hutchins -Burley the benefit of a few of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, I always forgive my enemies. Nothing enrages -them more. I left Hutchins stunned. But I've no doubt -he recovered in time to appoint the successor that I sent -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you sent him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. You don't know him, but Janet does. Janet, do -you remember the tall, thin, aristocratic chap who was -always mysteriously turning up and who stopped Burley -at the tent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I do. He wore a quaint stand-up collar -with two points sticking into his neck. It was he who -warned Claude about the raid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, did he? Well, when I was on my way up the -stairs here at noon, he suddenly appeared, like a ghost -stepping out of the stone wall. It gave me quite a start. -I asked him where he was bound for. 'Nowhere in -particular,' was his answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert had got to talking with the mysterious one, who -confessed that he had just rented a flat in the model -tenements. On Robert's alluding to the severance of his -connection with the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>, his new acquaintance -had asked permission to apply for the vacant place. He -claimed to have an ear for news and remarked casually -that information was always drifting his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As if I had any permission to give!" continued Robert. -"I warned him what he'd be up against in the person of -Hutchins Burley, and bade him Godspeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's either a detective or the Prince of Zenda in -disguise," said Janet. "Which do you think, Robert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From the speed and completeness with which he obliterates -himself, I should favor the detective theory. On -the other hand, there's his get-up! That melancholy, -drooping mustache, that semi-clerical collar, and that -comical tip-tilted chin! The fellow's simply unforgettable. He -must be a prince incognito."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we'll have him a prince!" exclaimed Janet, who, -at twenty-four, had a normal craving for romantic illusion. -"But I should like him in any part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A prince! Nonsense, children!" interjected Cornelia, -in her most languid cadences. "He's probably a burglar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A burglar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not a detective. Detectives don't obliterate -themselves. They don't know how to. And they never -look like princes in disguise. They're not clever enough. -All the detectives I ever saw looked like butchers on a -strike. The only man, rich, skillful and bold enough to -take his fellow man at a right royal disadvantage is a -first-class burglar. A Raffles, for instance, might be a prince -'incognito.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's wits could work brilliantly under the stimulus -of a new friend like Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door had opened while she was speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's a prince, Araminta!" she continued, in the same -musical vein. "Not incognito, either, to judge by his -handsome motor coat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude Fontaine came in, and the sheer sweep of his -personal attractiveness made Cornelia's slightly ironic -phrasing sound quite empty. Janet thought that many a -titular prince might be glad to exchange his coat of arms -for Claude's conquering air.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her heart beat faster for more reasons than this. How -was she to let Robert down gracefully and without hurting -his feelings, after having more than half accepted his offer -to accompany her home?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As if in total ignorance of her dilemma, Cornelia, who -had begun sketching a design for a new dress, intoned:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Admirers never come singly. Choose your escort, my -dear. Which is it to be? Cato and the subway or Lothario -and a limousine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all dissembled very poorly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude, who had not expected rivalry, looked displeased; -Robert, though he had already made up his mind to -withdraw, felt uneasy; and Janet stood up between the two -young men, embarrassed and confused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia alone seemed wholly unmoved. She went on -sketching imperturbably. But Robert was quite certain -that she was not unconscious of the tableau. Janet broke -the painful silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's all three go together," she said, with one of her -quick graceful gestures, half conciliatory, half pleading in -its effect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, if Robert would like to come," said Claude, -politely, but without enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert declined promptly. He explained that he had -really been free only for the morning, and that, as long as -Claude was to see Janet home, he had better utilize the -late afternoon to hunt up another position. There were -newspaper offices at which he ought to call. Before supper, -he had a speech to rehearse. Perhaps Cornelia would be -good enough to let him say it over to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What kind of a speech am I letting myself in for?" -asked Cornelia, half flattered, half nettled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait till you hear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sermon, I'll be bound," chanted this languid lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, not at all languidly, she put her sketch aside and -rose, adding:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sermon from Cato is as sweet as a </span><em class="italics">billet-doux</em><span> from -any other man. Come, Araminta, let's show these men -how quickly we can get ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went into Cornelia's bedroom, leaving the two men -alone. Claude said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's this about hunting up a new position?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert recounted his farewell interview with Hutchins -Burley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're well rid of him," said Claude. "What do you -think the swine called me at the ball? A diamond -smuggler. In front of everybody, mind you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paced the room indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you, Rob, if these were the good old days of -duelling, I'd have run his fat carcass through with a rapier -half a dozen times before this. And done it with relish, -too. Nowadays, worse luck, it isn't even good form to -give him a thrashing, though Heaven knows he's the sort -of brute that understands no argument but a blow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blows would only sharpen his wits against you, Claude. -Curs bite, as bees sting, by force of nature. The only -thing to do is to get out of their way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not in the habit of getting out of any man's way," -said Claude, haughtily. "However, don't let's talk about -the beast. I'm extremely sorry you're out of a job. Tell -you what, Rob. Come up to my office on Monday, and -we'll talk the situation over and see what can be done. -You'll find me in the galleries on the top floor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Claude, but Monday is impossible," said -Robert, glad of the excuse, for he scented patronage in -his friend's manner. "I'm giving a talk on 'Unemployment -under the National Guild System' before the Guild Study -Club. When I arranged to speak on Unemployment I -had no idea I should do so as an experienced hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Possibly Claude was dimly conscious of his friend's -sensitiveness. At all events, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, come on your first free day. I'm always there -afternoons. You </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> come, if only to see my two new -Cezannes. I've just induced father to buy them. By the -way, old chap, what on earth are National Guilds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The return of the ladies cut off a reply. Janet's natural -grace redeemed the hang of a not too well-tailored suit. -Cornelia was all aglow over a mandarin coat she had put -on. It was a wonderful dark green silk with dull gold -embroidery. Her clothes had a remarkable effect of -clinging to her contours. "Look at me," her body seemed to -call out through its vestments, "did you ever see anything -so ravishing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet walked over to Robert's side and sought forgiveness -without asking for it. And he forgave her without saying -so. Her soft, flexible, thrilling voice disturbed him sorely, -and he wondered whether its sustained riches were as -illusory as he judged the mysterious depths of her gray eyes -to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Claude was telling Cornelia in all sincerity -that she had never looked more enchanting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flatterer!" she said. "To how many girls have you -said that today?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Facts don't flatter, Cornelia. They simply cry out the -truth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lothario, it's all a matter of the science of pinning and -the art of dressing. Or rather, of </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> dressing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the hundredth time, she assured Claude and Robert -that she never wore corsets or underwear, and didn't believe -in these accoutrements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, nothing?" exclaimed Claude, perhaps to see Janet -blush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are an art-hating people with ugly ideas," continued -Cornelia, unheeding his interruption, "and so we grow ugly, -unsightly bodies. That is why modern fashionable -dressmaking has but one aim: to conceal deformities. But -dresses that conceal women's bad points are sure to conceal -their good points, too. A tragic loss! Janet is young and -charming; she can stand this loss. I'm on the wrong side -of thirty; I can't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you poking fun at my Brooklyn clothes again?" -asked Janet. "If you go on like this, I shall have to ferret -out all the secrets of your art, in pure self defence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must all take a hand in educating you," said Cornelia, -grandly. "My part will be to make you see life as -a world of beautiful lines, rhythms, and colors."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What will mine be?" asked Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yours? To make her see life as a vale of Cashmere—all -roses and wine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Rob's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rob will make her see it as a vale of tears—all sermons -and social problems. He'll be a necessary corrective to -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to you, too," said Robert, quickly, amidst a general -laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was now ready to go. As she and Claude left, -Cornelia kissed her tenderly and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember, if anything serious happens at home, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> want -you, Araminta."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Claude instructed his chauffeur to drive across -Manhattan Bridge through Prospect Park and along the Coney -Island Road until the signal should be given to turn back -to Janet's home in the Park Slope section. Then he took -his seat in the closed car beside his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a warm spring day, and an agreeable wind from -the bay blew upon them through the open windows as they -crossed the East River. The breeze, the river, and the -motion joined to chase from Janet's mind the shadow of -the scene that awaited her at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, there was the god at her side. Nearness did -not rob him of his divinity, it did not make him grow -commonplace. And although some of the glamor of his -strangeness wore away, she liked him all the better for being -a human god and for having human weaknesses that caused -his diviner side to seem all the more real. Janet never -gushed, and even her most fervent adorations were shot -through with a cool streak of matter-of-fact perception.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude was very happy, too. Philandering had few new -sweets to offer him. Yet Janet was a novelty in every way. -What was unique in her was her disinterestedness, a quality -he did not consciously credit her with, however, since he -did not believe that any woman possessed it. All the -young ladies he had ever known had either struck attitudes -at his social position or groveled more or less openly before -his wealth. According to his view of women, their one -aim in life was to get money out of him; by marriage if -possible, by fouler means if not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Janet was different.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She might have fawned upon him, or thrown herself -unblushingly at his head, or used a frigid hauteur to -emphasize the point that her station in life was better than -appearances indicated. The girls he knew invariably -pursued one of these courses. But Janet didn't. Her -whole bearing permeated the atmosphere with a suggestion -that Claude was a very wonderful being, dashing, handsome, -divine. A most agreeable suggestion! But, since -it takes a goddess to detect a god, it was clear that she was -quite a wonderful being, too. And what is a matter of -divinity among the gods on Olympus. It is like a title -among peers of the realm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was her simple, natural, unaffected behavior, in short, -that kept his fancy intrigued. Without knowing it, his -suspicion of women was almost completely disarmed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's parting words to Janet had given him some -concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not thinking of going to live with Cornelia?" -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may soon be glad of the chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because my mother threatens to put me out of her house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what for?" he said, looking at her in amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't look like an incorrigible, do I?" she said smiling. -"But my mother thinks me one for associating with people -like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With people like me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, like you and the other model tenementers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'm </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> like them," he said, half amused, half -annoyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No? Do you know what I've noticed? All the people -in the model tenements say they are 'not like them.' Cornelia -says so, Robert says so, and now you say so. Each -one thinks </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> is different, unique."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm sure that </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> are," he said, rather seriously. -He added, lightly. "That's why it would be fatal if you -went to live there. Do try to patch it up with your mother, -Janet, and give up this plan of Cornelia's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Patching it up with my mother means complete submission. -Her motto is, 'bend or break.' And I've bent -long enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tried briefly to give him an idea of her mother's -domestic tyranny and of her own rebellion against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know what it is to live in my mother's -house," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've heard what it is to live in Cornelia's house," he -retorted. "She casts a spell over young girls before they -know her well. But she is selfish and moody. Her friendships -always end in violent quarrels. She is now on the -verge of a break with Mazie Ross."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She may have very good grounds for the break."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she's never at a loss for grounds. That isn't the -point."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> the point?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The atmosphere of the Lorillard tenements. It isn't -made for you to breathe in. Have you any idea what the -people there are like? Gangsters, anarchists and fake -artists or writers, with a very small sprinkling of -well-meaning idealists, most of whom are cracked on social -questions. The men are all out of business, the women -all out of marriage. On the loose, every one of them, -either in their actions, or in their beliefs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean they don't believe in marriage? Well, after -all I've seen of family life, I don't believe in marriage -either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a confession which, by way of bait, many -another girl had made to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the sort of thing for a girl like Mazie to say," -he said coldly, "but not for a girl like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Concern for himself had rapidly taken the place of -concern for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mazie's way doesn't impress me any more than the -way of all wives," she said, with a delightful gesture of -candor. "I think she is more of a slave to men than most -married women are. I want to be mistress of myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His doubts were allayed again. The spring sunshine and -Janet's subtle charm were too strong a team for suspicion -to hold out against. As the car sped on through Prospect -Park, a delicious breeze, laden with the perfume of flowers -and the rising sap of trees, cooled their faces, and fanned -their senses warm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a dear little theorizer," he said in a tender -vibrating tone. "But theories have no interest for me now. -I'm too happy to think about them. I want to think only -about you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible. You don't know enough about me. We've -only just met."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Absurd," he said, taking hold of her hands. "We met -when the wood nymphs first danced to the pipes of Pan, -when the starlight first threw its enchantment on youth, -when lovers first threaded their way over wild hills and -woodlands by the rays of the crescent moon. We have -known each other for ages."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As long as that? Dear me! What an experienced -person I must be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had her acknowledged objection to marriage affected -him, after all?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All experiences are nothing to this experience," he said, -putting his arms around her and trying to kiss her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She resisted him with a quick, firm movement. All he -could do was to seize her hands and give them the -rapturous embraces intended for her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude!" she called out, more in shyness than reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I love you!" he cried, retaining her hands by main -force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since yesterday?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yesterday! A million years ago. The moment in which -I felt I loved you, Janet, was a world-without-end -moment. That is love's way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't profane the word love," she said, her voice rich -and thrilling. "You can't love a girl you don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" he said, -quoting the line reproachfully, and releasing her hands as -he did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you believe that love always happens at first sight? -What about the feeling that takes hold of us as we slowly -learn to know another's splendid character? The feeling of -tenderness and adoration. Isn't that love, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, a thousand times, no! Call it friendship, comradeship, -esteem, if you like. Call it glorified toleration. But -don't call it love. Love doesn't come like that. It comes -like the swift lightning that embraces a cloud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How I should love to love like that!" she exclaimed, -with a mischievous imitation of rhapsody.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you don't love me?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She refused to admit that she did. He pressed her for -an answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, Claude," she said at last, disturbed. "I must -keep my wits about me today, or I shall be as putty in -my mother's hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was bitterly disappointed. Her use of his name was -some solace, however; for, as her soft, flexible tones -prolonged it, the sound was music to his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that why you won't let me kiss you?" he pursued -hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I'm not used to it yet," she said, quite simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not used to it! You mean you haven't been kissed -by men before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing so silly. I haven't been kissed by you before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I might have known the reason wasn't inexperience," -he said, with incipient jealousy. "Then why balk -at me?" he went on, seizing her hands again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I said," she replied, calmly matter-of-fact. "I -haven't had time to think of it. At least, not much nor -for long," she added impishly. "I must first see whether -I can get used to the idea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! But getting used to the idea won't get you -used to the thing itself. Only practice makes perfect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rehearsal in dumb show is not to be despised," was -her response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so they bantered on and made pretty speeches, -while Claude's car bucked the wind until they turned into -President Street and stopped at the corner of her own block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Janet got out, she was hard put to it to conceal her -sense of loss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At parting, all her matter-of-factness deserted her; for -a few seconds she felt like a prisoner half awakened from -an idyllic dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The car drove away with Claude less triumphant yet -more satisfied than he had ever felt towards a charming -girl before. He was profoundly stirred by the magic of -Janet's genuineness, and her rich, clarinet tones lingered -disturbingly in his mind.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER NINE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Thoughts of home had flitted intermittently through -Janet's mind during the afternoon's ride. But her faculty -for living securely in the present had been strong enough -to send the omens flying as fast as they came. A domestic -crisis now confronted her, however, and she knew it could -not be evaded. As she crossed the threshold, there was a -sudden bristling of her nerves, a parching and aching of -her throat, and a sense of utter misery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Laura, the maid, she learned that her mother -had been ill all day, and had kept to her bed. As this -was Mrs. Barr's invariable practice when any member of -the family displeased her, Janet was not surprised. She -crept quietly upstairs to her room at the top of the house. -On the second floor she passed her sister's room. Through -the open door Janet could look into a mirror which reflected -an image of Emily, dressing for the evening. She called -to her sister with an assumed cheeriness. Emily answered -stiffly and without stirring an inch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, catching the unfriendly glance from the mirror, -continued on her way, hot indignation kindling her -blood. She could invent excuses for her mother's hostility, -unreasonable as she considered it, but Emily's censorious -manner was altogether intolerable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her own room she changed her costume to a simple -black skirt and a plain white blouse. Claude and Kips -Bay receded to another world while she nerved herself for -the coming ordeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In about half an hour, the maid came up with a message -that Mr. Barr wished to see Janet in the back parlor. She -promptly went downstairs and discovered her father pacing -the floor in agitation. It was hard to believe that this -tall, imposing man was a moral weakling or that his eagle's -bearing concealed a pigeon's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jenny," he said, on the thinnest fringe of reproach, -"thank Heaven you're back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mere sight of his favorite daughter cooled his phantom -anger. All he wanted now was to see his wife placated -at any price. For he, poor man, always became the -scapegoat, no matter who the criminal was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you give us such a fright, Jenny?" he -continued, referring to her absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, father, I can't send you hourly bulletins of -my whereabouts, can I? It's not my fault that I've -outgrown childhood. It's a law of nature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't consider your mother," he said, plaintively. -"You know how it upsets her to be disobeyed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry, father. But mother will have to get reconciled -to the facts of biology. When the young of animals -grow up, instinct makes them follow their own bent, even -at the cost of disobliging their parents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet felt rather proud and a little surprised at hearing -herself talk in this bold, scientific style. She wished she -could repeat it to her mother, but secretly doubted her -ability.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That may be," said Mr. Barr, on whom her biological -views were completely thrown away. "But remember that -she has been sick all day, sick with worry over your -escapade!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," replied Janet, unmoved. "My escapade -had nothing to do with it. Her bad temper has made her -ill. It always does, and nobody knows better than she how -useful the weapon is. When everything else fails, she gets -sick with rage, and takes to her bed until she gets her own -way to the last dot. We cringe and cower before her sham -illnesses—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet! You mustn't speak of your mother like that. -She </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> ill. She lay awake the whole night and didn't touch -a morsel of food all day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt she enjoyed tormenting herself and blaming -the result on me. But I don't believe that my absence was -really a source of worry to anyone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, I stayed up until three o'clock for you. And -that was after leaving the bank late and stopping at the -Montague Library to get the books you wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, you did, you foolish old dear," said Janet, -in an access of remorse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her arms affectionately round his neck. It was -not easy to get over her childhood idolatry of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kindness is a bad habit of yours, papa," she said. -"You take to good deeds as some men take to gambling -or to drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled and patted her cheek tenderly. Her remark -was not far from the truth. His morbid (and never wholly -gratified) passion for approval made him intemperately -anxious to please, and caused his good nature to be freely -exploited by unscrupulous people, who repaid him with -nothing but their contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's like my own little Jenny. Now go up to Emily's -room and make your peace with mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that in my power?" said Janet, flaring up again and -disengaging her arms from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Barr was torn between fear of his wife and affection -for his daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Simply keep quiet and don't answer her back when -she speaks to you," he urged pacifically. "After all, she's -your mother, she has a right to criticize you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I refuse to acknowledge the right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, don't be obstinate, girlie. She can't help lecturing -people. It's a habit she acquired in her missionary society. -Doesn't she lecture me? If I submit, surely you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm neither a heathen nor a husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now," he said, pleading with her. "Don't spoil -everything by standing on your pride. What will you gain -by defying her? Nothing! Then why do so? I tell you, -Jenny, your mother may be a little hasty, but she's a very -clever, strong-minded woman. In the long run, she is -always in the right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you cringe to her even when her back is -turned," cried Janet, revolted. "You know the truth as -well as I do. She has terrorized all of us as cruelly as -ever her Puritan ancestors terrorized Roger Williams and -Anne Hutchinson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, that shows how unfair you are," said Mr. Barr, -eagerly, in a vibrant voice, as rich as Janet's own. "Only -two nights ago, your mother was reading to me from John -Fiske's colonial history. She came across this very case -you mention, the case of Anne Hutchinson. And I distinctly -recall that she condemned the persecution severely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Disdaining to reply, Janet walked away from his side. -In that moment, she hated him. It was incredible that -he could be such a willing, subservient dupe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked hostilely at his magnificent exterior. He -had also inherited a lively wit and considerable mental -dexterity. Had he possessed any force of character he -might have been a great financier or statesman instead of -a petty manager of a small branch bank. And Mrs. Barr's -temper might have been kept within bounds, and the Barrs -might have enjoyed a happy home, instead of becoming a -phantom replica of a bigoted Boston family in the high -and palmy days of Cotton Mather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He misinterpreted her silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need merely say that you are sorry," he urged, -"and that you'll never stay out again without her approval. -That will patch up everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," she cried, exploding. "I can't say that. -Because I simply don't mean it. From now on, I'm going -to have my own way about some things, even if I have to -leave the family. Mother may grind you to the very dust. -Marriage seems to give her that right, and you seem to -enjoy the process. But she shan't do so to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord, what will happen next?" exclaimed the -unhappy man, appalled at the collapse of his plan of -conciliation. "The house has been like a funeral all day. -Would to Heaven </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> were the corpse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his daughter did not hear this pathetic wish, for -she was already on her way upstairs.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In Emily's bedroom above the parlor, Mrs. Barr was -reclining in an invalid's chair. Illness had not softened -the rigidity of that too, too solid flesh. She was pale, -but her pallor merely accentuated the iron lines of her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily, more matronly than ever, hovered about her -mother in unctuous solicitude, while Laura, the maid, -busied herself setting chairs and knick-knacks wrong, in -order to set them right again. Mrs. Barr disliked to have -anyone about her unoccupied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Janet entered, her mother greeted her coldly, and -then dismissed Laura with studied sweetness. She was -actually much kinder to her domestics than to members -of the family. Servants were hard to get and harder to -keep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry you have been ill," said the impenitent, -politely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, my child. I'm getting better now, thanks -in part to Doctor Hervey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did the doctor say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That it was to be expected under the circumstances," -interposed Emily. "He thought it better for mother not -to go to the missionary society tonight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was ominous news. Janet recollected that her -mother had not missed a missionary meeting in two years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pause was filled with a battery of silent criticism. -Usually Janet dispersed these terrible silences with a -torrent of impromptu apologies. Today, however, she held -her peace. Though every muscle in her body was taut, -she felt care-free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, at this supreme inquisitorial moment, she felt -surprisingly care-free. Except that, in response to Emily's -allusion to missionaries, an old jingle ricochetted weirdly -through her mind. It ran:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, to be a cassowary,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the plains of Timbuctoo,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Chewing up a missionary—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Skin and bone, and hymn book, too.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Outwardly, she was as impassive as a Chinese joss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Janet?" said Mrs. Barr, outfought with one of -her own weapons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mother?" replied Janet, demurely interrogative. -She folded her hands innocently in her lap, and looked -with a show of impersonal interest at Emily's new pumps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you nothing to tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not unless you wish to learn about the ball I went to -yesterday. Are you interested in that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily gave a scornful laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not interested in the ball," said Mrs. Barr, "and -no one knows it better than you. What I am interested -in is your attending the ball against my express wishes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, in the twentieth century—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are the ways of God less valid in the twentieth century -than in the tenth?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In disputes with her children, Mrs. Barr always invoked -God first. This failing, she took stronger measures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you always make poor God responsible for -your severity, mother," said Janet. "It is not His way -you want me to follow, but your own. Indeed, whenever -you accuse me of disobeying the will of God, it is because -I have really disobeyed your will, which you identify with -God's. I wonder whether He likes it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't propose to discuss the Deity with you. You -have studied your Bible so little that you are apparently -unable to give any opinion on the subject which is not -blasphemous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as I know, the Bible does not prohibit dancing," -said Janet, shifting the defensive attack so as to bring -matters to a head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Bible </span><em class="italics">does</em><span> say, however, that a child must obey -its parents. I don't wish to be harsh, Janet. I believe -that you have no just ground for accusing me of severity. -I say now, as I have said before, that if you must dance, -you may go to the affairs that are given at the church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you!" cried Janet, ironically. "But I don't like -a Sunday School atmosphere or a Sunday School man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought as much!" said Mrs. Barr, her eyes like -points of steel. "You prefer to associate with unprincipled -men who, having no religion, lead lives of pleasure and -dance the lascivious dances of the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, I don't dance anything but thoroughly ancient -and respectable dances. I've never had a chance to learn -the modern steps. I dance very rarely, anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Emily </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> dances," said her mother, cuttingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she is rather heavy and men are so lazy nowadays, -and so tender about their toes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some demon had made Janet spring up and stop reflectively -in front of Emily. The latter's podgy bulk became -a size larger by contrast with Janet's mobile slenderness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oblige me by not arguing," said Mrs. Barr, coming to -her elder daughter's rescue. "I tell you I won't tolerate -anyone in my house that openly flouts her mother, spends -whole nights with a woman of evil reputation, and -deliberately wastes the Lord's time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her agitation she rose halfway from her chair. But -rage and lack of food had so weakened her that she sank -back limply. Emily, looking unutterable things at Janet, -implored her mother to be calm in tones that invited her -to be just the contrary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr hardly needed this spur. She sincerely believed -that she was fighting the evil one for the possession -of Janet's soul. Revived by this conviction she bravely -returned to her task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See the condition to which you've brought me," she -said, the angry tears welling up in her eyes. "What with -watching and waiting and praying for you all night, and -fretting about your safety—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She instinctively followed a religious appeal with a -sentimental one. But her speech had so much anger mixed -with the pathos, that it left Janet cold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you won't get upset about me again, mother," -she said, unemotionally. "I'm quite old enough to take -care of myself—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better go to your room, Janet!" exclaimed Emily, -"before you kill mother with your cruel selfishness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not aware that I'm under orders to you, Emily, -or that you've the right to play the Pharisee because you're -content to lead a stagnant, hole-in-the-corner life. If -you wanted anything you'd disobey mother fast enough. -Only you happen to </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> no wants. And you make a virtue -of your necessity. I have plenty of wants. And you -persuade mother that my necessity is a vice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be as theatrical as possible, Janet!" said Emily. "Why -don't you add that I poisoned mother's mind against you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't have to carry coals to Newcastle, Emily. -You merely had to fan the flame in your own sweet, sisterly -way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Barr checked them both with an autocratic wave -of her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not abuse Emily, or me either," she decreed, -black-browed. "There is absolutely nothing more to be -said. Either you respect my wishes about your comings -and goings, or you leave my house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, do you really propose to put me out for -refusing to submit to an arbitrary wish?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think I had fallen far short of my duty, if -I did not guard my children against sensual folly—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By showing them the door?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you leave your home, it will be by your own choice -and not by your mother's command," said Mrs. Barr, -emphatically. "This is your home. It will remain yours so long -as you keep Christian precepts. But a mother must hold -the family hearth inviolate against evil doing. I cannot -condone a wicked waste of the Lord's time simply because -you describe the practice as a wish to be free. If you don't -value a good home, you are certainly quite free to choose -another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why must I adopt the habits that suit your tastes and -Emily's, but that are hateful to mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My child, you are flesh of my flesh—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the laws and all the prophets can't justify the -narrow, friendless, joyless, medieval life that you wish me -to lead," cried Janet, in a passion of insurgency. "When -you were young you led no such life yourself. Aunt Mary, -your own sister, told me that you were the flightiest girl -in the family. Your girlhood was a perpetual round of -balls, theatres, parties and flirtations. Do I ask for a life -of pleasure like that? No. I simply want to choose my own -friends, trust to my own instincts, and follow my own -bent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reference to her mother's youth was not a happy one. -Mrs. Barr looked back on her younger days as a period of -godless frivolity for which she had largely atoned by -enduring with a contrite heart the double affliction of a weak -husband and a wilful daughter. Her duty, as she saw it, -was to keep Emily and Janet out of the primrose paths -which she herself had trodden with such levity and with -such disastrous results. Accordingly, Janet's presumptuous -allusion merely stirred her fanaticism to its iciest depths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You either obey me or go," she said, with pitiless -brevity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very well," said Janet, affecting a blitheness she -was far from feeling, "I'll go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without another word, Mrs. Barr, weak as she was, -rose and walked with a firm step to her own room. Emily, -not altogether pleased with this climax, followed her -immediately, giving a flabby imitation of her mother's really -magnificent exit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet stood nonplussed for a few seconds. Then she -went upstairs to the inward refrain of:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Chewing up a missionary</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Skin and bones and hymn book, too."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her inveterate evenness of spirit amounted almost to a -failing; but now, for the first time, she became conscious -of latent impulses of a vindictive and murderous kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back in her own room, she hastily packed a suit-case -with her most necessary belongings.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>About a week later, a tall, thin, immaculate gentleman, -in a suit of neutral taupe, entered the offices of the </span><em class="italics">Evening -Chronicle</em><span>. A stand-up collar slightly tip-tilted his chin. -But his expression was a friendly, not a haughty one. His -small roving gray eyes looked around with a humorous -inquisitiveness, as if they wondered what their immaculate -owner could possibly hope to find in such a sloppy, -disorderly place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In due time, a slovenly office boy stopped pounding on -a typewriter and showed the stranger to an inner office. -Here Hutchins Burley penned those inimitable effusions on -"the ethereal feminine" which gave the Saturday special -half a million female and male readers. It was an army -that ran the </span><em class="italics">Saturday Evening Post</em><span> brigade a close second, -and rendered Burley's professional position unassailable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The roving gray eyes saw the swollen bulk of Mr. Hutchins -Burley, squatting like a giant toad behind a roll-top -desk and pawing over a visiting card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Mr. Pryor?" said the pillar of the </span><em class="italics">Evening -Chronicle</em><span>, with no waste of civility. "What d'you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Frankly, I want Mr. Robert Lloyd's job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know it's vacant? Are you a friend of his?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hardly that. The information just drifted my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You handed me that stuff at the Outlaws' Ball. Who -the devil are you, anyway?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whenever Burley spoke vehemently, he shoveled the -words from the left side of his mouth, a process that -contorted his face into the exact likeness of a cartoon by -Briggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might be a spy," he added, putting a cigar in his -mouth and scowling horribly at his visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The latter replied in a quiet and dignified but judiciously -injured tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Burley, you have my card. Go into my personal -history all you like. But first, let me refer to the service -I did you at the ball. It was a small matter—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't get puffed up about it then," growled Burley, -with much less hostility, however.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No fear," continued Mark Pryor, as terse as his host -and much more urbane. "I mention it only because an -ounce of action is worth a ton of talk. Or a cartload of -stuffy introductions. The point is this. Having learned -that you had discharged Mr. Lloyd—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who says I discharged him?" Burley noisily cut in. -"He discharged himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, did he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, damn him. I wasn't good enough for him, I suppose. -You know his kind, brains, fatted brains. But no -guts! Sticks his nose up at everything and hangs out with -a lot of super-highbrows—New Republic gas-bags."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sort that cut a pie from the periphery to the -center?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yah! That's their lingo. Still, Lloyd's got a head on -his shoulders. I'll say that for him. And I don't fire a -man that's worth his salary. Why should I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You believe in keeping your grudges out of your business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's me. I could have given him his walking papers -for a hundred good reasons. But I didn't. And what -thanks did I get? He left me in the lurch. That's what -he did. Left me on his own hook at a damn critical time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A case of bad conscience, perhaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said it! He'd done me all the harm he could. -He and Claude Fontaine who put him up to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley enlarged on his two-fold grievance. First, Robert -and Claude had circulated a malicious story about Harry -Kelly (a professional bruiser) making a punching bag of -him; this story had ruined his prestige among the Outlaws -of Kips Bay. Then, they had freely slandered him in -Cornelia Covert's inner circle, with the result that -Cornelia's friend, Janet Barr, had conceived an insane and -utterly baseless dislike of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His story was full of evasions and suppressions. Thus -he forgot to tell Mark Pryor that he had twice waylaid -Janet on the street and had been coldly repulsed each time. -It was clear that these repulses had added fuel to his -hatred of Claude and Robert, the two men who found favor -in her eyes. Against them, rather than against her, he -vented his spleen. When he spoke of her, his diatribe -degenerated into a whine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," said Pryor, laconically, cheering him up. "You -have that 'nobody loves me,' feeling. Nastiest feeling in -the world. We all get it once in a while. I find there's -only one remedy for it, and that's to stop bullying people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bullying people!" shouted Burley, jumping up and -glaring at his visitor. "Say that again, if you dare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Pryor smiled faintly and sat unmoved, save that -his neck seemed to rise a very little out of his stand-up -collar, as the eye-piece of a microscope rises out of the tube.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a plain man, Mr. Burley," he said, imperturbably. -"And I speak plainly. If you don't like plain speaking, I'd -better withdraw my application."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hell you'd better!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Pryor got up, everything quiet about him except -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley looked as if he were about to launch a thunderbolt. -But the roving eyes of his visitor were now fixed upon him -like points of steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down," said Burley, suddenly limp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Pryor sat down very quietly, without taking his eyes -off Hutchins Burley, who sat down, too, almost as if -mesmerized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell you what," he said, after a while. "I need a -sort of confidential assistant. A man who can keep his -eyes and ears on the jump, and his pen and tongue under -lock and key. Get me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went on to tell Mr. Pryor that he was willing to try -him out and that faithful service would meet with very big -rewards and with increasingly confidential commissions. -For the present, his newspaper duties were to be subordinated -to the one task of keeping track of the Lorillard -tenements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me," said Mark Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not think it necessary to explain that keeping -track of the Lorillard tenements was precisely what he had -been doing for purposes of his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And glue an eye on that fellow Fontaine," added Burley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To get a line on the diamond smuggling?" asked Pryor, -with the most casual air imaginable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley straightened up with a yell of suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in blazes are you talking about?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Merely what you yourself talked about, my dear sir," -said Pryor soothingly. "At the ball you called Mr. Fontaine -a diamond smuggler. More than one person will -remember that remark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley's suspicions were disarmed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forget it, my friend, forget it," he said. "A man says -a good many things under the influence of liquor that he -has no call to say. I don't suppose the Fontaines are less -on the square about their importations than the other big -jewelers are. That's no business of mine or yours, -however, is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He declared emphatically that his interest in Claude -Fontaine's doings had a totally different basis. On three -occasions Fontaine had come between him and a woman. -He did not hesitate to name the ladies. One was Lydia -Dyson, another was Cornelia Covert, the third was Janet -Barr. He had said nothing about the first two. He was -not a greedy man. Anyhow, according to the ethics of -Kips Bay, Lorillard females were nobody's property. That -was no blasted secret, was it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this Janet Barr's no Lorillard female," he said, -bringing his fist down heavily on the desk. "Any fool can -see that. And I'm man enough, to refuse to stand by while -Fontaine dirties her good name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say that he has—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll do it, all right. Or why did he pick the girl up, -when he's just got engaged to Armstrong's daughter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Armstrong, the financier?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And Dupont Armstrong won't stand for a man -who isn't on the level with his girl. Just put that in your -pipe and smoke it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know a safer place," said Mr. Pryor, gently tapping -his head. "Where it won't go up in smoke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose and, after coming to a few necessary understandings -with Burley, took his leave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he walked rapidly along Broadway towards the subway, -he felt that he had done a very good morning's work. -He was satisfied that Hutchins Burley knew more about -the diamond smuggling than he cared to admit. The puzzle -was that, although Burley obviously connected Claude -Fontaine with the smuggling operations, he was unwilling to -give the connection away. What was the motive that -restrained him from exposing a man he bitterly hated? -Clearly, either a lack of proof, or some consideration of a -more personal kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reminding himself of his maxim that two and two never -make four except in vulgar mathematics, Mark Pryor left -the subway at Thirty-fourth Street, the Kips Bay station -nearest the Lorillard tenements. Then he went directly to -his flat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Incoming or outgoing denizens made barely a ripple on -the surface of Kips Bay. The district was used to a -shifting population. Even the colonization of Sutton and -Beekman Places by Pierian millionaires "cut no ice." Honest -men and thieves, artists, criminals and Bohemians, idle -paupers and rich idlers, all these floated in and floated -out, but the net hodge podge was much the same. Bomb -makers might come and gunmen might go, but Kips Bay -went on forever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lorillard tenements, the hub of the district, had -experienced their fair share of changes during the week of -Mark Pryor's advent. Robert and Janet were among the -newcomers. Robert, thrown on his own scant resources, -had secured a nook in Kelly's flat, Number Thirteen, his -berth there being the fruit of Cornelia's good offices. And -Janet had come to live with Cornelia in flat Number -Fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This last event was at once followed by a break in -Cornelia's partnership with Mazie Ross. The three small -rooms and kitchenette were not large enough for more than -two people. And pretty, slovenly Mazie, her early -enthusiasm for Cornelia cooled, had lately spent more and more -time on her own appearance and less and less on her -companion's wants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia always got rid of a companion the moment -a better one turned up. A "better one" usually meant -one who could do more of Cornelia's housework, or could -look after her creature comforts more diligently, or could -give her more of that flattering attention of which she never -had her fill. Whenever the time came to change partners, -Cornelia would send the old one flying without the -smallest compunction. Nor was she ever at a loss for a -good excuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's first day in Number Fifteen was Mazie's last. -When Mazie came home that night, "instead of poppies, -willows waved o'er her couch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crash came after supper, while Janet was out -shopping with Harry Kelly, who had quickly become a steady -visitor at his next-door neighbor's flat. As a pretext, -Cornelia chose the matter of Mazie's easy friendship with -Hutchins Burley, a friendship reported to have gone as far -as was possible, since the recent ball.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing new in the charge that Mazie practiced -principles of varietism about which Cornelia simply -theorized. The only novelty was that Cornelia now -declared the charge to be a good excuse for parting company. -Mazie thought it a poor excuse. On this difference of -opinion there sprang up a tempestuous scene. Words flew -high, and the checks that polite society imposes on candid -criticism of one's friends went completely by the board.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The climax was reached when Cornelia offered the opinion -that if Mazie wanted to become a vulgar little copy of -Camille, that was her affair; but flat Number Fifteen was -not the place in which to practice the part. In vain did -Mazie reply with an unexpurgated review of Cornelia's -history. Cornelia was unmoved. And her languid, cadenced -retorts floated serenely above Mazie's torrent of invective -like a violin obligato above the crashing brasses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It did not take Mazie long to pack her most necessary -articles into a bag and go. On her way out, she said, with -a good imitation of Cornelia's sweetest tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good bye, Cornelia. I'd like to stay long enough to -tell your next dupe what a fraud you are. But what's the -use? She won't thank me for it, as I suppose she has a -crush on you, like I had once. Well, it'll do her good to -learn by experience. Finding you out, my dear, is such a -complete education."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time Janet and Harry Kelly returned, all was -quiet along the Potomac.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER ELEVEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For the next few weeks, Janet lived excitedly in the -glamor of the Lorillard tenements. She could not well -have imagined a bigger difference than that between the -complete orthodoxy of the Barrs of Brooklyn and the -complete heterodoxy of the model tenementers of Kips Bay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her impression of the new life was put into words for -her by Lydia Dyson, the author of "Brothers and Sisters," -(then in its twenty-fifth big printing). Lydia, whose tall, -thin form and pale olive skin lost none of their spectacular -qualities by the snake-like movements she affected, the -huge jet earrings she wore, or the gold-tipped cigarettes -she smoked, assured Janet, in a rich Kentucky drawl:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We obey only one custom here, and that is to disobey -all customs; we hold only one belief, and that is to hold -no beliefs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was fully persuaded that the first part of this -statement was true and that the second part was a vast -improvement upon the Barr regime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In truth, she found the Lorillardian absence of formality, -constraint and regulated behavior a decided relief after her -long course of Calvinistic repression at home. And, active -though she was by nature, she did not at first notice how -the days slipped by with great ado, but with very little -done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lorillard tenementers were not exactly lazy. They -were merely idle. Like the idle rich and the idle poor they -were ceaselessly occupied—in killing time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia was in the habit of getting up somewhere -between nine and eleven. After breakfast, the two friends -would set out to look for a job. The spirit in which they -proceeded was the spirit in which young people go -skylarking. Hunting for a job was an old pastime of -Cornelia's. If she ever came up to a job's requirements, the -job never came up to hers. Or if by chance it did, she -discovered a bewildering array of reasons for not taking it, -or for speedily leaving it, when taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At noon, the day's duty was considered fully done. After -lunch, there was another jaunt; this time to an art gallery, -concert hall, theatre or movie. Free tickets from Cornelia's -theatrical friends were reasonably plentiful, and when these -failed, there were return calls to pay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, Charlotte Beecher's studio was a favorite stopping -place, as Janet soon discovered. Charlotte possessed a -million dollars or more in her own right, and she had three or -four studios in totally different parts of the city. She did -her hardest work in her double Lorillard flat every morning; -her evenings were spent warding off fortune-hunting suitors -like Denman Page, who besieged her Fifth Avenue apartment; -on certain afternoons she served an "intellectual -tea" in a studio sumptuously fitted up in Washington Mews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was always taken to the studio </span><em class="italics">de luxe</em><span> in the Mews. -Cornelia, invariably busy, would be sketching some new -design of a hat, or pinning together a one-piece dress, whilst -she luxuriated happily amidst the rich Chinese rugs and the -soft silken cushions of Charlotte's show room. The serpent -in this garden of Eden was the "little group of serious -thinkers" (an element alien to Kips Bay) that met in the -Mews by virtue of Charlotte's encouragement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These intellectuals!" Cornelia would say scornfully to -Janet on the way home. "Did you ever hear such -bumptious talk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I find them rather amusing," Janet would perhaps reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Araminta, what nonsense! They positively put the -furniture on edge. But that's Charlotte all over. There's -a nigger in every woodpile, and there's a jarring note in -every one of Charlotte's rooms. My dear, it bores me -cruelly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, Cornelia went on visiting the Mews, intellectuals, -cruel boredom, and all. It puzzled Janet for a time. She -had still to learn that a perfect Kipsite is prepared to suffer -no end of martyrdom in the sacred cause of luxury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every evening was like a new party to Janet, flat Number -Fifteen being one of the chief rendezvous in the tenements. -After supper, visitors of both sexes dropped in unannounced -and uninvited, until by midnight, a dozen people, more or -less, were sure to be occupying the whole flat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Generally, the guests split up into small groups and spent -the time in play. Some played at dancing or at music, -others at clever repartee or giddy flirting. To this play, -the counterpoint was enthusiasm. A magnificent enthusiasm -for self. In a rapturous torrent of words, each Kipsite -painted a roseate future that led by startling steps to a -supreme moment in which the world lay prostrate at the -enthusiast's feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a cosmopolitan gathering. All the arts and -sciences and occupations, all the moral and immoral standards, -and all the races and nationalities of New York were -represented. A dancer from the Hindoo Kush, several would-be -Fokines or Stravinskys, two or three imitation Oscar Wildes, -Theodore Dreisers or Frank Harrises—these were sure to -be there. Even the solid banker (or aspiring Pierpont -Morgan), who kept a quiet flat and a lady in it, was an -occasional visitor. No one was excluded who was piquant -or picturesque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's specially privileged guests were a scanty -handful. Among the men were Claude Fontaine, Robert Lloyd, -Denman Page, and Harry Kelly, the "Harlem Gorilla." Soon -after Janet's coming, Mark Pryor, immaculate -and unobtrusive, joined the ultimate circle and began -mysteriously to appear and to disappear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still fewer were the women admitted to the inner ring. -Of these the chief were Lydia Dyson, the spectacular, and -Charlotte Beecher, the industrious. The novelist came in -silks, the heiress in calicos. Charlotte's cheap but natty -working costume was looked upon among the Outlaws as an -affectation. Her blouses and skirts gave Cornelia the horrors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So did her marked preference for Robert Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had an idea that these evening visitors came chiefly -to admire Cornelia or to be admired by her. She assumed -that Cornelia was "the whole show." It was a pardonable -assumption. Cornelia sat in a rocking chair in the central -room and was feline, and languid, and observant, while the -excitement eddied and swirled around her. To all -appearances she held the reins of her party with the masterly -skill of the Borax man who drives the celebrated twenty -mule team.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert would have it that Cornelia was neither the star -nor the manager of the nightly performance in Number -Fifteen. According to him, the only management she -displayed was in the skill with which she focused attention -upon herself. The cadenced laugh, the sugary stab, the -artful question—these were not the subtle devices of a -clever hostess; they were merely the centripetal pulls of -an egomaniac against the centrifugal interests of her guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet dismissed this explanation lightly and begged -Robert not to analyze every joy until its very essence had -been probed—and destroyed. She laughed at his attempt -to convince her that these gay evenings of Cornelia's were -a kind of renaissance. His theory was that the light of -Cornelia's splendor had been getting dim of late, as it had -got dim on several previous occasions. But the impact of -a new partner against her, like the impact of an astral -visitor against a dying sun, now as always gave her a new -lease of brilliance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, Robert asserted that it was the replacement of -Mazie by Janet which had caused a tremendous revival of -interest in Cornelia's flat. Everybody in the inner ring of -the Outlaws or in the outer ring of the tenements, everybody -indeed, that had any shadow of a claim to an entree, -had come trooping in to sun themselves in the restored -glory of Number Fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To most of Robert's remarks, Janet paid little attention. -But she carefully treasured up one of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was that never before had Claude Fontaine been -such a constant visitor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yet for a few days after the Outlaws' Ball, Claude had -behaved as if his confession of love had never been made, -or had merely been the expression of an impulse, for which -he disclaimed responsibility. There had been no return to -the intimacy that instantly abolishes all the formulas of -mere politeness and all the prescriptions of mere etiquette; -there had been no recurrence of that world-without-end -moment at the ball or of that other moment in the limousine -next day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the ball he had treated her as he would have treated -any respectable middle-class girl who might take his fancy. -That is, he had stretched the conventions as far as an -impressionable young woman will usually allow a dashing -young man to stretch them, but not further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After she joined Cornelia, however, his attitude changed. -He treated her with a certain wariness of manner by which -he appeared to convey the following:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I took you to be a girl who strictly observed the moral -customs established and honored in Brooklyn, but long -fallen into disuse in certain parts of Manhattan, and -nowhere less respected than in Kips Bay. It amused me to -tempt you to violate these customs, especially as I had little -hope of meeting with success. But now that you have -become a Lorillard girl, what spice is there in tempting -you? Either you never were the girl I took you for; or, -at any rate, you soon won't be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At all events I shall be on my guard. You are the -first girl to work upon me so mightily with a single glance. -But you are not the first girl who has looked as innocent -as a dove and acted as subtly as a serpent. Be warned! -Neither your innocent subtlety nor subtle innocence can -make me forget that a Claude Fontaine is in the habit of -forming but one sort of friendship with a girl in the -Lorillard tenements."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, always very sensitive to atmosphere, got the effect -of this train of thought, and in consequence kept Claude -at as great a distance as her naturally cordial nature would -let her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In one of the evening gatherings at Cornelia's the talk -turned on marriage, and it came out that Janet had adopted -Cornelia's views on the wickedness of marriage in its modern -form. Claude, with the common failing of lovers, promptly -referred her action to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was this Janet's way of announcing that she meant to -make no greater demands on a rich man than any other -girl in the Lorillard environment? At first, it seemed so -to Claude, and he felt relieved. But, on second thoughts, -another question occurred to him. Might not Janet's -conversion to Cornelia's beliefs in free love be a mere blind? -A pretended dislike of wedlock was a recognized bait for -landing a man at the altar. Was her conversion of this -type or was it of the franker type of Mazie Ross, who -asked all that was due to a Lorillard tenement girl but -asked no more?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the whole, it seemed fairly safe to treat Janet on the -Mazie Ross plane, and this he proceeded to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie, by the way, had returned as a visitor to Number -Fifteen within a week of her spectacular exit. Her -doll-like face had recovered its pretty smile and her baby blue -eyes gave no clue to whether she was seeking vengeance -or merely currying favor again. No one asked or cared, -hatred, like love, being a very fluctuating stock in the -model tenements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had not failed to notice that Claude made little -difference between his manner to her and his manner to -Mazie. She did not like it, but she had to wait some time -for the chance of showing how much she scorned his judgment.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The opportunity came at one of Cornelia's gayest parties -given at the end of Janet's second week in Kips Bay. It -was really a sort of "coming out" party for Janet. All -the Outlaws, both of the inner and the outer ring turned -out to hail the new favorite. Even Mark Pryor put in an -appearance and actually remained on deck until the end, -perhaps because the trio of Cornelia's friends who provided -the music played Lehar, Straus, and more recent dance -tunes without the customary sentimental whine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Contemptuous of the fitness of things, Claude did his -best to monopolize Janet. When the gayety was at its -highest and the music at its most intoxicating, he danced -her into a room which, for the moment, proved to be nearly -but not quite empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pushed out of the way against a corner stood a screen. -Behind this he whirled her, and then swiftly took her in his -arms and kissed her passionately. As swiftly, she pushed -him away with an expression of extreme distaste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like my friends to imitate Hutchins Burley," -she said, her voice quiet and cool, her gray eyes full of life -and scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The others in the room laughed in mockery or applause. -For an instant, Claude's all-conquering look was replaced -by a crestfallen one. But he quickly regained his poise -and spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a kiss to try," he said jauntily, as he attempted to -recapture her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's much too trying for gentle Janet," blithely chirped -Mazie, who had danced into the room and taken in the -situation, as Janet again turned away from Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>AS a matter of fact, it was Janet's sense of propriety in -public that was offended more than anything else. As for -Claude, he was only less mortified by the affront to his -vanity than by the haunting fear that Janet's rebuff came -from genuine dislike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No girl had ever given the brilliant, impetuous Claude -Fontaine a glance of undisguised repugnance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet spent the rest of the evening chiefly in conversation -with Robert Lloyd and Mark Pryor. Meanwhile, Claude -affected a complete indifference to her actions. He threw -himself into the party with a mad abandon, and whipped -up the conviviality with a riotous, headstrong wildness until -everybody voted it the merriest evening in years. Amongst -the other sex, he exploited to the utmost his patrician -graces and masculine daring, and was so much the center -of the occasion that the party might have been his rather -than Janet's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The women thought him magnificent, graceful, cruel—in -a word, irresistible; the men laughed at his impudence, -and envied or admired his readiness, effrontery and ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet, as he showed his fine points triumphantly now -to this adoring girl and now to that, his voice vibrated -towards Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet took it all in, and continued talking to Robert -with undisturbed satisfaction. She saw Claude pass recklessly -from one favorite to another, and guessed easily that -none of these was his real aim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the party broke up, Claude induced Janet to listen -to him alone for a moment. He was suddenly all contrition. -To his whispered plea for forgiveness, she said, in a not -unkindly tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgiveness for what? For advertising your emotions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the kiss," he said, his voice full of sensuous charm. -And he added, on a more audacious note: "I wish I could -take it back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you? You'd better begin with the publicity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please forgive the kiss </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> the publicity, Janet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll forgive the second when I forget the first," she -replied, much more gaily than she intended, thus proving -that Claude was not the only one in the grip of a resistless -passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude went home, satisfied that his daring had once -again enabled him to snatch victory out of the arms of -defeat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWELVE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And so it had. None the less, the experience had taught -Claude a lesson which, for once, he took to heart. He never -again supposed that Janet's friendship was to be had on -the same terms as Mazie's or even Cornelia's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, he remained in the dark as to what precisely her -idea of self-respect was. Conflicting and irreconcilable -inferences were the only ones he could draw from the -conduct of a girl who lived in the Lorillard tenements, moved -in the Outlaws' circle, professed to be hostile to marriage, -yet stood on her dignity withal, in quite a traditional -womanly way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Claude was not the man to waste time on psychological -conundrums. Besides, he was too happy to be critical. -He was back in the good graces of Janet, or rather, -as he soon paraphrased the case, she was back in his. He -flattered himself that he was the dominant influence over -a girl who was a piquant, if puzzling, amalgam of Brooklyn -and Bohemia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the next two weeks, his position as Janet's particular -friend was established beyond dispute. Few afternoons -passed in which his motor car did not drive up to the -Lorillard and whirl her away to a place of gayety or -recreation. The chief rival claimant upon her time was Robert -Lloyd. But as Claude, in point of social advantages and -personal graces, far outdistanced him, this rivalry was not -taken seriously by any of the three persons concerned, least -of all by Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day, to Cornelia's astonishment, Janet announced -that she had planned to spend the afternoon, not with -Claude, but with Robert. She made the announcement -from a tuffet on which she sat soberly, while reading a book -by Mrs. Beatrice Webb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this your pensive day?" asked Cornelia, ironically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Janet. "Robert complains that I'm -neglecting him, and consequently my education. I think I -ought to give him a chance to prove both assertions. So -I've asked him to come here this afternoon. I can't spend -all my days in sky-larking, can I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, 'youth's a stuff will not endure.' If you choose -Mrs. Sidney Webb and Robert Lloyd rather than Claude -Fontaine, the choice is your own. Of course, Robert is -very entertaining. He pledges you with facts and figures. -But when I was a rosebud like you, Araminta, I preferred -a man who drank to me only with his eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, I adore being made love to; yet I get horribly -tired of it—even of Claude's love making—when it's -kept up too long. And I hate facts and figures; yet Robert's -never bore me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a morbid symptom, my dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't say that. I feel sure it's quite a natural -condition, in my case. But perhaps there's a quality left -out of me, a quality that other women possess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was clearly eager to carry on her self-analysis, -but Cornelia gave no sign of sharing this eagerness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia, in fact, was far from pleased. Her -unconscious game was to keep Robert revolving in an orbit -around herself. He was such an excellent drawing card! -For had he not the rare power of raising the value of any -object or person he admired? Not that people ever credited -him with unusual discernment or insight. Yet the fact -remained that Robert had only to praise a human being -or a work of art hitherto undervalued or overlooked, and -presto, the article or the person instantly became subject -to an urgent popular demand. This was one of the reasons -why Cornelia (who felt that she had been handsome enough -in surrendering Claude without a murmur) did not wish -Robert as well to gravitate from her stellar system to -Janet's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, seeing no way of cancelling Robert's visit, she -determined not to be a spectator of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must run in next door, Janet," she said, "and ask -the Gorilla to do an errand for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left, omitting her customary lyrical phrases of -affection. Janet did not suspect the jealousy behind this -omission. But she was undeniably disappointed because -Cornelia had not encouraged her to discuss her friendships -with Claude and Robert about whom her heart and her -thoughts were brimful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus quickly did Cornelia damp down the fire of intimacy -by treating the exchange of self-revelation as a strictly -one-sided transaction. She had (so it struck Janet) a very -low opinion of all confidences—other than her own.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the bell rang, Janet opened the door wondering -why Robert had come an hour before the appointed time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was Claude who entered! He came in, like the -god of the glorious spring without, in his gayest, most -engaging mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What luck, to find you in!" he cried. "Janet, I've come -in an open car on the chance of taking you for a spin to -Mineola to see the start of the great Cross-Continental -airplane race."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Claude, how nice of you. But—I'm afraid I can't go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—you see—I've promised to go out with Robert -this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face clouded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you never told me!" escaped from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not my diarist," she said, faintly ironical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please forgive me, Janet," he said, dropping his possessive -tone, as he reminded himself how touchy she was about -her independence. "But I'm disappointed, bitterly -disappointed. I planned the excursion as a surprise for you. -And how I've counted on it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not more than I long to go, Claude. But what can I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her hands in his, and said eagerly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> you keep the engagement? Can't you think of -some excuse? Where on earth was he going to take you to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the Japanese Industrial Exhibition at the Grand -Central Palace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a contemptuous grimace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A stuffy exhibition!" he exclaimed. "Good Heavens, -Janet, why hesitate to change your plans? It isn't as if -Robert wanted you for himself, as I do. He'll understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet wondered whether Claude would understand if she -confessed that she was actually more interested in the -Japanese Exhibition than in the cross-continent air race. But -though she kept silent on this point, because she really -wanted greatly to go with Claude, she was rather troubled. -It was not easy for her to gratify a private desire at the -expense of a social obligation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like to hurt Robert's feelings," she said, turning -away in her indecision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very well, if you don't wish to come with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung himself sulkily into a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was astonished at his complete change of mood. -She might have felt hurt, had she not had a woman's -instinctive weakness for spoiling the man she was fond of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat down irresolutely, and reflected that this would -be the second time she had broken an engagement with -Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's idiotic," he said, rising, with a sense of deep injury. -"Here is the most sensational race in a century, on a -perfectly glorious day. And I'm mad to be with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps Robert is, too," she said, a merry light dancing -in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, he's no fool. He'd rather be with a -wonderful girl than an ordinary one. But what he wants more -even than a wonderful girl is a chopping-block, any -chopping-block, for his sociological theories. Why on earth did -you leave your home, if all you crave is more instruction, -and if the only freedom you want is the freedom to stand -on more ceremony than before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That has nothing to do with the matter, Claude," said -Janet, refusing to ignore the truth simply because it was -disagreeable. "Robert may not be offended at finding me -away, but he is sure to be offended at finding me rude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me that you are far more concerned with -Robert's feelings than with mine," said Claude, changing -to a tone of melancholy reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I really haven't a good excuse, Claude," she said, -troubled, but still indecisive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know girls who wouldn't take two minutes to find an -excellent one," he said, with a return of his superior -authoritative air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's temptation was great; greater yet when Claude, -in his most handsome and daring manner, drew her out -of the chair and put an arm around her waist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's an occasion in a million, Janet. I've set my heart -on this ride with you. What does it matter what Robert -may think, or what anyone may think, as long as we -two want so much to be together? You must come. I shall -believe you don't care a straw for me, if you don't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His flawless form and vibrant voice annihilated argument. -With a happy heart but a guilty conscience, Janet -dismissed her scruples.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way out, she stopped in at Number Thirteen to -beg Cornelia to smooth matters over with Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia, serene and all smiles again, promised to do -her best.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Robert came home soon after and, getting no response -from Number Fifteen, went to his own room in Kelly's suite -next door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got all the news from Cornelia, who politely tried -not to gloat over his disappointment. She professed to see -no reason for finding fault with Janet's easy submission -to the force of an irresistible attraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As it was fairly plain that Robert would have preferred -to be alone, Cornelia perversely lost no time in proposing -that he carry out his original intention of visiting the -Japanese Industrial Exhibition, she, of course, to take Janet's -place as his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had another reason for inviting herself out with -Robert. This reason was the Harlem Gorilla. He, though -almost superstitiously devoted to her, sometimes had to be -"managed," in accordance with Cornelia's view that love -makes the most constant of men uncertain, coy, and hard -to please. Luckily, the treatment that Harry Kelly's case -required was not a subtle one, and so it was Cornelia's -practice to alternate a little encouraging discouragement, with -a little discouraging encouragement. On this occasion, by -accompanying Robert who didn't want her, and deserting -Kelly who wanted her very much, she neatly killed two -birds with the same stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way to the exhibition, Robert gave Cornelia an -account of his latest occupation. He had been made -organizing secretary of a body called the League of Guildsmen. -Was this a fanciful name for another set of Outlaws? No, -the Guildsmen were servers of the community, the Outlaws -were spongers on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have golden opinions of us," said Cornelia, theatrically. -"I marvel that you soil your garments by staying in -our midst."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's nothing to marvel at, Cornelia. I had to learn what -Kips Bay and its slum population were at first hand before -I could desire in earnest to destroy them, root and branch. -Familiarity, which sometimes breeds contempt, often breeds -homicidal mania. Do you recollect how Caesar spent a -short vacation among a band of desperate pirates and how -the experience filled him with a conviction that it was his -duty to exterminate them? Well, I am filled with the same -conviction about Kips Bay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a passion you have for reforming everybody and -everything, Cato! I am sure it is a very noble passion, -though it does include poor me in its program of extermination. -Still, I wonder whether reform, like charity, oughtn't -to begin at home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to think so," replied Robert, unmoved by her -sarcasm. "In my schooldays, my elders obliged me to hack -my way through obsolete French tragedies or the differential -calculus instead of allowing me to gain a working -knowledge of current English plays or of modern political -economy. And when I made a fearful hash of their -instruction, they voted me a miserable failure. Whereupon, I -determined to reform myself in order that I might reform the -world. I am wiser now. I know that I must reform the -world before I can hope to reform myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cato, you are a perfectly gorgeous mixture of building -air castles and of seeing things upside down! One can -never tell whether your head is in the clouds or on the -ground."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert indulgently proceeded to say that the Guildsmen -were young people of like sentiments with his own. In a -general way, their aim was to advance the idea that the -producers and servers of society, being the rightful -possessors of the earth, must eliminate the profiteers and the -parasites who have usurped possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that is your aim, Robert, I predict that your league -and your secretaryship will have a short life and a merry one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert laughed and admitted that he did not expect a -long tenure of office. The Guild plan was a European idea -for which America was by no means ripe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fancy we are as progressive in industrial matters as -the Europeans are," said Cornelia, on her mettle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, more so," replied Robert, drily. "Our giant industries -lead the world in maximizing the production of things -of a mediocre quality and the creation of human life of a -contemptible quality. Yes, in crude capacity, we are ahead -of our European competitors. But in political capacity, -we still lag far behind. Hence the difficulty of transplanting -to our soil a high-class social policy like that of the -Guildsmen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when this Guild plan dies a natural death, what -forlorn hope will you champion next?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear there'll be nothing left but to throw myself on -the mercy of a rich uncle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, an uncle in a fairy tale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, an uncle in California, a real live one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia evinced little more than a languid interest in -Robert's information. Fabulously rich relatives—who were -cast for the parts of </span><em class="italics">Deus ex machina</em><span>, but who never materialized -in flesh or cash—made a golden splash in the 'scutcheon -of too many veteran Lorillard inhabitants. She preferred -a conversation dealing with more tangible personages. Truth -to tell, she rather hoped that Robert would try to undo -the painful impression he had made on her by his recent -criticism of her affair with Percival Houghton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the greater was her chagrin when he brought the talk -around to the subject of Janet.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He began adroitly enough by complimenting her on the -success with which she had made Janet alive to the -galvanic interests of contemporary life. It was a miracle of -education, he assured her, and he begged her not to spoil -the achievement by converting Janet to her favorite theory -of free love. He hoped she would rather warn her friend -of the folly of contracting a free union under existing -social sanctions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like the majority of men, you believe love and sex -emotion to be one and the same thing," she retorted, -cuttingly. "That's why you have no understanding of what -freedom in love means."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Cornelia, I won't be drawn into a controversy on -the merits of free love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then don't sneer at it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't. In fact, like every healthy young human -being, I am by nature something of a varietist myself. -But, as a civilized member of society, I'm bound to take -the institutions of my country and generation as I find -them. I believe Janet will be better off, if she does so too. -Let her set out to alter or revolutionize our institutions, -but not to defy them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor Cato! Don't you know that numbers of the -young women of today are quietly doing what numbers of -the young men have always done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Living in illicit relations, you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what a ridiculous man-made custom calls it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Cornelia, although many of the Lorillard girls -have admittedly flung a glove in the face of social -conventions—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not talking of Lorillard girls, Robert. I'm talking -of teachers, lawyers, stenographers—the 'respectable' girls -who remain in their schools and offices without any loss -of self-respect or public esteem, and who merely do what -the 'respectable' men do, that is, pay a mock tribute to -outward appearances, and go scot free."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly, Cornelia," said Robert, triumphantly. "They -pay a tribute to appearances. They quietly disobey existing -conventions. But they don't defy them, much less try -to alter them. They are frequently their staunchest -supporters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just like the men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just like the men. But you are wrong when you say -they go scot free. You are wrong again when you say that -the tribute they pay is a mock tribute. It is anything but -that. It is an endless payment by installments, a payment -in degrading stealth and harassing secrecy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you driving at?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet is not the girl to pay a tribute of this kind," he -said, with emphasis. "If she champions the cause of free -love, she won't do so merely to experience the ups and -downs of an underground existence. She will do so, believing -it to be a wise or progressive departure. And she will -defend her championship in the teeth of the whole world, -regardless of its effect on her future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia received this speech unmoved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, why shouldn't she?" she said. "Others have -endured much more for their beliefs. To be candid, I really -don't see how Janet's behavior concerns you, any way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget, Cornelia, that I, too, talked modernism in -a blue streak to her before she broke with her people. -And so I feel that I share with you the responsibility for -her present course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. There's a lot of moonshine in Kips Bay that -passes for modernity. I think the least we can do is to -show Janet that modernity is not simply a new watchword -for moonshine. We ought to prevent her from being taken -in by the illusion which the Outlaws produce of easy, -satisfying intimacies between the sexes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stream of silvery laughter escaped Cornelia. Then, -in a studied tone of superiority, she replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear boy, the love relation between two individuals -is strictly their own private affair. It is nobody else's -business whatever. I have no right to interfere in Janet's -intimacies, and neither have you. Anyhow, I believe she -is quite competent to stand on her own feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not so sure, Cornelia. Janet is utterly different -from the Lorillard Outlaw girl, or the Greenwich Village -Bohemian girl. The effect of Greenwich Villageism is to -make irregularity (what regularity so often is) a bore. -The purpose of Lorillardism is to make irregularity pay. -But Janet is not likely to adopt a radical creed merely -as a pose or with an eye to its profit. She will adopt it in -a spirit of sheer blind self-sacrifice. And every advantage -will be taken of her, precisely because she's not a sex -profiteer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cato, the beginning of wisdom is self-knowledge. Have -you ever heard of any gain in self-knowledge without some -loss of happiness? No. It is a law of life which neither -you, nor I, nor Janet can escape."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," he urged, "you must admit that Janet's case is a -special one. She has just left a home where purely private -gratifications dictate which conventions shall be </span><em class="italics">kept</em><span>; and -she has entered this model tenement life where, again, -purely private gratifications dictate which conventions shall -be </span><em class="italics">broken</em><span>. She may not grasp this difference all at once. -Are we to let her inexperience cause her unnecessary -suffering?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, too, have suffered for my convictions, Robert!" she -said, with a conclusive gesture of impatience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert felt like telling her that, at this moment, she -reminded him forcibly of the fox that had its tail cut off. -But he didn't quite dare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, under the circumstances, the visit to the -Grand Central Palace was a complete failure. Cornelia, -loathing the exhibition, seized the first available excuse for -asking to be taken home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The resentment she harbored was too strong to be hidden -beneath the ordinary civilities of polite intercourse. Her -affection for Robert, which had long been hanging by a -slender thread, was now sharply snapped through the -complete revulsion of feeling she experienced towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From her point of view, the fault was entirely his. She -had always hated what she termed his moralistic nature. -But never before had he shown such a callous want of -sympathy with her past misfortunes or such a frank -hostility to her present outlook on life. What she did not -acknowledge to herself was that his concern for Janet had -given her </span><em class="italics">amour propre</em><span> a mortal wound for which she could -never forgive him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On their return to the Lorillard tenements, she promptly -called Harry Kelly into Number Fifteen. The Harlem -Gorilla (renicknamed Hercules as a mark of favor) was -highly flattered and only too willing to be a listener and -a comforter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert is getting to be quite impossible!" she exclaimed, -with a lurid Belasco intonation. "I can't imagine what has -come over him, or why he continues to honor the Outlaws -with his presence, seeing that he is now an enemy of -freedom and not a friend of it. Hercules, will you believe it, -he cannot hear the word Lorillard so much as mentioned -without showing the cloven hoof."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>While Robert and Cornelia were going to and from the -Grand Central Palace, Claude's car was carrying its -occupants through pleasant stretches of Long Island country -to the Mineola aerodrome. The day, the air, the landscape, -and the man conspired to make the occasion an intoxicating -one for Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude's gayety and personal charm were fully matched -by his perfect ease. This was the quality that magnetized -her, it was so new in her experience of American men. The -men she had known in Brooklyn, struggling professional -and business men, wore their manners as they did their -Sunday clothes, with a painful effect of unfamiliarity. Their -behavior was as different from Claude's as a sputtering -torch is from an arc light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the company of women, these men were nearly always -ill at ease. Sometimes they acted obtrusively protective -or aggressively possessive, more frequently they were -apprehensive, timid or even pitiably afraid. Whatever they did, -they did with constraint. And they never seemed able to -forget the towering fact that their manhood had an -economic value. They were as painfully conscious of this -asset as an elderly maiden is of her chastity—and they -guarded it with the same zeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was inexpressibly thankful that Claude had never -treated her as if she belonged to an unknown or unclassified -species, and that he was not constantly filled with a nervous -dread that she might at any moment begin picking his -soul, if not his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They talked of everything under the sun; she of her -childhood, her school days, her aspirations; he of social or -artistic doings in and about New York, with the more -notable and distinctive of which he had a first-hand -familiarity. But no matter how sober or philosophic the -topic chosen, it was sure, in some mysterious way, to be -sidetracked into the catechism of love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had all she could do to keep matters from taking -too amorous a turn. It was delicious to be made love to -as audaciously as only Claude could. It was great fun -to tremble on the quicksilvery margin between how much -he dared and how little she permitted. And it was her -native mother wit rather than her instinct that set a limit -to his impetuous wooing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as they reached the aerodrome, Claude became -a more conventionally courteous cavalier again. And Janet -got a glimpse of a section of his life to which she had -hardly given any thought.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Trans-Continental Air Race had been widely advertised, -and the gigantic aerodrome was jammed with excited -crowds. Claude at once plunged his companion into the -thick of things. Anybody and everybody appeared to know -him, and he knew everybody who was anybody. In swift -succession Janet was introduced to the superintendent of the -grounds, the president of the Aero Club, the chief contestants -of the day, several foreign aviators of renown, the -naval officer who commanded the first "blimp" across the -Atlantic, and to so many other notabilities that her head -began to whirl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once or twice Claude left her to pay special homage to -some lady, frequently an elderly one and a personage of -uncommon account. In these intervals, while standing a -little away from the throbbing, bewildering spectacle around -her, she attempted to give some perspective to her -impressions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was gradually clear to her that the spectators resolved -themselves into two classes: first, the </span><em class="italics">hoi polloi</em><span> whose -teeming throngs pushed along the common passageways -and packed the benches in the stands to the point of -suffocation; and then a small, compact group of men and -women whose breeding, dress and carriage would have -differentiated them from the other spectators even if the -weather-beaten air of superiority with which they promenaded -within the fenced-off and sacrosanct places, had not -sufficiently done so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Superficially, the attitude of these chosen ones towards -the gallery was the attitude of actors towards an audience: -they affected to be oblivious of its existence, and yet it was -patent that they were greedily conscious of the snobbish -admiration and flattering envy which the crowd radiated -collectively and in its component parts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet watched these bankers and railroad directors and -senators with their wives and daughters urbanely encircling -the placid airplanes, the restive airmen and the little extra -demonstrations for the elect. And it seemed to her that -they appropriated the special privileges inseparable from -the governors of a democracy with an affably paternal air -which was as much as to say: "What a very democratic -ruling-class it is that runs this very democratic nation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course she knew that they were not really thinking -this. Seeing that they were the ruling class, they ought to -have weighty, superior problems of finance, transportation -or statesmanship at the back of their minds. Had they? -Or were they merely thinking that unless they were on the -</span><em class="italics">qui vive</em><span> they might be caught in an awkward pose by one -of the brigade of camera men who were photographing -celebrities for the Sunday pictorial supplements and the -cinema current topics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet perceived also that the faces of the ladies and -gentlemen of the plutocracy, though set in hard lines and -wreathed in hard smiles, were, on the whole, much less -hard than the faces of the poorer middle-class people among -whom she lived and moved and had her being. Their -complexions were far better, too. And they were healthier -and robuster and decidedly cleaner and politer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Politer, but not better mannered. Temporarily, Janet -might have been deceived by the surface courtesy with -which the men approached one another and the ceaseless -vehemence with which the women talked and smiled, or -rather, exhibited the whole of a fine set of front teeth from -the top of the upper row to the tip of the nether gum. But -when she had mingled with them at Claude's side, these -same ladies that paraded their toothful smiles so amiably -for the photographer's benefit, had politely but uncannily -looked her through and through in the most literal sense -of the words. To put it bluntly, they had instantly sized -her up as an intruder from a sphere they had no personal -contact with. True, they murmured the necessary courteous -phrases, but they did so to a creature whose common -humanity with themselves their glances insolently and -emphatically denied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Claude sensed this, and left her alone to spare her -(and perhaps himself) embarrassment? The question made -her feel uneasy and disconcerted. It also made her wish -him back, in the hope that his presence would restore her -confidence. What was keeping him so long this time? By -way of finding an answer, her eyes searched him out among -the machines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw him, not very far away, in the midst of a group -of three other people: a couple in the prime of life, who -were obviously the parents of a young lady of about Janet's -own age. The attention of the daughter was fixed detainingly -on Claude; that of the parents was fastened proudly -on their daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thanks to a fine eyesight, Janet was enabled to get an -excellent view of the young lady's appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a tall, light brunette, and her frock, her sulky -discontented mouth and her affectation of stateliness were -all highly fashionable. So was her face, which had a -tolerably clear skin and otherwise neither a noticeable blemish -nor a spark of fire. It was the kind of standard feminine -face just common enough in America to fit the popular -conception of beauty and just enough above the common -to be in constant request by illustrators as a model for -the covers of monthly magazines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It struck Janet that she was making some demand upon -Claude which was taxing his charm and diplomacy to the -utmost. Eventually, as he took leave of the group, she -abruptly turned away from him, the back of her shoulders -expressing the most intense vexation.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Soon thereafter he was at Janet's side again, looking -somewhat harassed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those were the Armstrongs and their daughter, -Marjorie," he said, in answer to her look of curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are the Armstrongs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude was taken aback by this question. In his world, -where everybody knew everybody else, the bare name of -Armstrong had a very definite and compact meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear little ignoramus! The Dupont Armstrongs, of -course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This addition meant very little more to Janet, although -it rekindled a vague memory that she had seen the name -somewhere in the newspapers. Politely concealing his -wonderment, Claude explained more at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said that Colonel Dupont Armstrong came of an old -Southern family, and was the active head of the great firm -of Harmon, Armstrong & Co., the international bankers -whose financial power had built golden bridges between -continents. His wife had a passion for collecting exquisite -jewels; he had a mania for hoarding Chinese vases. But -the operation of his esthetic taste being unreliable, he had -struck up an intimacy with Claude's father soon after he -discovered this gentleman to be a thoroughly dependable -guide. In time, he became a regular patron of the Fontaine -galleries and his purchases of diamonds, necklaces and -porcelains had contributed appreciably to Mr. Fontaine's -fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's curiosity in respect of worldly matters was much -more quickly satisfied than her curiosity in respect of -people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Mr. Armstrong's daughter as charming as she looks?" -she asked Claude at the end of his explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, most men think so," said Claude, smiling. "Marjorie -is undoubtedly very beautiful and fully conscious of -the fact. You may have seen her portrait by Ben Ali -Haggin in the last Academy exhibition? It was a tone -poem in russet brown, quite the stir of the season."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm sorry I missed it. I've never been to an -Academy exhibition, Claude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How amazing! Not even to one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not even to one. Imagine how hopelessly ignorant I -am of art!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art! People don't go to the Academy in quest of art, -you dear innocent. It would be a waste of effort. They go -as a compliment to their friends whose portraits have been -painted, not as a tribute to the men who painted them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Janet was not to be deflected from her purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I played the spy whilst your back was turned," she said, -"and watched your pretty friend closely. She was evidently -displeased with you. What had you done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Absolutely nothing. That's just Marjorie's way when -she can't have all she wants—which seldom happens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then she wanted </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, for some party or other. But I'm not going to -leave you merely to gratify a passing whim of hers. -Anyhow, it isn't so much a case of wanting me to be with her, -as of wanting me not to be with anybody else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather dog-in-the-mangerish, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, all the tyrants of the earth are like that, especially -the fascinating feminine tyrants," replied Claude, in an -attempt to recapture his good spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was plain that his mood had radically changed. -For the remainder of their stay he was preoccupied and his -gayety was forced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cloud that this cast over their outing was not fully -lifted that day. Outwardly Claude recovered his equipoise -and, on the way home, tried to make up for his earlier -abstraction by a deepened tenderness towards his companion. -But something was manifestly weighing on his mind. -Janet herself was in a pensive mood. She had been quick -to discern that in Claude's manner towards Marjorie -Armstrong and the other young women of his own set there was -an inexpressible something which was absent from his -manner towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This troubled and dissatisfied her. True, Claude no -longer ventured to treat her as flippantly as he treated -Mazie Ross. But neither did he treat her as finely as he -treated Marjorie Armstrong. Why was this? Did Claude -still misinterpret her considered expression of disbelief in -marriage? She had a passionate longing to give love and -to receive love on a plane worlds above material considerations. -Could no masculine mind grasp the reality of this -simple passion in a modern girl's heart? Was it possible -that her freedom from the vulgar commercial associations -of love was precisely what cheapened her to such as -Claude?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought was ironic, it was maddening, it burrowed -into one's soul. But it did not rob Janet of her -self-approval. She set a high value on her integrity, and she -was secretly resolved that by no mere man should this -value lightly be set aside.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Fontaine galleries occupied a conspicuous building -on Fifth Avenue above the Forties. It was one of the show -places in New York's principal show street, and it received -a daily stream of visitors as much for the sumptuousness -of its interior appointments as for the worth of its stock -and its exhibitions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Rene Fontaine had inherited the business from his -father, who had left France in his boyhood and had begun -in a small way as a jeweler on lower Sixth Avenue. The -founder of the house had built up a fashionable trade in -pearls and precious stones and, having a strong private -fancy for certain kinds of ceramic ware, had been led into -adding a department of rare porcelains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the death of the founder, the business was incorporated. -Mr. Rene, as president of the firm, continued his -father's twofold policy with such success that, when the -uptown trend of high-class trade necessitated a change of -quarters, Fontaine and Company transferred their -establishment to one of the choicest corners of Fifth Avenue. -Here the ceramic and other works of art were displayed -in galleries on the second floor. And the patronage of these -galleries was so profitable that Claude had persuaded his -father to open a gallery for paintings on the third floor -and let him conduct the new department.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine was a fastidious man and a stickler for -appearances, particularly British appearances. The -fashionable set in New York aped English manners, and -consequently, the door attendant at Fontaine's was an English -youth and the salesmen in the art departments were -Englishmen with consciously superior airs fortified by British -university educations, Oxford accents and modish London -clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A humble art lover on a visit to the galleries might easily -have been frightened off by the sumptuous appointments, -or overawed by seven or eight swagger young gentlemen -who would eloquently ignore him as he crossed their several -posts. They might have been so many heirs to dukedoms -engaged in a feeble game of passing themselves off as -prosaic American commoners. Yet they could pay a very -flattering attention to multimillionaires, especially of the -feminine gender; and these, as their astute employer knew, -they attracted in considerable numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moving in and out among his father's young men, Claude -might readily have passed for one of them. He was like -them in the ingratiating, physical appearance that comes -from a systematic cultivation of the body, and his accent, -if not of an Oxford, was of a Harvard flavor. The only real -difference was that he was several degrees less arrogant—not -that humility was one of his specialties, by any means.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>About ten days after the Mineola outing he was seated -at his desk, opening the morning's mail. Two letters caught -his eye. One, from Marjorie Armstrong, supplemented -Mr. Armstrong's invitation to the two Fontaines to attend a -week-end party in the Armstrong's Long Island home. The -other was a note from Cornelia, reading:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Lothario, remember your appointment with us this -evening. We shall sup </span><em class="italics">al fresco</em><span> in the Japanese pagoda -on the Lorillard roof—Araminta, Hercules and you will -be the guests of honor. Only the chosen few are invited: -Lydia, Charlotte, Robert and the invisible Pryor. A special -attraction has been provided after supper—if indeed you -need an attraction other than the piteous spectacle of -Araminta pining away for you.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cornelia.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This operatic reminder was much more welcome to -Claude than Marjorie's frigid message. Cornelia's latest -party—parties trod on one another's heels in the model -tenements—was in celebration of Janet's admission to the -society of the Outlaws. Everybody counted on Claude to -be the bright particular meteor of the occasion. Yet how -was he to follow his natural inclination without offending -his father, to say nothing of Colonel Armstrong and Marjorie?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned over a volume of Muther's </span><em class="italics">History of Painting</em><span> -and, while staring vacantly into its pages, raked his -mind for a diplomatic escape from attendance at the -Armstrongs' party. He was still far from successful, when his -father approached to transact a little business. This -settled, Claude referred to a Van Gogh he had lately bought -for $5,000. Mr. Fontaine's face puckered quizzically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are worse than the prodigal son," he said. "That -young man squandered his patrimony on real extravagances, -while you fritter yours away on unreal mockeries."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you look at it, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless my soul, no. Its mere presence in the house is -enough to upset me. As soon as I learned of its arrival, I -looked at a copy of Ruisdael's "Mill" for ten minutes to -steady my nerves. Whenever I hear of one of your modern -pictures, I steal comfort from an ancient one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can't judge a picture without seeing it," -remonstrated Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My boy, you once induced me to spend ten minutes at -a Matisse exhibition in Stieglitz's Little Secession Gallery. -What I saw there was one horrible libel on humanity after -another. That will last me a lifetime, thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude laughed. He and his father got along admirably -by rarely pursuing an argument beyond its illogical -conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you done with my particular 'libel'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had it sent upstairs, to join your other atrocities in -the Chamber of Indecencies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a nickname Mr. Rene Fontaine applied to a -little room on the top floor where Claude had hung various -"finds" in the later Impressionist, Cubist and Futurist -styles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tomb, not chamber," said Claude. "Everything there -is practically buried."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. Your friends are forever trotting upstairs. -I even send people there myself. Only yesterday I invited -J. Tuyler Harmon to go up. He said he enjoyed himself -hugely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What brought the old rogue in here again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His mistress. She's one of the chief patronesses of the -Religion and Forward movement. She had to attend a -committee meeting downtown. He escorted her from her -apartments in the Plaza and waited here for her until the -committee adjourned. Out of that waiting I made several -handsome sales—but not of your pictures."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thus religion and art," said Claude, "are reconciled by -the Mammon of Unrighteousness."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This reflection was lost on Mr. Fontaine, whose thoughts -had switched to another line. He reminded Claude of the -party they were to attend on the Armstrong estate in -Huntington, Long Island.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you lunch with me at one, Claude?" he asked in -an excellent humor. "Then we'll take the train together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry, father, but I have another engagement this -afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He elaborated the urgency of the matter with an anxiety -that Mr. Fontaine was quick to detect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An invitation from Armstrong Hall, Claude, is like an -invitation from Windsor Castle," he said, smiling. "It -cancels all previous matters except matters of life and -death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never felt less like breaking my word," countered the -younger man obstinately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine did not press the point. His easy life and -lucrative business had enabled him to cultivate certain -expensive reticences. It pained him to drive anyone into -a corner. As regards the three stages of paternal activity—the -interrogative, the declarative and the imperative—he -held that a competent father need rarely go beyond the -first two. Besides, he had found by experience that, if -he took a determined stand, his son frequently yielded to -the mere pressure of silent expectation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine, who had been a widower for ten years, -habitually gave great latitude to Claude, his only son, -of whom he was genuinely fond. He frankly made "keeping -up appearances" the basis of all conduct. Apart from -that, he had a naive Rousselian theory of education, to the -effect that, if you let a young man indulge all his whims -and passions to the top of his bent, he will settle down at -thirty or thereabouts to a sane and steady career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As refined tastes and good physical habits came natural -to Claude, the operation of this theory had done him no -bodily harm; but it had trained him to an exaggerated -concern for his own desires and an enormous ignorance of -other people's. Opposition to his stronger wishes was so -rare that, when it occurred, he was tempted to regard it -as wicked, and hence to crush it with a close approach to -a feeling of self-righteousness. To put it shortly, he had -the makings of a first-class tyrant, and he would have -become a vicious one if his will had been as pronounced -as his desires.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't had a tiff with Marjorie?" asked the father, -with a casual air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Claude. "We haven't quarrelled in three months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you haven't seen her more than once or twice in -that time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's why, father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm glad you're not on bad terms with -her, anyhow," repeated Mr. Fontaine, a deep interest -beneath his affected unconcern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no. On as good terms as she'll allow. I don't -know whether you've observed it, father, but it isn't easy -to break through Marjorie's reserve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean she's a cold nature!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only when Lord Dunbar is around."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The trace of petulance in this reply was the scar of -an old wound. Claude, always first among his rivals on the -battlefield of love, had once been obliged to yield the -supremacy. This had happened about a year before, when -the young Earl of Dunbar came to Newport in Marjorie's -train. With two fine strings to her bow, Marjorie actually -made Claude her second string. This sensation had been -the talk of the smart set from Bar Harbor to Palm Beach. -And Claude had never quite forgiven the very serious blow -to his pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Rene Fontaine had no fault to find with Marjorie's -supercilious airs and snobbish predelictions. He liked and -admired her unreservedly and thought it quite natural that, -in choosing a husband, she should prefer a titled Englishman -to a Yankee commoner. Why not? That London was -the real capital of American fashionable society was, after -all, a fact no socially ambitious American girl could be -expected to ignore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think she ever cared for Dunbar," ventured -Mr. Fontaine. "At all events, he's gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He sailed for England yesterday. I've just heard it -from Mr. Armstrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord!" exclaimed Claude, walking up and down -in marked agitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear boy!" cried Mr. Fontaine, uncertain as to the -cause of his son's emotions, "she didn't take him after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Probably she couldn't. I dare say she means to -take me, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Claude, everybody supposed you two were as -good as engaged long before this Englishman came over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So we were—before he came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—he came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Claude—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean, she preferred him to me. I don't blame her. -He had more to offer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What had that to do with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything. He's a British nobleman. I'm only an -ordinary American. He's got the entree of the best London -circles. I've only the entree of the best New York."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a very unkind thing to say of Marjorie. I've -known her since she was a baby. She has her faults. But -heartless calculation is not one of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine's indignation did not sound convincing. -Like Claude, he knew that Marjorie would not hesitate to -sacrifice her feelings to her social ambitions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't say it's a fault," protested Claude. "She had -the right to change her mind. For women, the business -side of marriage is the most important side, since marriage -establishes them in life positions. I find it perfectly natural, -therefore, that they should knock themselves down to the -highest bidder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a sentiment he had adopted, with his own -modifications, from Robert Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be cynical, my boy," said Mr. Fontaine. "Business -is business, but family life is quite another thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I agree with you, father," said Claude, pacifically. "As -I said before, I don't blame Marjorie. And I'm not too -proud to be her second choice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the way to talk. Second choice, like second -thought, is often the sounder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only, it happens that when </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> changed her sentiments, -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> changed mine, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean there's some other girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a way—yes," replied Claude, awkwardly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, on the impulse of the moment, he plunged into -an account of Janet Barr.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Fontaine was distinctly uneasy. But he concealed -his emotion as well as he could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't any wild plan of marrying this young -woman?" he said, adopting the air of a judicious outsider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like her better than any girl I ever met."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My boy, is that a good reason for marrying her? Take -the word of an elderly man: It isn't worth while to marry -</span><em class="italics">solely</em><span> for love, because you are bound to fall in love with -somebody else as soon as the honeymoon is over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If not for love, what is one to marry for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, for compatability, position, money—these are -the considerations that wise men weigh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both were silent for a while, Claude thinking sardonically -of his father's charge that his view of family life was too -materialistic. Then Mr. Fontaine resumed his objections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you intend to support the young lady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely my interest in the firm is enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never made a bigger mistake, Claude. Perhaps -the fault is mine, though. For I have never driven home -to you the relative value of an income of twelve thousand -a year. That is what you've been spending."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Heavens, father! You exaggerate, surely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the least. I am in the habit of keeping very -careful accounts, a habit it would do you no harm to -acquire. Let me remind you that your new car cost five -thousand dollars. That puts your weekly outgo roughly -at a hundred and fifty, of which your chauffeur alone gets -fifty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll cut down my extravagances! Besides, two can live -more economically than one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can they? Well, just try it, my boy! I fear you've -picked up that idea in some novel. But don't forget that -all novels are written by middle-class people and reflect -middle-class notions of economy. Possibly a middle-class -couple can save if they double up in one sordid flat, sleep -in one bed, limit their amusements to the few which please -both, compromise on the one or two friends whom neither -dislikes too much, and generally lead the spiritual life of -the Siamese twins. But this can't be done in our class! -With us, the diverse activities and needs of husband and -wife make expenses for two run four times as high as -expenses for one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine returned significantly to the assertion that -he was in no position to play the benevolent father. He -would not deny that the firm was doing business on a -magnificent scale. But magnificence was costly, on the debit -side as well as on the credit side. There were ferocities of -competition that were slicing off the safe margins of profits, -besides pressing the management into transactions involving -a peculiar risk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Risk!" exclaimed Claude, greatly surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ha begged his father to remember the huge dividends -recently declared on Fontaine & Company's stock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say financial risk. There's a tremendous legal -risk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine felt that the time had come for Claude -to learn more of the technique of a big business in jewelry -and the fine arts. He pointed out that the war had caused -a substantial reduction in the demand for luxuries accompanied -by a substantial increase in the tax upon them. And -he asked his son if he had never wondered why, in the -face of this handicap, the firm's post-war profits had -exceeded the records of pre-war years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it did puzzle me," admitted Claude. "But there's -so much wizardry in your management of the business—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No wizardry at all. One or two of the biggest firms -land their prizes without the Customs House being a penny -the wiser."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude made a wild movement to rise, but fell back in -his chair again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then that blackguard was right," he cried, his face -ashen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth do you mean? What blackguard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hutchins Burley! He called me a diamond smuggler -right out before everybody at the Outlaws' Ball."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the greatest agitation Mr. Fontaine pressed Claude -for particulars. When the whole story had been told, he -breathed a sigh of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing to worry over, thank goodness!" he said, -reassuring his son. "Nobody will pay the slightest attention -to what a tipsy man blurts out against the Fontaines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" Claude's tone was decidedly skeptical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, they won't dare to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anyhow, we're actually </span><em class="italics">in</em><span> this smuggling game—" -Claude went on gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our competitors call it slight-of-hand organized."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ghost of a smile flitted over Claude's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do they call being at the mercy of a drunken -cur's venom?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't rub it in, Claude. I blame myself severely for -your embarrassment. I ought to have forewarned you -earlier. But it won't happen again. Depend upon it, I shall -lock that fellow's tongue, good and tight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it really necessary for us Fontaines to have truck -with such degraded scoundrels?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my boy, it isn't exactly easy to get certificated -gentlemen for the work," said Mr. Fontaine, stung into -irony. "But don't let's go into that now, Claude. You must -have confidence in me. One of these days I shall give you -the history of the whole matter from A to Z."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But look here, father. Suppose we were caught!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine sat down in an armchair opposite his son -and lighted a cigar with leisurely grace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a possibility," he said, "a slim possibility. But -we have excellent friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Government officials?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm—yes. More especially—there's Colonel Armstrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Armstrong! You don't mean to say he dickers -with backstairs political grafters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Dickers' is hardly the word. Colonel Armstrong stands -above, about and underneath the political machines—both -of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Armstrong in the boodle game! I can scarcely -believe it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boodle game! Don't talk like a grocer or a reporter, -Claude. Mr. Armstrong is a lover of fine art who, like all -sensible people, thinks it monstrous to tax foreign works of -art destined to do an educational service here. By virtue -of his influence at Washington, he has been able to use his -good offices to our advantage. The result is that the -Customs House officials are wise enough not to go behind our -list of import declarations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does he get much out of it?" inquired Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a brutal question, Claude! Armstrong is so rich -that he has nothing to live for except the luxury of being -disinterested."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine added that there had never been any -outright verbal understanding between himself and his -protector. Mr. Armstrong might be said to have slid into the -protectorate insidiously. He was chiefly interested in the -exquisite vases and textiles handled by Fontaine, and he -was probably ignorant of the fact that it was not these -articles but the precious stones that comprised the larger -and more profitable fraction of the smuggled goods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the rest," said Mr. Fontaine, "he is, as you know, -a steady purchaser here. He buys whatever suits his fancy -at cost price. We needn't begrudge him the bargain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish our relations with the Armstrongs were not -complicated in this way," said Claude, with an ominous -feeling that he, too, might be knocked down at a bargain -if the influential banker should fancy him as a bridegroom -for Marjorie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude had always taken special pride in the irreproachable -origin of the Fontaine riches. He had looked up to his -father as a convincing example of the possibility of making -trade both clean and aristocratic. Mr. Fontaine's -disclosures now robbed his son of this illusion, besides -confronting him with the sordid hazards of reality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of these sordid hazards was barely a week old. -A new customs inspector, in a fit of unsophisticated fervor, -had stumbled upon an act of smuggling in which the -complicity of the Fontaines appeared in the course of -investigation. Only the lucky fact of Mr. Armstrong's nephew -being the Collector of the Port of New York had saved -Fontaine & Company from scandal, public exposure and -humiliation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Heaven!" said Claude. "We're indebted to -Mr. Armstrong for being out of prison!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so," replied the father. "An American business -man who desires to keep out of prison must take one of -two hygienic precautions. One is to form a friendship with -a leading financier or a political boss; the other is to avoid -being caught. I have done both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine looked significantly at his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those plans of yours," he said, "about the William -Morris art center and all that—there can't be anything -in that line if you marry a poor girl, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude was silent for a while. His father, watching him -keenly and sympathetically, supposed him to be in the -throes of a fierce emotional contest between his sense of -duty and his love for Janet. Claude was under the same -delusion. In reality, the willful force that swayed him -was not so much inclining him to marry Janet as pushing -him not to marry Marjorie. For the moment, the easiest -course to pursue was to yield on the minor issue and gain -time on the major one. He would give up the evening -with Janet and go to Huntington, but he would refrain -from committing himself definitely as regards Marjorie and -marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be in Huntington for dinner, father," he said briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine, greatly relieved, patted his son's back -affectionately and walked away with a satisfied smile.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That evening, just before the theatres opened, a tall, thin -man in a taupe-colored flannel suit and a soft beaver hat -came out of the Commodore Hotel walked westward -along Forty-second Street, and took an uptown bus at Fifth -Avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mark Pryor, in a very unprofessional mood, had the air -of one who is determined to be seen rather than to see. -Considering the constant use he made of his knack of -fading out of his surroundings to the point of almost total -invisibility, this was not as easy for him as it sounds. Easy -or not, it was his mood. Mr. Pryor, whose gift for -self-effacement amounted to a miracle, needed a change. And -he sought it by trying to make himself manifest, as other -people seek it by trying to hide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not deserted Kips Bay. But the growing inquisitiveness -of his neighbors, and particularly of the acquaintances -he had struck up in flat Number Fifteen, had driven -him to the expedient of running two domiciles and of -dividing his time between them. The choice of a room in a -first-class hotel had been dictated not by a craving for -luxury but by a sense of domestic propriety. "There are -two things I can't live without," he had once told Robert -Lloyd. "One is an unfailing supply of hot water, the other -is perfect freedom to come and go as I choose. A man can -always get these treasures among the model poor or the -unmodel rich, but never in a middle-class home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert had heartily endorsed this sentiment without any -suspicion that Mr. Pryor—whom some of the Outlaws -suspected of being a fugitive counterfeiter and others of -being a shrinking novelist in search of local -color—perambulated from an army cot in his Lorillard flat to a -Circassian walnut bedstead in the Commodore Hotel. -On the evening in question, Mr. Pryor decided to explore -a section of Manhattan which he had hitherto neglected. -Accordingly he boarded a cross-town bus going east and -alighted at the corner of Second Avenue and Seventy-second -Street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between this point and East End Avenue, he took a zig-zag -course along several side streets and main roads. Thus -he sauntered past the Vanderbilt tenements—the -aristocrats of their kind—and through the German and -Czechoslovak colonies, which were remote enough from Times -Square to have retained some of their European flavor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he found himself in a very prettily lighted -shopping section of First Avenue, a section which reminded -him faintly of the chief street in some of the -Teuto-Bohemian towns he had once traveled through. Reaching -the Eighties, he strolled westward again, not without a sigh -of regret as he noticed that the few quaint German or -Slovak spots left on the East Side were fast being -submerged in the uniform drabness which inevitably descends -on all the quarters of an American city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cross street into which he turned was dimly lighted -and quite deserted except for one other pedestrian on the -opposite footway. This was a man whose hippopotamine -dimensions instantly chained Mr. Pryor's scrutiny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely there were not two people in New York with the -aggressive waddle, the labored locomotion of Hutchins -Burley? Pryor was in a holiday frame of mind; but here, as -usual, was opportunity knocking at his door when he was -in a mood to be "not at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What must be, must be," he murmured, resigning -himself to his fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He kept his eyes glued on Burley, and followed him -slowly until he had watched him enter a cigar and stationery -shop at the corner. Walking hurriedly past the shop -window twice, he observed Burley, in a rather secretive -manner, handing the proprietor a small bundle of letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Pryor acted with lightning speed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In less time than it takes to tell, he had darted down -the dark basement steps of the closed shop next to the -tobacconist's and, after a brief disappearance, had emerged -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man who came trudging up the steps, however, was -not the agile, immaculate gentleman who had descended a -few seconds before. At least, to outward view, it was a -middle-aged man with stooping shoulders, a painful limp, -clothes that looked trampish and untidy, and a round hat -rammed Klondike fashion far down over his forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This ugly looking customer lurched past the tobacconist's -shop a moment later, just brushing the sleeve of Hutchins -Burley on his way out. Wholly absorbed in himself, Burley -paid no attention to the incident or the cause of it. He -plodded on up the street; but the man who had so nearly -collided with him went into the shop, made a quick -purchase—during which he took a good look at the -shopkeeper—and then came back to the street again with a -haste that was scarcely in keeping with his limp. By this -time Burley had almost turned the corner of Third Avenue, -and Mark Pryor was obliged to throw his limp to the winds -and strike into a lively clip in order to keep his quarry -within view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eventually, he contrived to be a passenger on the bus -that carried Hutchins Burley downtown, and got off with -him at Seventeenth Street. There he watched his man -waddle heavily towards Irving Place and enter a dingy old -house in the middle of the block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mark Pryor followed slowly. As soon as the coast was -clear, he crept cautiously up the front stoop to look at the -name plate on one side of the doorway. With the aid of a -pocket flashlight, he read the words: "Japanese Consulate -General."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What in thunder has the Mikado got to do with -Hutchins Burley's smuggling adventures?" he asked -himself, greatly perplexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour or so later, he repeated this query to a brisk, -florid-faced gentleman in the prime of life who was seated -in what purported to be an actor's agency in the heart of -Times Square. The florid gentleman, who looked much -less like a theatrical agent than like a military man in -mufti, offered no solution to the enigma.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Major Blair, I think I'm on the trail of something big -at last," volunteered Mr. Pryor, hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly, sir, possibly," replied the gentleman, briskly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he paid only a languid attention to his visitor's -spirited account of how he had gradually wormed himself -into the confidence of Hutchins Burley. When Pryor -finished, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Somebody else will have to take up the trail of Burley. -Orders came from headquarters this evening that you are -to sail for France the day after tomorrow. You will report -in Paris to Colonel Scott at the address in this letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Foiled again," exclaimed Pryor, veiling his real feelings -with assumed good humor. "Whenever I'm on the point of -nailing a case down, headquarters steps in and calls a halt, -as if I were the villain in the piece."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He added sardonically: "What is the use of information -fairly breezing into my hands, so long as headquarters' -notion of Secret Service is that the only conduct becoming -an officer or a gentleman is to keep a secret dark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Pryor, orders are orders! The first duty of an -officer of the Secret Service is never to ask questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, sir," returned Pryor coolly. "And yet the -first duty of a crack Secret Service officer is to ask questions -all the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Major Blair stared at this independent, gifted member -of his staff. Nothing daunted, Mark Pryor took his sealed -orders, saluted and left.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="janet-on-her-own"><span class="bold large">PART III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">JANET ON HER OWN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Earlier in the same day, a special messenger from Claude -had brought two notes of regret to the Lorillard tenements, -one for Cornelia and one for Janet. A little before evening, -these notes were followed by quantities of flowers and fruit, -which were for Janet alone. But Cornelia went into -ecstasies over the presents and caused the rooms of Number -Fifteen to ring with her </span><em class="italics">arpeggio</em><span> laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The note to Janet read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Darling Janet:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Business interests and a promise made long ago -make it imperative for me to go to Long Island today. -The worst of it is, I shall be away for three days, and how -unhappy this makes me, you can't conceive. Six days -without you will have loitered by when next we meet! -Six endless days away from the miracle of your soft voice -and the wonder of your heavenly smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I came back from Washington late last night, not -knowing that I should be prevented from seeing you today. -Even so, I had my car driven, far from its regular -course, past the Lorillard houses. How I prayed that a -light from your little corner room would invitingly tell me -that you were still awake! But all was dark, and I had to -be content to let my fancy play around a certain maze of -curly bronze hair, two eyes as limpid gray as an Adirondack -lake before dawn, and a pair of ruddy lips that smile -divinely or talk with so much sense and charm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You are not like any other girl I have ever known, -dearest Janet! I think of you as a rare and delicate flower -whose perfume holds my senses as your spirit engrosses -my soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I want you to have a happy evening, dear girl, despite -my absence. Only, every now and then, you are to give -a passing thought to me—disconsolate, forlorn -impatient to be with you again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Ever your</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Claude.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Of course, in Claude's absence the party was declared -off, all but the supper in the pagoda.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia read the letter over twice. The second time, -she uttered some of the more lyrical passages aloud, rendering -them with a faintly exaggerated stress or mock-heroic -inflection as the case might be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exquisite!" she carolled, handing the note back to -Janet. "A perfect love letter! By what an expert hand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lydia Dyson came in just then and had to be told all -about the disappointment. The author of "Brothers and -Sisters," in an abbreviated accordion pleated frock, a -necklace of jade beads, and very French shoes, looked as -professionally Cleopatrish as ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet," she said, knowingly, "Claude has gone to -Huntington, to that Armstrong girl, Marjorie—the one that -was hotfoot after the Earl of Dunbar. She didn't get the -Earl, you know. Now they all say she'll marry Claude. -I bet she will, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't love her," protested Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As if that made any difference! Every man needs a -woman to represent him in social life and to advertise the -dignity and solidity of his own rooftree. Any woman who -can do these things satisfactorily qualifies as a suitable -wife. Men, you see, are more conventional than women. -Or perhaps I should say, more businesslike."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Businesslike!" Cornelia interposed. "Say disgusting, -and you'll be much nearer the truth. Didn't I tell you, -Janet," she continued, "that men think of women in only -one way—and that a beastly one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary, they think of women in two ways," -contended Lydia in her drawling Southern tongue. "To a -man, all womankind is divided into two groups: the woman -who stands for his home, and all the others—the women -who stand for his pleasure. The one woman is a necessity; -all the others a luxury. Every man gets the first at any -cost, and then bids for one or more of the second, if he -has the price."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be bizarre and crude, Lydia," said Cornelia, not -relishing this analysis in Janet's presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Crude?" said Lydia, repelling the charge as melodramatically -as it was made. "It is not I who am crude. It -is man. It is man who divides our whole sex crassly into -these two groups. It is man who sees in every woman either -a housekeeper or a wanton. It is man who fixes a trade -price for affairs of the heart and rates marriages by their -market value. Call </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> crude, if you like! Or call it an -incurable blindness to the differing blend of vital forces -that makes each woman unique. In this respect, how unlike -men are to us, who see in every man a new, mystic union -of protector, lover and father of our children!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The new trinity!" chanted Cornelia, with a significant -laugh. "But I'm sure, dear Lydia, that not every woman -has </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> gift for discovering this mystic trinity in so many -unique specimens of the other sex."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Cornelia, you flatter me. My only advantage over -other women lies in the prudence which caused me to get -a husband before I set out to make the discoveries you -allude to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let us talk about marriage as it exists today," -said Cornelia, parrying the blow as best she could. -"Marriage is so banal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and so convenient," drawled Lydia, who reluctantly -supported her husband in idleness and luxury. "Also, so -expensive. Husbands now come dearer than ever before -in the history of family life, while lovers never were -cheaper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia is joking," said Janet, sending her clear, -mollifying voice into the breach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not joking," said Lydia, with the utmost -gravity. She lit a cigarette, adding as she did so:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm making hay while the sun shines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does your husband agree with you on this point?" -asked Janet, curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, he's used to me. He takes my word for -everything. Also my money. But I'm frank to say that -I don't hold with Cornelia's notions about free love. -They're too fantastic and impractical. I hold with the -French system: Marry first and experiment afterwards. -It's not logical, Janet, but it works well. If you experiment -first, you are sure to be done out of marriage, and you may -even be done out of love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Lydia," said Cornelia, now thoroughly incensed. -"You must know that Janet believes, as I do, that love is -a surrender, not a sale. She isn't offering her affections to -the highest bidder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, intervening, remarked that this was true; but, as -she found Lydia's views very interesting, she begged -Cornelia to let their visitor have her say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very well," said Cornelia, biting her lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right, Janet," said Lydia Dyson, grateful for her -support. "I'm sorry to disagree with Cornelia. But in this -matter, she's all at sea. Believe it or not, in modern life, -love is a commodity for sale, like any other commodity. -What else can you expect? Do you know of any other gift -in the possession of man, woman or child which is not sold -to the highest bidder? Doesn't a playwright subdue his -creative faculty to the requirements of the manager who -offers the most royalties? Doesn't the novelist or the -musician or the engineer do the same in his line? How -indeed can they help it in a country where everything is -bought and sold, where the greed and gluttony of men put -everything under the hammer, from a glass of water to a -draught of genius? Why marvel that women have to sell -their bodies, when poets and artists have to sell their -souls?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take it from me, Lydia," Cornelia burst in, caustically, -"when you apply the oratorical powers of Robert Lloyd -to the moral principles of Mazie Ross, the product is hard -to beat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, you wouldn't say spiteful things like that if -you only knew the truth about sex relations. I forgive you -because you don't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> only knew!" said Cornelia. She gave a florid -operatic laugh. "Do you really suppose I </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No woman does who hasn't been married to a man. -Not until she has been chained in wedlock for some time -does she see the cloven hoof or feel the mark of the beast, -or get her fanciful pictures about love put in a proper -perspective. That's one thing marriage does for a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By your own admission, then," remarked Janet, "Cornelia -is right in thinking that the game isn't worth the -candle, isn't she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearie," said Lydia, with unction, "ask the most -wretched wife on earth, and she'll answer: 'Tis better to -have wed and lost, than never to have wed at all.'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cornelia, observing that Janet took Claude's absence -with surprising composure, wondered whether it was a case -of still waters running deep. It was partly that, but there -was another reason. The apparent ease with which Claude -had yielded the preference to Marjorie's claim upon his -time carried with it an unflattering implication as regards -the value he set upon Janet's friendship. To be sure, there -was the rapturous love letter. But fine words buttered no -parsnips; they pleased the ear but they neither explained -Claude's course nor justified it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus Janet was as much nettled as disappointed by her -lover's absence. Yet it was not her way to stew in misery. -And her control of her feelings was made easier by the -pressure of some secretarial work for which she had just -been engaged by Howard Madison Grey, the playwright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Immediately after supper, therefore, Janet left her friends -in the Japanese pagoda on the roof, having arranged to -spend the evening in Harry Kelly's office in flat Number -Thirteen, where she proposed to practice on the athlete's -typewriter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her object was to "increase her speed" so that her most -recent position might be made securer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the Collegiate Bureau, to which Cornelia had -introduced her, she had already been given two opportunities -in business offices downtown. She had lost them both -within a week, her refinement and charm of manner having -been voted poor substitutes for the experience that she still -lacked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fault was not wholly Janet's. Before she left home, -she had taken a course in shorthand and typewriting (in the -teeth of her mother's opposition) at an Evening High -School. It was one of those carefully pasteurized courses -for which the American educational system is famous; it -was showy, time consuming, and totally useless. But how -could Janet have known that high-school stenography was -as pitiably inadequate to the practical needs of a modern -mercantile office as high-school French or German to the -practical needs of a tourist on the Continent?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not wanting to get into the bad books of the Collegiate -Bureau, Janet was anxious to avert a third discharge. Moreover, -her post with the playwright had the intrinsic merit of -being more congenial, as well as more lucrative than any she -had filled before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was thankful that Cornelia would be occupied with -the party, for her efforts to make herself more competent -invariably excited her friend to derision. Cornelia, like a -true-blue Kipsite, was no devotee of good workmanship. -Endowed with the makings of success in any one of half -a dozen professions, she had achieved failure in all of them, -her inveterate lack of industry and application having -botched a promising career in turn as an author, singer, -painter, dancer, decorator and dress designer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A born worker, Janet stood in no danger of imitating -Cornelia's business vagaries. She could not have afforded -it, anyway. Unlike Cornelia, she had no private income, her -only resources being a small bank deposit (a relative's -bequest), which was dwindling with alarming rapidity. -Thus, inclination and necessity were as one in spurring her -on to making a success of her new post as typist and -amanuensis for Howard Madison Grey.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The keys of the typewriter were going at a merry gallop -when Robert Lloyd, who had a desk in Kelly's office, came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by breaking the commandments -of the Lorillard Tenements?" he said, putting a sheaf of -papers on his desk and getting ready to attack them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which commandments, Robert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All ten. The first five prohibit any useful work in the -daytime on penalty of loss of caste. The second five -prohibit the same at night on penalty of excommunication, if -not expulsion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed and asked him why he hadn't joined Cornelia's -supper party in the Japanese pagoda. He explained -that he had been detained at a meeting of the Guildsmen's -League, of which he was now the organizing secretary. He -added that he had brought home a quantity of raw material -to be hammered into a tract on Waste in Industry, a job -which would take him all night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They each buckled to the task in hand. Janet liked to -work in the same room with Robert, who knew when to be -silent as well as when to talk. He treated her like a fellow -worker of his own sex, paying her none of that exaggerated -show of consideration which most men give to women outside -their own family circle. Thus his presence stimulated -her and in no wise interfered with the concentration -demanded by her typewriting practice. When she reached -a good stopping point, she offered to help him. He accepted -the offer eagerly and dictated several letters to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good job," he said, after she had handed him the -typed sheets to be signed, "and a quick one, too. You're -improving by leaps and bounds. Indeed, you might develop -into a 'speed demon,' but for your un-American weakness -for accuracy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got to be accurate. I do all sorts of work every -morning, for Mr. Grey, the playwright."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grey? The author of 'The Love that Lies' isn't he? -The play that ran for two seasons. Is he very exacting?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but his wife is. She keeps an eagle eye on all the -typing that's done for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why? Well, she serves him as a sort of combination -mother, nurse, watchdog, and general superintendent. Just -as most wives do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And just as most wives will continue to do, until they -choose an independent living in preference."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think that women are solely responsible for the -social arrangement by which two distinct things like -motherhood and housekeeping are tied indissolubly together?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. And I don't believe that men are solely responsible, -either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Remember, marriage was not always what it is -today. In the middle ages, the home was also the place of -business, and the wife was her husband's business associate -as well as his mate. Later, when business went out of the -door, slavery came in through the window. This was not -exclusively man's doing. Men and women muddled things -up together. Honors are very nearly even on that score."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be fair, Robert! Hitherto, men have had all the power."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and women have had all the glory. They were -every bit as well satisfied to belong to the fair, privileged, -and law-evading sex, as men were satisfied to belong to the -coarse, responsible, and law-making sex. As soon as the -majority of women follow the lead of Lady Cicely in -'Captain Brassbound's Conversion,' that is, as fast as they -'scorn death, spurn fate, and set their hopes above happiness -and love,' they will be able to cope with man's supremacy -as successfully outside the home as they have already done -within it. What is more, they will work their will in public -much more openly and honorably than they have so far -worked it in private."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men are always declaring that women could easily get -full independence if only they would go about it in the right -way. Clearly, men know the right way and women don't. -Cornelia says that if they are so very much cleverer than we -are, it is a pity they don't set their wits to work so as to -help instead of hindering us in the struggle for equality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind what Cornelia says," exclaimed Robert, -energetically. "She is crazy on the subject of men; that is -why she keeps forever harping on it. One way of doing -this is to accuse men of everything evil under the sun, from -the creation of God to the invention of the cardboard -kitchenette flat. Please don't join her in the vulgar senseless -game of pitting one sex against the other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do Cornelia an injustice. She doesn't maintain that -all women are angels and all men devils. Nor do I. But -suppose some men are angels. I shouldn't care to be a -housekeeper for the archangel Gabriel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert hoped that any lady who consented to share -Gabriel's bed and board would find the archangel up-to-date -and gentlemanly enough to excuse her from washing dishes -and scrubbing floors. Why should an archangelic or any -other sort of gentleman shortsightedly insist that a talented -bride on her way to becoming an excellent banker, merchant, -or politician, should transform herself into a mediocre -woman-of-all-work? Why should he consider his own -bargain bettered by such a questionable transformation?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the other hand, Janet," he added boldly, "why -should an up-to-date young lady jump from the devil of -housekeeping into the deep sea of free love, as I fear you -will end by doing if you follow Cornelia's suggestions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew that he had Claude in mind. But she was -unable to take offence at his uncandid candor and his -disinterested interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert, what a tantalizing mixture of the liberal and -the conservative you are!" she exclaimed, refusing to take -up his challenge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am merely the child of my age, Janet. I was born with -reactionary habits and nursed on radical ideas. All logic -counsels me to become an enemy of existing institutions; all -instinct drives me to conduct operations within the enemy's -camp. I betray under two flags."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't make me believe that. If you were all kinds -of a traitor, you wouldn't be such a jolly companion to work -with or to talk to. Do you know the most delightful thing -about you, Robert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Modesty forbids me to say—but not to hear. Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the fact that you can behave towards a woman -friend as frankly and decently and unsentimentally as you -would towards a man friend. You can't imagine what a -relief it is to a girl to know one man who'll always treat -her man-to-man fashion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will I? Janet, if you were perfectly sure of my future -conduct you'd find me an insufferable bore. Besides, no -fascinating woman ever wanted to be treated like a man—at -least not for long at a time. You won't be the first -exception."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly, Robert. If ever I should get married—which -Heaven forbid!—it will be to a man like you, one -who can work with me without constantly remembering my sex."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh almost any man will be able to do that, as soon as -being your husband loses its novelty for him. Still, I'm -grateful to you for your well-meant opinion, Janet. I shall -try to deserve it by offering you a small business partnership."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rapidly sketched the plan he had in mind, pointing out -that, as only her mornings were engaged by the playwright, -Grey, she might help him afternoons with the Guild League's -work. He was hard pressed for assistance; the League could -just afford a part-time worker; there was a good deal of -editing and typewriting which he was sure she could -undertake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet begged to be taken on trial. The bargain was -struck amid the sounds of merrymaking that came, none -too faintly, through the walls of flat Number Fifteen. She -remarked that Cornelia's party appeared to have been a -huge success after all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it has given birth to the firm of Barr and Lloyd," -said Robert, jestingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was aware of the conflict in Janet between the temptations -of the love chase and the attraction of the force that -moves the sun and the stars. And he fondly believed that -this conflict no longer existed in himself. The love of man -for woman against the love of life! He had made his -decision, she had not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two questions remained uppermost in his mind. One -was: "Could he capture Janet's great natural talents for his -own side, the side, not of the fires of sensuous gratification -but of the flame that burns at the heart of the world?" The -other was: "Did Janet really want him to act towards her -precisely as towards a man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curiously enough, the irrelevance of the second question -to the first, did not strike him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the days that followed, Janet's morning duty as -Mr. Grey's secretary and her afternoon employment as assistant -to Robert left her with very little leisure. Such time as -remained on her hands she spent chiefly with Cornelia or -with Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither of these friends exhibited much enthusiasm over -Janet's determined effort to earn her own living. Cornelia -looked with ill-concealed disfavor on an exhibition of -diligence which, besides being foreign to the atmosphere of -Kips Bay, used up so much of her protegee's time that the -burden of housekeeping in flat Number Fifteen was -inevitably shifted to Cornelia's own shoulders. As for Claude, -his reaction, equally cool, was governed partly by the -scarcity value which now attached itself to Janet's leisure -hours, partly also by another reason which he hardly dared -to face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somewhat daunted by the lukewarm attitude of her -friends, Janet nevertheless kept courageously on with the -task of making her independence secure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Howard Madison Grey, the playwright, was then composing -his fourth play, "Cleopatra's Needle." His practise -was to dictate rapidly to Janet for an hour and a half, after -which she was expected to typewrite the sketchy dialogue, -changes in grammar and syntax and even in diction being -left, as time went on, more and more to her discretion. As -the work appealed to her interest as well as to her skill, she -despatched it with zest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bit by bit, two drawbacks emerged, however. One was -Janet's liability to mistakes because of an absorption in the -plot, an absorption so deep as to interfere seriously with -quick mechanical transcription. The other was Mrs. Howard -Madison Grey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This lady had opened a correspondence with her future -husband during the short run of his first play, "The Spice of -Life," for the hero of which (a masterful but incorrigible -polygamist) she had conceived an unbounded admiration. -The correspondence ripened into matrimony, Mrs. Grey -bringing her spouse the money and influence that lifted him -swiftly to a solid place in the theatrical world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When his second play, "The Love that Lies," financed by -her father, scored a big hit, she noticed that he became -the gratified recipient of a good deal of feminine attention. -Mindful of the polygamous experiments of his two masterful -heroes, she remembered that precaution is the better part of -safety. Marriage had considerably modified her point of -view, and she now had a conviction that there should be a -yawning gulf between the pluralistic imaginings of the -dramatist and the monogamic behavior of the husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To give this conviction shape, she enframed him in a -watchful chaperonage. Chaperonage was not the name she -used. She called it, "being a helpmeet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The helpmeet's first official act was to place Mr. Grey's -communications with the world beyond-the-home under a -strict censorship. She looked after his correspondence, -registered his engagements, and kept in telephonic touch with -him when he went to a club or directed a rehearsal. Let the -enemy idolaters capture him (if they could) through the -barbed-wire entanglements of her devotion!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the same spirit, she threw cold water on his business-like -proposal to do his writing in an office building. Such -an environment, she said, would kill the soul of his art. Her -substitute was a study, comfortably fitted up in his own -home; and there, accordingly, he and Janet were obliged to -work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Howard Madison Grey was a woman of fixed -opinions. She was firm in the belief that a transcendent -artistic talent was lodged in her husband; she was equally -firm in the belief that a transcendent executive talent was -lodged in herself. On the principle that it pays to specialize -she held it to be no more than right that any power or -glory acquired by the name of Howard Madison Grey should -be exercised by the executive branch of the family. About -this opinion she was entirely frank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've made him," she said to Janet, one day. "Why -should I let others enjoy the fruit of my labors?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was said as much in warning as in confidence. Janet -was greatly amused, inasmuch as her feelings toward her -employer were unsentimental to the point of prosiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None the less, Mrs. Grey's never ending readiness to suspect -Janet of a design on her vested interest in Mr. Grey soon -became a great bore. It was also somewhat trying to the -nerves. At the most unexpected moments, the good lady -would shoot in upon her husband and his assistant like a -cartridge from a noiseless gun, and explode into -embarrassing explanations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Until, at length, Mr. Grey's perfectly correct and -unemotional attitude towards Janet underwent a dangerous change.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>By the time Claude returned from his visit to Huntington, -Janet had already settled down to her new routine. Claude -did not seriously object to her morning engagement with -Howard Madison Grey, but her afternoon work in Kelly's -study—the work she did for Robert's league—this he viewed -as an intolerable encroachment on his privileges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out of regard for Janet's warm espousal of the cause of -woman's independence, he concealed his feelings as best he -could. But he used his prodigal gifts without scruple to -lay siege to Janet's hours of employment, especially to her -afternoons. Four or five days out of seven, on one excuse -or another, his imposing car would draw up to the Lorillard -tenements, and its owner, handsome, dashing, persuasive, -would tempt Janet away from laborious tasks to the delights -of an excursion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In vain did Janet upbraid herself each time she yielded, -or school herself diligently against the next occasion. When -the next occasion came, she found, as likely as not, that she -was as helpless as ever to resist his thrilling voice, his ardent -eye, and his magnetic wooing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Cornelia, Claude had a subtle and insidious agent on -his side. If Janet gave a crushing refusal to one of Claude's -incitements to truancy, Cornelia would flash a reason in -his favor as unanswerable as a sword. Or if Janet, -persuaded, but not convinced, gave signs of an uneasy -conscience, Cornelia was always ready to annihilate doubt with -some apt quotation (or misquotation) such as "Work no -further, pretty sweeting—youth's a stuff will not endure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, this spasmodic holiday making was the cause -of frequent delays in the performance of the work for the -Guildsmen's League. Janet tried to make up for lost time -by working late at night, a practice that drew upon her the -reproaches of Cornelia who alleged that it interfered with -her sleep. Needless to say, Cornelia exhibited no -compunction for the serious inconvenience that all this caused -Robert. Far from it. She appeared to get a lively -satisfaction from seeing his partnership bedeviled and his -remonstrances ignored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a fact, she feared that Robert's influence over Janet -was quietly undermining her own ascendancy. But what -was there to justify this fear? Janet's enthusiasm for the -free life of the model tenements had not yet abated and -her admiration for Cornelia's talents was still very strong. -But a straw showed Cornelia which way the wind was -blowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was gradually but steadily cutting down the -amount of housework she did in Flat Number Fifteen!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The terms on which Cornelia chummed up with her -successive companions always included an agreement to have -the housework done, share and share alike. In practice, -the adoring friend took over most of Cornelia's share, -at least while the friendship was in its early stages. -As time went on and illusions were shattered, the unequal -burden was slowly whittled away by the active partner -until Cornelia's shoulders stood in grave danger of having -a full half of the cleaning and marketing thrust upon them. -At this point, she generally unearthed a new adorer as well -as excellent reasons for breaking with the old one; and then -she started the whole cycle afresh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like her predecessor, Janet had begun by doing far more -errands, dishes and cooking, than a strictly fair division -called for. At first, the respective proportions had stood at -about three-quarters for Janet and one-quarter for Cornelia. -After a few days of this arrangement, however, Janet had -begun so to manipulate matters that her allotment fell -rapidly to one-half. And the pendulum had swung gaily -on. In fine, within a few months of her arrival, this new -convert to modernity had reversed the original proportions -so that they now stood at about three-quarters for Cornelia -and one-quarter for Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If this was feminism—Cornelia confided to Hercules -("among the faithless, faithful only he")—it was feminism -with a vengeance!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The situation was without precedent in the history of -the Outlaws of Kips Bay. Even more unprecedented was -Cornelia's acceptance of the situation. But this compliance -of hers was in no wise dictated by generosity or affection, -as some innocents conjectured. Cornelia was simply shrewd -enough to see that Janet was the magnet which had drawn -back to Number Fifteen its departed splendor and had -restored to herself the position of the first lady of the -Lorillard tenements, a position she greatly prized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One question that Cornelia put to Hercules was: Had -Janet's repugnance for housework merely kept pace with -her growing appetite for women's rights, or was Robert -Lloyd at the bottom of all the mischief? How should the -mute and glorious Hercules reply to a purely rhetorical -query?—Cornelia favored the second explanation, a fact -which boded Robert no good.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Although Robert had in no sense entered the lists as one -of Janet's suitors, Cornelia instituted comparisons between -him and Claude, never to the former's advantage. She took -occasion to contrast Claude's noble bearing and look of -sovereign strength with Robert's simpler and frailer -appearance. She dwelt on the cosmopolitan aura that clung to -Claude, his subtle atmosphere of wealth, breeding and high -social origin, the amalgam of gorgeous qualities that offered -so much more than Robert's radical connections and -straitened financial circumstances. Her trump card was -to call attention to Claude's free and easy response to the -Lorillard conception of the rights of women and to offset -this picture with an allusion to Robert's prudent -reservations on the same subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If these comparisons were of an offhand and haphazard -sort, nothing was thereby lost in effectiveness. Far from -it. They glorified Claude by what was carelessly said: -they damaged Robert by what was carefully left unsaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although unaware of the Machiavellian promptings of -which she was the innocent cause, Janet became dimly -conscious of the conflict already sensed by Robert, the -conflict between her work (which was bound up with Robert) -and her love affair (which was somehow bound up with -Cornelia as well as with Claude). She felt the tug of -Robert one way and the tug of Claude and Cornelia the -other way, without fully grasping the difference in the two -directions or the final significance of either goal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Claude, however, and not Cornelia, that gave -Janet's friendship with Robert an importance that none -of those concerned attached to it. Claude simply could not -understand why Janet should refuse to neglect Robert's -League, whenever the work of the League stood in the way -of their outings together. Economic independence, the -reason advanced by Janet, was a reason he laughed at. The -words meant hardly anything to one who from birth had -been glutted with the thing itself. Surely a few beggarly -dollars, more or less, did not adequately account for Janet's -readiness to cloister herself in Kelly's bare and sunless -study! Yet what other motive could there be, if not one -of tender feeling on Robert's part, or soft pity on hers?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, the rivalry that actually sprang up between the -two young men was not a rivalry in love, at least not in -Robert's sense of the word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Robert was no fool. He was soon convinced that -Claude and Janet had surrendered unconditionally to a -mutual infatuation which he was in no position to -challenge. Yet he had a magnetism of his own, a magnetism -of the spirit rather than of the flesh. To this magnetism -Janet responded. Why should he not claim the same title -to Janet's response in the one sphere that Claude laid claim -to in the other?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At all events, he meant to fight for what he considered his -rights, regardless of Claude's frowns or vanishing friendship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between the two, Janet had a hard time of it. Claude -professed to accept free love as a new and improved social -principle, and praised her for holding it; yet he grew -unmanageable the moment she gave the least hint of exercising -this freedom in connection with any other man than -himself. On the other hand, Robert rejected free love as -a pernicious Greenwich Village or Lorillard tenement -eccentricity, and even severely scolded her for entertaining it; -yet his actions showed that she might love as many different -men as madly as she pleased, without causing his friendship -for her to undergo any really radical change.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To cap the oddity of this contrast, she found that -Robert's unlimited tolerance, though socially much the more -agreeable attitude, was not without its suggestion of tepidity -of sentiment, a suggestion which piqued her not a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rivalry, such as it was, followed a very human -course. Robert, as an outgrowth of his work with Janet -took to promoting her education in contemporary thought -and political theory. Claude, not to be behindhand, made -the most of his special knowledge of art as well as of his -wide first-hand acquaintance with the men and events that -figured picturesquely in the ruling social and political rings -of Washington and New York. In the matter of books, -Claude generally took the cue from Robert. The latter -would lend her works by Shaw, Wells, Bennett, Galsworthy, -Bertrand Russell, Anatole France, Barbusse, Romaine -Rolland; Claude would follow suit with the latest fiction by -Robert W. Chambers or Rupert Hughes, his authors -ranging as high as Rudyard Kipling, Maeterlinck or Barrie. -One would take her to a symphony concert in Carnegie -Hall, the other to a Sunday Pop in the Hippodrome. -Robert held out invitations to a Theater Guild's play by -Masefield or Andreyev, Claude would counter with an -evening at a revival of Florodora or San Toy. If Janet -accompanied Robert to a Labor Mass Meeting at Cooper Union or -to a radical Cameraderie at the Civic Club, she was sure, -soon after, to be escorted by Claude to a Titta Ruffo recital -in Aeolian Hall or to a midnight cabaret in Moloch's Den -off Sheridan Square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Janet, who had broken with the Barrs of Brooklyn -and who was as much on pleasure as on emancipation bent, -it was not Robert's offer that usually seemed the happier -one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not the least of Claude's advantages was the fact that -he moved in Kips Bay as a representative of the great -forces of finance and fashion. He reflected the high lights -of that glittering social system of which he was a favorite -child. Direct and intimate was his contact with the celebrities -of the day—the bankers and politicians, the diplomats -and society leaders, the cabinet set in Washington, and the -inner opera box set in New York. These were his real -people; the Lorillarders were merely the people among -whom he was sowing his radical wild oats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, Claude was one of the persons "in the know." He -knew a good deal more about the personages whose -names were on everybody's tongues than the public knew -or the newspapers thought fit to print. He could tell about -the opera soprano of the first magnitude whose attacks of -hysterical jealousy would cause the curtain to be held down -between the acts for forty minutes, while the poor director -tore his hair in desperation. He could laugh at the -"mystery" of the appointment of a certain mediocre woman -teacher to a superintendency in the city's schools, the -mystery vanishing upon his inside story of how the lady in -question "had been good" to Big Jim Connolly, a local -political boss. And he could explain the connection between -the failure to float a certain foreign loan and the omission -of a well-known financier's wife from the group of guests -invited to meet the Prince of Wales.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus Claude Fontaine, whose handsome face and -dashing airs would have made him an idol in almost any society, -enchanted his fellow Outlaws with the aroma clinging to -him from the world of fashion and the glimpses he afforded -into the secret workings of the world of power. Small -wonder that to Janet, as to the others, Claude was bathed -in a romantic glamor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By contrast with Claude, Robert seemed to lead a -decidedly work-a-day or humdrum life. Especially so, since -his newspaper employment had been cut off and his active -time given up to the League of Guildsmen. As far as Janet -could see, Robert's entire thought and energy were absorbed -by an overwhelming interest in the Labor movement. For -though he had plenty of esthetic diversions, she noticed -that the books he read, the music he delighted in, and the -pictures he admired were all in some way expressive of -souls in bondage, aspiring to freedom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now for the time being, Janet wanted to forget about -the lowly and the oppressed. She had the same feeling -towards "causes" and "reforms" that a released convict -has towards societies for Improving the Condition of -Prisoners on Parole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It must not be supposed that Janet took an unsympathetic -view of the movements for human freedom which -were convulsing society after the Great War. She was a -sincere convert to the principle of woman's equality and she -made an honest effort to be open-minded to the theories -that Robert expounded. But her heart was not in theories. -Her pulse refused to quicken when Robert told her of the -new social cleavage which was fast ranging the useful -active people on one side, and the parasitic profiteering -people on the other. In common with a great many of her -contemporaries, she sat heedlessly on a volcano, enchanted -by the twinkle of the stars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What if Robert </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> prove up to the hilt that the world -was in the birth throes of a new social order! Youth must -have its glamor. And there is no glamor about birth -throes, not even about the birth throes of a new world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, the old social alignment in which princes of the -purple and masters of the gold ruled in pomp or circumstance -over the toilers of the factory, the office and the soil—this -old alignment was much more familiar to poor Janet -(and to everybody else) than the new one predicted. Literature -and legend, the school room, the pulpit and the press—all -the regular organs of education, in fact—had mesmerized -her into viewing the practical politics and the dominant -economics of the day as splendors and glories without -parallel. Was the psychology of a lifetime to be uprooted -or transformed by a few weeks of unconventional conduct -in a Kips Bay tenement, or even by a brief high-tension -course of reading in the works of Samuel Butler, Bernard -Shaw, Romaine Rolland and other prophets of the life to -come?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clearly not. And so when Claude came with his many-colored -news from the seats of the mighty, he found it easy -to engross and transport Janet. But when Robert talked -to her of strikes, trade unions and labor congresses, he left -her bewildered or mystified, though seldom cold. In short, -the rivalry even for the mind of Janet was a rather -one-sided affair, Claude, the darling of the gods, holding an -immense initial advantage over Robert, the advocate of -rebel causes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On an afternoon late in May, Claude took Janet to see -the boat race between Yale and Pennsylvania over the -so-called American Henley course on the Schuylkill. Nature -was in one of her soft and sober moods. The weather was -mild, the sky lightly overcast, and the colors of the -landscape as well as of the living things upon it were toned -down to various shades of slate, dove or lavender, all -blending into the serious beauty of a dominant pearl gray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the race, while the crowds were melting away, the -two lovers walked into the pathway along the river. -Perhaps in response to the pallid coloring around, Claude -became a prey to melancholy thoughts; and the day, the -mood and the girl impelled him to confidences about the -marriage with Marjorie Armstrong into which he felt -himself being forced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet made an ideal confidante. The exercise of putting -herself sympathetically into other people's shoes was a joy -to her. Not only did she see herself as others saw her; -she had the rarer gift of seeing others as she saw herself. -In doing so, she could leave her own desires and feelings -entirely out of the prospect. Thus, the story of Claude -and Marjorie, like any other human drama, appealed to -her judgment on its merits. Nor did she disturb Claude -with the intrusion of any vulgar jealousy because the lover -was her own lover and the woman was a rival woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The narrative began with the tenderness Claude had -conceived for Marjorie some two years before. He told Janet -how the proud beauty had first encouraged him and then, -with unexampled coolness, had allowed the Earl of Dunbar -to displace him in her favor. Later the Earl in his turn -had jilted Marjorie. Could he be asked to care for her -after such an ill-starred episode?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unluckily, he was by now far the most desirable match -among the young men whose names she consented to put -on her list of eligibles. In this preference she had her -father's hearty support. Naturally. For Mr. Armstrong was -a slave of every wish she framed. Meanwhile, his own father -had the most urgent private reasons for promoting the -Armstrong project.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see my horrible position," he said. "I'm expected -to marry a girl I don't love in order to get my father out -of a bad box. It's like a story of the eighteenth century; -only, in those happy days, it was the daughter, not the -son, who had to pull the chestnuts out of the fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely, Claude, not all the king's horses nor all -the king's men can </span><em class="italics">compel</em><span> you to marry if you don't want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but compulsion isn't the only form of coercion in -the world, Janet. Nor even the worst. Can you think -what it means to have everybody in your set </span><em class="italics">expecting</em><span> you -to do a certain thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Expecting you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it sounds fantastic. But it would sound real -enough if once you had a taste of it. They show their -expectations by word and deed, by sign and innuendo. -They show it constantly, mercilessly, in a hundred small -and super-subtle ways. I tell you, Janet, concerted -expectation is the strongest form of pressure that can be brought -to bear upon a man. It can bring about miracles. It can -move mountains. Only a hero or a coward can resist it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it's like the pressure of public opinion or of -one's family," she said, her soft clarinet tones pouring balm -on his feelings. "I know what family pressure means. I -am so sorry for you, Claude, sorry from my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you for saying that, Janet! I love you for your -adorable pity. I love you for being so unlike Marjorie. -She has her good points; but fellow feeling is not one of -them. You see, her social ambition and the ease with -which she can gratify her every wish have quite dried up -the tender places in her heart. She has no pity left in her -nature. And pity is always the essential thing in a woman's -soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on a grassy slope in a secluded corner of -the park. In a lyrical mood, Claude pointed to the sun -just then flaring out and splashing a thousand colors on the -livid sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look, Janet," he said, "how the whole earth thrills to its -warm radiance! Just as everyone thrills to your divine -gift of sympathy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was lying on the ground with his head in her lap, -while her hand was gently stroking his curly hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so happy to be in this spot with you, Claude, and -to hear from your lips the things that only you can say. -When you make love to me, I feel as though I were in some -Enchanted Valley with a prince from the </span><em class="italics">Arabian Nights</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and he a miracle of discretion, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A miracle of indiscretion, rather!" said Janet, as he -drew her head down to his, kissed her once and kissed her -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He soon became pensive, however. Pursuing his former -train of thought, he declared that if he remained in New -York, "public expectation" would certainly drive him into -the dreaded marriage with Marjorie. There was only one -avenue of escape. That was to go abroad and stay out of -harm's way until Marjorie should choose some one else as -in due time she was bound to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the force that holds me back," he said, "is far -stronger than the one that bids me go. I can't live without -you, Janet, darling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I suppose you'll have to take me along," she said, -bending low over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their lips met in a sustained and ardent kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said. "I dare not assume a responsibility so -great."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I go with you," she said quietly, "I shall go on my -own responsibility."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, it would be too wonderful. Don't let me think -of it, or my good resolutions will stand no firmer than a -flag in a strong wind. But you are an angel to offer to -come. You do love me then, very, very much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a question, Claude!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you keep a pretty tight rein on your feelings, -darling," he said, with the least trace of reproach. "Tender -and true you are, I know," he added. "But you don't say -any of the things that girls say when their hearts are in the -grip of a wild, extravagant passion. Do you know that you -have never even asked me once whether I really and truly -and madly love you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whether </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> love </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that is the question girls ask their lovers over and -over again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Claude, the important thing to me is that </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> love -</span><em class="italics">you</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to say, Janet, that you don't care whether -I love you or not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean that. But what I care about most is that -you are the sort of man whom </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> can love. That is the -thing that makes me happy. It's delightful, of course, -to know that you love me in return. Still, if you didn't -love me, I don't think I should be in hopeless misery. If -you turned out to be different from what I dreamed you -were, so different that I could no longer love you, then I -should be heart-broken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Claude, this seemed a bitter-sweet reply. More sweet -than bitter, however, and so he did not contest it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a puzzling girl she was, he thought. So sensible -and yet so imprudent. And totally devoid of the instinct -that induces most women to exploit the amorous moment. -Claude could not get over it. Any other girl would have -made the most of his present mood, the mood in which he -was ready to think the world well lost for love. When the -blood is hot, the tongue is prodigal of vows. Claude, at -all events, was willing to promise anything, especially as he -was still in pursuit, and as his promises were not to mature -until he was in possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Janet asked absolutely nothing! This surrender, -as open-handed as it was confiding, moved him to compunction. -He sat up and put his arms around her. Her head -buried in his shoulder had the effect of seeking refuge there. -And she looked so trusting, so helpless, so innocent, that a -great love for her welled up in his heart. Ought he not to -do the noble, the chivalrous thing?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Janet," he said, with the air of Sir Philip -Sidney offering his last drink of water to another wounded -soldier on the battle field, "why couldn't we be married? -My father would get over it in time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, your father might. But </span><em class="italics">we</em><span> might not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, dearest. You mustn't say that. My love is -not a thing of whims and fancies. I shall love you till life -itself has passed away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what difference does it make whether we get -married or not," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With infinite tact, she refrained from accepting his lofty -pledge of eternal constancy. She also refrained from a -similar commitment of her own affections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't misunderstand me, Janet," he said, as sadly as -if her disagreement cut him to the soul. "I merely felt -in honor bound to offer to marry you. I know better than -you do what an unconventional step means.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the more reason why I should learn by experience, -then. No, Claude. If I married you, I'm sure I should -soon stop loving you. The thought that you had a legal -claim on my affection would be enough to kill it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you mustn't take the law so seriously, darling. -Nobody does, nowadays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing about the law, Claude," she said, repudiating -all jurisprudence with one of her eloquent gestures. -"Do you want us to become a careworn, broken-spirited, -isolated married couple, hating all the other careworn, -broken-spirited, isolated married couples of the western -world? Do you want me to grow to hate and despise you -as my mother hates and despises my father, as so many -wives appear secretly to hate and despise their husbands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you say such monstrous things, Janet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you pretend to believe that love should be -free?" she retorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he replied, "I admit there's a lot in what you -say. I suppose," he added with a fine masculine -irrelevance, "that we can always change our minds and get -married later on if we choose to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not fully persuade himself that Janet really -believed in free love. Nevertheless, he was hugely relieved -to learn that, whatever her motive might be, she had no -ulterior matrimonial designs on him. If only he could have -suppressed a sneaking fear that he was "taking advantage" -of Janet, as he called it, or satisfied himself that he was -legitimately taking the good the gods provided, as the -Outlaws boldly called a step of this sort!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Claude's Bohemianism was only skin-deep. Like -a good many Bohemians, he discarded traditional forms, -costly conventions and social restrictions, chiefly in order -to extract from social intercourse and philandering, the -greatest amount of pleasure with the smallest amount of -risk. Being a Bohemian was merely a sybaritic pastime for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, Claude lacked the courage of his experiments. -The only morality he genuinely believed in was the current -morality (and immorality) of his peers. Thus loose love -could be allowed to have a certain place in the scheme of -things, but free love, as an avowed principle, was incontestably -wrong. Claude might humor the model tenementers -to the extent of using their free-love propaganda for his own -ends. At heart, however, he was profoundly shocked by -Janet's stubborn contention that her views of marriage, -though glaringly heterodox, were morally sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Claude had worked it out, there were two ways of -getting past the limitations of a social institution. One was -to support the institution while sneaking over the fences -and enjoying the secret breach of law as a delightful bit -of "living in sin." The other way was to defy the institution -by boldly climbing over the fences and asserting the -sin to be a virtue. Surely, the first was the pleasanter, the -wiser, nay, the more ethical proceeding!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course Claude did not reason the distinction out as -clearly as this. But he felt its force and, for his part, -was resolved to act upon it. However, he did not attempt -to convert Janet to his way of thinking. That would have -been fraught with peril to the smoothness of their future -relations. Besides, a long didactic argument would have -spoiled the tender passages in the journey home. And -Claude never encouraged his conscience to make a martyr -of him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When they got back to Kips Bay, they found Cornelia -and her Hercules in Number Fifteen. Harry Kelly, silent -and worshipful, was washing the accumulated dishes of the -day, in a supreme exhibition of devotion. His inamorata, -ensconced in state in her favorite armchair, was tacking a -blue denim smock together with bits of fancy colored -worsteds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She announced her intention of marching in the parade -of the Overalls Economy Club, an organization recently -formed to protest against the high cost of living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert, it appeared, had greeted this announcement with -gibes and with an ironic contrast between her expenditure -of time and her economy of money. Nor had he confined -his sarcasm to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you suppose Cato said when I told him about -the parade?" Cornelia retailed vindictively. "He said, -'I suppose Claude will march, too? He will have no difficulty -in getting the right kind of uniform. In the Times -this morning, a Fifth Avenue store advertises overalls with -solid gold buckles from fifty dollars up.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a typical reformer for you," said Claude, -bitterly. "Always shying bricks at the very people that -want to build with them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hereupon, Cornelia, in the role of a loyal though -long-suffering friend of Robert's, undertook to extenuate his -conduct. She observed that he had doubtless been made -angry because his work was retarded by Janet's absences. -The best proof of his state of mind was a threat he had -made to engage another secretary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish he would," said Claude, compressing his lips, -while Janet tried not to look conscience-stricken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course he doesn't in the least mean to part with -Araminta," continued Cornelia, wallowing in the emotional -effect of her news. "Not he. Cato knows a good thing -when he sees it. But he doesn't approve of Janet's parties -with you, Lothario. The principle is wrong, he claims."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The principle is wrong!" cried both Claude and Janet -with very different inflections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia laughed musically up and down the scale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just fancy what he said: 'A friendship which doesn't -grow spontaneously out of joint partnership in work is -built on quicksands.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fanatic," said Harry Kelly, breaking his silence -and one of Cornelia's saucers in the violence of his feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Hercules," she said, in a tone that poured -contempt on his vehemence. "He has simply let all the -soft places grow in his head and all the hard places in his -heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went into the next room to hang up her hat and -coat. Claude followed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think Robert's ideas are getting more and more -unbalanced," he said, dictatorially. "If I were you, Janet, -I'd finish up my work with him at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It takes two to break a bargain, Claude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you might at least keep your relations with him -on a strictly business footing—and as little of that as -possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ignored her slight mutinous gesture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a difficult man to get along with," he went on. -"Look how even Hutchins Burley had to fire him. And -as if his dismissal from the </span><em class="italics">Chronicle</em><span> were not bad enough, -he joins these Guildsmen people who are trying to wreck -the very basis of modern society. That has just about -dished him, as far as the Outlaws are concerned. They -all cut him now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A new imperiousness crept into his voice as he added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish that, for my sake, you would not be seen going -about with him, ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He accepted her silence as an evidence of tacit consent.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The very next afternoon, before a full hour's writing -and typing had been done, Robert amazed Janet by -proposing that they suspend work and take a walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want particularly to talk to you," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About love," said Robert, gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What girl could resist an invitation like that? Despite -Claude's stern admonition, Janet did not wait to be urged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked near the East River towards the gas-house -district, and presently turned into a recreation pier which -was almost deserted. Clearly, Robert was looking for a -very private and sequestered corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way, every topic was broached except the one -that Robert had advanced as an excuse for truancy. Did -suspense sharpen Janet's anticipation? No. Janet was -curious, but not consumedly so. She had a marvelous -power of attracting confidences and was quite used to -having young men, who had known her only a few days, confide -in her their love affairs, their religious or financial -troubles, and indeed the whole history of their lives. True, -Robert might be in love, not with another girl but with -herself. Having no false modesty, Janet entertained the -suspicion for a moment. Only for a moment, however. For -the presumption against it seemed conclusive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, they walked happily along, until Robert -found the spot that suited him. This was at the end of -the pier farthest from the street. No watchman being in -sight, they sat down on a great terminal beam and let -their legs swing over the green and choppy water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Janet who laughed and chatted with Robert was a -very different girl from the Janet who was accustomed to -hang romantically on Claude's lips. Nothing, of course, -could equal the magnetism of Claude or match the fire and -glory of their mutual passion. Still, in Claude's presence -she seemed constantly to be playing up to some magnificent -part; she felt like a cross between, say, the Lady of Shalott -and the ecstatic lady in the Song of Songs. Without -denying that it was a rapturous game, a game well worth the -candle, she found it a trifle exhausting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With Robert, on the other hand, the high-tension, party-dress -Janet could be put away (so to speak) and the simple, -work-a-day, blouse-and-skirt Janet substituted. Now Janet -was the kind of girl who always looked her worst in her -best things and was most herself when least dressed up. -Naturally, she did not apply this symbol to her two -friendships. Being a young, rebellious, and infatuated -young lady, how could she? Besides, had she done so, she -might have reasoned the matter out to a disturbing conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Robert," she said, cheerily. "Begin, and tell me -all that's in your heart of hearts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not my heart I mean to talk about. It's yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine! What an idea! Why, my heart's in the pink -of condition. Positively no inspection needed.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Oh my heart is a free and a fetterless thing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A wave of the ocean, a bird on the wing.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I don't mean to say that it's a flighty object, though," she -added, with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, if it were, it would be much easier to talk to you -about it," said Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, a whole century separates the Janet I first -knew—the Janet who hesitated to go to a picture play on the -Sabbath—from the Janet who reads Bernard Shaw and -Bertrand Russell, attends labor meetings on Sundays, and -catches each newest whiff of radical opinion. The change -takes one's breath away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You admit it's a change for the better, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In every way but one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have taken Cornelia too seriously. Her views on -sex are morbid and totally unsuited for adoption by a -healthy, inexperienced girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Robert, please don't begin that over again. -You've said it all before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall say it and say it again until I've convinced -you. Even you must admit that Cornelia has a chronic -grudge against men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it isn't so unnatural, after her unhappy love -affair, is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely. As a result of that love affair, all her sex -emotions are inverted. She sublimates her sex into acts of -spite, usually unconscious acts. For instance, she is subtly -encouraging you to run off with Claude as she ran off with -Percival Houghton. Forgive me for mentioning it, Janet. -But I can't bear to see you duped. Believe me, if you -followed her example, with an equally unhappy result, she -would like nothing better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude is not in the least like Percival Houghton," -said Janet coldly. "Whatever else he may be, he isn't a cad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course he isn't," Robert hastened to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then stop making horrid comparisons. It is such an -easy thing to do. Suppose I were to say that you are like -an X-ray machine, finding out all that is bad in people, -while Claude is like a magnet drawing out all that is good -in them. What would you say to that comparison?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should accept it," replied Robert, with a smile. "The -superiority of the X-ray in point of social usefulness is, I -think, beyond dispute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, with you social usefulness is everything, and -personal happiness nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose Claude is a magnet," he went on, unheeding -her exclamation. "Is that a good reason for flying into -his arms, like a willless iron filing, on </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> terms instead -of on your own?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my terms! What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, my friendship will be worse than useless to you -unless I can tell you exactly what is in my mind. I either -do that or hold my peace forever. Will you let me speak -frankly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will I let the rain fall or the sun shine? I'd like to -see the person who could stop you from speaking frankly. -But please don't attack Claude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear. I don't intend to play the part of the -heroine's second friend confidentially warning her against -the first. What I want to urge, with all the force I can, is -this: if you mean to live with Claude, why not marry him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite apart from my own preferences in the matter, -Robert, how do you know that Claude wants to marry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no doubt he doesn't want to. In the eyes of the -modern man, marriages made in Heaven are as popular as -canned beef made in America. But what of that? Claude -is young, self-willed, accustomed to get his own way, -and—he worships you. And you—well, I have no superlatives -to do justice to the case. You are you. You could marry -him in a twinkling if you played your cards right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the heart is a free and a fetterless thing—" she -sang, saucily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop coquetting like Cornelia," he remonstrated. "You -are making it totally impossible for me to talk rationally. -Are you a butterfly or a woman? Am I discussing -your glorious voice or your precarious future? Be -serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I be serious when you ask me to be a bargain -hunter in hearts and coronets?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you're acting like one of Marie Corelli's heroines, -Janet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. Why are you so anxious to have me get -married?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I think that your fine spirit of independence -and your divine gift of imagination ought not lightly to -be wasted. Because I think, in short, that you have a -nobler purpose in the world than mere loving or being -loved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Than mere loving!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. The world was not made for the gratification of -our own feelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you are fond of saying, Robert. But, as a matter of -fact, I'm not trying to gratify my feelings. I'm trying to -carry out my principles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The world isn't a grindstone to sharpen our principles -on, either," said Robert, with prompt conclusiveness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From watching you, I rather thought it was," said -Janet, stung into sudden irony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause. He tried to take her hand, but she -drew it sharply away, with difficulty repressing her tears. -After a while, he began again, with impetuous candor:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, don't go into this adventure with your eyes shut. -Remember, you can't give yourself up to an experiment -in free love without giving up everything else. That is the -strongest argument against the step. All your gifts, all -your energy, all your purpose will be consumed in explaining, -defending, evading. Your whole life will be one long -course of swallowing the consequences and warding off -criticism. Do you wish to be a life-long martyr to free love, -like Cornelia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never posed as a martyr to anything—not even -to drink," said Janet, recovering her good humor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why become one? Martyrdom is all very well -for fanatics like your mother who enjoy it, or for idlers -like Cornelia who have nothing better to do. But you are -neither a fanatic nor an idler; you are a worker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when one believes that an institution has served -its turn, isn't it one's duty to destroy it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Institutions are never destroyed. They are sometimes -transformed, as tadpoles are into frogs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure? Cornelia says that every free union is -a mine exploded beneath marriage. I think she's right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mine! Better call it a squib, Janet. And all the -trouble you invite will be like laying a long and elaborate -fuse to ignite the squib."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you have no ideals left!" she cried, revolted at this -demolition of her romantic conceptions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a little common sense left," he answered. "We -can't escape the customs or the institutions of our time, -however much we may disbelieve in them. Flying in the -face of a decadent institution does not destroy it. It only -gives it a new lease of life by putting the props of public -sympathy and traditional morality at the disposal of its -defenders. Look at the case of George Eliot. Did her -entirely justifiable free union help the cause of marriage -reform? No. It actually turned her into a defender of the -very institution she had set out to challenge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a very wise young man; this wise young man -must be," she said, parodying a line of Gilbert's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No side-tracking! Promise me you'll turn the matter -over in your mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In my mind? Yes. But what about my heart?" she -said. And with dancing eyes she sang:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Oh, the heart is a free and a fetterless thing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A wave of the ocean, a bird on the wing.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her voice turned his blood to paradisaical currents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you sing that again, I shall kiss you on the spot, -in public or out of it," said the tormented young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Robert, what abysses of passion lurk hidden in -you!" she exclaimed mockingly. "I believe you said you'd -always treat me just like a man. Do you talk like this to -your male chums?" Then demurely: "We'd better go -home at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the way home, she resumed the discussion. In a -more earnest tone than before, she thanked him for taking -so much trouble over her and promised to think about his -point of view very carefully. She insisted, however, that -his reasoning had not convinced her. She and Claude -appeared very well suited to each other now, but who could -tell what changes a few years might not bring forth?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said Robert. "But the future is dark to us in -other matters besides marriage. As things stand now, -Claude couldn't do better, and you might do worse. And -if the very worst happened, you could get a divorce."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She replied by reminding him that she and Claude were -not the kind of people who lightly repudiated their ties or -the responsibilities that grew out of them. Consequently, -once married, they would probably remain so for life. In -any event, if she changed her mind, it would be infinitely -simpler to do so under the other plan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say I grew tired of Claude, for instance, and quite -suddenly wanted you," she said with a mischievous look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it couldn't be done," said Robert, decisively, her -complacent assumption jarring his pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, couldn't it?" She flashed him a challenging glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in my case," he returned, in clipped tones. "Free -love is the most expensive luxury in the world. Only the -very rich or the unambitious can pay for it. As for me, I -never can have anything to do either with free love or -with a woman who has had a free lover. It would ruin -all my plans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet replied with the faintest shrug, whereat all his -self-assertion promptly went bang. Neither yielded a point; -but they divined each other's feelings and, as they walked -on, steered the conversation into lighter channels until they -got back to the Lorillard tenements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Standing in the dark hallway at the foot of the stairs, -Janet told him with a touch of impishness that his logic -had been irresistible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has it? It hasn't touched your heart," he said, -somewhat dolefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well, the heart is a free and a fetterless thing—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Janet darted up the stairs, the door of an apartment -opened overhead, and she fancied she heard Claude's voice.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On her own floor, she halted and, with Robert's kiss -still burning on her lips, waited until he had turned into -Kelly's flat. Then she opened the door of Number Fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sure enough, Claude was there, full of resentment at -her absence on a jaunt with Robert. She thanked her -stars that Robert's visible presence could not fan the flame. -Even so, Claude acted badly enough. He was in a vertigo -of jealousy, and at small pains to hide the fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first, Janet tried to carry the matter off lightly, and -strove to mollify him by saying that Robert had asked her -to consider a very serious problem. She was a little -conscience-stricken over this fib, but believed it the best thing -to say. She pointed out that while it was with Robert -that she worked, it was with Claude, after all, that she -played.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this Cornelia executed an unnecessarily tuneful laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing like a man's problem for disarranging -a girl's hair," she observed, dropping the inevitable dress -she was busy with. "Araminta, your hat's a sight! Do -look at yourself in the glass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, Claude was more furious than ever. He -sulked in silence whilst rebuffing the advances that Janet -made. Finally, maddened by Cornelia's pin-prick innuendoes, -he strode out, flashing a terrible look at Janet as he -did so.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When will the play of Othello be absolutely unintelligible? -Perhaps five hundred years from now or, let us -hope, sooner. Surely, at some distant date, the private -ownership of a woman by a man or of a man by a woman -will seem as barbarous as the rings our ancestors stuck -through their noses or as unfashionable as the three -hundred concubines of Solomon. And the jealous passions -arising from this ownership will be classed with rage, -hysteria and other forms of emotional disease or pathological -bad manners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, do not the best people already look upon a -pronounced fit of jealousy as an exhibition of arrested -development or mental inferiority? If the jealous man is not -destroyed, root and branch, by the refuse-reduction plant -of ridicule, he will be rendered obsolete and perhaps extinct -by the spread of the conviction that, after a human being -has discharged his obligations to himself and his obligations -to the community, he owes no other personal allegiance -whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Herself singularly free from jealousy, Janet was in -direct touch with three persons whom the malady afflicted -sorely. Besides the case of Claude, she had on her hands -the case of Mrs. Howard Madison Grey in business, and -the case of Cornelia at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia, who was no believer in keeping her emotions -hermetically sealed, made her frame of mind patent to -Janet on an unforgetable occasion. It was not the first, -nor was it to be the last, of a series of blows, which were -fast converting Janet to the belief that her own opinion of -Cornelia was founded on an illusion, whilst Robert's -opinion was the correct one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time past it had been Harry Kelly's practice -to come into Number Fifteen before breakfast and put the -two girls "through their paces," as he called the light drill -he prescribed for them. Always on the lookout for some -new outlet for his tremendous supply of energy, the -physical culture expert had hit on the scheme of improving -Cornelia's bad health by reforming her bodily habits. Cornelia, -who considered early rising bad form and breathing exercises -a superstition, was for a prompt veto of the scheme, -but Janet's cordial support of it saved the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, early in the morning of the day after Claude's wrathful -departure, Kelly, in gymnasium garb, made his entrance -as usual. The athlete was not a man of many words. -Words, after all, were not needed in his case, since, as he -strode along with the nervous muscularity of a Rodin -statue, his lithe, powerful body proclaimed his mission to -all the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wake up, girls," he called out, "and fill your bellies -with the good south wind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unvarnished word always moved Cornelia to a protesting -shriek and a well-trilled "How do you do!" Kelly -enjoyed both immensely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After throwing the windows in the sitting room wide -open, he paced the floor like a panther in his den. Janet -was the first to appear. She was still drowsy, and her short -dark hair, in tight somnolent curls, hung down her back. -She wore a short-skirted bathing suit, a custom Kelly held -in high regard for the business in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she toddled sleepily towards the athlete, the energy -pent up in his frame unbottled itself on the impulse of the -moment. Catching her at the waist, he lifted her high up -in the air and spun her around three times as if she were a -featherweight. Then, clasping her lightly by shoulder and -leg, he set her tenderly down again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do it again, Hercules, do!" articulated Cornelia, coming -in just at the close of this maneuver, whilst Janet, still -laughing and protesting, was in the act of resuming control -of her well-shaped limbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as there was that in Cornelia's eye which belied -her command, Kelly was careful to make no move to -execute it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's golden hair was done up on her head in a -makeshift coil, she herself being enveloped in a long kimono -that trailed to the ground. Kelly looked at this garment -without ecstasy, a fact that did not escape the wearer's -observation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hercules," she commanded peevishly, "you might close -this window near me. I've got a very bad headache from -too little sleep. Do you want me to catch my death of -cold, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He complied with all haste, and then pitched into his -calisthenics, Janet joining him with gusto. Cornelia followed -suit, though in a very languid spirit; and soon she stopped -altogether, on the pretext of unusual weakness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her chilly aloofness cut the period short. It was now -time to prepare breakfast, a task theoretically shared by -all four, including Robert, who was unaccountably late this -morning. Habitually, three of them did the actual work -while Cornelia "directed," a process which, she firmly -believed, enabled the others to save time. But, as Robert -sardonically put it, "Cornelia's method of showing us a -short cut is to send us round Robin Hood's barn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Kelly's special business to convert a part of the -kitchen into a dining room, and thereafter to make the -toast. He had just reached this stage, when Cornelia took -another hand in the proceedings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go down and get the letters for me, Hercules," she said -suddenly, relieving him of the toaster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what's the hurry? Rob always gets them after -breakfast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do let Harry make the toast," said Janet, chiming -in with him. She, too, had thought of the letters, and was -in no hurry to bid the devil good morning. "Nobody can -eat toast the way you make it, Cornelia. And Robert is -sure to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt Robert will do exactly as </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> tell him," said -Cornelia, interrupting her sweetly. "Please let Harry do -as </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> tell him. Hercules, go </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>, please. I have a notion -there'll be some famous news for me this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kelly, having been her devoted (and despised) slave -since the day he ejected Hutchins Burley, obeyed submissively -by mere force of habit. He ran down the three flights -of stairs and in a very short time came back again with a -single letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was for Janet from Claude, and sarcasm was its -prevailing tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The writer began by deploring his fatuous inability to -remain away from her side. He pointed out that, as his -chance visits might take her by surprise or catch her off -guard, not to say worry her into thinking of promises she -had no mind to keep, he should take steps to rid her of his -manifestly superfluous attentions. He had accordingly -arranged to spend some time with his friends the -Armstrongs, in Huntington. By doing so he should at least -please his father, which was better than nothing, certainly -better than not pleasing either himself or her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, it was just such a petulant note as a spoiled -woman's darling like Claude might be expected to write. -Having always received complete submission from women, -he regarded the least opposition to his self-indulgence as -outrageous and even wicked or perhaps blasphemous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The depth and passion of Janet's nature were not easily -stirred, but this letter startled her out of her usual -lightheartedness. She sat down in a chair by the window and -looked out fixedly, in an effort to repress her feelings. Kelly, -sympathetic and bewildered, gave vent to sundry heartening -murmurs and exclamations; and, as these accomplished -little, he moved dishes attractively and hopefully around -Janet's empty place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From her point of vantage at the table, Cornelia surveyed -her handiwork with a pious simulation of sadness, surveyed -it, and found that it was not so bad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet blue and still, Kelly heavily anxious, Cornelia -sweetly sanctimonious, such was the curious tableau that -Robert saw when he came in, his slender frame and -vigorous movements forming a direct contrast to the static -spectacle before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, see what you've done, Cato!" declaimed Cornelia, -in one of those complacent greetings which only she could -make sublime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fluttered Claude's note aloft and called out the -sender's name for Robert's information.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ignoring her, but grasping the import of the scene, -Robert went over to Janet's side and asked her in all -simplicity whether he could be of any service whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she, to hide her tears, turned decisively away from -him. Robert gave her movement a totally different -interpretation, drew back, and walked quickly out of the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The alarums and excursions for which Claude and -Cornelia were responsible might well have monopolized Janet's -mind. But her thoughts were kept in flux by a thunderstorm -which threatened her peace from another quarter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new cloud on her horizon came from no less a -person than Mrs. Howard Madison Grey, the wife of her -employer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey served Janet as a symbol, a symbol opposed -to the Outlaws. The Outlaws were a convenient symbol of -the world </span><em class="italics">within</em><span> Kips Bay. Mrs. Grey was an equally pat -symbol of the world without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It amused Janet to study her own reactions to these two -symbols and to analyze her experiences with the moral -codes symbolized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>According to one of the primary conventions of the -Outlaws, sex was anybody's to have and nobody's to hold; -there was no recognized private property in sex. In Kips -Bay, Janet had acted in the spirit (though not in the letter) -of this convention. And the results had been disastrous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other hand, in the world beyond the model tenements, -the right of private property in sex was absolute. -In Mrs. Grey's world, Janet had acted in the spirit and -even in the letter of this convention. And again the results -had been disastrous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The second disaster materialized slowly. Its point of -departure was the visit paid by an ex-President of the -United States to a performance of Mr. Grey's third play, -"The Great Reprieve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As originally written, this was a drama in which a -Vermont Yankee resigns to a younger brother the girl he -madly loves, after which lofty sacrifice he starts life anew -in the Klondike, makes a fortune there, and later turns up -for a brief visit to the old homestead. To his dismay he -learns that the girl of his dreams has been left a widow -and that, with poverty and distress staring her in the face, -she has no choice but to take up the lot of an actress in the -great Subway Circuit. Nothing but his hand in marriage -can save her from the doom in store for her! And the -curtain falls on the Great Reprieve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The play was a triumph of mediocrity in conception, -construction, and style; yet for some unaccountable reason it -fell flat. The producer was reluctant to accept the verdict -of the playgoers for a fact, but a second footing-up of the -box-office revenues conquered his reluctance completely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half a dozen play-surgeons—writers of Broadway successes, -high-priced, fifth-rate super-hacks, before whose -names the public prostrated itself—were hastily called into -consultation and an immediate and drastic operation was -advised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No time was wasted in thinking. All six consultants took -a hand, so did the producer, so did the favorite chauffeur -of the producer's second best mistress. Three days and -three nights of heroic writing, drinking, and rehearsing -followed. At the end of this furious interlude, "The Great -Reprieve" had been whipped, or as the favorite chauffeur -said, "Goulasht" into shape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chief character in the revised version was a typical -American boy of fifteen (erstwhile the heroine's brother), -and upon his pranks, antics, impudence, and callowness, the -play now pivoted. The lad's capacity for noisy pertness -and imbecile clownage was represented as inexhaustible, yet -even so, the producer expressed a fear that the audience -might not be equal to the intellectual pressure of the -dialogue. Relaxing incidents were introduced—a woman -purring over a poodle dog, a chorus girl spouting the real -American language invented by George Ade, a squawking -parrot, and a Southern mammy (out of "Uncle Tom's -Cabin") worshipping the ground the leading juvenile treads on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These features were warranted to give the play its -"universal appeal"!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dramatic action there was none. Why cast pearls? -After all, there was plenty of movement, plenty of "pep" -and "kick" as the producer said. All the characters made -their entrances and exits with frenzied vehemence and, -whilst on the stage, jerked arms and body and legs ceaselessly -to and fro, as if in the last throes of St. Vitus' Dance. -The audience would get its money's worth of "speed"—so -much was provided for, if nothing else was. The dialogue -was spoken with a short, sharp, pop-gun explosiveness, -except in the maudlin sentimental scenes in which it was -drawled out into one world-without-end whine. Apart from -these details, nothing in particular was to happen in the -play; for nothing in particular mattered. However, a -squealing child was kept in reserve, ready to be trotted out -for "sure-fire" applause, if the "action" should chance to -flag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In its renovated form, Mr. Grey hardly recognized "The -Great Reprieve." It seemed to him that his comedy had -become an exact replica of each of the other ten American -comedies then playing in Times Square. This, though -Mr. Grey was no intellectual giant, made a difference to his -artist's pride. It made no difference to the Broadway -theatregoers. They fairly devoured the play. They -swallowed all the old wheezes and all the old slush and all -the George Ade lingo and all the Southern mammy stuff. -They swallowed it all without winking. Despite the fears -of the producer, they proved themselves to be almost fully -up to the intellectual level of the fifteen-year-old leading -juvenile. They greeted his every act of clownage and horseplay -with salvos of applause. They laughed themselves sick -over him. And when the poodle dog and the baby appeared, -the applause brought down the rafters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To put it mildly, Mr. Howard Madison Grey was -stupefied. However, the success of "The Great Reprieve" -became the talk of the town. An ex-President of the United -States went to see it and drenched his box with the tears of -hilarity and contentment. Next day, he described the play -as "a clean, wholesome play of American life, manners and -thought!—every one hundred per cent American will be -satisfied with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This description was henceforth underscored in every -advertisement of "The Great Reprieve." Seats were sold ten -weeks in advance. The producer and his crew of -play-salvagers added another feather to their caps. And -Mrs. Howard Madison Grey began to look for an apartment on -upper Park Avenue.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The ensuing increase in the volume of engagements and -correspondence threw Janet together with Mr. Grey for -uninterrupted stretches, oftener than Mrs. Grey thought -wise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before long, the author's wife noted significant alterations -in her husband's behavior.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Howard Madison Grey was nothing if not scientific. -She believed religiously in the scientific method and applied -it to all her activities, even to her excursions in jealousy. As -she hadn't read "Science and Power" by Fitzfield Tyler, the -efficiency engineer, for nothing, she understood thoroughly -that the proper method for scientific research proceeds by -three stages, namely:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One: Observing facts, without any preconceived notion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two: Imagining a general explanation or hypothesis that -establishes the relation of cause and effect between two -groups of facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three: Verifying this hypothesis, a process of determining -by means of personally conducted observations, whether -the hypothesis fits the facts it proposes to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Observing, imagining, verifying—these were the three -stages the trained investigator had to grasp. And -Mrs. Howard Madison Grey grasped them with considerable -kinetic energy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the first place, observation of the library during work -time ceased to reveal Mr. Grey in the careless act of dictating -in shirt sleeves and suspenders or of puffing cigarette -smoke unconcernedly towards Janet's innocent lungs. -Instead, it disclosed him in a handsome velvet smoking -jacket and betrayed the astonishing fact that from the very -moment the smoking jacket was exhibited the smoking -habit was suppressed. Clearly, Mr. Grey's behavior in the -past and his behavior in the present showed the existence -of two utterly different groups of facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To imagine a general explanation which should connect -these two groups of facts was the second and by long odds -the easiest step. Mrs. Howard Madison Grey formulated -the hypothesis that some perverse piece of femininity had -lost her head over Mr. Grey's resplendent fame and fortune, -and had set out to tempt him into the primrose path of -dalliance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third step was to verify this hypothesis with a series -of experiments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey began by putting Janet through a systematic -cross-examination. Didn't she think men looked revolting -in shirt sleeves and suspenders? Quite so. Frankly, -hadn't she simply longed to know a great literary genius -intimately? Naturally! And what might be her views on -the subject of nicotine? She thought smoking a disgusting -habit? Ah, well!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These answers were supplemented by scraps of information -obtained, it must be confessed, by experiments that -might have daunted any but a most dispassionate investigator. -Disregarding ethics, it is an open question whether -a personally conducted observation is better served by -studying truth face to face or by studying her through a -keyhole. Mrs. Grey's contribution to the answer was to -adopt the latter plan on the principle that all is fair in love -and science.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ratified the somewhat precarious keyhole method by -the surer method of sudden sallies into the library. She -heard Mr. Grey addressing his secretary in musically -resonant tones, and saw him showing undue solicitude for -her comfort. Nay more, she surprised them in animated, -unworkmanlike conversations. True, she did not get the -precise drift of these talks, but she was morally certain that -the talkers were discussing six of the deadly sins and -wishing the seventh. Though further proof was scarcely needed, -she found the straw that topped the climax. Mr. Grey -offered to double Janet's salary without request. The -conclusion forced itself on Mrs. Grey that her hypothesis was -incontestably established. It brought light out of darkness -and order out of chaos, besides fitting all the facts it -proposed to explain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lost no time in acting on the verified conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One Monday morning before Howard Madison Grey -returned from a week-end on the New Jersey coast, she -intercepted Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The new play," she said accusingly, "isn't progressing -very fast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," admitted Janet, "it isn't. So many topical matters -have had to be disposed of lately that the final copy of the -play has been held back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet could scarcely dwell on her employer's growing -penchant for conversation with her when his wife was -presumed to be securely occupied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Grey," said his wife, half reflectively, "Mr. Grey -has the creative temperament."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She frequently aired this phrase; it had, she believed, -the ring and tang of distinction. Privately, she thought -that the artistic temperament incapacitated a man from the -sane discharge of his most elementary duties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The creative temperament," she went on, "is too fine to -cope with the details of business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave Janet to understand that it was imperative that -the success of "The Great Reprieve" should be followed up -without delay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Sarsfield, the manager," continued Mrs. Grey, "has -just telephoned anxiously for the next manuscript."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Grey is still working on the revision of the third -act," said Janet. "As soon as he finishes it, I shall rush the -whole play through. Of course, I can type the first two -acts at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, do. But can you work uninterruptedly here? Perhaps -you could finish it faster at home—instead of coming -here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet jumped at the chance. "Certainly," she said, "I -can finish it at home in half the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey was taken aback. On second thoughts, she -put Janet's eagerness down to the new feminist strategy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the risk," she said, uneasily picturing the -precious pages at the mercy of the New York transit -services.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anxious to escape the assiduities of the wife, if not of the -husband, Janet gave reckless assurances of her devotion to -the manuscript.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey finally assented to the arrangement. Janet -was to take the manuscript in sections and, if the scheme -worked well, she might do all future typewriting for the -playwright in the same way. She need come to the Greys' -house only for the dictation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope Mr. Grey will be satisfied," Janet could not help -saying, once the bundle of papers was safely tucked under -her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope so," said Mrs. Grey meditatively. "But who can -fathom the ways of the creative temperament—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left an eloquent hiatus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From which Janet inferred that the shortest way with -that particular temperament was to let the explanation -follow the act.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This bout with the green-eyed monster had taken place -shortly before Claude's petulant flight to the Armstrong -estate in Huntington. To Janet the whole affair was very -ludicrous, and none the less so in that she had given -Mrs. Grey little cause for anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not for a moment had the newspaper acclaim of Howard -Madison Grey imposed upon her. Having measured her -own wits with the playwright's, she had formed an estimate -of his talents which caused her to reject with contempt the -fantastic eulogies of him in the press. She continued to -see in Mr. Grey what she had always seen, namely, a -decidedly middle-aged man with a bald head and a graceless -figure, a man whose amorous pleasantries and elderly -sentimentalism inspired her with the same distaste as the odor of -stale tobacco smoke with which his person seemed to reek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew quite well that she had captured his emotions -and his illusions, but as she had found no difficulty in -keeping his advances within bounds she had seen no reason -for giving the matter serious thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the day of Mrs. Grey's interference, Janet returned -to Kips Bay in high feather. This had mystified Cornelia, -who could not see in her friend's recital of events any great -cause for congratulation. She gloomily predicted that Janet -would soon lose her position altogether. Janet said she -didn't care. A change was the only stimulant she ever took -or needed. And any change, even a change for the worse, -would serve the purpose admirably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia wondered what was back of all this optimism -until Janet pointed out that, with her new program of work, -she could repay Robert for his many services to her. The -firm of Barr & Lloyd could now carry on business in the -mornings as well as in the afternoons, Robert sharing with -her the work that came in from the Greys and perhaps from -other authors, just as she had shared with him the work -that came in from the League of Guildsmen. This statement -was received in silence by Cornelia, who drew her own -conclusions and communicated them only to Harry Kelly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's offer to pool her secretarial jobs from all sources -with her typewriting for the League had been very welcome -to Robert. His funds were running uncomfortably low just -then. The reason was that the League was not a paying -concern. The economic changes advocated by the Guildsmen -were so drastic in character and called for so much -discipline and far-sighted cooperation on the part of the -working classes that the very people whom they were -intended to benefit fought shy of them. Leaders of labor -received the Guild proposals coldly, and the rank and file -gave them little sympathy and less support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For several mornings Robert and Janet pitched in with -a will on the typewriting of Mr. Grey's manuscripts. In the -afternoons they had continued the League work. Their -comradeship was a happy and an intimate one, how happy -and how intimate Janet did not fully realize until long -after it was over. Perhaps the most delightful periods -were those in which they proofread the manuscripts they -had finished. They took turns reading aloud, and endless -was the fun they extracted from the lines of Mr. Grey's -new play. More delightful still were excursions into the -fields of literature and economics, the play or some Guild -pamphlet furnishing the starting point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the partnership of Barr & Lloyd had gone on -swimmingly for two weeks, until the afternoon on the -recreation pier, the memorable afternoon that had begun with the -long talk about free love, and had ended in the model -tenement with Robert's kiss and Claude's sulky fit of -jealousy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the morning after this fateful day, Janet had to go -to the Howard Madison Greys' to return some finished -manuscripts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had gone there for this purpose some two or three -times a week, since the last arrangement with Mr. Grey. -On these occasions, the playwright himself met her. And -usually he spun out the interview as long as possible, due -regard being had to the prudent Mrs. Grey who, hovering -watchfully in the background, reminded Janet of a quiet -but overcautious museum attendant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey would frequently contrive to come into the -room for the undisguised purpose of glancing at or even -criticizing Janet's typewriting. The expectation of such a -visit made Janet, on this particular day, decidedly nervous. -For, what with her distraction by Claude's anger, and a -sudden crotchiness that had overtaken the typewriter, her -papers bore the glaring evidence of innumerable corrections -and erasures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, Mrs. Grey seemed for once to be off duty. So -at least Janet concluded from the fact that the author -himself received her with much less than his customary -constraint and far more than his ordinary enthusiasm. -And not only was he in the best of spirits; he was groomed -to perfection. He had put on a suit cut in a fashionable -English mode, with quaint cuffs on the sleeves of the coat -as well as on the bottoms of the trousers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These and other details of sartorial artistry were probably -lost on Janet, but she was sensible enough of the general -effect to surmise that her employer had dressed himself -to conquer. This surmise would have forced itself upon -her in any event, for Mr. Grey soon launched into repeated -hints looking to an assignation with her outside his home, -hints that presently crystallized into a direct invitation to -a dinner at Sherry's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>According to the principles of Kips Bay—and Janet at -this time subscribed to these principles—there was -absolutely no reason why Mr. Grey should not invite her and -absolutely no reason why she should not accept. But the -heart has a reason to which reason must bow. Janet's -heart was in submission to but one law, and that was the -law of her integrity. She could no more strike up a -friendship with a man to whom she was not naturally, -spontaneously drawn than she could fly. And she could hardly -pretend to be drawn to Mr. Grey. No, not even for the -pleasure of giving the suspicious Mrs. Grey something to be -suspicious about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, the man was too cocksure. He appeared to -share Mrs. Grey's conviction that the slightest nod on his -part would incline Janet (or any other woman) to follow -him to the ends of the earth. This was amusing. But it -was also irritating to one's pride of sex.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The trouble with Mr. Grey was that, having realized the -first of the two ambitions which governed his desires, he -felt satisfied he was about to realize the second. As an -author, he had conquered the public; as a man, he now -meant to conquer women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Janet, Mr. Grey's illusions about himself were as -transparent as his illusions about her. It was plain that -he took with the utmost seriousness the greatness that -had recently been thrust upon him. His reasoning was -quite simple. If success in pleasing the crowd and its -leaders did not imply the possession of superior gifts and -of a masterly technique in exploiting those gifts, what did -it imply?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reasoning struck Janet as puerile. Yet Mr. Grey -could hardly be expected to share her view that talent and -superb execution had never by themselves attracted the -plaudits of the crowd, or that the only man who could -please the million was the man born with the taste of the -million. Mr. Grey had been lucky enough to inherit this -taste. Why demand that he look a gift horse in the mouth?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the judgment of youth is direct and pitiless! It -seemed nothing less than ridiculous to Janet that Mr. Grey -should seriously pose as a fount of the divine fire, and -calmly invite her to become a ministering angel to the -sacred fount. What was still more ridiculous was that he -disguised his offer in weird, roundabout phrases calculated -to enable her to "save her face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was still confidently urging the project, when -Mrs. Grey swept in and fell upon them like a moral landslide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey did not stop to account for her unexpected -return, to disclose how long she had been eavesdropping, or -to listen to Mr. Grey's stumbling and embarrassed explanations. -Her belligerent manner left no doubt that she put -the very worst construction on what she had heard. Ignoring -Janet altogether, she opened her batteries full on her -husband and discharged a broadside of questions, short, -sharp and desolating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her questions were entirely rhetorical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was this the loyalty he had sworn to her, when she -picked him out of the gutter of obscurity and married him? -Had she not, all along, suspected that he was plotting an -affair with this girl? No doubt the girl had been setting -her cap at him, but was that a legitimate excuse for -inconstancy? At his age, he ought to be beyond a desire to -sow wild oats. Didn't he know that a mature man sowing -his wild oats presented as idiotic a spectacle as if he were -sucking his thumb? She didn't know or care what </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> -family would think, but was he proposing to besmirch the -unstained record of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> family with a divorce scandal? -And so on—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet listened in icy humiliation whilst the storm broke -over and around her. She expected every moment to be -caught up in it, whirled into its vortex, and destroyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What actually happened was that Mr. Grey played a -ghastly imitation of his masterful hero in "The Klondike -Mail," until his lady, infuriated by even this shadow of -defiance, reached a degree of tension that would have burst -a twelve-inch gun. Death and destruction were almost -afoot when she spied the typewritten papers which Janet -had just returned. She pounced upon these papers and -violently projected them to a point within three inches -of her spouse's nose, after which she regaled him with a -description of the flaws in the typewriting and the -deficiencies in the typist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This description was pithy, elaborate, exhaustive, but it -was not exactly verified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Followed an effective oratorical pause. And then -Mrs. Grey begged to be informed whether the quality of the -work was not ample evidence that the worker came for no -good and sufficient business reasons. No one venturing to -reply, she hurled the manuscripts at the head of Mr. Grey's -rapidly retreating form and, as her aim was marred by a -trifling miscalculation, she picked up another document and -took a shy at Janet. While Janet was warding off this -missile, the playwright made good his escape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Mrs. Grey," said Janet, standing her ground -boldly as her indignation got the better of her fright, "you -are behaving worse than a fishwife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey sobered down with incredible suddenness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor girl," she said, solicitously, "did I hit you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You came within an ace of knocking out one of my eyes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so. Within an ace. That was my intention, -precisely. I aimed for effect, not for damage. I assure you -I'm a first-rate shot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Grey had now composed her feelings and her dress, -both of which had been considerably ruffled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A husband is hard to get nowadays," she went on, -smiling, "but he is even harder to keep. When a charming -girl makes this comparative difficulty a superlative one, -she does a wife grave wrong. Still, under the circumstances, -I forgive you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't presume too much on my wickedness," said -Janet, smiling at this strange turn of affairs. "I'm -disgracefully inexperienced."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Inexperienced! Ah, well, men have an amazing weakness -for some kinds of inexperience—in a girl. In a wife -they're not so keen on it. My dear, if unmarried girls -would only put themselves in a wife's place, what a lot of -trouble they'd save—for us now and for themselves later on. -But of course, they can't do it. They think marriage is -a picnic on a motorcycle with the bride in the carriage -attachment. What a dream! Marriage is more like a -tennis game with the two players facing each other across -the dividing line of sex. You'll find that out the day -after the wedding! You'll know then that the only way to -manage a husband is to discover his weakest point and -keep driving at that until the game and the set are in your -hands. Mr. Grey's weakest point is his horror of facing -facts. He dreads a fact the way a boy dreads soap. I -discovered that at our honeymoon hotel when we debated -how to stop the waiter from serving us with cold soup. -Rather than compel the waiter to change it, Mr. Grey -tried to prove that the soup was really quite hot. No, I'm -not the tartar you think I am. I don't object to a man -having his fling now and then, provided it's a short fling. -But I can't let him get into the grip of a girl of your sort, -the permanent sort. That might introduce fatal complications, -and I don't mean to take any chances."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why did you let me come here in the first place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you took me in completely," replied this -astonishing woman. "You had none of the obvious female -ways. You were almost pathetically businesslike and -you seemed to be—well—no beauty. Excuse me for being -frank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The excuses are all on my side, I'm sure," said Janet, -highly amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all, my dear. I'm convinced I was quite wrong. -You grow on one, even on a woman. I soon found out -that beneath your dovelike innocence there was a -serpentine wisdom. It's a magic combination. No man can -resist it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mrs. Grey. This flattery is more than I -deserve, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no good protesting. There is a devilish fascination -about you. If I'm beginning to feel it myself, what must -poor Mr. Grey feel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with a gesture which betokened that, in these -matters, feelings transcended verbal arguments and oral -contracts, she paid Janet what was owing to her and made -it clear that she need not come again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door, she wished Janet good luck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," she said, "as a typist you cut rather a poor -figure. But that combination I spoke of—it's worth a -fortune—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went away not knowing whether to laugh or to -cry. A good cry would not have come amiss; and yet, as -she counted up the fortunes of the last two days, she -could not help observing that her mishaps had trod on one -another's heels in a procession that was well-nigh comic. -Claude's letter and flight, Cornelia's bad temper, her own -involuntary rudeness to Robert, the crop of errors in the -playwright's manuscript, Mrs. Grey's impertinences, and -the crowning loss of her position—here was a downpour of -calamities amounting to a regular deluge!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And not a single ray of sunshine in sight, either.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On second thoughts, she had to admit that this statement -was not strictly true. For Robert would probably be -home, and what an immense relief it would be to tell him -all that had happened to her! At the same time she would -be able to obliterate the effect of yesterday's rudeness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For she guessed that Robert's feelings had been deeply -hurt by her gesture of withdrawal from him. But she felt no -doubt of her power to conciliate him or to conquer his just -resentment. In fact, she had so little doubt of this power -that, the nearer home she got, the more she looked forward -to the prospect of exercising it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ah, yes, it would be simple and sweet to make up with -Robert, and they should spend a very jolly afternoon -together, working over sundry papers and planning new -activities for the firm of Barr & Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And (such is the peremptory, indomitable influence of -the heart!), her spirits rose again. In the full flush of -agreeable anticipation, she began to turn the day's -adventures over in her mind. As she did so, she gave them a -humorous twist, for she meant to relate them to Robert -entertainingly, in return for his expected concession to her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER NINETEEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On reaching her own street, Janet had to plough her -way to the Lorillard tenements through shoals of children -that scampered about as derelict as herself. She felt the -keenest pity for these little tots who came from the very -immodel tenements not far away, where five or even eight -people existed in a single room, defying the decencies of -life by day and mocking them by night in order to live up -to "the highest standard of living" in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not expect Robert until two o'clock, when he -regularly returned from the League of Guildsmen. In the -interval she looked, as a matter of course, under Cornelia's -alarm clock, where the four friends were in the habit of -putting brief communications for one another. She found -the following note addressed to her in Robert's painstaking -hand:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Dear Janet:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Forgive me for not being on hand this afternoon. During -the next few days, and perhaps longer, I shall be in -Pittsburgh. For some time, therefore, the whole burden of -the firm of Barr & Lloyd will have to rest on the -shoulders of one partner. Lucky that this partner is so -thoroughly staunch and dependable, isn't it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What is taking me out of town is the strike in Pittsburgh. -Thousands of steel workers have laid down their -tools in protest against the conditions under which they are -obliged to work. The contest between these men and their -all-powerful employers is horribly uneven, and the apathy -of the general public towards the issues at stake is -appalling. Naturally, every agency that is pledged to the -success of a healthy labor movement must pitch into this -prickly business. For the strikers need all the help they -can get, whether of a material or a moral kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is on the moral side that our League of Guildsmen -comes in. The recent war has filled the earth with -indescribable bitternesses and resentments. It has also given -sovereign strength to the idea that henceforth the control -of the world's affairs must be taken away from the idlers -and profiteers and given to the workers and producers. At -every turn, omens of a vast incalculable change force -themselves upon our senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clearly, those who don't want a bloody revolution have -got to work tooth and nail for a pacific one. Now the -Guildsmen, being advocates of a change that shall be peaceful -though drastic, have a vital interest in drumming it into -people's heads that violence can never breed anything save -violence and violence again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You see, don't you, that I am needed there far more than -here? Please believe that I'm sorry in the last degree to -upset our joint business plans and to hold up "The -Klondike Mail" on the typewriter at just the critical moment -when Mr. Grey's double-dyed desperadoes are holding it up -in the middle of the third act. It makes me feel like an -accessory to the crime, all the more so in that it gives you, -at the secretarial end, the task of foiling one more villain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrangements have been made at the League office for the -delivery to you of another batch of Mss. Could you call in -there tomorrow afternoon?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More later, as soon as my plans are surer.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Ever yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Robert.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. On second thoughts, it seems a shame that you -should be saddled with a partner who is bound to be more -or less on the jump. I recall the plan you confided to me -last week, the plan of turning Barr & Lloyd into a real -secretarial business on an extensive scale. With this on -your mind, you may well fear that my haphazard movements -will prove ruinous to any settled policy. If so, and -whenever you can find a more stable associate, please have -no compunction about making a change. We must not let -sentiment stand in the way of good management.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"He can't even say good-bye without delivering a lecture," -said Janet bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt aggrieved. Just when she needed Robert most, -he left her in the lurch. True, his direct connection with -the labor movement made his departure inevitable. But -did he have to rush off to Pittsburgh the very moment -the strike broke out? She supposed his haste was partly -prompted by his injured feelings. If not, why had he so -needlessly offered to dissociate himself from her, why, -indeed, had he written such an entirely cold, unsympathetic -letter?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like his cold, unsympathetic views on love," she said -to herself, recalling with some scorn his severe, intolerant -pronouncements on the free love theme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She reviewed the business-like contents of the letter with -a growing sense of desolation. It looked as though she were -in for a dismal evening, one of those dismal evenings that -are enormously good for us </span><em class="italics">afterwards</em><span>, because at the time -they so thoroughly plough up our deepest feelings.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the facts of the present were too disturbing to -permit her to extract much consolation from a philosophy -of the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Janet's difficulties were by no means entirely -sentimental.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Much as Claude's anger and Robert's coolness tortured -her feelings, it was the destruction of her plans that chiefly -occupied her thoughts. These were the plans that Robert -had referred to in his letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ably assisted by Cornelia, whose power of sketching the -most imposing schemes quite exhausted her capacity for -executing even the humblest ones, Janet had mapped out -a very ambitious career for herself. Her intention was to -make the most of her stenographic foothold; to accumulate -enough resources to permit a spur, so to speak, to be run -into the domain of the law; and eventually to reach a point -where the secretarial specialty and its legal intertwinings -should be united in one occupation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, as Cornelia all aglow remarked, a time when -women were not only casting down the barriers raised by -men around the old professions, but were actually -bestirring themselves to carve out brand-new professions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What Cornelia put into enthusiasm, Janet proposed to -put into cold deeds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a first step in this direction, she resolved that the firm -of Barr & Lloyd, which had been born in jest, should -be reared in dead earnest. Her work for Mr. Grey, a -certain amount of casual work which she was getting from -friends of the playwright, and such odd jobs as Robert -brought from the Guild League—these three sources were -to form the basis of a secretarial office dealing with authors' -manuscripts in relation to typing, revision, criticism, and -so on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, Barr & Lloyd (Barr first, because Robert, as -an advocate of the absolute equality of men and women, -insisted that the correct order of precedence was a strictly -alphabetical one)—Barr & Lloyd were to be manuscript -specialists, handling every conceivable matter linked up -with the preparation and sale of manuscripts and the -protection of authors' rights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Robert, Janet had extracted a promise to supervise -the department of criticism and revision. Claude (this was -before his flight in a fit of pique) had refused to take the -project seriously. Cornelia, in her most pronounced </span><em class="italics">bel -canto</em><span> style, had volunteered to "lend a helping hand" to -the typewriting department and to give her moral support -to most of the other departments. As Janet's last illusions -about Cornelia were being speedily dissipated, and as she -judged that some birds in a bush are worth ten in the hand, -she contracted for Cornelia's moral support and nothing -but her moral support in all the departments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as regards the legal department. Janet held that, -in order to round out her business in the most complete -way, one member of the firm ought to be equipped with a -first-hand training in jurisprudence. She saw nothing for -it but to be this member herself, and accordingly she had -already made arrangements to attend the coming fall sessions -of an Evening Law School. Needless to say, this part of -her dream had not been so much as breathed to Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet intended, as soon as she had passed her bar examination, -to specialize on all points of law bearing on literary -and dramatic productions, the rights of authors, and the -relations between the buyers and sellers of manuscripts. -She had been put onto this idea by a popular short-story -writer, one of Mr. Grey's friends. This man had assured -her that the literary field, on its legal side, was practically -a virgin field. Merchants, inventors, landlords, captains -of industry and the like could, where the law touched their -spheres of influence, find appropriate legal specialists with -all the precedents, traditions, decisions, appeals, evasions, -etc., at their fingers' ends. Authors alone were in no such -happy case. The legal background of authorship was a -vast morass of contradictions, quibbles and uncertainties. -Authors were frequently at sea in respect of their rights, -constantly handicapped in the matter of expert advice, and -always liable to be done in the eye by the more unscrupulous -members of the fraternity of editors, publishers, managers -and agents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, then, was the field that Janet meant to conquer. -She had a roseate vision of Barr & Lloyd occupying a -suite of offices on the lower end of Madison or Park Avenue. -If fortune favored her, these offices were to be staffed with -ambitious young women assistants whom she would help -to useful and honorable careers (as far as male prejudice -and discrimination would allow). Barr & Lloyd, in other -words, besides their primary business as manuscript -practitioners, would have a secondary mission, namely, that -of multiplying the avenues along which woman might march -towards economic equality with men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such was the purpose which Janet had already begun to -work for. She now saw all her plans collapsing like a -pricked balloon. The action taken by Mrs. Grey meant -the loss of much potential custom which she had hoped -would grow by recommendation out of the Grey patronage. -The most galling, stabbing fact in all this sorry business -was the reflection that she had failed not merely in her -human and business dealings but in her workmanship. If -only she hadn't made a mess of those last manuscripts for -the playwright, the ones she had prepared under the strain -of Claude's tempestuous displeasure! Mrs. Grey's taunt -still rankled in her ears: "As a typist, you cut a very poor -figure—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, Mrs. Grey had tacked on another phrase—the -one about her "magic combination." But what did this -trumped-up compliment weigh against the maddening -behavior of Claude and Robert?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both of them had deserted her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was not addicted to the windy heroics cultivated -by the Outlaws of Kips Bay, but for once she believed -herself entitled to indulge in them. She really felt deserted. -By Claude, by Robert, by Cornelia and, of course, by her -family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How naturally I think of the family when I'm glum!" -was her silent comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her thoughts ran back to the time when she had left -home in defiance of Mrs. Barr's ultimatum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since then, her mother had written one letter full of -that spirit of Christian forbearance that has driven so -many people into the devil's camp. After that, not another -word from her. But there had followed a steady stream -of appeals from her father, imploring her to come back at -any price, swearing that life at home was not worth living -without her, and promising to do anything in the wide -world she demanded (except, as Janet sardonically observed -to herself, damp down her mother's tyranny a trifle. He -had never had, and he never would have, the nerve to do -this or to put up the least show of fight.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a last effort, her sister Emily had paid a visit to the -Lorillard tenements—partly perhaps from curiosity. She -affirmed that she had come of her own free will, and -probably believed this statement to be the truth. Janet knew -very well that her sister was, consciously or unconsciously, -the family ambassador. The Barrs always throve best when -their right hand did not know what their left hand was -doing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily, all a-tingle with the exhilaration which an angel -inevitably feels when descending upon a glittering abode of -vice, had tried hard not to betray her excitement. In a -tone essenced with pious sorrow and celestial distress! -She had assured the erring one (though not in these words), -that all would be forgiven if only she returned to her home -before the world (of the Barrs) should discover that a Barr -had abandoned Brooklyn for Kips Bay, and her family for -the society of atheists, Bolshevists, and Bohemians!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I haven't the faintest notion of abandoning you," -Janet had replied. "I believe I can lead a fuller, freer, more -active life away from mother's apron strings, that's all. Of -course I want to see the family from time to time. I could -come on short visits—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emily had assured her, not without a trace of -exultation, that Mrs. Barr would never hear of such a cool -arrangement. Either the prodigal daughter returned once -and for all, or the family would treat her as dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really! But how you'll miss the funeral!" Janet had -wickedly exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At which Emily had put on her gloves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All later messages sent by Janet to her mother in an -effort to put their mutual relations on a more reasonable -footing had been severely ignored. The only communications -she had received were growingly infrequent notes from -her father, and these contained nothing but the same old -appeals—sentimental, pathetic, fatuous.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The doorbell startled her out of her long, melancholy -reverie. She flew to the threshold, and in came Claude! -She had proposed to treat him coolly at their next -meeting. But his return was as sudden as it was -unexpected. And he was Claude, the same Claude with the -same striking appearance, the same telling voice, the same -handsome face. Instantly, the magnetic spark that had -darted from one to the other at the Outlaws' Ball made -its swift, poignant, thrilling leap between them again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though words were superfluous, Claude, as he clasped -her in a passionate embrace, murmured:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, darling, forgive me. I was a beast to write a -letter like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confession is good for the soul," said Janet, laughing -and trying to release her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you angry? Well, you ought to be. And I ought -to grovel in the dust at your feet. You are a saint to -forgive me, and I should be ashamed to accept forgiveness -if I hadn't suffered. Yes, Janet, I've suffered cruelly. I -never had so keen a grief and I never so thoroughly -deserved one. But I'm nearly ill with worry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> look pale, nor did it hurt his cause that pallor -became him. Besides, his apologies were as overwhelming -as his fits of temper. How could the poor girl help -forgiving him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so Janet, who but a few minutes before had been -considering (mock-heroically to be sure) sundry historic -forms of self-slaughter, now forgot all about jumping off -Brooklyn Bridge, etc., and poured a heavenly compassion -on Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something happened in Huntington," she said. "Something -serious. Does it involve me? I want you to tell me -straight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That scoundrel Burley tipped my father off about us, -and as a result, the old man is half out of his wits. He is -determined that my marriage with Marjorie shall not fall -through, for the one terror of his life is that of disobliging -Mr. Armstrong. In what form the word was passed along -the line, I don't know. But they were at me, one and all, -day and night, giving me a hundred and one sly intimations -of the general satisfaction that would follow the much -desired event. The pressure got to be unbearable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said that the older people had left no stone unturned -to bring the Armstrong-Fontaine alliance to pass. Pacing -the floor restlessly, he spoke of the delicate hints, the veiled -references, the consummate skill with which he and Marjorie -were engineered into tete-a-tetes. Could Janet picture -him alone with Marjorie, and the resultant sessions of -sweet, silent thought? Had she any idea of what the -imperious will of Armstrong's daughter could do in the way -of maneuvering a man into the most difficult situations? -Janet had little difficulty in calling up an image of -the stately brunette with lustrous dark hair, patrician -nose, and sulky, discontented mouth. This imposing young -lady had impressed herself indelibly upon Janet's mind -at the Mineola Aerodrome, and, such are the unfathomable -processes of sex, Janet profoundly pitied Claude. She -did this without a suspicion that he might be drawing -generously upon his imagination for the sake of that very -pity of hers, which she gave him so divinely. Nor did it -occur to her that there were few young men in all New -York who would have been in unrelieved misery if -Marjorie Armstrong had set her cap at them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a matter of fact, Claude quite omitted to mention -that he had gone to Huntington with more than a vague -notion of finding out whether he and Marjorie couldn't -hit it off together, after all; also that, if Marjorie, with all -her eagerness to capture him, had not so plainly exposed -her design of "bossing" the marriage after it had taken -place—well, then—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What he did say, was:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I was left quite free to do as I pleased. Oh, -quite free. They wouldn't lead the horse to water—not -they, that would be brutal coercion—they would simply -make it drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This irony expressed the full truth. Claude had virtually -given his father a promise not to marry Janet. But -Mr. Fontaine senior put no faith in vows that were subject to -the stresses and strains of love. Mistrustful of his son's -infatuation and also of the unknown quantity of Janet's -ambition, he did not scruple to adopt any tactical measure -by which the union of the Armstrong-Fontaine forces -might be achieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean to do?" asked Janet, greatly troubled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">can</em><span> I do? What can </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> prisoner do? Run -away, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What—without me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you see, I'm planning to go to Europe, darling. -Separated by the Atlantic I shall be able to make my position -much clearer to my father. An ocean is an astonishing -convenience when it stands between the giver and the -receiver of an explanation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but why can't I go, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dear innocent," he said, taking her hand tenderly, -"we can't go cavorting over two continents as if we were -merely joy-riding from here to Quakertown."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" she persisted, with her customary refusal -to be sidetracked.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The question embarrassed him. Even had he been clear -about the train of thought at the back of his mind, he could -not, in all brutal directness, have said: "A man in my -station does not flaunt his mistresses in the face of the -public. That is all very well for the vulgar rich. But not -for my sort. High-class polygamy is strictly </span><em class="italics">sub rosa</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude did not explicitly think this, much less say it. -His chief difficulty in the way of reaching a straightforward -understanding with Janet was that his mind did not work -straightforwardly upon the problem of sex relations. His -adopted radical professions were entirely subordinate to -powerful, instinctive reactions along traditional lines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, at heart, he had little use for Janet's views about -free love. To Janet, the term meant a public abandonment -of an obsolete institution. To Claude, it was little more -than a polite synonym for illicit intercourse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude, in fact, had no deep quarrel with existing -institutions. He prided himself on being tolerant, and his -tolerance extended to the institutions of Bohemianism -(which had no recognition in law), as well as to the -institutions of the established order (which enjoyed this -recognition). His support of "advanced" art, his membership -in the Outlaws' Club, his philandering among the Lorillard -tenementers—these were all ways of escape from the -particularity of normal civilized life. Bohemianism, by -systematically discarding troublesome forms, costly -conventions and restrictive social obligations, really organized -these ways of escape for him and provided a maximum of -pleasure with a minimum of effort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was, therefore, by no means prepared to go as far -as Janet wished to go, openly; yet he was fully prepared -to go to the limit, clandestinely. So much so, that a severe -critic like Robert would have said that Claude was deliberately -taking advantage of Janet's inexperienced outlook on -life. And it was quite true that Claude was willing to profit -by her belief in free love, although he was far from willing -to champion this belief, much less to become a martyr in -its promotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if he was exploiting Janet's infatuation for him, -he was not doing so consciously. And the fact remained -that, had she been so minded, she could just as easily have -exploited his infatuation for her. Indeed, the latter would -have been easier. Claude was not aware of this. He was -aware only of his own power, and he believed he was -exercising almost superhuman self-control in an effort to avoid -compromising her future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He believed he was doing this now, whilst fishing for an -answer to Janet's candid "</span><em class="italics">why not?</em><span>" A few hours earlier, in -Huntington, under the concerted pressure of the Armstrong -family, he had realized that he would have to give up -either Marjorie or Janet; and it had occurred to him that -if he took Janet now, Marjorie was not lost to him later; -whereas if he took Marjorie now, Janet was lost to him -forever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Naturally, it was not in terms of pitiless realism that he -sought to explain his choice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A more heroic explanation was that he had given up -Marjorie for Janet's sake, and that, on a peremptory -summons of the heart, he had run away from Huntington -determined to risk everything—from his father's wrath to the -loss of Mr. Armstrong's protection in the matter of -smuggled diamonds. The heroic explanation was the one he -meant to give to Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking, at the moment, into Janet's gray eyes in their -superb setting of long, dark lashes, he was ready to give -his thoughts any form that might be acceptable to her. -Surely, such a mixture of radical daring and native good -sense, of enticement and candor, of self-reliance that -ennobled her and soft yielding that flattered </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>—such a -mixture had never before been found in one woman. It -made her exquisite, enigmatic, thrilling and quite -indispensable to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So reasoned his heart. And all his commanding -nonchalance returned.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The result was that when Janet, failing to get an answer -to her question, repeated anew her wish to accompany -him abroad, he enfolded her in his arms and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After all, why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And after a fervent embrace, he added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, I think you ought to face what's in store for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let's cross bridges, Claude," she pleaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll get married, of course," he went on, unheeding her. -"Frankly, my father won't like it. He'll probably make -Rome howl. However, he'll get used to it in the -end—especially when he meets you. But, though there's a storm -ahead, you are brave and we'll weather it, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father won't raise a storm," said Janet, with a -strange smile, "for a small but important reason. -Remember, I'm not going to be married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I don't believe in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They argued the matter pro and con, she spiritedly, he -lamely. Janet pointed out, among other things, that when -Mr. Fontaine senior learnt of their free union he was little -likely to attempt any serious interference, but would count -on time to separate them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Love's not Time's fool!'" said Claude, quoting dithyrambically. -"We'll never be separated, darling, will we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—not for the present," said Janet, with dancing -eyes. "I won't vouch for our dim and distant feelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No teasing, you darling imp!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude, I mean it. If—if it should turn out that your -father was right, that will merely prove that we were -wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was at a complete loss how to treat her incredible -self-surrender. As a man of the world, he was part -scandalized, part uneasy, according as he swerved from the -conviction that Janet was candid, to the suspicion that she -was designing. Again, as a gay Bohemian trifler, he saw -in her attitude an easy way out of possible complications. -Whether he should or should not carry out his offer of -marriage was now a question he would not have to face. -She did not mean to put his vows to the test! This was -breath-bereaving, staggering; it was even slightly annoying. -But, her eccentric choice being a fact, surely the -consequences did not rest on his soul?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, you don't know what you are doing!" he cried -out involuntarily, being torn many ways at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She, too, was greatly agitated; but, under the pressure of -her theory, she kept her head. While he stood there as if -distraught, she poured out a flood of reasons to which he -scarcely listened. For instance, she said it was criminal -for two people to form a permanent union or bring children -into a family until they were sure of being well-suited to -each other and of establishing a family that children would -wish to enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All marriages ought to be trial marriages of the kind that -George Meredith had suggested long ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, until she became independent in the matter -of money, she couldn't dream of subscribing to any -permanent arrangement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He replied that this was all nonsense and derided -Meredith as a bookworm and a dreamer. For his own part, -hadn't he money enough to provide for them both? If she -wouldn't take half his money, she didn't love him. That -was flat!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do love you!" cried Janet, with more visible emotion -than before. "That's why I mustn't marry you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose with a wild movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must save myself—and you, too!" he murmured. -"I'm going abroad by the first steamer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But these words were dashed with insurgent passion. -Handsome, hypnotic, intense, his whole being vibrated -towards her. She surrendered incontinently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not without me!" she said, enchaining him in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He kissed her tempestuously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a daring step, and a perilous one," he said, more -in weak protest than in forceful remonstrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, no!" she cried, as with a gesture of ecstasy -she hid her face on his shoulder.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="nemesis"><span class="bold large">PART IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">NEMESIS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One morning in the middle of August, Harry Kelly cut -short his gymnastics and went downstairs to get fruit, -cream and rolls for Cornelia, as he had done daily since -Janet left. The letter box held one letter, a fat one, -postmarked Paris. Cornelia was inclined to be lackadaisical -before breakfast, but a letter enlivened her at once, -especially if it came from a long-lost friend or bore a foreign -postmark. Kelly sent his powerful form bounding up the -staircase, the victuals being safeguarded by a miracle of -balancing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A letter from Paris," he called out joyfully, as he -entered Apartment Fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From Janet!" exclaimed Cornelia with conviction. One -glance at the handwriting verified her guess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet's hand," she said, and tore the envelope open -feverishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wouldn't you enjoy reading it more after breakfast?" -he said wistfully as he watched Cornelia unfolding a great -many pages of writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an idea! Make the coffee, Hercules, there's a -good boy. The water is boiling; all you need to do is to -pour the water on the coffee and let it stand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Kelly had fallen sole heir to the daily duty of -preparing her breakfast, he uncomplainingly went to work. -Meanwhile, Cornelia, in a very becoming green-and-gold -Mimosa jacket, sat down on a lounge and buried herself -in Janet's letter.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Dear Cornelia:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Here I am in the Luxembourg Gardens, alone with my -fountain pen and my pad of paper, Claude having gone to -the races as the guest of a Russian Grand Duke. I feel ages -removed from the days of Kips Bay, though by the calendar -only four weeks have gone by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why haven't you heard from me in all this time? That, -I imagine, is the first question you would ask me if we met -face to face. No, you wouldn't. You would divine the -answer. You would know that the blinding, paralyzing, -notoriety into which we were suddenly plunged, left me with -but one desire, the supreme desire for solitude. A desert -without a single oasis would not have been too lonely for -me to live in. For a few days even Claude—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those cruel headlines, those stabbing capital letters! -Like points of fire in a demon dance they riot in and out -of my memory yet. "Affinity or Elopement!" "Fontaine -Heir Meets Enchantress on Baronia!" "Diamond King's -Son in Joy-Ride to Europe!" How did the inquisition -happen to overlook such exquisite weapons of torture as huge -red capitals on a smooth white space?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Writing the letters down affords a mild relief. To my -physical sight, not to my mind's eye. Oh yes, I actually -saw the headlines that Hutchins Burley fabricated in his -newspaper story. Some thoughtful enemy of Claude's -took pains to have a copy of the </span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span> -forwarded to his Paris address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Didn't you guess at once that Hutchins was the beast -responsible for the publicity we got? That vicious man -has a mortal grudge to pay off against me or against Claude -or perhaps against us both. But what for?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How he got on our track, heaven alone knows. Heaven -and Mark Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, Cornelia, our own Mark Pryor (the human embodiment -of the theory of protective coloration, as Robert -called him)—he it was who brought me the fateful news. -In this wise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the second morning out, I was taking a turn around -the deck by myself, while Claude was chatting with the -captain. (The "Baronia's" captain is an old friend of -Claude's family, the Fontaines being heavy shareholders in -the steamship company. This was the connection that -enabled us to get accommodations at such short notice, -the purser's room having been given up to me and the -second engineer's quarters to Claude.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I said, I was roving about the upper deck, when one -of the ventilators or posts or something, suddenly became -alive. Or so it seemed to my startled eyes. Walking -remorselessly towards me, this no longer stationary object -magically assumed the form and voice of Mark Pryor! You -could have knocked me down with a feather. (By the way, -I'm more certain than ever that he's a detective or a spy -or a Soviet propagandist—or can he be merely an American -novelist studying life for the </span><em class="italics">Saturday Evening Post</em><span>?)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever the key to his inmost mystery, I've always been -greatly taken with him. He's like a flash of lightning on a -pitch-dark night: his comings and goings are never more -sinister or mysterious than when his sudden vivid presence -gives them a momentary relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without letting me into the secret of his skill at sleight-of-hand -(or rather, sleight-of-feet), he drew me aside and -told me in a most sympathetic way of the story about -Claude and me that was being headlined in the </span><em class="italics">Evening -Chronicle</em><span> and that was soon to be the gossip of two -continents. The information had breezed his way—by -wireless. Out of pure regard for me, he had bribed the radio -man to keep mum. Wasn't it splendid of him? But he -warned me to prepare for a leak. "The only thing you -can keep dark nowadays is the truth," he said, in his quiet -way, without a twinkle in his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He also said that Hutchins Burley was certainly at the -bottom of the whole scandal. He was sure of this, because -he had seen Burley on the pier shortly before the "Baronia" -left, and because of other reasons which he declared he was -not at liberty to divulge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After predicting that we should meet again, Mr. Pryor -"faded away" as imperceptibly as usual, leaving me a prey -to my thoughts. My heart was mostly in my boots and I -can tell you I was getting pretty limp when I pulled myself -up short with the reminder that I must pluck up a little -courage if only to show that I deserved a disinterested -friend like Mr. Pryor. (He's in France at present, on some -dark business or other. I don't care how dark, I'm glad -he's here. The mere fact gives me the sensation of being -watched over. I'm confident that Mark Pryor's keen -sight is at least as far-reaching as the long arm of -coincidence.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It wasn't exactly a picnic to tell Claude the news. Like -most of us, Claude thrives wonderfully well on good luck -but takes bad luck hard. Naturally, to a man who has so -many important friends, newspaper notoriety is a bitter pill -to swallow. Claude raged at his fate with a violence that -frightened me. He tortured himself by anticipating the -libels to which his character would be exposed, the pictures -of himself and me that the yellow newspapers would print, -the slanders that the busybodies would privately circulate. -How his father and the Armstrongs would take the affair -was another source of torment. And then there was the -fear that the story might leak out on the "Baronia" and that -we should become the talk of the ship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a calamity. And the worst of it was that Claude -appeared to think I was in some way directly responsible -for it. His anger worried me far more than the notoriety -did; the angrier he got, the more the notoriety sank into -relative insignificance. He accused me of being callous! -Wasn't that monstrously unjust? Merely because my -advice was that we should make the best of a very bad -matter and face the world as if nothing had happened of -which we were ashamed. He took my calmness, which was -all on the surface, as a personal affront. It infuriated him -more (if that were possible) than the exposure, and caused -him to accuse me of disloyalty and lack of sympathy. Are -men ever satisfied? They pretend that they can't endure -a weeping woman. Yet, give them a stoical countenance, -and they'll ask for tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, Cornelia, this was not the first rift. That had come -on the very evening we sailed, when the passengers held a -dance on deck in the moonlight. I was not feeling very -well and danced only once, but Claude did full duty as a -leader of the cotillion. During his absence from my side, -a young British captain in mufti (he had been an ace in -the war) sat down in a steamer chair next to mine and -helped me, what with his charming manner and his -gorgeous British accent, to while away the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All went swimmingly until, in an interval between dances, -Claude came back to me. Can you call up an image of -Claude, the magnificent, approaching at a temperature of -absolute zero? His manner, of the ice icy, froze the poor -captain dead away. This done, he turned on me and asked -me what I meant by "picking a man up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You can imagine that I replied pretty tartly, and one -word led to another till we reached a point where Claude -threatened that he would never marry me—no, not for all -the king's horses and all the king's men. At this, I burst -out laughing. My laughter was immodest, unladylike, -spiteful. And I should have regretted it, had Claude -understood me. But Claude is in some respects a reincarnation -of Kipling's famous vampire lady. He had never -understood, and now, he never will understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I'm running ahead of my story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we feared, rumor and gossip about us soon had free -rein on board the "Baronia." Poor Claude had to bear the -brunt of this annoyance and of the Captain's anger too. -That Claude and a lady were together on the voyage had -certainly been a secret, but a secret to which the old -sea-dog was a party. The Captain's sense of propriety was not -outraged by the secret. It was outraged only when the -secret became a matter of common knowledge. And he -did not permit a feeling of delicacy to restrain his -indignation against his fellow conspirators.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What happened on the "Baronia" was trifling compared -to the furor of our landing at Southampton. We were met -by "all the latest London papers" filled with the wildest -details of our "elopement." That is the way they featured -our experiment over here. It was described as the -elopement of a young multimillionaire with a poor plebeian -stenographer, an elopement carried out in the teeth of a -tyrant father with invincibly aristocratic prejudices. Shades -of the Barrs and their Mayflower ancestry!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Worse remained behind. The English reporters promptly -spotted Claude. You can't be six feet two in your socks -and have the airs and graces of Prince Charming, without -being conspicuous even amongst a crowd of first-class -passengers on a fifty-thousand-ton liner. When the -newspaper men plied poor Claude with questions, I began to -weaken at the knees. But Claude was a trump. He kept -his most nonchalant air, gave cleverly evasive answers, and -even begged one of his tormentors for a cigarette quite in -the style of the imperturbable villain of a screen play. -Then a battery of motion picture men turned their cameras -on us. Mark Pryor and the British captain swooped down -to the rescue at this critical moment, which was very lucky -for us, as we had just about exhausted our nerve (to say -nothing of our nerves).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stayed in London barely forty-eight hours. In spite -of our assumed names we were bundled out of three hotels, -thanks to the curiosity of reporters who kept after Claude -as though he were a ticket-of-leave man. I had supposed -that only American journalists hounded people, but -evidently the London tribesmen have taken a leaf out of the -New York book in the matter of pitiless persistence. Claude -felt so harassed, outraged and persecuted that he could not -get out of London fast enough. He saw a reporter in every -strange face and lived in constant dread of another forced -interview until we were safely across the Channel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now I had better answer the question that I know -is uppermost in your mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We have been living as a married couple! Now it's out. -Your Janet, the bold and fearless advocate of free unions, -has been masquerading as a wife, a timorous and trustful, -cowering and respectable wife, differing from other wives -only in being a fraud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It's a terrible comedown, a sickening fall from grace, -isn't it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what else could I have done, short of leaving Claude -entirely?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You see, Cornelia, the stark fact was that we couldn't get -accommodations anywhere except by pretending that we -were married. Had we declined to make this pretense, we -couldn't have remained together at all unless we adopted -all sorts of secret, underground, time consuming devices. -It was a choice between the pretense and the secrecy—a -Hobson's choice, so far as I could see.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cornelia's lips curled with contempt. She could not -escape the reflection that she had showed much more -courage when </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> had been in London with Percival -Houghton.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I must add that free love, at any rate in my case, has -proved a failure, a dead failure. I do not say that trial -experiments in loving and living together should not be -made, but I do say that the time is not ripe for them. At -present, the two scores I have against free love are: First, -that it simply won't work; and second, that the only thing -about it that is </span><em class="italics">free</em><span> is the undesired advertising one gets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This conclusion has not been reached in what Mrs. Grey -calls the cool, disinterested spirit of the dispassionate -investigator. All the same, it is my conclusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, it is an abominable thing that a unique, -intensely individual experience like love should have to be -made the subject of public inquiry and official registration -before it can claim to be legitimate. In a more highly -civilized nation, such a state of affairs would be -unthinkable. But amongst us! Well, when you think of our -housing, transport, and domestic arrangements, when you -remember how primitive and rigid these still are, can you -expect more fluid and elastic relations between the sexes to -be welcomed or even understood?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Huh," exclaimed Cornelia, half aloud, "she got all that -from Robert."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Please don't picture me as sitting down and wringing my -hands. What's done is done and can't be undone. I've -made an experiment in love. And if the result hasn't been -what I expected, I have, like the experimental chemist, -made discoveries I never dreamed of, discoveries about -myself, about other men and women, and about human -institutions. I can truly say that I haven't spent four more -unhappy weeks in my life, nor—mark this—four weeks -that have done me more good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I call them unhappy weeks. But suppose I had </span><em class="italics">married</em><span> -Claude!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, I dare say you've been thinking to yourself: "She -is capable of anything; now she will try to sell out to smug -respectability and settle down as Claude's duly wedded and -articled wife." I admit this would be the logical sequel to -my new conclusions about love and marriage. But though -I'm still fond of Claude, a great streak of doubt has -crossed my dreams of a happy future with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shall I tell you the truth, Cornelia? Claude and I -would make a very poor team. I have in mind, not his fits -of bad temper, which are very annoying, nor his attacks of -jealousy, which are monstrous. I have in mind his outlook -on affairs and his active interests, which are in every -respect different from mine. Claude is in love with the -pomps and trappings of life; and I am not. He goes in -passionately for elegance, luxury, all the externals which -men admire in society or public institutions; and I do not. -He wishes to study and master the ritual of social -intercourse in all its forms (even in its Kips Bay form); and I -will not. He is fond of the gay boulevards, the fashionable -restaurants, the crowded promenades; I am fond of -quiet places and a chair to myself in a corner of a park. -Our divergence of tastes is almost absolute. We don't like -the same theatres, concerts, pictures; we don't even like -the same games.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only game we ever enjoyed together was the great -game of love. "What," you will exclaim, "you mean to -contend that this game, which you played with such -abandon, so thrilled and absorbed and united you both as to -smother the thousand differences between you?" Precisely. -That is what I contend, for that is what happened. It is -weird, disconcerting, inexplicable, yet it is true.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Equally true is the fact that Claude lacks the talent for -companionship. With women, at all events. He has no -use for a woman except as a plaything or a wife. And he -does not want his wife to be a companion or a partner in -his work. He wants her to be an ambassador plenipotentiary, -representing him in polite society, and also a species -of superior twentieth-century domestic scientist taking full -charge of his creature comforts at home. I don't see -myself in either role. Do you? Can you picture me as a sort -of mother, nurse, housemaid, valet, cook and errand girl -rolled into one?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All of which means that I'm not quite ready yet to handcuff -myself with Prince Charming's household keys. "Hoity-toity," -say you, "isn't this a bit like piling the evidence -sky-high to prove that the grapes aren't sour?" Perhaps -it is, but I think not. It is true that Claude hasn't asked -me to marry him yet. It is true that whenever he is out of -sorts with me he tells me that my reputation is damaged -beyond repair and that I need not look to him to patch it -up. It is true that when I smile at this he invariably insists -with explosive fury that he will never, never ask me to -marry him. He repeatedly insists that he will not. Still, -I believe that he will. My problem is not what will become -of me if Claude </span><em class="italics">doesn't</em><span> marry me, but what will become -of me if he does.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for my damaged reputation, I'm really not worrying -about that. Say I have </span><em class="italics">sullied</em><span> my character. In one respect, -a spot on a character is like a spot on a fine satin dress: -hard work will wash all spots away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it stands to reason that things can't go on like this -much longer. The little Sorbonne </span><em class="italics">pension</em><span> in which we -are staying (as Monsieur and Madame) has its good -points. And there are evenings when Claude, a little tired -of all the famous and imposing Parisians he has met, -expresses a longing to be quite alone with me again, and -transforms himself once more into the Claude he was before -we lived together. Then we walk along the Seine or drive -on the wondrous roads towards Fontainebleau or Versailles. -And these evenings are very delightful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they cannot be repeated forever. Any day I may -take the step that I ought to have taken some time ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Write to me, Cornelia dear. Tell me all the news about -the tenements. I suppose the Outlaws are as tame and -bourgeois as ever. Does dear old Harry keep you fit and -sylph-like with his rising exercises? And how is Lydia -Dyson shaping? I see she has another serial in the </span><em class="italics">Black -Baboon</em><span> (I found a copy in Brentano's here)—she must -have coined bushels of money by it. I wish I could work as -copiously on </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> diet as she does on hers of cigarettes and -Haig and Haig. Charlotte Beecher, I fear, will be "through -with me" as the cinema heroes say. Has she exhibited -again or married Robert yet? Tell Robert I shall write -to him as soon as I've done something he'll approve of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Need I give further hints of my insatiable hunger for -news? Don't let me continue to be cut by the postman. -Write and write soon to</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your affectionate friend,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Janet.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Janet's a little fool," was Cornelia's laconic comment -as she folded up the letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under Kelly's persuasive service, she attacked breakfast. -Between mouthfuls she epitomized the contents of the letter, -a proceeding that she punctuated with caustic exclamations. -At the end, Harry Kelly expressed much sympathy with -Janet's predicament.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has made her bed; she'll have to lie in it," said -Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a far cry from the line Cornelia used to take -when she told Janet that "marriage is either a vulgar sex -deal or a legalized debauch;" or when she declared in -lyrical accents that "a free union is the golden key to the -garden of spiritual love." Her sentiments on this subject -had undergone dilution since Harry Kelly with his athletic -build, fair prospects, and standing offer of marriage had -become a fixture in Number Fifteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But then Cornelia had never really had the courage of -her radical opinions. Beneath her advocacy of new forms -of sex relationships there lurked a strong affection for the -old forms. Essentially, her instincts fitted her for the -orderly virtuous days of bustles and bust pads, not for these -latter days in which established conventions were being -summarily overhauled. For her, the time was decidedly -out of joint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been so since her affair with Percival Houghton, -the artist who had "stolen her soul." This affair had been -an accident of conduct and circumstances, and not, as she -always declared, a logical outcome of her character and -convictions. And it was as a result of this accidental episode -that she was now an irritable, spiteful, new-fangled woman -instead of the old-fashioned wife and mother (of seven -children) that she should have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some dim perception of all this stirred in the head of -Harry Kelly the ex-Harlem Gorilla. Kelly's mentality fell -far short of his bodily development. Still, he was no fool, -and he rightly guessed that Cornelia was unfair to her -former protegee. He did not approve of Janet's flight with -Claude. But he had seen too much of life in the Lorillard -tenements to be easily scandalized. Moreover, his fondness -for Janet disposed him to put the blame, if any, on her -lover. Like many amiable persons, he reserved his moral -censure exclusively for people he did not know or did not -like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The poor kid's down on her luck," he ventured gingerly. -"It's not up to us to hurry the post-mortem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down on her luck! With a man like Claude at her -side?" cried Cornelia, the words curving by slow ascent to -an unmusical top note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude's a grand looking man, that's true. But I've -known many a grand looking man who was no better -than a four-flusher when you had to share your bunk -with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Hercules, what do you know about it? If Claude -was a rotter, she should have left him. In all decency, -she should have left him the moment she saw that her -passion was merely physical. What has she done? Nothing. -They are still together on the most intimate terms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kelly put his arm soothingly round her waist. It was -a privilege she had allowed him in the dull days of -late—though not often and always grudgingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't suppose she's going to have a child," she went -on, in a bitter tone, "yet that would be her one solid -happiness. She's too selfish, I fear. Look how idiotically fate -deals out the cards. </span><em class="italics">She</em><span> could have a child, but she doesn't -want one, while I want one so much, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a generous hiatus, and her voice softened as she -approached it. She was forever telling men that she wanted -a child of her own; they were usually embarrassed or -piqued by the information; and whatever the effect she -enjoyed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For once, Kelly was not nonplussed. He drew his arm -tighter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, sweetheart," he said, sentimentally, "what's to -prevent it? I want kiddies, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you indeed," said Cornelia, with a dangerous light -in her eyes. "I said I wanted a child. The difficulty is -that I don't want the father for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not, if we're married?" he proceeded with unexampled -obstinacy. "I'd rather follow Janet than go on -being tormented like this," he concluded, drawing the long -bow at a venture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She withdrew from him and rose, her cheeks parading -an angry red. Ordinarily, a look was enough to make him -quail, but, lo and behold, he was marching with unprecedented -independence to the door. And how could Cornelia -know that his body went hot and cold by turns for fear -that she would let him walk out?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not afford to lose him, so she called him back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, goose!" she cried, coming swiftly down from her -high horse. "Here's Janet's letter. You'd better read it -through before you quarrel with me about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took it happily and obediently, she getting little -pleasure from such an easy victory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he read it, she reflected once more that she could -not afford to lose him. She set small store by his doglike -devotion and, though he had recently obtained an excellent -position as physical trainer in a fashionable men's club, -she considered him vastly beneath her. That he was -physically a veritable Borghese Warrior was wholly offset by -the fact that he was socially little better than a superior -handicraftsman. In her eyes, that is to say, he had his -points, but they were not the points of a polished gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet he was the one friend left to her in Kips Bay, the -one friend whose constancy to her was undeviating and -unimpaired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's decline from glory had proceeded rapidly since -the departure of Janet. The renaissance of flat Number -Fifteen as the social and artistic center of the Lorillard -tenements had been shortlived. That renaissance (which -Cornelia tried to believe was of her own making) had -really begun with Janet's advent. While it lasted, the -Outlaws and their cohorts had paraded back, with all -flags flying, and had restored the flat to the pinnacle of -importance which it had occupied when Cornelia, in the full -flush of the Percival Houghton notoriety, had first settled -down in Kips Bay. For a brief space Cornelia, glittering -like the morning star, had been "the first lady of the model -tenements," and had tasted again what she called life, -splendor, joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Janet had gone, and Claude had gone with her. As -a direct consequence of Janet's flight, Robert had more and -more often invented excuses for absenting himself from the -Lorillard flats. Charlotte Beecher's visits ceased as soon -as Robert's did, and Denman Page's as soon as Charlotte -Beecher's. In its turn, the loss of Claude deflected a whole -galaxy of feminine stars, including Lydia Dyson at the top -of the scale and Mazie Ross at the bottom. And so on, -ad infinitum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, almost in a week, the brilliance of Number Fifteen -had been extinguished. Forever, or so Cornelia feared. -True, her queenly state had ended in a burst of radiance, -as a sky-rocket ends in a dazzling shower of gold. But -this was cold comfort at best. Cornelia knew that, without -some novel attraction, there was no hope whatever of -recapturing the fickle homage of the model tenementers. And -no such attraction was in sight. For once, no other -adventurous young lady was ready or eager to step into Janet's -shoes as Janet had stepped into those of Mazie Ross. -Cornelia's stock had fallen to its nadir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt deserted. In a mood of bitter, unreasoning -resentment, she gave Janet full credit for dimming the -splendor of Number Fifteen, the splendor she had never given -her any credit for enkindling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was very angry with Janet on another score. This -adventurous young lady, after a gorgeously romantic time -abroad with Claude Fontaine, had apparently come a cropper, -as her tirade against free love sufficiently betrayed. -Reading between the lines, Cornelia fancied that she -detected a veiled reproach. It was as if she were being held -responsible for pointing out the step that had landed the -writer in disaster. Cornelia repudiated this responsibility -and was intensely irritated by the reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What, hadn't she and Janet threshed out the whole question -of sex in the most open and aboveboard fashion? And -hadn't she drawn a sharp line between free love as she -sincerely advocated it for the sake of a woman's rights, and -free love as it was practiced among the Outlaws and in -Greenwich Village for the sake of a woman's pleasure or -gain? She had told Janet (and told it with some feeling) -that many young women nowadays regarded free love as -simply a very convenient antidote against man's growing -disinclination for matrimony. It was a new bait for the -old trap, and a very successful bait, too, as numberless -marriages growing out of free unions attested. In Greenwich -Village marriageable girls used this bait by instinct; -in Kips Bay they used it with cool professional dexterity, -as a surgeon uses a knife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Janet to insinuate that she had been taken in, was -a trifle strong. If she had been duped at all, she was -self-duped. And was this likely? The curve of contempt in -Cornelia's lips indicated her belief to the contrary. There -was such a thing as carrying a pose of artless inexperience -too far. And what did Janet mean by all this talk of -casting Claude off? Casting Claude off, indeed! What -was she really up to?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry Kelly, having finished the letter, now handed it -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet's getting a bit flighty," he remarked with true -male cynicism. "Seems to me Claude has got somebody else -on a string."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia gave a scornful laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be an idiot, Hercules," she said. "More likely, -Janet has got somebody else on a string."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kelly held his peace. Like King Lear's daughter, he -adored and was silent: his love was mightier than his -tongue.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>By the time Cornelia's answer reached Paris, Claude had -taken Janet to Brussels. The immediate cause of this move -was a stringency in Claude's funds. A brief and somewhat -acrid correspondence between father and son had followed -hard on the latter's international adventure. After much -shilly-shallying on Claude's part, Mr. Fontaine had laid -down the terms on which alone he proposed to continue -polite relations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fontaine proceeded on the theory that in some cases -the most effective sort of moral force is material force. He -did not demand that Claude abandon Janet, although this -was the goal of his desire. He simply made it emphatic -that until his son </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> leave Janet, the old days of -independence coupled with generous financial supplies were over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, he made a point of thwarting Claude at -every turn. Claude longed for leisure and also for a fairly -free hand with the Fontaine Company's bankers in Europe; -Mr. Fontaine offered him definite work at a far from -princely salary. Claude wanted to travel (as heretofore) -in the role of a commanding member of the firm; Mr. Fontaine -allowed him no choice but a paltry assistancy to -one of Fontaine's European agents. Claude vastly -preferred the conspicuous agency in Paris, if an agency he -had to be reduced to; Mr. Fontaine detailed him -peremptorily to the humble agency in Brussels. And so on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clearly, Mr. Fontaine believed that a series of pin pricks, -tirelessly administered here and there, would serve his -purpose much better than a dagger inserted under the -fifth rib.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude, having some means of his own, planned a summary -rejection of his father's terms. But his available -funds were pitifully inadequate to his tastes and habits. -It was in vain that Janet threw herself sturdily into the -task of retrenchment. She lacked experience; and as for -Claude, he was born to the purple and had inherited the -aristocratic idea that economy consists in making lesser -people do the saving. He could not refrain from living on -a handsome scale or from entertaining his Parisian friends at -costly parties. The day of atonement drew swiftly nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And came in due course. All his pecuniary sins were -visited upon him at one and the same inopportune moment -(when ordering a dinner at the Ritz in honor of the -Prince de Cluny). At that moment he experienced the -novel sensation of finding himself suddenly without a single -penny of credit. Had the ground been abruptly withdrawn -from his feet, the shock could not have been greater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing for it but an immediate acceptance -of the terms on which his father had proposed a truce. -The Brussels agency was in charge of a hard-headed -Walloon between whom and Claude little love was lost. The -pin pricks were warranted to do their work to a nicety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it was that in no very amiable frame of mind Claude -set foot in the Belgian capital and reported to the Fontaine -agent there. Janet shared his contracted fortunes, -accompanying him from Paris in spite of a series of quarrels -which had chequered the weeks preceding their departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She accused herself of weakness for remaining with -Claude. But she felt she could hardly leave him when he -was so completely down on his luck. True, their quarrels -furnished her with a pretext, but not with a worthy one. -They were all in the nature of petty bickerings, trumpery -matters seemingly unrelated to the real issue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she began to suspect that the real issue between -herself and Claude would never be brought into the open.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Their hotel was in the aristocratic </span><em class="italics">Quartier Leopold</em><span>. -Scarcely a year had elapsed since the armistice was -proclaimed, yet the </span><em class="italics">Boulevard Anspach</em><span> and other central -highways were again the glittering rendezvous of international -idlers indefatigably bent on expunging the last unpleasant -memories of Armageddon. This expunging process -appeared to involve the consumption of much bad food and -the production of much loud noise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Early in the morning of his seventh day in Brussels, -Claude was awakened by the penetrating backfire of a motor -car in the street. Having already been aroused by -disturbances twice, he sprang from one of the twin beds in the -room and closed each window with a furious bang. Janet, -in the other bed, changed from her right side to her left, -but was too deep in sleep to wake up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damnation!" he called out, first towards the street and -then, as this bore no fruit, in the direction of the occupied -bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Getting no response he stalked to the sleeper's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can a man get any rest," he shouted angrily, -"with pandemonium in the streets and every window in the -place wide open?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The world in general showed no interest in this -conundrum propounded by a very good-looking young man in -pajamas. And Janet, after stirring uneasily for a moment, -returned to a motionless slumber. The street noises had -kept her, as well as Claude, awake until the small hours -of the morning. Once asleep, however, she slept soundly -and could defy Bedlam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing no prospect of petting or sympathy from this -quarter, Claude nursed his anger to leviathan size. He -paced the room like a madman, distributing a liberal supply -of imprecations on everything and everybody as fast as -the images raced into his thoughts. This proceeding relieved -him of a part of his fury. The rest he sublimated in the -act of tidying up the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went at this task with breakneck speed. His method -was to set chairs and tables in and out of place with -vicious thumps; then to pile books, newspapers, brushes, -combs, wearing apparel and the like into roughly classified -heaps. He took special pains to pick up Janet's scattered -articles of underwear and to fling each one on top -of the last with the force of an invective.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under this steady percussion and repercussion, Janet -finally woke up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter?" she murmured drowsily, pushing -the rebellious dark curls from her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude bombarded her with reproaches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The matter! The matter is that you have the nerves -of a rhinoceros. I can't sleep with the windows open, -while you could sleep with them shut. But it means -nothing to you that I haven't slept a wink for seven nights -running, just because you insist upon keeping the windows -open."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Janet's hands gestured: "Oh dear, another tempest in -a teapot!") She sat up in bed and, with her feet tucked -under her and her hands folded over her knees, braced -herself for the storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought we agreed to compromise by changing off," -she said mildly. "The windows have only been kept open -every other night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Compromise! Compromise!" He sprang from his chair -with a violent laugh. "How can oil and water compromise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure I don't know. I'm not a chemist. They don't -mix, but they may get along very amicably together side -by side, for all I can tell. What difference does it make, -anyway? The real trouble is that you've been made nervous -and irritable by your father's letters. If you'd only -let us talk the whole matter over sensibly and in good -humor—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father's letters have nothing to do with the case," -he cut in savagely. "The trouble is with your idiotic -superstition that the sooty, dusty air from the street is more -important than peace and quiet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the use of saying the same thing over and -over," said Janet, with a touch of asperity in her clear, soft -tones. "You are in a perfectly childish temper, Claude. -If I were your wife I'd have to put up with it. As I don't -have to, I won't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My wife! If you were my wife, you wouldn't dare to -be so selfish, or to ignore my rights so shamelessly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luckily, I'm </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> your wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank Heaven. It's also lucky that you're so well -satisfied with your limitations and your sorry future. Like -all the Barrs of Brooklyn, you may well glory in your -irresponsibility. It's all you have."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I have my freedom. I glory in that, too. If I -were married to you, I dare say I should have to cringe -and even ask your forgiveness. As it is, before this day is -over, you will probably ask mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't flatter yourself! I'm going for good. That'll -spike your prophecy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to dress posthaste in order to put time and -space between his threat and its retraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet watched him through the long dark lashes of her -half-closed gray eyes. He was spoilt, tyrannical, -contemptible. Yet his energetic masculine beauty and the -seductive ring of his voice still had power over her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't imagine I can't see through your game," he flung -out, recklessly scattering the heaps he had so painfully -assembled, in a frenzied search for a necktie. "Your fine -pretense of not wanting to marry me is a clever way of -getting me to do it. Exceedingly, overwhelmingly clever! -But it hasn't fooled me. Not a bit! There are some things -I don't swallow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank goodness. Perhaps you won't swallow me then, -though you seem on the point of doing so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lay down again. Her averted face permitted only -her dark curly head to show.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might have married you," he shouted, brandishing -the recovered necktie at the bed. "I might, if you hadn't -shown yourself in your true colors. Thank God, I found -you out in time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet you don't seem a bit pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You little serpent! Is there no escaping your sting?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A minute ago I was a rhinoceros, now I am a serpent. -A pretty swift evolution, isn't it? Of course, the 'Descent -of Woman' </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> beat the 'Descent of Man' all hollow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she turned her back upon him contemptuously. -Stung by her disdain, he moderated his temper somewhat -and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the trick of women to put men subtly in the wrong. -You fight, but you never fight in the open. You send us -into a devil of a temper, and slyly perpetuate the quarrel -until you can make capital out of our degraded condition. -Patient Griseldas, martyred angels, persecuted saints! If -only you'd drop the pose of injured innocence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This impassioned speech was really a bid for a truce. -But Janet, her heart hardened, lay quite still, the back of -her head expressing defiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The silence maddened him more than a flood of reproaches, -and he continued dressing </span><em class="italics">fortissimo</em><span>. Finally, -he reached for his hat, sending her, at the same time, a -parting shot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep it up," he said, "and you'll be a past mistress in -the art of demoralizing a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went out with a spectacular exhibition of bad manners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Claude! He did not feel entirely guiltless. But he -was absolutely certain that the fault lay vastly more on -her side than on his. In the breviary of love, he had pledged -his soul to an eternity of devotion, but not his temper to -a five minutes' trial.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The door had scarcely been closed before Janet turned -out of bed and began to put on her stockings. She got no -further than the first one before she heard returning -footsteps. Quick as a flash she resumed her former position in -bed, so that when the door opened, her face was buried in -the pillows and the back of her head was one obstinate, -unconciliatory curve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude had come back on the pretext of getting his -walking stick, really in the hope of finding Janet penitent -or at least willing to placate him. When he saw that all -the advances would have to come from his side, he turned -sharply on his heels and marched out, in his anger -forgetting his cane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet now waited until she was sure that he had gone -in good earnest. Then she finished dressing, reflecting the -while that for the third time within a week she was left -quite alone. It was the discord that troubled her, not the -solitude. Solitude had no terrors for her, although it had -a drawback of a practical sort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Namely, in the matter of the language. She was almost -totally ignorant of French, her opportunities in Paris for -acquiring the vernacular having been extremely few. She -knew that Claude expected his absence to make a virtual -prisoner of her. In fact, with this punishment in view, he -had stayed away until late at night on the two occasions -of their recent quarreling. And she did not doubt that -he meant to punish her in the same manner again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went downstairs to breakfast full of pity for herself -and of indignation against Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Breakfast changed her mood completely. It occurred to -her that Claude might feel the discord between them as -keenly as she did, though he might not be as conscious of -the reasons. This led her to feel sorry for him and to -wonder whether she might not have been more conciliatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her nature was so essentially sound that she was inclined -to look on Claude's outbursts of rage as symptoms of a -mental disorder. She told herself that her equable temper -gave her an immense advantage over him, an advantage she -ought not to exploit too far.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Robert who had first made her conscious of the -worth of her well-poised temperament, not to mention other -good qualities which had seemed as inevitably her own as -her two arms and two legs. Lately, since realizing what -a surprisingly large number of people were ill-humored and -bad tempered, she had begun to prize her even-mindedness -for the rare gift it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her self-esteem improving, her spirits followed suit. It -was too fine a day to spend indoors. And, Claude or no -Claude, she made up her mind to gratify a desire to -wander through the fashionable shopping district.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bethought herself of a pocket English-French -dictionary, and a little "Colloquial French in Ten Lessons," -which she had picked up at Brentano's in Paris. Thus -equipped, she sallied out on an adventurous journey in -the direction of the Hotel de Ville.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her course from the </span><em class="italics">Quartier Leopold</em><span> to the </span><em class="italics">Boulevard -Anspach</em><span> was intentionally zigzag. Walking leisurely and -observing critically she was able to confirm or correct -impressions of the capital gathered while riding with -Claude in taxis or motor buses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It struck her that Brussels was cleaner, wholesomer and -more competently managed than either New York or Paris. -Had the </span><em class="italics">Bruxellois</em><span> taken a leaf out of the book of -Prussian efficiency or were they a more competently executive -people?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brussels was, of course, much smaller than Paris, less -ostentatiously "grand" or "cosmopolitan." Janet did not -agree with the orthodox tourist opinion that the Belgian -capital was merely a pocket edition of the Gallic. Brussels -was lively without being chaotic, and picturesque without -being dirty. Paris, on the other hand, was in some respects -a very American city. Its Rue Royales, Champs Elysees, -Faubourg St. Germains and other show sections were -perhaps more numerous and certainly more beautiful than the -corresponding show sections in New York. But apart from -these picked quarters, Paris and New York had the same -tawdry glitter, the same rag-bag dishevelment, the same -noisy, neurotic people, the same morbid chase after -pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These results of modern civilization seemed by no means -entirely missing from Brussels, but they existed in a -smaller degree, even in proportion to the city's size. Life -on the streets of Brussels still had an appearance of being -orderly, sane. You could walk along the main thoroughfares -without the sensation that you were steering your -way through scurrying, erratic, homicidal pedestrians. In -a crowd in New York or Paris you might well become a -prey to the fear that Darwin was right, after all, and that -the evolution of man was guided chiefly by the principle -of chance, Nature being a sort of brute Junker force which -imposed </span><em class="italics">Kultur</em><span> on the survivors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these reflections, Janet sailed along, and though -remembrance of the quarrel with Claude gave her an -occasional sinking feeling, this was but the ground swell after -the storm.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At the Grands Magasins de la Bourse, Janet experienced -little difficulty in making several minor purchases. Not -because she had memorized a score of colloquial questions -and answers from her little book, "French Guaranteed in -Ten Lessons." For the questions and answers which she -had conned so trippingly from the text were amazingly -inapplicable to her needs. In the realm of trade or barter -the phrases she needed always called for a subtly different -twist from the high-flown phrases in the text-book. The -book model advised her to say: "</span><em class="italics">Sir</em><span> (</span><em class="italics">or Madam</em><span>), </span><em class="italics">have -the kindness to direct me to the street by which one may -proceed to the Rue Royale</em><span>." She actually wanted to say: -"</span><em class="italics">What's a good short-cut to the Rue Royale?</em><span>" But as to -this racier version the text-book was mute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These difficulties proved no insuperable barrier to Janet. -A glance, an eloquent gesture, and a copious use of the -phrase </span><em class="italics">comme ça</em><span>, bridged the worst gaps in the course of -communication. </span><em class="italics">Comme ça</em><span> alone, used at the end of the -index finger, so to speak, worked wonders. Single-handed, -it was mightier than a whole battalion of text-book phrases. -Yet Janet flattered herself that she could, at a pinch, have -dispensed even with this omnipotent demonstrative. To be -sure, she was far swifter at divining other people's wishes -than at getting her own wishes divined. Still, though she -had a genius for the first process, she had at least a talent -for the second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be strange," she thought, "if a New Yorker -could not talk inarticulately in more languages than one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shop assistants met her attempts to communicate -with them fully halfway. Their friendliness and courtesy -in difficult situations astonished her. So did their efforts -to comply with her precise wishes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all very different from the American shop men -and girls that she was accustomed to. A New York salesman, -who slept in a hall room in the Bronx and lunched at -Child's, on a ham sandwich and tea or on griddle cakes and -skimmed milk, was professionally guiltless of every effort -save one, and that was an effort to convey to each -customer a sense of the latter's abysmal insignificance; also -an intimation of his supreme good luck in being waited on -by the most distinguished clerk in the metropolis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Standing at a counter in New York, one might be -excused for supposing that the salesman accepted the -purchaser's custom only as a grudging favor to the purchaser. -Standing at a similar spot in Brussels, one might hope that -the favor would be allowed to be the other way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps the Brussels salesmen did not really feel favored. -In view of the final disposition of the profits, they probably -merely pretended to feel so. If this was the case, their -pretense carried conviction, by virtue of the artistry of -their politeness. Were there not, then, as many fictions in -the life of New York as in the life of Brussels? Yes, but -they were neither convincing fictions nor polite ones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Artistry and politeness, Janet concluded, though they -might be minor virtues, were not the minor virtues of an -industrial republic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her last errand in the Grand Magasins was to buy -Claude several pair of socks. The redoubtable </span><em class="italics">comme ça</em><span>, -in a choice variety of modulations, did yeoman service in -facilitating the selection of the correct color, quality, -size.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sure Claude did not deserve the pains she was -taking over him, particularly in view of his conduct that -morning. But Janet's indignation had failed to blot from -her mind a picture of the night before at bedtime, when -Claude had pathetically drawn attention to the spectacle -of both his great toes protruding rudely from the tips of -his socks. This picture of Claude walking about Brussels -with protruding toes offended her sense of the fitness of -things. And, as she did not believe that the fitness of -things should be tempered with revenge, she made the -necessary purchases without pluming herself on her -magnanimity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Parcels in hand, she came close to a section set apart -by a low railing. A somewhat depressed looking woman in -front of the railing was talking humbly to a magnificent -young man behind it. From a sign which read </span><em class="italics">Bureau -d'Emploi</em><span>, Janet guessed that this was the section in which -applications for employment were received.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If only she knew the language well enough to apply for a -position herself, what a lot of problems this would solve!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The magnificent young man, who was patently the absolute -monarch of the section, looked disapprovingly at the -somewhat slatternly applicant who was abasing herself -before him. With an air as superb as his sartorial -equipment, he concluded the interview. So Cophetua might -have concluded an interview with an unavailable beggar -maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dismissed applicant was the picture of dejection as -she walked past Janet, who pitied her from her soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Cophetua saw Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she a lady or was she a beggar maid? He reasoned -that ladies rarely burden their arms with a load of parcels, -nor were they in the habit of making lingering stops in -front of a </span><em class="italics">Bureau d'Emploi</em><span>. On the other hand, the object -of his speculation was young, supple, well dressed; her -gray eyes glancing his way thrilled him as no salesgirl -beggar-maid had ever thrilled him before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Decidedly, if she </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a beggar maid, she was a most -uncommon one. Cophetua saw that she was still looking -at him, not artfully, and yet not disinterestedly either. The -problem was disconcerting and insoluble; the call of the -blood was peremptory and imperious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He resolved to chance it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unbending as much as so magnificent a young man could -unbend, he called out to Janet in a most inviting tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas, she couldn't understand a single word. All she -could catch was the note of interrogation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Je ne comprends pas français</em><span>—I'm sorry, but I don't -understand," she informed him in polyglot. She wondered -whether he could possibly be offering her employment, -although she doubted this, for his glances were far from -businesslike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Cophetua spoke, more slowly. Yet on the same -suave, interrogative note. He eyed her with immense favor. -She understood his looks; and, as it was clearly not a case -for the use of her pet </span><em class="italics">comme ça</em><span>, she lost all desire to -understand his words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flushing and not quite knowing what to make of it all, -she prepared to walk away, discretion seeming to be the -better part of valor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I be of assistance?" said a gentleman who had -suddenly stopped on his way past her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw a short, robust, handsome man with an auburn -beard and somewhat darker hair faintly tinged with gray. -He took off his hat and bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can speak a little English," he said, fluently enough, -though to Janet's ears the accent sounded rather German.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he and Cophetua rapidly exchanged a few sentences -in French. From the latter's frigid manner, nothing was -plainer than that he regarded the stranger's mediation with -extreme distaste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He merely wishes to know whether you are seeking a -position," said Janet's self-appointed interpreter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I be? I don't know a word of the language, -as you can see," she said, with one of her fascinating -gestures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reply was duly conveyed to the chief of the -employment bureau who, with a thousand daggers in his -parting smile, withdrew majestically into his shell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is impossible to know the reason for a mistake so -deplorable," said he of the auburn beard, apologizing for -Cophetua.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted his hat again, and made as if to go. But he -did not go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't mind a bit," said Janet, laughing -unaffectedly. "If only I knew French, I should like nothing -better than to take some position or other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a second, they looked into each other's eyes with -mutual approval. Then he said boldly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case—would you like to be—what do the -English call it—tutor to my little girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Cophetua, looming in the background, came mesmeric -waves of hostility. Sensing this, they walked away -together. He gave her a card inscribed with the name of -Anton St. Hilaire. He told her he was an Alsatian, a -widower with one child of about fourteen years. His wife -had died during his absence on service at the front. His -daughter having sickened, he had been to Italy with her. -Now he meant to make a long stay in Brussels in order to -be near a famous specialist for children. Later he and -Henriette would travel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette had a nurse who for many reasons was -unsatisfactory. His wish had long been to place the child in -charge of a cultivated woman who should be a friend to -her rather than a mere attendant, and who should inspire -him with entire confidence. After a few not very searching -questions, he professed to have entire confidence in Janet. -He waved aside as immaterial the objection in respect of -Janet's ignorance of French. She would pick up French as -quickly as Henriette picked up English. Henriette had -already had some English instruction; and Janet, for her -part, had no doubt of her ability to manage the child as -far as the linguistic difficulty went. Had she not proved -up to the hilt her genius for making foreigners understand -her when such was her desire?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could get along with a Choctaw," she said to herself, -exultantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They talked as they proceeded along the Boulevard -Anspach. The long and the short of it was that Janet -agreed to consider the offer. She promised to pay a visit -next day to M. St. Hilaire's apartments in order to meet -Henriette. She would then make up her mind whether to -take the position or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this understanding the Alsatian left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, all agog with her adventure, gave up shopping for -the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The encounter appeared to her to be a godsend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She liked M. St. Hilaire. If she also liked his daughter, -if she and Henriette took to each other enough to make the -proffered place attractive, she would be in a position to -part company with Claude immediately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she had a strong conviction (backed by plenty of -experience) that she could get along with any halfway -tolerable human being, she considered the step as good as -taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, she anticipated a bad quarter of an hour in having -it out with Claude. But what a jolly thing it was to be in -possession of a powerful weapon like economic independence. -It was the last argument against tyrants, in this -case against Claude and the special set of circumstances -that made her absolutely dependent upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wished she could be candid with Claude and tell him -all about the Alsatian. But this was impossible. Claude's -capacity for candor was like some people's capacity for -alcohol. A little of it went to his head and made him -quarrelsome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was not like that! She could stand being told any -amount of truth (or so she flattered herself). This was -why so many people made her their confidante. Having -an illusion stripped away might give acute pain, but it -never outraged her. Witness her disenchantment with the -theory of free love. But Claude, in common with most -people, was like the famous prisoner who had spent years -in a dungeon and who, when released, was quite overpowered -by the fresh air. An unusual supply of truth all -but killed the average man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this matter, the only one she had ever met like herself -was Robert Lloyd. How she had underestimated Robert! -Worse, how she had underestimated the strength of her -attachment to him! Her partnership with Claude, a -partnership of infatuation, had been a weak thing. A breath -had made it, and a breath had blown it away. But her -partnership with Robert, a partnership of work and mutual -interests, had been a bond of adamant. Time could not -wither it nor custom stale its precious memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a passionate longing to write Robert and pour -out her heart to him as in the old days of the firm of -Barr & Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no. This would never do. In questions of sex, -Robert was as fanatic as any average American business -man. The scene on the East River pier came back to her -vividly. There he had stood like a reincarnation of Cato -the Elder (Cornelia's nicknames certainly did hit the -bull's-eye at times!) lecturing her and saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sha'n't have anything to do with free love or with a -woman who has had a free lover."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The remembrance caused a wave of bitter feeling to -surge through her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time she had reached the Place Rogier. There -she took a bus to the office of the American Express -Company in order to inquire for mail. The one letter handed to -her had been forwarded from Paris. The superscription -was in Cornelia's handwriting, and Janet tore open the -envelope without delay.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As was her custom, Cornelia had written in a decidedly -lyrical vein, sounding in turn the strings of pathos, -misgiving and melancholy sympathy. Without formal -salutation the letter began:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My heart is torn for you, Araminta dearest, as I follow -the story of your wanderings. It is a story that reopens -old wounds, for in your sufferings I again experience my -own. With what a different poignancy! Different as -Claude Fontaine and Percival Houghton are different. I -know that Claude possesses the supreme fascination that -leads so many women to throw themselves recklessly into -his arms. He turns their heads; but at least he does not -rob them of their souls. This, Percival Houghton did. -Thank your kind stars, my dear, that Claude is not as -Percival, that he has not the latter's dominating will or -piratical psychic personality. Your soul can still be called -your own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How I pray that your trials may turn out for the best! -Araminta, every woman is fated to learn at the hands of -some man how unscrupulous all men are in matters of sex. -But is it not strange that men should outflag us at what -is called our own game, and that women should let themselves -be deceived by the fact that they are always credited -with the victory? This indeed is man's greatest cleverness. -He snatches the spoils even whilst loudly protesting that -we have him completely at our mercy. Yes, men are our -masters in the game of love, the game that is said to be -</span><em class="italics">our</em><span> profession and </span><em class="italics">their</em><span> pastime. My dear, the amateur -who gaily calls the tune has a much better time of it than -the professional who is compelled to do the fiddling—unless -the fiddler plays wholly and solely for love or is clever -enough to exact a price insuring freedom after the dance -is over. But this is an elementary principle which I need -hardly point out to </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, Araminta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You say you do not mean to marry Claude, although you -believe it lies within your power to do so. At the same -time, you speak in harsh disparagement of free unions. To -be candid, this mystifies me. I hope, however, that I'm -wrong in detecting, beneath your criticism, a subtle -reproach. If I'm right, you've done me a grievous injustice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Didn't I consistently urge that free love is for daring -and devoted spirits only? And what wonders have not -the bold and brave done for our sex in the last thirty years! -Look how the market value of men has fallen and how the -market value of women has risen, if I may use the crude -language of Mazie Ross. No longer do women live, as did -our grandmothers, for the sole purpose of "charming" men -or of sipping the nectar of their "homage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pray observe, dear child, that I never decried marriage -in the case of the few women who are strong enough to -command the legal tyrant instead of submitting to him, -and who thus are in a position to straighten out the -irrational knot from the inside. As for the common rule of -females, if they </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> go on flocking to the altar in droves, -if they </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> be infatuated with marriage after we have -opened their eyes to man—why, let them rush in where -angels fear to tread. And let them take the consequences, -too. Small blame to the nuptial fire if it scorches the likes -of </span><em class="italics">them</em><span>. Is the flame guilty because the moths dash in?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now for the news, although there is precious little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First, Lydia Dyson has produced a new novel—and a -new baby. You know she lets this happen (I mean the -baby) every once in so often because she says it is the -only way to keep her complexion perfect. (It really is a -perfect olive, in spite of the quantities of gold-tipped -cigarettes she smokes.) The baby, like its predecessors, has -been given out for adoption to a childless couple in good -circumstances, Lydia contending (</span><em class="italics">a la</em><span> Rousseau) that an -artist makes a very unsatisfactory parent. Lydia's other -achievement, her novel, "The Mother Soul," has been -running serially in the </span><em class="italics">Good Householder</em><span>. It's netting her -the usual mint of money, ten thousand dollars down, to -say nothing of copious extras in the shape of book and -dramatic royalties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There's Lydia for you, flourishing like the green bay -tree! Not like your poor Cornelia, who'd be happy enough -to take the child and let the royalties go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert is rarely here nowadays. Charlotte Beecher, -therefore, doesn't show up often, and so, what with you -and Claude in Europe, I'd be monarch of all I surveyed, -if Hercules didn't take pity on me and come in to drive -the blue devils away. He spoils me almost as much as you -did. A dear, dutiful boy he is, as fond of work as a camel. -I feel conscience-stricken when I think how lightly I accept -his devotion. Ought I to make him happy? Ah, well-a-day! -I'm sometimes tempted—ah, </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> I'm tempted!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a poor soulless thing like me mustn't think of such -things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry's prospects have improved wonderfully of late. -You know his heart was never in professional wrestling. -He deliberately gave up a promising career </span><em class="italics">on the mat</em><span>, -as they call it, where he acquired that odious nickname -of the "Harlem Gorilla." Poor Hercules is about as much -like a gorilla as I am like an elephant. Refusing -engagements to appear in public contests brought him down on -his luck for a time. That's how he happened to land in -the model tenements. He never was even the least bit of -a radical. Among the Outlaws, our gorilla is quite a lamb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this repulsive part of his career is over for good. -He is now the physical director of the Bankers' Club. -(What think you of my prophetic nickname for Hercules? -The bankers have their monster clubhouse on -Fifth Avenue, almost next door to the Pillars of Hercules, -as the Gotham and St. Regis hotels are called.) It's a good -position. And an even better one is in sight. The Life -Prolongation Institute (I say, Araminta, what a name!) -has lately approached him in regard to a post at one of its -European branches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wouldn't it be odd, if we all met some fine morning in -Trafalgar Square or the Champs Elysees?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Robert, he has become as mad as a March hare. -His Guild League seems to have dropped through a hole -in the ground. (I predicted that, too!) He says the -Guildsman propaganda was too radical for the old-style -Laborites and too conservative for the Bolsheviks. But I -can't pretend to follow these distinctions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At all events, he was very much at loose ends for a while. -One or two excellent openings in the newspaper line he -calmly turned down with the remark that a successful -journalist would have to be as corrupt as Falstaff and -Hutchins Burley rolled into one. He is really quite -incorrigible. He never seems to be content until he has got -himself thoroughly on the wrong side of everybody who -might be of service to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are any number of instances of this trait. His -personal quarrel with Hutchins Burley was quite unnecessarily -lengthened into a business feud. He never made the -most of his friendship with Claude (think what a chance -it was for a man in his circumstances to be intimate with -a man in Claude's!). He got himself in the black books -of the whole newspaper world because of his agitation for -the Guildsmen. And he is always flinging off violently -from his friends. To this day, he rebuffs Hercules and me -whenever we try to help him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But finally, on account of his mother and sister out West, -he had to put his pride in his pocket. It was too late! Did -Cato ever tell you that he had an uncle with bushels of -money in California? Well, it seems there </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> such a -relative, and Robert applied to him for temporary help. The -uncle, a chip of Robert's block—for he evidently has little -use for affection, family or otherwise—preserved a discreet -silence. After cross-questioning our friend, I found out -why. He had painstakingly sent the old gentleman (who -made a fortune in real estate speculation) his own pamphlet -on land profiteering! As I said before, Robert is -incorrigible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What does he do next but hit on the brilliant scheme of -going to work as a clerk in an insurance company, -downtown. Denman Page's insurance company, as it happens. -Fancy our fastidious Cato with his quick ways and ideal -enthusiasms sitting from nine till five at a poky desk in -Wall Street. And is this fearful sacrifice made for the sake -of turning over an honest penny (thirty dollars a week, -to be exact)? Never believe it. Robert's little game is -to help organize the mercantile employees into a radical -labor union. Can you beat it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He says that the clerk is the most abject boot-licker and -willing slave of the ruling robber bankers to be found in -the whole industrial system (I won't vouch for the accuracy -of this description). He (the clerk, that is) needs -redemption. But although plenty of rich people go a-slumming -amongst the very poor and downtrodden, nobody is -self-sacrificing enough to go on a mission of mercy amongst -the benighted and degraded "clerkical" classes.—And so he -raves on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In retaliation, the big bankers and insurance chiefs -have also formed a society to resist the inroads of Robert's -infant union. Denman Page, Charlotte's indefatigable -wooer, is one of the most aggressive leaders in the -employers' society and is doing his utmost to persecute Robert -and make his life as miserable as possible. Robert, loathing -business, hangs on downtown, purely out of regard for his -union.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is simply throwing his natural talents away. All so -unnecessarily, too. At any moment, he could marry -Charlotte Beecher for the asking, and develop his executive -ability—become a great public administrator or something -like that. Charlotte isn't noted for her beauty; but she is -young, she has several millions in her own right, and she is -no mere society trifler either. She works almost as hard at -her sculpture as if she had to earn her own living. Lots of -men are after her, naturally enough. They say Denman -Page would give his eyeteeth to add Charlotte's fortune to -his bank account. But she seems to want Robert. Rumor -has it that she has even proposed to him several times. To -Cato! And leave it to him to fish up some silly scruple -about not selling his independence to a rich wife!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, I saw him in Charlotte's studio in the Mews lately. -He was quite lover-like (in his Catonic way). I hear he -goes there pretty often. So perhaps there's hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a picture I could draw of how your departure with -Lothario set the Lorillard tenements by the ears! The -headlines, the excitement among the Outlaws, Kips Bay in -a buzz, buzz, buzz—but you can imagine it much better for -yourself. Cato alone took it with stoical calm. Araminta, -he astonished me! Hardly a syllable would he say about -it. A stern sort of "make your bed and lie in it" expression -was all we could get out of him. And he shut off questions -with the remark that it was entirely </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> affair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, we all thought Big Hutch held the key to the leakage -into the papers. He hates Claude with an undying hatred -for some reason unknown to me, and he has an immortal -tomahawk out for you because you so openly showed the -disgust he filled you with. "Hell hath no fury like a -Hutchins scorned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old villain was lately appointed a member of a -newspaper mission to travel </span><em class="italics">de luxe</em><span> to Russia. Trust Hutchins -to keep himself in clover. Mazie Ross, as bad, as pretty, -and as syrupy as ever, is to be his traveling companion -(all on the quiet, of course—the purpose of the mission -being to report on the stability and morality of the -Bolshevik regime). And they say that ethics is a humorless -science!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Keep me informed, dear child, of your plans and -movements. What shall I send to Lothario? Rosemary and -rue, or poniards and poison? My fondest hopes and -wishes—from my heart—wing their way to you.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Ever your devoted,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Cornelia.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet finished reading with a sigh. The letter changed -none of her opinions or plans. It merely determined her -all the more strongly to suppress her desire to write to -Robert.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On returning to her room at the hotel she got rather a -start, for Claude was there. Usually when he went away -in anger, he returned late at night, and it was now only -late in the afternoon. A glance showed her that he was in -gay spirits and that he had communicated this mood to the -apartment by filling it with the color and fragrance of -flowers. It was a part of his peace offering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hardly had she entered, when he rushed forward, relieved -her of her parcels and kissed her ardently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling," he exclaimed, "what a bad-tempered beast -I've been! Can you forgive me once more?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fought desperately against the spell of his romantic -personality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" she said, withdrawing from his caresses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are an angel, dearest," he said, seizing her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I shall be an angel on the wing, Claude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet! Say anything but that. Prescribe any punishment -you please. But do let's begin again, with a clean -slate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't get the slate clean when the scratches are -too deep, Claude. To forgive and act as though nothing -had changed is hard; to forgive and act as though everything -had changed is harder still. We must both be sensible -and do the second, the harder thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" said Claude, in alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean that we'll be much happier apart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't say that again, Janet dearest. You are taking -my conduct of the last two weeks too seriously. It isn't -fair. I've frequently behaved abominably. I don't try to -excuse it. I admit it. But remember the constant worry -I've had to put up with at this cursed Brussels office. That -boor of a Walloon in charge has undoubtedly had orders -from my father to be a thorn in my side. And he's doing -his level best to please. Not a day passes but what he -gives me a hundred lancet scratches ending in a good -stiletto stab."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Worry had not made Claude less handsome. The ring -and tang of his voice thrilled Janet almost as much as of -old. His patrician manner and flashing blue eyes were -almost as irresistible. Yet Janet put away his arm and -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude, I know you've had a very trying time. It's -altogether on my account, isn't it? All the more reason for -me to go away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what on earth do you want to leave me for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a thousand reasons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might deign to mention </span><em class="italics">one</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, when you frown, you want me to be sad; when -you laugh, you want me to be gay. You never think that -I may have moods of my own, moods that won't dance to -your piping. You never think of any one but yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't I? I've had you on my mind all day. I've -thought of nothing else. And it's not the first day that -I've spent in a torment of worry about your attitude -towards me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great wave of self-pity swept through him and quite -carried him off his feet. By precedent, it should have -carried Janet off her feet, too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood her ground in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For Heaven's sake, don't be obstinate," he said, his -confidence beginning to desert him. "It isn't late yet," -he added, in a more pleading tone. "We can still have an -awfully good time this evening. Do be nice—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nice!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood up and looked at him. He mistook the mocking -expression in her smiling gray eyes, and did not notice -the faintly contracting brows above her long-lashed eyelids.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, nice and reasonable," he went on, pursuing what -he thought an advantage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reasonable!" The faint contraction was now a forbidding -bar. "I'm trying hard to be reasonable, Claude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a pause, she smiled again. "You pull me one way, -reason pulls me another," she said, with characteristic -candor. "Now see if my plan doesn't follow reason. You -left this morning, for a short while; I'm leaving tomorrow, -for good and all. You left me in anger; I should like to -leave you good friends. It isn't as easy as it sounds. Will -you help me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung himself angrily into an armchair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must be mad to think you can shift for yourself -in a strange country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mad or not, that is exactly what I think," she said, -coldly. "And I shall begin to pack my things now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She actually drew out a bag and suited the action to the -words. Claude looked on, speechless. After a while he -went over and, roughly taking hold of one of her arms, -continued his remonstrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't even </span><em class="italics">read</em><span> the language, let alone speak it. -And you haven't a penny of your own. Or do you expect -to earn money on the streets?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not until I've exhausted the </span><em class="italics">regular</em><span> channels," she -said, maddeningly calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inwardly she was boiling. She looked at him steadily -until he released her arm. Then she added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel perfectly capable of looking out for myself, even -in a strange country. Here are some socks I bought for -you at a counter where no English was spoken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil take the socks!" he said, hurling the package -to the other end of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat down on a tuffet beside her case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well that I had a little money of my -own, which I brought with me," she said. "That will do -me to begin on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To begin on!" he raged, pacing the floor violently. -"What do you mean by </span><em class="italics">begin on</em><span>? Is this another secret? -As for your money, I know nothing about that either. I'm -continually being slapped in the face with something or -other that you've kept in the dark. But what's a little -deceit among lovers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never deceived you," she said, growing bitter as -she went on. "In any case, deceiving you would be a trifle -compared with the crime of deceiving myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deceiving yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Do you suppose I could ever have lived with -you, without first thoroughly deceiving myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude's anger cooled at this bitter question. Janet was -now worked up, and anything was better than the killing -indifference she had so far maintained. He closed her -valise and sat down on it, at her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet," he pleaded, "you were never like this before. -So unyielding, so cold. And I had planned that we'd make -a gala night of it. Look at these lovely flowers. Don't -you understand their symbolism? I'm going to do the -right thing. I mean to marry you now, here in Brussels, -at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've offered to do that before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but I really mean it this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I really meant it Claude, every time I refused. -You see, I always assumed that your offers were made in -good faith."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are making a fool of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one can do that but yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got up abruptly and stood there nonplused, while -she calmly went on packing. He hated her for it. She -was rude, inflexible, callous. Her motives were unfathomable. -She was never twice the same. Yet at this moment -he believed he wanted her more passionately than he had -ever wanted her before. He burst into suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the real reason, Janet? Some one has written -to you—Robert, I dare say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her silence for an affirmation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought so. Now I understand your change of attitude. -He's been preaching at you. It's his specialty. His -views, curse them, are like a drought. They dry up all -one's spontaneity and natural affection. Long ago, in the -tenements, I noticed his sinister effect on you. Whenever -you went out with him, you came back with your heart -hardened against me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What nonsense! You're quite wrong. Robert hasn't -wasted any of his valuable sermons on me. He hasn't sent -me so much as a scrap of paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what has changed you, all of a sudden? Is it my -father you're afraid of? That would be too absurd. He'll -come around. He has got to come around. He can't help -himself. I know too much about the business, its secrets -and its weaknesses. So don't worry on that score."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude, it's all very fine. But I don't see myself as -your wife. I'd never do. You need a woman to manage -you like a mother and to flatter you like a squaw. -But—these jobs not being in my line—I'd criticize you like an -equal. And you know you simply can't stand criticism."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she really rejecting his offer of marriage? Claude -was appalled at the apathy of the feminine intellect in the -face of a miracle. Didn't she know what his offer meant? -(He tried to convey it to her—not in the exact words, but -in euphemisms.) It meant a change of estate from mistress -to wife. The wife of Claude Fontaine! The wife of -a merchant prince of Paris, London, New York, etc. (the -only sort of prince that counted in the twentieth century; -no mere paper prince or petty Venetian dogeling, but a -prince whose rank had an international validity and whose -means could challenge the heart to name its wildest desire). -It was not conceivable that she knew what she was about. -Still, he had to face the possibility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this desertion on top of all he had endured in -consequence of leaving America with her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't there a shred of gratitude in you?" he cried out, -aghast at her unyielding front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not ungrateful, Claude," she said, gravely. "Living -with you has been a liberal education. I've learned the -truth about marriage without binding myself for life; I've -also learned the difference between affection and infatuation -without breaking either your heart or mine. Can I -ever repay this? If every girl could have some experience -in living with a man or two before she made a -permanent choice, I believe marriage would be far more -popular."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confound your opinions," he shouted, in an agony of rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a wild movement, he seized both her arms and -furiously lifted her to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here. Do you think you can calmly turn your -back on me after what I've put up with, after all I've -suffered on your account? Exactly why do you want to -go away at the very moment that I'm marooned in this -infernal town? You've got to tell me straight! Is it sheer -insanity, or a craze for romantic adventure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With cheeks glowing and lips quivering, she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm leaving you because we have nothing in common -except our physical attraction. And that is mostly -physical repulsion now, as you see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't you one spark of love for me left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Claude, with all your faults I love you still," she replied, -smiling, as she rallied her self-command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He relapsed into his seat, utterly overwhelmed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Deeply moved, she went over to his side, and looked at -him with a pang of remorse. He edged away from her with -a passionate sense of injury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember," he warned her, "if you leave me, that will -end everything. Society may ostracize you, or toss you -back into the gutter. Don't ask me to lift a finger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The friendly words froze on her lips. She quietly resumed -packing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang up, beside himself, his whole person vibrating -with his fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you're going, you needn't wait until tomorrow!" he -said, drawing in his breath. "You can go now, for all I -care."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He walked to the window, his teeth clenched and his -body set.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While she hastily assembled the rest of her most necessary -things, he was saying to himself:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This damned idea of independence! She thinks she -can frighten me. She thinks I won't let her go. I'll call -the bluff, and she'll come back flying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this on a horrible quicksand of doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she saw only his hostile back and heard only the -echo of his savage tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How like her mother he was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word, she picked up her bag and went out.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A sedan drove up to M. St. Hilaire's house in the -</span><em class="italics">Quartier Leopold</em><span>. The young lady who got out was met -at the door by a girl of fourteen who enfolded her in -affectionate embraces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what a slow poke!" cried the girl reproachfully. -"You were gone for ever and ever, Jeanette!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two hours and ten minutes, Henrietta," said Janet -looking at her wrist watch, "is pretty short measure for -eternity. I'm glad you're not my butcher or baker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette grimaced. They went upstairs together, the -girl's arm tightly clasping her companion's waist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette St. Hilaire was a lovely girl, lithe and slender. -Her fair hair was bobbed and her eyes were the soft blue -eyes of the North.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She complained again of the dull time she had had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serve you right for having a headache when I left," said -Janet. "According to Herbert Spencer, if I went out for a -drive by myself every time you had one, your headaches -would soon disappear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine has gone already. Show me all you bought, -Janski. May I open the parcels?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, one by one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Henriette was recklessly attacking strings and -wrappers, to the great peril of the contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among the parcels undid was one containing a book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She read out the title: "Tom, Dick and Harry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a book of light reading for a young lady well -advanced in the English language."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette had taken to English as a duck takes to water. -After a year of continuous practice, she spoke it well; and -read or wrote it passably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it isn't a girl's book, is it?" she said, dubiously, and -scanning the title again in the light of Janet's words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's a boy's book. Boys' books are the only ones I -know about because they were the only ones I used to read. -They were much jollier than the girls' books."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did your mother let you read boys' books? My mother -wouldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor mine either. But I read them on the sly. That's -what made them so enticing, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't imagine that you ever did anything on the sly, -Janski," said the child, who still took idioms somewhat -too literally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, can't you? Then I'm not half such a fool as I look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette laid the book down and went over to make a -demonstration of tenderness by way of intimating that she -believed Janet to be the best and cleverest person in the -whole world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet skillfully cut this demonstration short. She believed -that a child's affections, like its disaffections, should be kept -well within bounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your enthusiasm for 'Tom, Dick and Harry,'" she said, -in her musical voice, "leaves much to be desired. Let me -tell you that it is not a book for study, but a book for -light reading. If you really mean to make English your -'adopted tongue,' as you sometimes tell me, you must get -used to light reading. The English-speaking nations read -very little else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette gave her a look full of adoration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't need light reading while I have you. To -be with you is like—it's as exciting as watching the -loop-the-loop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Miss, do you imply that I'm a sort of -three-ringed circus or professional jumping-jack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I don't mean anything horrid and jumpy like that. -I mean you are never like other people. That's why it's -such fun to try and guess what you will do or say next. -And I hardly ever guess right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see. I'm more like a Christmas stocking, full of -surprises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, you see what funny things you say! It's far more -absorbing than a hundred books of light reading."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henriette, you are becoming highly skilled at flattery. -It's a very useful accomplishment. If my absence brings -out virtues like this, I think I shall make a point of -deserting you for two hours every morning. You will become a -paragon, and I shall be famous for my absent teaching."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, no, most dearest Jeanette. If need be, I'll say -the most awful things about you. I'll do anything to keep you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a great sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know how I worry about losing you. It's -terrible! Why weren't you my sister or my aunt? Then -I'd be sure of keeping you always!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too sure of that, darling. If we were close -relations, everybody would expect us to be fond of each -other. And this expectation would probably destroy most -of the fondness, unless our attraction for each other -happened to be overwhelming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is overwhelming, isn't it? It must be, Jeanette. -Why, I wouldn't mind even if you were my mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I call crushing proof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And it's taking chances, too. I don't really -want another mother, you know. Mothers are only truly -nice to their sons. Now do you see how much I love you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do, you little philosopher. And I conclude, from so -much undeserved affection, that, as a teacher, I have -probably been far too easy-going. In future, I shall have to -be much more severe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that has nothing to do with it," said Henriette, -laughing. "It isn't the way you treat me. It's—well, I -don't know what. Perhaps it's the deep, deep mystery -about you. Papa has noticed it, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has he, indeed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And speaking of mysteries, I forgot to tell you -that some one called to see you while you were out. A -gentleman—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gentleman! Who could it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he was a great big mountain of a man. Ugly, oh, -like the ogre in a fairy tale. I didn't like him a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you saw him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I peeked over the banisters. What a monster! -Papa wasn't home. Berthe let him in because he said he -was an old friend of yours. Here's his card."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet read the name of Hutchins Burley, and needed all -her self-control not to show her dismay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he leave a message?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henriette prattled on, unaware of Janet's emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He asked Berthe to tell you that he would call again -about five o'clock tomorrow afternoon. He said he especially -wanted to see you. If you couldn't be in, he would be sure -to see papa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five o'clock, did he say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Just when my riding lesson comes. I suppose -we shall have to give up our ride," she added mournfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's wait and see, dear."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Had Burley chanced upon her in the street and followed -her home, or had he seen her in one of the shops or at one -of the English tea rooms in Brussels? Janet did not pursue -this fruitless inquiry. The question was how to meet -the fact, the perilous fact. For she could hardly doubt -that Hutchins Burley's visit boded her no good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She passed the events of the last nine months in quick -review. M. St. Hilaire had engaged her without references. -True to his agreement, moreover, he had given her a free -hand with Henriette's education and had been well pleased -when a growing attachment between Janet and his daughter -relieved him almost entirely of routine parental cares.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the virtual guardian of Henriette, Janet had had -little to complain of and much to be thankful for. Her -pupil and her pupil's father had treated her from the first -as one of themselves, so that she enjoyed all the advantages -of membership in a family of wealth and refinement. These -advantages were not to be scoffed at. M. St. Hilaire was not -only a man of cultivated tastes; he possessed the means -(derived from extensive realty holdings in Alsace and -Switzerland) which permitted him to indulge his tastes on -a very liberal scale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All in all, Janet thanked her lucky stars, especially as the -pose of chivalry, which M. St. Hilaire had contributed to -their first meeting, had worn very well. True, at the outset, -he had made a few advances ranging from the demonstrative -to the amorous. But she had set these experiments -down to the incorrigible habit of continental gallantry. He -had not gone beyond them, had accepted her gentle rebuffs -with a very good grace, and had not thenceforth encroached -upon her intimacy further than she wished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of late, she had not been able to close her eyes to the -fact that her employer was engaged in a mental debate as -to whether or no he should propose marriage to her. She -regretted this fact and dreaded its sequel. For reasons that -seemed good and sufficient to her instincts if not to her -intellect, she had no desire to marry M. St. Hilaire. Her present -berth was very comfortable and altogether to her liking. -It gave her the rest she needed after the strain of her -adventure with Claude; it also gave her an opportunity to -reflect on the past and get her bearings in the present, -before she took another leap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in the light of these relations with M. St. Hilaire -and with Henriette that she wondered what she ought to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As regards Hutchins Burley, she was sure that he meant -to play the heavy villain. Why not? Nature had cut him -out for the part, patterning him magnificently upon the -"heavies" that trod on the blood-and-thunder stage. After -all, one had to give this stage its due. If the literary drama -could create characters which nature copied (and sometimes -improved on), so could melodrama. And certainly, -in Hutchins Burley, melodrama had prompted nature to -make her masterpiece.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet had rather settled it, then, that Hutchins would -have the audacity to approach her with a repugnant offer -(the same old offer), hoping that her recent experience -might have left her less squeamish than in the days of the -model tenements when she had repeatedly repulsed him -with scorn. On being repulsed anew, he would proceed to -inform M. St. Hilaire of her affair with Claude Fontaine in -the expectation that the news would bring about her -discharge. For it was unlikely that a father would wish his -child to continue in the care of a young woman who had -"gone wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mischief done, Hutchins would live in hopes of -snatching from her weakness the gratification he had vainly -striven to beg, borrow or steal from her strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should she now, like a movie heroine, try to head -Hutchins off, temporize with his expected offer, pay him -blackmail, or what not? She laughed heartily at this idea, -its execution was so foreign to her nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What would Robert advise her to do? At this point -she repeated an act that had lately been a favorite part of -her daydreams. She called up Robert, as Saul called up -the Witch of Endor, and had a long, sensible talk with him -one of those long, sensible talks so frequent in the days of -Barr & Lloyd in the Lorillard tenements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert advised her to obey her common sense unless her -instinct kicked over the traces, in which case let her feel -no compunction about obeying her instinct. She had better -have as little direct dealing with Hutchins Burley as -possible. You could no more put off a scoundrel than you -could buy up a gentleman. The basest as well as the best -of men were incorruptible. If Hutchins had it in mind to -do something nasty, he would do it, no matter what course -she took.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, she might throw herself on M. St. Hilaire's -mercy. But then, though M. St. Hilaire was a decent sort -of man, was he not, like most cultivated men, a classicist? -That is, were not his reactions towards matters of sex -thoroughly traditional? If so, the only attitude of Janet's -that he would comprehend would be that of a penitent -Magdalene with uplifted hands and tearful eyes. Was she -prepared to assume this role?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Decidedly not," was Janet's hot reply to Robert's shade. -"I may have been rash or worldly-unwise, but I won't -admit that I was wicked. If I am asked to pay up for my -folly, I shall not try to evade payment. But if I am asked -to pay up for my wickedness (which I do not acknowledge), -I shall fight payment to the last ditch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt, M. St. Hilaire will think me wicked, but do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are three kinds of people," solemnly responded -Robert's astral spirit. "And they correspond roughly to -three kinds of existence we recognize: animal, vegetable and -mineral. The mineral people are the dead people. Not -more dead than the so-called minerals. But, like rocks and -stones, they are incarnations of law and custom petrified. -Then there are the vegetable people, the people who fold -their hands and piously accept such crumbs of life as are -showered upon them from the lap of High Heaven. Lastly -there are the animal people, the people who go out to find -life instead of waiting for life to find them. If you intend -to remain in the last-named class, you must cheerfully -assume the risks of adventure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me," ejaculated Janet, "if his very shade isn't -lecturing me for old times' sake!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a little humiliating to be so dependent on Robert, -even in the spirit. She wouldn't have minded it so much -if his terrestrial self hadn't, with desolating coldness, -washed his hands of her fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, take it all in all, he had done what all sagacious -ghostly advisers should do, he had told her to do exactly -what she wanted to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Consequently, Henriette's riding lesson should not be -interfered with tomorrow. When Hutchins Burley came at -five o'clock, he would find her out. Tableau of a raging -ogre! His fury would know no bounds, and he would surely -embellish Janet's life history so that M. St. Hilaire should -put the worst interpretation on everything. Well, let him -do his vilest. Come what may, time and the hour would -run through the roughest day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Losing Henriette!—Ah, that would be a bitter pill to -swallow. Still, it wasn't the first bitter pill and it wouldn't -be the last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In every other way, she felt ready for a change.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Can I see you for a few minutes?" said M. St. Hilaire -to Janet, intercepting her outside his study, a little after six -o'clock next day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She and Henriette were on their way upstairs to take off -their riding clothes and to dress for dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you two are going to chatterbox, I shall take a little -nap," said Henriette, climbing drowsily up another flight -of stairs to her room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too long, </span><em class="italics">mon pere</em><span>," she added, stopping -half-way and looking down over the banisters. "I'm even more -hungry than sleepy. Jeanette, please wake me when you -come up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, from within the study, promised to do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither her voice nor her manner betrayed her apprehensiveness. -Her sailor hat was set rather jauntily on her -head. Her light-brown riding coat and breeches made a -most becoming costume, one that showed the undulating -grace of her movements to excellent advantage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>M. St. Hilaire followed her into the study and closed the -door a shade too circumspectly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His glances and the vibrant tones of his voice puzzled her -considerably. She could guess the substance of what he -meant to convey but not the form in which he meant to -convey it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That man—" he began in a hesitant manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Burley, the man I said was coming today?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came. You didn't tell me what he was coming for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew he'd do it so much better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He treated me to a long, long story about you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I rather thought he would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, so you knew that, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had no cause to suspect him of amiable intentions," -she said, swinging her sailor hat by the elastic band. "I -suppose he told you that I lived with Claude Fontaine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but of course, I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's quite true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>M. St. Hilaire, nonplused by her candor, stroked his -auburn beard and feasted on the sight of her as she sat in -an armchair not far away. The indefinable suggestion of a -devil-may-care mood enhanced her vital charm until it -stirred, thrilled, intoxicated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps—at one time—you have loved this Burley?" -he asked, nursing the suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A beast like that? Never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He moved his chair very closely to hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just Monsieur Fontaine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't expect me to go into details?" she said, -coloring deeply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, my dear. But—what has been, can be. Is it -not so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He didn't quite know himself. Being in no condition to -reason clearly, he had leaped rashly to the conclusion that -she had wished him to learn of her love affair as an indirect -way of encouraging him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet could not know his thoughts precisely, but she had -an inkling. She wondered that she could have been so -blind as not to have seen that his studied chivalry towards -women covered a strongly sensual nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even then, she was not insensible to the fact that Anton -St. Hilaire was a pleasing man to look upon. His bright -blue eyes and clear, ruddy complexion testified to a sound -physique. Perhaps he was a trifle too robust. But there -was a feminine comeliness about him which was a foil to -his surging virility. In many women, the first quality -calmed the piquant fears which the second quality excited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Burley naturally told all sorts of lies about you," he -added, for want of a better line to take.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expected he would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And of course I sent him about his business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I rather expected that, too," she said, smiling in spite of -a growing sense of alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For he had abruptly approached her and advanced as -fast as she involuntarily withdrew. She retreated around -the desk towards the closed door, on one side of which stood -a wide leather couch. Against this she stumbled slightly, -and he caught up with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet," he said, in a low voice, thick with excitement, -"the way he dared to talk about you, you—so sweet, so -clean, so adorable. I could have strangled the brute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you had."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must let me protect you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were at cross-purposes. She thought she could -still reach the door and make a dignified escape. He felt -her withdrawal as an added incitement. He had so long -dispensed with the anticipating, insinuating maneuvers in -the technique of love-making that he had lost the knack -of using them. Moreover, his muscular strength, a sanguine -temperament, and past successes in sexual experiments had -primed him with the belief that direct action was the -shortest way with all women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must let me protect you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the words still on his lips, he took her violently -in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The touch of his hand against her body filled her with an -enormous, sexless anger. Making an almost superhuman -effort, she struck back his head and succeeded in wrenching -herself from his grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stumbled, but instantly picked himself up. As he -tried to back her away from the door, she again raised -her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can protect myself," she said, with a passionate -repugnance that chilled him to the soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't go like that," he cried, springing forward and -clutching at her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dragged it away, rang for the maid, and rapidly -turned the door knob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Berthe," she called down the hall, in clear ringing tones, -"please open the storeroom. I want to get at my trunk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she turned and looked at him, cold, distinguished, -unapproachable.</span></p> -<ol class="upperalpha simple" start="13"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>St. Hilaire plumped into the nearest seat.</span></p> -</li> -</ol> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I meant no harm," he muttered, numb, and crestfallen -as a dried pear.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ten days later. A large sitting room in exclusive -lodgings near Picadilly, London. Two men in an animated -conversation. The decidedly younger one, breezy and Times -Squarish, and yet politely deferential to the experience of -his senior; the latter, a tall, wiry man immaculately dressed -in a suit of neutral coloring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young man was saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mr. Pryor, he's slowly warming to me. Slowly. I -tell you, sir, a Japanese naval attache can give points to -an icicle. Still, I think he's biting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you tell him that the U.S. Army of Occupation had -sent machine guns to the number of three thousand two -hundred and fifty to the Ukraine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I followed your instructions to the dot. I merely -said I was in a position to tell him the number."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He replied, with a sour smile, that he was in the same -position as regards me. I ventured to question the -correctness of his information. He volunteered the figure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the figure he gave?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was three thousand two hundred and fifty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mark Pryor's rather long neck collapsed telescopically -down his high, straight collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you think he's biting!" he said, turning his roving -gray eyes quizzically on his companion. "Take care, Smilo, -my boy, or he'll have </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> 'biting' before you know it. And -that will be a case of the biter bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have your little joke at the expense of the service, -Mr. Pryor," said young Smilo, with an air of tactfully -conveying a rebuke. "But is a mere Jap likely to come it over a -real American like you or me? I </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's waive discussion on a point so personal. In -temperament and disposition we are exact opposites. That's -why we get on so well together, and why I'm going to -take you into my confidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Pryor, you mustn't think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it, my boy, I know it. I must never think, and -I ought never to take you into my confidence, either. Both -acts are first-class infractions of the rules of the military -secret service. I admit it shouldn't be done. It might result -in important discoveries. It might even lead to the -disentangling of one of the mysteries we're working on. Think -of it! There'd be only one thousand two hundred and -fifty-six mysteries left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Young Smilo laughed good naturedly (to cheer the old boy up!).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None the less," continued Pryor, gravely, "I shall now -violate another inviolable rule. I shall give you four pieces -of information. The first: Running across Hutchins Burley -in Paris twelve days ago, I told him the number of machine -guns sent by us to the Ukraine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that was the dodge. I see! You told him the exact -number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hardly. I told him three thousand two hundred and -fifty. I thought that number would do as well as any. -Much better than the real number for a variety of reasons -which I won't stop to detail. Suffice it, the number agrees -with the number which you, in your capacity of informer -to the Japanese Secret Service, offered to reveal to the -attache, and which he already knew."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George! With all the other dope you've got in the -Burley case, you must be pretty nearly ready to close in on -the man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> thought. But Headquarters didn't. You see, I had -followed Burley along a devious route to Brussels. By the -way, he nearly slipped through my fingers there. I muffed -him, so to speak. But I picked him up again before he left -Belgium and dogged him to Coblenz."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coblenz? In the thick of the American occupation?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely. And bang under the noses of the American -army, Mr. Hutchins walked into a tobacconist's shop and -sent a letter to the Japanese embassy. At this tremendously -exciting moment, Headquarters, in all the majesty of its -omniscience, shunted me off to London and ordered me to -take you in tow and mark time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We marked time all right," chuckled Smilo. "You might -say we hall-marked it, what little we had. Linking Burley -up with the Japs on the one hand and with the smuggled -Fontaine diamonds on the other, wasn't such a bad week's -work, even though we haven't got the goods on him yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all very well, my boy. But what do I get today? -Here is your second piece of information. I get word to -quit the Japanese case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a post of honor in the business of trailing certain -dangerous American radicals who are temporarily in -London. How do you like that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like it, Mr. Pryor. And I don't blame </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> for -not liking it. It looks like a raw deal. But are you sure it -hasn't some remote connection with Burley?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not sure. The devil has many irons in the fire. -So has Hutchins Burley. Most energetic gentlemen whether -of the diabolic or the celestial brand can gobble up an -astonishing number of miscellaneous jobs. For all I know, -Hutchins may be the new Head Bolshevik Bomb Thrower; -or he may be the old chief </span><em class="italics">Agent Provocateur</em><span>; or he may -be merely somebody with a friend in Washington whose -word can make Headquarters quail. It's a conundrum. A -pretty, picture-puzzle, play-box conundrum, if you like. -Still, a conundrum. And I'm heartily sick of conundrums. -I'm done with them. I joined the Secret Service to become -a detective, not a musical comedy magician."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say you are going to resign?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do. You have guessed my third item of news. As -fast as a steamer can carry me, I mean to proceed to -Washington, there to give my resignation and sundry pieces of -my mind to the Chief in person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But keeping its agents in the dark is an old, cherished -method of the Service, isn't it? Mr. Pryor, I feel sure you -have another reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have. Item four: I'm being followed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Followed—I don't understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I began to suspect something the moment I came to -London. Well, I put my suspicions to the test yesterday. -Before going out I folded a pair of trousers in a very -particular way and left them on a chair. When I came back -they had been refolded in a slightly different way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you question your landlady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Naturally she denied that any stranger had -entered, but her confusion was obvious. I quickly suggested -that my tailor might have called, and she as quickly agreed -that this was so. When, an hour later, I interviewed the -tailor and he confirmed me in my belief that he had not -been near the house, the inference was clear. I was being -watched. And, mark you, Smilo, I have reason to believe -that the watcher is one of our own colleagues."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Judging from the awkward way the pockets were -crumpled in the act of refolding the trousers, I have further -reason to believe that the watcher is a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing is impossible in this best of impossible worlds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a low-down shame, Mr. Pryor. But, after all, it -can't hurt you. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, -etc.' You know the saying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear boy, being a detective you can't begin to -realize that the knowledge that you are being carefully -watched gives you a very jumpy feeling—especially when -you know you're guilty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In heaven's name, guilty of what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of doing a good job in your own line; in my case, -tracking down criminals."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely you don't mean to imply that Headquarters -would permit influences—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I imply nothing. I give you the benefit of the facts. -But if you think it's a pleasure to surmise that your every -movement has an unseen spectator—you don't know who, -but you fear it's a young and beautiful woman—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden ring-a-ling of the telephone bell cut across -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mark Pryor took up the instrument.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said. "It's Mr. Pryor speaking. A young -woman? Indeed! Well, I'll see her up here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hung up the receiver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A young and beautiful woman," he repeated with a -singularly straight face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Young Smilo, whose way of life was still in the green, the -callow leaf, was divided between admiration and bewilderment. -In half a minute or so there was a knock at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young woman who came in was Janet Barr.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Smilo's parting look was one of stupefaction at the reception -the visitor got, Pryor's enthusiasm being a startling -abandonment of his neutral, self-contained manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left to themselves, Janet informed Pryor of the troubles -that had brought her to see him. The chief of these was -Hutchins Burley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would Mr. Pryor advise her how to deal with him if he -turned up again, as seemed highly probable?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were other difficulties. She had nearly exhausted -her funds. She didn't wish to return to the United States. -Not at the moment, anyhow. Yet she couldn't get a -position without a character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This last she had learned recently, after several bitter -experiences. Europeans seemed firmly persuaded that a -character existed not in yourself but in the minds of other -people, or rather in their handwriting. In the United States -a good presence was worth a thousand good characters and -your own opinion of yourself, expressed with imaginative -brilliance, went much further than other people's opinion of -you, expressed with dullness. In Europe, the reverse was true.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would he make out a good character for her, and have -it on tap within easy reach in case she referred employers -to him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sure that any testimonial coming from him—yes, -from him—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I know you're a mystery," she said, in answer to -his deprecatory gesture. "But not an ordinary mystery. A -mystery linked to the pink of propriety is a sublime -mystery. Like Mrs. Grundy's husband, whom you remind me -of. No one has ever identified that mysterious man. Yet -who'd have the courage to turn down a character made out -by Mr. Grundy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She told him of her break with Claude, of her situation as -the companion of Henriette, and of her experience with -M. St. Hilaire as a result of Burley's interference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I left Brussels the very next day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For Coblenz?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Via Coblenz, for Munich, to see you, if possible. It was -a Munich address you gave me, on board the 'Baronia'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I left Munich some time ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I learned. You see, I followed you here. But how -do you know I went to Coblenz?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the seventh of October?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the seventh of October. How </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> you know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know it. The information just drifted my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a detective then, Sherlock Holmes and -M. Gaboriau rolled into one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, disabuse yourself of that idea. If I </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> a -detective I'd be a very sorry one. Let me prove it to you. In -the course of my duties (whatever they are), I had occasion -to look up Mr. Burley. I located him in Brussels on -the sixth of October. I had scarcely found him before he -slipped through my fingers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slipped through your fingers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Slipped through my fingers. You see, I'm trying -to live up to the detective role to oblige you. Well, I got -on to Mr. Burley's movements again on the seventh of -October, just in time to follow him to Coblenz. </span><em class="italics">Why Coblenz?</em><span> -I asked myself again and again. By the way, did you ever -hear of a real, live detective asking </span><em class="italics">himself</em><span> a question?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But what is the answer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> are the answer, of course. And I've only just -discovered the fact. Fancy Sherlock Holmes following -Hutchins Burley all the way from Brussels to Coblenz and -from Coblenz to London and not discovering a quintessential -answer, until the answer had crossed the Channel and -stationed itself under his very nose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to tell me that that odious Hutchins -Burley is also in London at this very minute?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be alarmed; I give you my word he sha'n't molest -you again. I was about to res—I was about to transfer -my valuable services to another sphere. What you have -told me determines me to hang on a little longer, for the -sole satisfaction of bringing Hutchins Burley to book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you mustn't injure your prospects on my account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No fear. There's pleasure in checkmating a fellow like -Burley, and profit, too. You know, Janet, the real -old-fashioned heavy-weight villains are deplorably scarce. -Goodness, routine goodness, is so easy nowadays, it is so -much in fashion, it is so thoroughly rammed down our -throats by compulsory education, that very few people are -inclined to be wicked and fewer still are energetic enough -to carry out the inclination. Mr. Hutchins Burley is a rare -beast. He does not identify his wickedness with our -goodness. Not he. He believes in himself from top to bottom. -Unlike the usual criminal of today, he doesn't suffer from -the cowardice of his convictions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They discussed Janet's plans. Ways and means, and how -to get her off the rocks, were the first considerations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know what?" said Pryor, reflectively; "your old -friend Cornelia Covert could give you a lift."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no; I can't go back to America—not yet, anyhow," -said Janet resolutely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she isn't in America. She's in Paris. You didn't -know it? Then I've a big piece of news for you. She's -married!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia married!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Benedick, the married man, isn't in it with Diana, -the married woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Harry Kelly, of course. Give me a moment to -catch my breath. Mrs. Harry Kelly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've heard of Paulette crepe, haven't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The crepe that's all the rage this year. Mr. Pryor, when -I see a Paulette crepe blouse in a London shop, the cells -of my great-great-grandmother rise enviously within me -and turn the clock back to Noah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The curse of Eve," said Mr. Pryor, in his driest vein. -"Well, everybody knows that Paulette crepe is named after -Madame Paulette, one of the first dressmakers of Paris. -Not everybody knows that Madame Paulette's real name is—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Prior briefly narrated the curious story of Cornelia's -migration to Paris, her marriage to Harry Kelly, her -transformation into a fashionable dressmaker. Through a -convergence of happy events, in which Pryor had had a -hand, Cornelia had been able to enter the old and famous -house of Paulette, then noticeably on the decline. Her -artistic gifts and Kelly's industry had rejuvenated the -management and revived the glories of the Paulette tradition. -In a little less than a year Cornelia and Kelly had bought -out the aged proprietors of the firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No wonder I didn't hear from her," said Janet. "All -my letters came back unopened. I began to think she had -turned her back on me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marriage has not changed her as much as that," said -Pryor, smiling. "But I warn you that it has changed her -a good deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the better or for the worse?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the better </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> for the worse. But wait and judge -for yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps Cornelia will think me in the way, now that -she has a husband to look after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia lose sleep over Harry? No, dear girl; don't -worry on that score. And don't forget that she'll be glad -to do me a favor as well as you. More than one tony -customer has come to her shop at my instance. When I tell -you that I brought Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, the mother of the -Duchess of Keswick, to her, you'll admit that I'm a crack -barker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Pryor, you are my </span><em class="italics">deus ex machina</em><span>. I believe you -are every one else's, too. It must be a hobby with you to -help people out of difficulties."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite the contrary. It's a hobby with me to get people -into difficulties. The worst of it is, I rarely succeed. I -rarely get anybody into difficulties except myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's as true of me as it is of certain other people. -Sensitive people. People like you, or Charlotte Beecher, or -Robert Lloyd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Robert never gets himself into difficulties," said -Janet, with a trace of bitterness. "He's too efficient, too -perfect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do him an injustice, I'm sure. Lloyd merely puts -up an exceptionally good front. He stands the strain of -existence with skill and courage. So do you, for that -matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks. But I really haven't had much to stand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems ample to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not half what I expected. When I went away with -Claude I thought the universe would be arrayed against me. -I dare say that in the margin of my thoughts there was -a dim picture of Janet flinging a glove in the face of a -decadent, despotic world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They both smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What happened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went on, sub-ironically: "A geyser of slander and -mockery that spurted up from the newspapers. Nothing -else. Nothing diabolic on the world's side. Nothing heroic -on mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the rule in these cases, Janet. The Flatbush -suburb idea that all the world loves a lover is about as true -as the Greenwich Village or Kips Bay idea that all the -world hates a free union."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think both ideas are fictions?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not entirely. Modern society has its own way of giving -a pat of approval to a regular marriage and a kick of -disapproval to a free union. Apart from these casual -demonstrations it doesn't get tremendously excited over what its -men and women do as males and females, so long as they -pay their rent regularly, refrain from incurring bad debts -with tradesmen, and bow the knee (at least in public) to -the seventh commandment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I soon found that out. Nobody cared a pin -whether I was married or not, or whether I was more to be -pitied than scorned, provided I wore the proper clothes -and told the proper lies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody, except Hutchins Burley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, there's sure to be a Nemesis!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. But why Hutchins Burley? What am I to Burley, -or Burley to me? Why should that horrible wretch -be commissioned to persecute me? Why was he destined -to snap the bond of comradeship between Henriette and -me? He isn't exactly one's notion of a social censor, is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A scavenger isn't a popular notion of a sweet and clean -man. Yet he serves a public purpose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an extraordinary analogy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. You see, Janet, we moderns are too squeamish -or too lazy to do our necessary dirty work ourselves, -dirty work like punishment, for instance. The result is -that when some one rashly assails the majesty of one of our -institutions, we punish him by proxy. We kill by the hand -of the public executioner. We get revenge by the hand -of the judge. We dispense poetic justice by the hand of a -Hutchins Burley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Hutchins Burley as society's Nemesis is a brand -new idea to me. I shall need time to let it sink in. But -what have I done to deserve so mighty a thing as poetic -justice? I haven't even stolen another woman's husband. -Haven't I been my own worst enemy, as Laura Jean Libby -used to say? Isn't that vice its own reward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, your question is fair. But your voice and your -eyes are not. Now I come to think of it, there may after -all be a teeny weeny bit to say—no, not on Hutchins -Burley's side—but on Monsieur Anton St. Hilaire's side."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Pryor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean a twentieth part of what I say. But let -me say it. You are strong enough to take it straight. To -begin with, the enigma of Hutchins Burley: answer me this. -Didn't you of your own free will settle down amongst the -Outlaws?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you can't touch pitch without a little of it sticking -to your fingers. But let us consider what you are to do -next. It's a safer topic. We've talked unguardedly enough, -considering that there's a dictagraph in the room, put -there by no friends of mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dictagraph! Then you're not a great detective," -said Janet, seriously disappointed. Hopefully, she added: -"If you are not Sherlock Holmes, perhaps you are Raffles?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it takes a thief to catch a thief," was the -enigmatic reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not tell her that the hiding place of the dictagraph -had been located and that Smilo had received instructions -to tamper with the instrument as soon as the coast -was clear.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They took a bus to Janet's lodgings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Several plans were agreed upon. Chiefly, they were -both to write to Cornelia asking her to find a position for -Janet in the Paulette establishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fashionable dressmaking was not precisely the work that -Janet's heart was in. But she was prepared to take any -position as a means to an end. Her real goal was active -participation in the later phases of the women's movement. -Recent happenings had revived in her the old longing to -enter the thick of the battle, to pitch into the struggle for -equal pay in every sort of occupation and for an equal title -to legislative and administrative power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I shall have to get an income of my own before I -can be a factor in this struggle," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One must get an income of one's own before one can -be a factor in any struggle," said Pryor, dryly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I've learned that, too. Feminists say that a woman -must have an independent income in order to enter marriage -with self-respect. They could go further and say that -a woman must have an independent income in order to -enter a free union with self-respect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor told her that he expected to return to the United -States in a few weeks. Should he, in case he ran across -Robert Lloyd, inform him of her altered views?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She said that Robert wouldn't thank him for any -information about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you were such exceptionally good friends," -expostulated Pryor. "Your little firm of Barr & Lloyd—what -a pity you couldn't pick that thread up again, instead of -joining Cornelia. If Robert weren't as poor as a church -mouse, or if you both weren't too proud to borrow a little -cash from me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet interrupted to veto all suggestions along that line. -Pride had nothing to do with the question. It was true that -she and Robert had been very good friends and excellent -working partners. But Robert had emphatically said that -he had no use for a woman who had damaged her social -and businesss value by indulging in an adventure such as -hers [Transcriber's note: several words missing from source book]</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hm!" said Pryor. "When the shoe pinches his own -foot, what astoundingly conservative exclamations even a -radical fellow will make."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went on to say that, although she had changed her -views, she had every reason to believe that Robert had not -changed his. Thus, he had taken no step whatever to -communicate with her, despite the fact that she had indirectly, -in her first letter to Cornelia, asked him to do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides," she added, "didn't you know that he was -about to marry Charlotte Beecher?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ho, so that's how the wind blows?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor, standing in front of Janet's house, gave the curb -a sharp whack with his cane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That marriage has no place in the scheme of your </span><em class="italics">deus -ex machina</em><span>," he said, with a quizzical frown. "We'll have -to take it out on Burley—give the devil an extra twist of -the tail to relieve our feelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, when you catch him. Meanwhile, what am I to -do about him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forget him, forget him serenely for half a dozen weeks -or so. Then you'll hear from him again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear from him again," she said, with a shade of alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not </span><em class="italics">from</em><span> him in person," corrected Pryor, straightening -up till he looked like a hickory stick. "</span><em class="italics">About</em><span> him, -through me. Good news for us, bad news for him. Until -then good-bye."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hearts-and-treasures"><span class="bold large">PART V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">HEARTS AND TREASURES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On a cool February morning a private office in the -Maison Paulette, Boulevard Houssman, was occupied by -five persons of the feminine sex. Four of the five, -gorgeous as to clothes and cosmetics, moved busily about in -comet-like orbits that brought them periodically near the -desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fifth, seated at the desk itself, dominated the room. -She was a striking blonde, whose handsome dull-green dress -challenged the glint of gold alike in her pupils and her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seemingly occupied with a book of accounts, this lady -was really engaged in inventing petty tasks for the four -young women dancing attendance upon her. (</span><em class="italics">Mariette, -ou est le livre bleu? Mon dieu, Gabrielle! les ciseaux; -quelqu'un a enleve mes petites ciseaux. Toinette, -apportez-moi le boite aux lettres. Tiens, Amelie! Prends ce -mouchoir</em><span>, etc., etc.) These requests for service continued in a -fairly steady stream, amidst much hurrying and scurrying, -sharp cries of </span><em class="italics">tout de suite, Madame</em><span>, and a general -atmosphere of sulky obsequiousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the thick of the confusion the door was opened by a -young woman in a soft suit of brown heather. She stood on -the threshold for a moment and, as she looked questioningly -towards the lady in command, a slight frown brought -a bar of hazel brown over her beautiful gray eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady at the desk, who saw everything, affected not to -see the figure on the threshold and went on languidly -issuing orders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thereupon the newcomer, in clear, agreeable English, -called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Evidently you don't want me, Cornelia. Good, I'll go -back upstairs. I've stacks and stacks of work to do—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Araminta, wait! Of course I want you. I want you -most particularly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got an army here, already. What do you want -me for? If you keep on calling me away from the manikins -whenever Harry is explaining matters, he'll never be able -to train me into taking charge of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear!" trilled Cornelia, bringing her most musical -</span><em class="italics">arpeggio</em><span> into play. "When you've been married as long -as I have, you'll understand that no sensible woman ever -interferes with her husband's work except for a positively -overwhelming reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, the reasons here in Paris are as bad as the -seasons," said Janet with a smile. "I wish they'd calm -down and not overwhelm us quite so often."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Janet, you well may jest. Little do you know of -the heavy responsibilities involved in managing both a -business and a husband. If I had only myself to think of -the worries and risks would be as a whisper in the wind. -But I think of Hercules sharing my anxieties, working -himself thin and gray—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While she went on in this theatrical vein, Janet was -thinking to herself: "She makes as great a virtue of being -married as she formerly made of not being married. -Whatever her condition, there's a terrible to-do about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aloud she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Cornelia, if you want to talk privately to me, -hadn't we better get rid of this retinue?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without awaiting a reply, she calmly released Marie and -the other manikins from service and sent them out of the -room. This done, she took a chair opposite the desk where -Cornelia sat staring at her in speechless indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia cherished a sort of mental chromo of herself as -the active ruler of the Paulette community, a ruler at once -imperious, genial, and adored. In point of fact, her -insatiable appetite for attention, reinforced by a sharp tongue, -spread an atmosphere of dread and anxiety around her. -Janet was the only person who had ever succeeded in -weakening Cornelia's illusion about herself by bringing it into -occasional juxtaposition with reality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll greatly oblige me, Janet, by not ordering my -servants about under my very nose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your manikins are not your servants, Cornelia. They're -your employees. You slave-drive them outrageously. If -you don't look out, you'll have a strike on your hands -before long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With you as the strike leader, I dare say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? Your inability to respect other people's time -is simply appalling. The moment some whim pops into -your head, one of us is called upon to gratify it. You quite -forget that when you arbitrarily take us from our jobs, -bang goes continuity, a most important factor in good -workmanship. Mazie, who came here grovelling in the dust, -is now up in arms; the manikins are unitedly rebellious; -Harry is almost a nervous wreck. This, with business -simply deluging the establishment. I tell you, unless </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> -stop, we all will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia quailed under these words, although she kept -her face admirably. She was in some respects like a -wrongly bound volume: half Becky Sharp and half Hedda -Gabler. And it was the Hedda Gabler pages she always -turned up to Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what next?" she exclaimed, on the defensive in -spite of her brave words. "I've rescued Mazie Ross out of -the gutter where Hutchins Burley flung her; I've sacrificed -my own creature comforts to make those of the manikins -secure; I've given </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> a very tidy berth and no questions -asked; and I've worked myself to skin and bones for -Harry's sake. Now you all turn on me and call me an -interfering busybody, or worse. That's human gratitude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet, giving the faintest ironical shrug, merely looked -at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia smothered a sob of rage. After a pause, she -informed Janet that Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, her most valued -customer, had made an appointment that morning to look -at some frocks and gowns. This lady had a single hobby, -clothes; and she spent an appreciable fraction of her untold -millions ("she's divorced two multimillionaires, Araminta, -and driven a third into the diplomatic service!") on this -hobby. She had expressed profound dissatisfaction with -Paulette's offerings on her last visit two weeks ago. It was -therefore of prime importance to please her this time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to be in the salon with me when she looks -at the models," said Cornelia. "She's extremely susceptible -to flattery. As the head of the house, I can't very well lay -it on too thick, can I? I have a feeling that your presence -will make the sales go smoothly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better leave me out of it, Cornelia. I never sold -a thing in my life. Why, I couldn't sell a sandwich to a -starving man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I'll</em><span> do the </span><em class="italics">selling</em><span>, my dear. I simply ask you to be on -hand. The fact is, you have a peculiar influence over -people. When they get to talking with you, they suddenly -forget about </span><em class="italics">things</em><span>—the earth-earthy things by which we -are all so obsessed nowadays—they appear to forget about -things and begin to occupy themselves with thoughts and -dreams. In that condition, a man or woman will buy anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, you'll admit that I've done all sorts of odd -jobs for you without a murmur. But I really don't like to -bamboozle anybody into—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bamboozle! Araminta! No one who buys a Paulette -frock is bamboozled. Be quite clear about that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She added, less belligerently, that Mrs. Jerome, though -so very rich, had no taste in clothes. Or, more bluntly, -had a most execrable taste. She went in for suffrage, -feminism, woman's rights, and all that sort of thing. (Here -Janet pricked up her ears.) So you might know what to -expect. She was, in short, faddy and temperamental. Her -purchases were made or not made, as the case might be, -because the seller pleased or displeased her. The articles -themselves were of quite secondary importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive my curiosity, Cornelia. But you have regiments -of customers. Why are you so anxious about just this one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a question, you babe in the wood! Don't you -know who Mrs. Jerome is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know she's rich and that Mr. Pryor had something to -do with her coming here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not it, child. She's the American mother of the -Duchess of Keswick. And the Duchess— Well, it's Madge -and Mary between her and the Queen of England. Think, -Araminta, what a feather in our cap, if we get the -patronage of the Duchess of Keswick, and a Paulette frock is -worn at the Court of St. James! It's the chance of a -lifetime. You won't disappoint me, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. We'll make it Madge and Paulette and Mary. -When is this dowager Mrs. Jerome expected?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's her carriage now, or I'm very much mistaken," -said Cornelia, all agog. "She hardly ever uses a motor. -It's </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> ordinary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In some amazement Janet watched her old friend going -out to do the honors in the reception room. What a -transformation a short year had effected in the Cornelia of -the Lorillard tenements! Bohemianism, outlawry, and the -one-piece dresses of Kips Bay seemed remoter than Mars. -Cornelia was attired in the height of fashion, her cheeks -were delicately touched up, her hair was elaborately -coiffured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even her congenital languor had evaporated, for the -moment, as the thrills of social snobbery electrified her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Entering the salon, Janet saw that Mrs. Jerome was a -podgy little tub of a woman, the symbol of the fortune -which her father, Theodore Casey, had made in wash-tubs. -She took a chair beside the visitor, who sleepily watched the -crack Paulette manikins whilst they exhibited a variety of -frocks and Cornelia nervously courted the favor of her -outspoken customer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome examined one of the manikins at close -quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think much of your dresses today," she said -bluntly. "The lines are all wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, Mrs. Jerome," said Cornelia with dignity. -"But they ought to be at that angle. A Paulette frock is a -work of art. It is designed to produce a definite effect from -a definite point of view. The lines are like those of a -Phidias statue, perfectly right at the proper distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't care if they </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> look like a Fiddlesticks statue. -Look at that charmeuse gown there. Can't anybody tell -that girl a mile away for what she is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear I don't understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if the gown don't hide the fact that she's a manikin, -it won't hide the fact that my figure's no Fiddlesticks -statue, or whatever you call it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This opinion, delivered in an unmistakable New York -voice and accent, made Janet laugh. Not disrespectfully. -She discerned at once that Mrs. Jerome, like Shakespeare, -had far more native wit than college learning. Her -judgment was confirmed when the visitor, turning abruptly -towards her, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of these Paulette dresses, young -lady. I don't expect you to say that they're pretty rotten. -But do they satisfy the eye?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, Mrs. Jerome, that if they don't </span><em class="italics">satisfy</em><span> the eye, -they'll at least astound it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome brightened up at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, child," she said, "when I want to astound people, -I'll do it on less money than a Paulette gown costs. I'll -walk around Columbus Circle in my bathing suit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll bet you do it, too," said Janet, at the top of -her exuberance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do what?" said Mrs. Jerome, now totally oblivious of -the manikins on exhibition and of Cornelia on pins and -needles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wear a bathing suit around the house. I used to, regularly. -In the tenements in Kips Bay I always did the dishes -in my bathing suit. Annette Kellerman tights, a skirt to the -knees, no sleeves, no stockings. A dandy rig-out for quick -action."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Permit me to say, Janet—" began Cornelia, in frigid, -authoritative tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome impatiently waved her away, an indignity -so astounding that Madame Paulette could scarcely trust -her eyes. Janet, fearing she had been indiscreet, hastened -to add:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, Cornelia—Madame Paulette—doesn't allow -it in Paris. She requires us to be perfectly proper here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She would!" said Mrs. Jerome significantly, her back -still turned to Cornelia. "But what good does it do you? -Nine-tenths of the people in Paris are perfectly proper; -but they don't look it. The other tenth are perfectly -improper; but they, as often as not, don't look it either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The manikins received another inning. A brief one, -though, for Mrs. Jerome inspected and dismissed them in -quick succession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," she said, half aloud, "to think that you -came from the tenements."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave Janet a quick, sceptical glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can scarcely believe it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can scarcely believe it myself," said Janet, with a -perfectly straight face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia bit her lips and, flashing an angry look at her -friend, went out of the salon, unable to trust her feelings -any longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the Duchess got wind of it," Mrs. Jerome mused on, -"that would finish Paulette's for me. She don't think a -shop is a classy shop unless the proprietor has a classy -pedigree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, our pedigree will seem classy enough to the -Duchess," said Janet, "if you don't give us away. And you -can't do that, you know. I only told you in the strictest -confidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you go shifting your responsibilities on me, young -woman. If you want your secrets kept, you just keep them -to yourself. I'm no safe deposit vault for anyone else's -hidden thoughts. For your comfort I'll tell you this, though. -I've never given my daughter food or information that I -knew she couldn't digest. I'm too old to begin doing it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're quite right, Mrs. Jerome. Things slip off my -tongue that oughtn't to. Personally, I don't care a straw. -But other people—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't worry about other people, my dear," said Mrs. Jerome, -who had enjoyed the tit-for-tat immensely. "I'm -not likely to desert Madame Paulette. At least not while -she keeps anyone with your healthy face and fascinating -eyes here to talk to me. Mind, I'm not gone on these -Paulette frocks. I guess the Madame knows that pretty well. -But this establishment is run by a woman, a woman from -my own country. That means a good deal to me. For -although our sex is coming into its own, the pace isn't a -dizzy one. The men see to that. And so I say, this is a -time for all good women to stand by one another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little lady sank back in her seat and, as though -exhausted by her long speech, closed her eyes. When she -opened them again, Cornelia had returned and the parade -of the manikins was resumed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This spectacle always started Janet on a series of curious -reflections. As a result of the training in rhythmics which -the girls received at the hands of Harry Kelly, they were -free from those grotesque mannerisms of gait, posture, and -demeanor which manikins cultivated and which were accepted -by the trade as superlative expressions of esthetic -correctness. Yet Harry's talent yoked to the service of -fashion seemed as wasteful a thing as an artist's genius -drafted in the service of futility. It reminded Janet of the -story of the Medici prince who compelled Michelangelo to -mould a statue out of snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to Mrs. Jerome the Paulette manikins were a sight to -see. She made Janet sit on the lounge beside her and -coaxed her to give an opinion on every frock subsequently -shown. She purchased all those that Janet praised and -several that she made fun of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was one of the best day's work that the sales -department of Paulette's had ever done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of which, Madame Paulette considered it her -duty to take Mrs. Jerome to one side and apologize for -Janet and her artless indiscretions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She means well, Mrs. Jerome," said Cornelia, deferentially. -"She's—well, I might say, she's naive, incredibly -naive in matters of social position. It's only lack of -training, I assure you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she's absolutely ignorant of distinctions of rank. -Absolutely. Why, she would talk to a Duchess with no -more ceremony than to a scrubwoman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I'll bring the Duchess here to be talked to. It -might do her good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do bring the Duchess. I shall be charmed to display -for her inspection the best that the Maison has."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt. But let me give you a tip. Don't waste -your time training that dear little Janet girl. She'll learn -the deceitful ways of the world fast enough, and no -correspondence course needed either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet came up to them as they reached the outer door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," said Mrs. Jerome, putting her arm around -Janet's waist, "you've given me the best quarter of an hour -I've had in Paris these two months. It's been a treat, a -royal treat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Cornelia beheld these two, standing there intertwined, -a strange expression formed on her face, an expression that -bespoke an agonizing doubt of the sanity of the universe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unheeding her, Mrs. Jerome continued to say to Janet:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The people I meet everywhere! In Europe they pick -my pockets while they lick my boots; in America they rifle -my purse with barefaced assurance. You are the first one -I've met in a very long time who has talked to me as though -I were a human being and not a walking cash box."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The conquest of Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome produced a sensation -in the Paulette establishment. It also gave an element -of security to Janet's precarious tenure of office there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet knew full well that Madame Paulette had received -her in the Boulevard Haussman with nothing like the -enthusiasm that Cornelia had welcomed her in the Lorillard -tenements. In the interval between these events the two -friends had burned several bridges behind them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was obvious that Cornelia was now glutted with hands -to wait on her, ears to pay heed to her, and tongues to -flatter her. Her natural taste for dependents being completely -gratified, she felt less need than ever for friends of -an independent turn of mind like Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, in a year and a half of compact adventure, -Janet had matured more rapidly than many young people -do in ten years of tame drifting. Time, which had whittled -away some of her imprudence, had robbed her of none of -her daring; it had left her with her almost naive freedom of -utterance intact. Her candor was a trait to which Cornelia -had formerly been much drawn. But that was in the -days of her first arrival in Kips Bay, the days when the -young girl had all but worshipped the experienced woman. -Now that blind devotion had given way to challenging -criticism, Janet's candor seemed far less attractive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is, far less attractive to Cornelia. As regards -Paulette's in general, Janet was a great favorite. Her official -duties were chiefly those of an assistant to Harry Kelly in -the physical training of the manikins, (a branch of their -professional instruction on which Kelly laid great stress). -She bore somewhat the same relation to her chief that the -concert master of an orchestra does to the conductor. This -arrangement was Cornelia's doing. In one and the same -bold stroke she had thought to cut down the time that Kelly -spent with the manikins (this being the time in which his -heart lay most); and to shift to Janet's shoulders the odium -that frequently devolves on the deputy chief (who exercises -authority without possessing power).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cornelia's spirit of negation, active as ever, -accomplished only one-half of its object.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet discharged her duties with so much vivacity and -with such invincible good-will that she was idolized by -everybody in the Paulette firm from Kelly and the manikins -down to the work girls and the magnificent porter who daily -consented to guard the street door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In short, she was the life of the house; than which, -Cornelia could have brought no stronger indictment against her -of unimaginable </span><em class="italics">lese majeste</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two had a long private conversation in Cornelia's -office the day after Mrs. Jerome's visit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Araminta, you've certainly made a hit with the old -lady. Just as I predicted. It's a fine thing for us both. -Paulette's prestige will go up and up. And it should mean -a great deal to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How, I wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can make her friendship a stepping stone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Easy stepping stones for little feet—so to speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know quite well what I mean. Some day you'll go -back to America—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this a hint or a prediction, or both—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly, Janet. I'm thinking of your future. Your -future in your own country, naturally. Mrs. Jerome is a -woman of enormous influence. You know how it is over -there. Much gold will wash all guilt away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean my chequered past?" asked Janet, with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Cornelia, adding handsomely, "although your -affair with Claude Fontaine will probably be quite forgotten -by that time. Nobody will remember it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert Lloyd will!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia was up in arms at once. She always was, when -Janet mentioned Robert's name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What difference does that make? You aren't going -to marry </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose not. He's too poor, for one thing. He isn't -going to ask me, for another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One would imagine you wanted him to," said Cornelia, -with concise sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We got along splendidly as partners."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Partners! What has that to do with marriage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has anything to do with marriage? I understood -your reasons when you believed that marriage was a prison. -I confess I don't understand your reasons now that you -believe marriage to be a haven of bliss. Mind, I don't say -it is a prison, and I don't say that it </span><em class="italics">isn't</em><span> a haven of bliss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet tried to check her sub-ironical impulses: they were -irrepressible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel too much in the dark about the whole thing," she -went on, "to be as cocksure as I used to be. But if one isn't -to marry a man because one has found him to be a splendid -companion in the wear and tear of working together, why -is one to marry him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How you do run on, Araminta! Prisons and hells, -Paradises and havens of bliss—you jump from one extreme to -the other. Who mentioned these things? My dear, one -marries a man because he calls to what is deepest and -truest in one. Because he responds to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The mating instinct?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you sit there and say such vulgar things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vulgar! Well, you </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> going it! Isn't the mating -instinct as deep and true as any of them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't a reason for marriage," said Cornelia, in staccato -accents. "And you know perfectly well I never said or -thought it was. Quite the reverse. I opposed marriage -because the sex instinct, which is what induces most people -to marry, is a good ground for a temporary union but not -a good ground for a permanent one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> good reasons for a permanent union?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And they absorb the sex reason a million times -over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy for you to talk like that, Cornelia, with Harry -thinking that the sun rises in one of your eyes and sets in -the other. But where shall </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> find a Harry to be absorbed in -me a million times over like that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you go on making nasty sarcastic replies to all my -well-meant suggestions, I shall wash my hands of you," said -Cornelia, rising with frigid haughtiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She added, on a superior note:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better see a little less of poor, bedraggled Mazie -Ross, if it's on </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> level that you're being tempted to think."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet hastened after her in a complete change of mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back, Cornelia," she called out, remorsefully. "I -had no right to be sarcastic. Forgive me, and I'll eat all -the humble pie you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia sat down again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a new tack for you to take," she said, making -the most of an advantage Janet seldom gave her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is, Cornelia, I'm—my feelings were ploughed -up today, ploughed up from top to bottom. The postman -brought me an offer of marriage this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An offer of marriage!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From Monsieur St. Hilaire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia had of course heard the facts of the whole -St. Hilaire episode. She also knew that Janet still -corresponded with Henriette, and that all the recent letters of -the girl's father had been sent back unopened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you never read his letters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This one was folded up in Henriette's note. I'm sure -the child wasn't a party to the trick. Here it is. Will you -read it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I must say I'm surprised," she said, returning the -letter. "He writes in a very decent, manly strain. -Altogether different from what I expected. The devil doesn't -seem to be nearly as black as he's painted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's not a professional satyr, if that's what you -mean. I never implied that he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia pondered the matter for a minute. She recalled -forgotten particulars about M. St. Hilaire, amongst others, -the account of his generous income.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So he's in Paris with Henriette," she mused. "I notice -that he says he's coming here tomorrow to get his answer -in person. What will you do about it, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I knew. I want to see Henriette again, -tremendously. But I don't want to see her father. Do give me -your advice, Cornelia. What do you think I ought to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, why not give him another chance? He's made -you a perfectly straight and honorable offer this time. As -I recall the whole story, he wasn't really repugnant to you, -except at that one time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But am I lightly to forget that he—that he -touched me without my consent, presuming to think that, -because I had loved one man, my body was at the free -disposal of all men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a wretched mistake to make—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mistake! It was a monstrous piece of stupidity and -impudence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, my dear. I'm not standing up for him. Still, -don't let us forget that men are not built like women."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a truth that cuts both ways, isn't it?" said Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had given up being astonished at Cornelia's peculiar -mixture of the old and the new in the matter of theories -about men and women. She merely wondered to what weird -angle Cornelia meant to shift her outlook now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The point is," continued Cornelia serenely, "that a -woman's sex emotion is generally excited by something that -takes her fancy; a man's, by something that stirs his blood. -The mind plays the bigger part in the one case, the body -in the other. That's why, in the duel of sex, the -psychological moment is so important to the woman, the -physiological moment to the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These acute distinctions are quite beyond me. A man -has as much gray matter as a woman, or even more. Then -why should he let his mental processes suffer paralysis -whenever a nice woman looks at him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that's one of the mysteries that marriage helps us -to understand, Araminta. In the life of a man there come -these physiological moments, these sex storms, different -from anything in the experience of a woman. I don't mean -to say that men have more physical passion than women. -But there are occasions when their physical passion takes -a more violently concentrated form. Mazie, in her vulgar -little way, isn't so far wrong when she says: 'Scratch a fine -gentleman, and you'll find a cave man.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to tell me that there are absolutely no -men who feel about love as we do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never met one. Have you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was thinking: "Surely Robert isn't like that!" Aloud -she said nothing. There was a dangerous glint in -her friend's eyes. Cornelia had an uncanny way of -penetrating one's thoughts when Robert was the object of them. -Had she accomplished this feat of divination again? At all -events, an acrid note entered her voice as she continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it really only Monsieur St. Hilaire that you can't -make up your mind about? If so, take my advice. Come -down off your high horse and make the most of your good -fortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My good fortune!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's be perfectly frank with each other, my dear. -Here's a man who wants to marry you. He's well-born, -cultivated, rich. His one child is a girl who adores you and -whom you adore. The only thing against him is that he -once committed a serious breach of decorum—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that I don't love him—" interpolated Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia blandly ignored the interruption.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His letter shows," she went on, "that he is willing to -make the most handsome amends, the only amends a man -can make in a matter of this sort. What more do you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not asking him for amends. I simply want to be let -alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Araminta, let me beg you not to deceive yourself about -the changing moral values we hear so much of nowadays. -Has the price of virginity really gone down? Judged by -the conversation of radicals and Outlaws, yes. Judged by -the ticker of the matrimonial exchange, it is still pretty -high. Bear that in mind, and remember that a bird in the -hand is worth two in the bush."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to say," exclaimed Janet, in great astonishment, -"that you, of all people, advise me to </span><em class="italics">accept</em><span> this -offer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone irritated Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beggars can't be choosers," she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They can remain beggars," replied Janet tersely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that's the way you feel about it, you needn't ask my -advice again. We're wasting each other's time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saying which, Cornelia rose and left the office.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Paulette manikins, famed throughout the world of -fashion for their grace in attitude and correctness in -position and movement, owed their prestige to a system of -hygienic training conceived and carried out by Harry Kelly -himself. Yet these young ladies took their distinction so -seriously that they held it beneath them to assist their chief -in straightening out the classroom disorder when the period -of instruction was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's a mess!" called out Mazie Ross, walking into the -Paulette gymnasium, immediately after the dismissal of a -small class of manikins. "You might think they'd been on -a grand jamboree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything up?" said Harry, shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet asked me to help you this morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She went out for a horseback ride with the St. Hilaires."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This morning. Why, as it is, she goes almost every -afternoon. She went yesterday afternoon. A fine way to -do business, I'll say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie sulkily began to pick up stray articles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't pitch into me, Harry," she said. "You're -not half so sorry as I am that your gentle Janet isn't here -to do this rotten job. Is it my fault?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does Cornelia know she's away?" said Kelly, fuming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can a cat miaow within a mile of these precincts without -Corny being on to it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't they keep me posted then? I never hear of -a blessed thing that goes on in my own home until it's all -over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, do you want to start a row? Then take a tip from -me and land into a certain party in the main office. If -you'd knock her down and then jump on her with both feet, -you'd be doing something. What's the use of picking on -a dead bird like me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk that way about Cornelia," said Harry, -fumbling amongst the papers on the desk, and trying vainly -to be stern. "I've told you before I won't have it. Where's -your gratitude?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made a face at him behind his back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gratitude!" she said. "What's the good of me wasting -gratitude on Cornelia when she reminds herself and everybody -in Paulette's daily that she picked me up out of the -gutter that Hutch left me in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lock up the wardrobe and clear out, will you?" said -Kelly, frigidly. "I can do the rest myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's your hat, what's your hurry," she muttered to -herself. But she stayed and continued to put things to rights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie had changed greatly since the palmy days of the -Lorillard tenements. She looked ill and haggard, a mere -shadow of the jaunty "Follies" girl of old. Her willowy -posture had degenerated into an undisguised slouch, her -hair was frowsy, and her dress was slung together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her tongue had not lost its stab.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She closed the wardrobe door with an unintentional slam -that caused Harry Kelly to jump up in his seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn!" he said, in that mild voice of his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was as if Vesuvius had emitted a puff of tobacco smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The metamorphosis of the "Harlem Gorilla" into the -husband of Madame Paulette was astoundingly complete. -Harry Kelly's Van Dyke beard and fashionably tailored -clothes alone would have effected a radical change in his -appearance. Kelly was transformed not only physically but -psychically. His muscles were still the muscles of a Titan, -but his nerves had become the nerves of a fanciful man or -a delicate woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie, who was no student of spiritual transformations, -went up to the desk at which Kelly sat and began to tidy it. -She whisked away stray papers and envelopes that lay near -his hands with much the same air that a waiter lashes the -crumbs off a table to speed the lingering guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grew more and more fidgety, but she showed him no -mercy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet didn't know those St. Hilaires were coming this -morning," she finally volunteered. "But you can gamble -on it that Cornelia knew. When my fine gentleman got -off his prancing horse and marched into the reception room -clanking spurs and all, Corny was right there on the job -in her softest, sweetest tone. My! butter wouldn't melt in -her mouth. And all the time Janet hangs in the background, -saying she's too busy to go out, and looking as -stubborn as a mule. When gentle Janet gets that stubborn -expression, it means: You can move the Woolworth Building, -but you can't move me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why in thunder did she go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because that St. Hilaire kid got busy with her. A -pretty little kid, a regular father's darling, the kind that -coos away like a turtledove till she gets everything she -wants and a tidy slice of the moon extra. Well, she draped -herself pathetically around Janet—all that heartstring -stuff—and Janet, like any fool of a man, fell for the -pathos."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't persuade me that Janet didn't want to go," -said Kelly, gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't try to, then. Just the same, she didn't. That's -the weird part of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's weird about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, she doesn't want to marry that millionaire and -he's crazy to get her. Gee, some people have all the luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she doesn't want him, where's the luck?" said Kelly, -with the logic of simplicity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry, don't be a nut. Here's the ABC of it. All my -love affairs were on the q.t., though I say it that shouldn't. -Everything respectable and under cover. Nobody rattled -my adventures in the ears of the public, did they? Yet, -from the way everybody points the finger of scorn at me, -you'd think I produced the whole Venusburg show and -ran it single-handed. Now look at Janet. She hops off -with young Claude Fontaine right under the eyes of the -moving-picture brigade. The front pages of all the leading -papers give her a full week's publicity. She boards with -Claude for a month or two, carefully omitting even the -formality of a fake wedding ring. She lives in sin! But -everybody shies at using 'them crooel woids.' And what are -the wages of sin? A couple of millionaires pining away -on her doorstep and Sousa's band a-playing at her feet. -And she's no great beauty at that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quit it, Mazie. What's the good of fooling yourself -with the idea that Janet hasn't had her troubles. My guess -is that Claude threw her overboard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you can guess again, my simple Samson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anyhow, they wouldn't have separated in a few weeks -unless there had been a fierce blow-out, would they? That's -the kind of thing that can hurt a whole lot, a whole lot -more than shows on the surface. A sensitive girl like -Janet! By thunder, we don't know what she went through, -do we? She's not the sort that wears her feelings on her -sleeve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In other words: 'Gentle Janet meek and mild,'" said -Mazie witheringly. "What that girl can't get away with! -I'd like to go through a few of her sufferings, I would. I'd -like to see yours truly riding horseback every day in the -Bois de Boulogne with a plutocrat by my side and a couple -of grooms toddling along in back. There's a terrible -penance for you! And to think I can't even get a second-hand -man to take me to a third-rate cabaret in Montmartre. -Me, Mazie Ross, the wickedest girl in the wickedest city in -the world. Gee, life is tough!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've seen enough cabarets to be sick of them—and -you are sick of them," said Kelly, with unwonted harshness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I suppose my cabaret days are over. But listen to -me. There'll be no more skylarking for gentle Janet as -soon as Cornelia engineers her marriage with the Alsatian."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet's marriage is none of your business, and none of -Cornelia's either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't say so? Well, you just tell the Empress that -yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie, with her hand over her mouth, flung these words -at him just as Cornelia entered the gymnasium.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>With the expression of a tragedy queen Cornelia came in -and handed Kelly a telegram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From Robert!" she said, in a voice choked with emotion. -He took it and read:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Am leaving Geneva International Labor Conference -tonight. Hope to see you and Janet in Paris tomorrow.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Robert Lloyd.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"That's one on us!" remarked Kelly, awkwardly, and a -little afraid of the storm signals in Cornelia's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His fatuous slang irritated her enormously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't it like Robert to turn up at the most inconvenient -time imaginable? Just as Janet is on the point of being -engaged! It spoils everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did he locate us, I wonder?" said Kelly lamely. -"I thought you had lost all track of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they had taken over Paulette's, Cornelia had -insisted on ruthlessly dropping former friends in impoverished -circumstances on the plea that every connection that -was not an asset was a liability. It had been a sore point -between the two at first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pryor—the meddling fool—probably put him onto us," -replied Cornelia. "Now everything's sure to go to pot -unless we can keep Robert from interfering. As long as -he's around, Janet will never marry Monsieur St. Hilaire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's just crazy enough to throw away the chance of a -lifetime," said Mazie, judging it expedient to chime in with -Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe she'll marry St. Hilaire, anyway," said -Kelly, with the obstinacy of a mild nature. "She doesn't -love him, to begin with. And she isn't the sort that'll do -a thing simply because other people say that it's good for -her. She's the sort of girl that shapes her own future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're as big a fool as Pryor," said Cornelia, flinging -tempestuously out of the gymnasium.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Kelly was crestfallen. He walked sadly to a window, -opened it, and took several deep breaths, his infallible -remedy for depression of spirits. Mazie, relieved at -Cornelia's exit, lighted a cigarette and waited for him to finish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why is she so blamed anxious to have Janet marry -this St. Hilaire?" he asked, turning slowly from the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why? Ha, ha, the poor fish asks me why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She punctuated the question with a hollow laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only because Janet doesn't </span><em class="italics">want</em><span> to marry him," she -went on, perching herself jauntily on the desk. "Why, -Simple Simon, the old girl would have nothing left to live -for, if she couldn't make people do what they </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> want -to do. Or, at least, if she couldn't </span><em class="italics">prevent</em><span> them from doing -what they </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> want to do—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door flew open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's the way you talk about me behind my back?" -cried Cornelia, the picture of outraged majesty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie rapidly came down from her perch and slunk out -of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The intruder turned her guns upon her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you encouraging the little snake. I wonder you -don't summon the whole staff in here to plot against me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kelly, dismayed and crushed, received the broadside with -head bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia expressed her passionate resentment at the -universal treachery and ingratitude. This was her reward -for helping girls in the plight that Mazie and Janet were -in! She had put all the social and material resources of -Paulette's at the disposal of Janet in order that, by a most -fortunate marriage, a well-nigh irretrievable blunder might -be retrieved. She had herself strained every nerve to help -the girl to obliterate her past. And what were her thanks? -The unfeeling ingrate acted as if she hardly realized that -there was a past to obliterate. She now washed her hands -of the whole business. Never again—.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Harry Kelly been of an inquiring turn of mind he -might have ascertained whether or no Cornelia's fury was -in part due to being frustrated in the desire to get Janet -off her conscience, and in part to being thwarted herself in -that game of thwarting others at which Mazie had -pronounced her an expert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As it was, he listened like a Mohammedan prostrated before -the muezzin. His silent prayer was that when Cornelia's -rage had spent itself, she would not refuse to bestow -upon him a little of that affection for which he -passionately and hopelessly craved.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A few hours later, Janet and Mazie were alone in the -gymnasium, the former greatly excited about the news from -Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a pity he didn't think of looking you up a little -sooner," said Mazie who was in a mood for throwing cold -water on enthusiasms that strayed her way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet was a little dashed by this reminder of Robert's -indifference to her fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the same," she said, "I shall enjoy introducing him -to Paris, as he once introduced me to Manhattan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, the Eiffel Tower, The Champs Elysees, the Boul. Mich., -the American Quarter, and all the other rubberneck -sights?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'll show him the places he'll like: the office in -</span><em class="italics">L'Humanite</em><span> where Jaures worked, the central hall of the -</span><em class="italics">Confederation Generate de Travail</em><span>, and the Seine by -moonlight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Seine by moonlight! Now we're coming to it. -Janet, you're getting sentimental. Do you think Robert -is coming particularly for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, I hope I know him better than that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what is he coming for? To see me? I don't -think. And if ever he was stuck on Cornelia, he took the -cure complete, as soon as you breezed along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Mazie. Perhaps he has made a fortune and, -in passing, means to drop in on his poor relations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert rich?" Mazie laughed the idea to scorn. "A man -who likes work for its own sake will never have a stiver -to his name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ventured to surmise that all his expenses were being -paid by some labor organization. That was the way with -these professional radicals. They traveled around the -world on their own wits and on somebody else's money. -They never succeeded in making even a bowing acquaintance -with a check account. Never. She trusted Janet -would not be such a fool as to forget this fact. Now, -M. St. Hilaire was a very different story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marry a rich man, Janet, and the memory of that -Claude affair will die a natural death. Marry a poor one, -and it will keep on bobbing up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't care if it did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> wouldn't, but your husband would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So my friends are at some pains to remind me," said -Janet, rather bitterly. "You and Cornelia keep on telling -me so, and Robert once expressed the same opinion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he was right. I don't say it from spite, like -Cornelia does. I say it because I'm—because I'm damned fond -of you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repressed the tears in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're the only one here," she went on, choking down a -sob, "that doesn't treat me as though I was an escaped -inmate of Sodom and Gomorrah, and ought to be sent back -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went to her side and comforted her. But Mazie -would not be comforted. She burst out with:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The trouble with us girls is that we're too soft about -love, as soft as putty. What good does all this talk and fuss -about the equality of women do us? Where does it get us? -Just exactly nowhere. And women won't be worth as -much as men, until they're as hard about love as men are; -and that means as hard as nails."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Divining Janet's silent comment, Mazie added defiantly -that it was because she herself hadn't been hard enough -that she had come to grief at the hands of "that swine -Hutchins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a marked pause, Mazie reverted to the subject of -M. St. Hilaire. Had he proposed as usual during the -morning's ride?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No other news?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He assured me that I could have everything I wanted. -Even my soul should be my own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like that sob stuff about souls," said Mazie -whimsically. "What did you answer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told him that women would never be able to call their -souls their own until they could call their bodies their own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, Janet! You have to give the poor man </span><em class="italics">something</em><span> -for his money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. And as I can't give him a fair return for it, -it's clear that I oughtn't to marry him, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair return! Did you ever see anybody give a fair -return in this sex business? I can gamble on it you didn't. -Fair return! Look here, Janet, who started putting a price -on love? Did women start it or did men? Was it men or -women that threw love on the curb to be bought and sold -with other junk? Say, did you ever see a man who'd take -love for a free gift? Let me give you a tip, dearie. If a -woman don't sell her love for all she can squeeze out of a -man, and give him underweight into the bargain, the man -don't think he's getting his money's worth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went on to say that every relation between the sexes -was a case of the shearer and the sheep. Somebody was -certain to be shorn. The man would fleece the woman -unless the woman fleeced the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And here's another tip, my gentle Janet. When Cornelia -sees you prancing off to the Bois de Boulogne with -Monsieur St. Hilaire, she don't believe you're putting up -with him because you dote on Henriette. Not for a -moment. Well then, there'll be a rude awakening for -somebody. If you don't fleece St. Hilaire, she'll </span><em class="italics">skin</em><span> you. -She'll have you in her power at last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she won't. Mazie, I'd like to tell you something. -But I don't want Cornelia to know. Will you promise not -to tell her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will I promise not to feed cakes to a crocodile?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Jerome has offered me a job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll hand it to gentle Janet. You'll be going to -heaven on a feather bed next. What's the job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know yet. She doesn't either. She has some -scheme in mind for helping professional women to make -their way in the world. My work is to come out of that. -Just the sort of work I have most at heart. Do you -remember the plan I had when we lived in Kips Bay, the plan -of creating a new profession for women? What a magnificent -castle in the air it was! Robert helped me carry the -first brick or two down to earth where we could build on -solid ground. By the way, I told Mrs. Jerome all about -Barr and Lloyd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you tell all about Barr and Fontaine, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Janet, swallowing this bitter pill with some -resentment. "But I will, before I accept her offer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you think it won't make any difference to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. She's a woman with a great deal of good sense. She -sizes you up by your future, not by your past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, you are a clip," said Mazie, with immense -admiration. "Aren't you afraid of the future? Adventures -can break a girl as well as make her. Look how they've -broken me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mazie, don't be a fool," said Janet, putting her arm -around the sick girl. "You're not half broken yet. You're -only a bit cracked. And for your comfort I'll tell you what -Robert once said. He said nowadays everybody was a bit -cracked—especially in the head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's the comfort in that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's the cracked pitcher that goes longest to the -well, goose. That's what I tell myself when I get the -blues."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you, too, get in a blue funk, sometimes? I don't -believe it. I always think of you as being the twin sister -of the man in the fairy tale, the man who couldn't be -taught to shiver or shake. You're a wonderful girl, Janet. -Still, I'd like to see a man come along some day and make -you shiver and shake just a teeny-weeny bit. Perhaps -Robert will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mazie, do you think he'll try?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She was present, with the other principals of the Maison -Paulette, the night that Robert arrived. Her heart beat -faster when she set eyes on him again. He seemed perfectly -collected (too perfectly collected!) though very cordial. -How was she to tell, amidst so much handshaking and -greeting that his heart was beating time with hers?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thing she was most conscious of was that one look -of his mobile brown eyes had given a strangely different -twist to her adventure with Claude Fontaine. For the first -time in her experience she felt uncomfortably on the -defensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She resented this novel sensation. She regarded it with -hostility, as though it were some treacherous thread that -crossed her homespun integrity. To think that Robert -should be its agent! Or could she be mistaken? No. It -appeared that even the most charitable of human beings -liked to see you in sackcloth and ashes, and looking -remorseful, conscience stricken, punished. Well, she had not -given Cornelia the satisfaction of looking so, nor Harry -Kelly, nor Mazie Ross, nor anybody. And Robert should -be no exception.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With defiant vigor she resolved that, as she had no cause -to acknowledge remorse, fifty Roberts should not make her -acknowledge it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was little time that night for an interchange of -news. Next morning, the machinery of the Paulette -establishment, too big to be suspended for a mere visitor, -automatically began its daily grind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the course of the day Janet caught fleeting glimpses -of Robert, little more. Cornelia kept him under her wing -and guarded him as carefully as though he were a crown -jewel. She went so far as to relieve Harry Kelly of the -half-hour's treat he had promised himself, the treat of -showing Robert the sights of the great Maison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia not only undertook the ceremony herself; she -protracted the ritual far beyond her husband's intentions. -Cato's complete mentor, that was what she blandly -constituted herself. All that poor Hercules could do was to -leave his work once in a while, dash hastily to whatever -quarter of the building his wife had conducted Robert, slap -the visitor gently on the back, and fling a gloomy -monosyllable at him by way of showing his good will. He -insisted that Robert was too thin, and trotted out his famous -formula.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't breathe deep and down enough, old boy. Fill -your lungs and your belly with good fresh wind, or you'll -never travel on asphalt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia had ceased to shudder at the inelegant word. -But Mazie, happening to pop in at the moment, promptly -caught it up and used the occasion to favor the two men -with a fusillade of flippant, slangy phrases, not forgetting to -add several thinly veiled impudences directed at the -mistress of the house before the latter had time to expel her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia herself suffered so many interruptions that even -she had to postpone the confidential talk she had planned -to hold with Robert before noon. After lunch, she allowed -Robert to take his first stroll through Paris alone, reminding -him to come back for an early dinner at half past six. -According to her plan, the evening was to be spent in a -general confab and merrymaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unluckily, she forgot to announce this plan in so many -words, but took it for granted that no move involving -Robert would be made that day without first consulting -her. Her overconfidence defeated her. In one of the few -moments when she was off guard, Janet contrived to get -Robert by himself and secured his joyful acceptance of an -invitation to a concert in the evening, for which she -chanced to have two tickets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Cornelia heard of it, she was in turn astounded and -furious. Privately, to Harry and Mazie, she described Janet -concisely as a selfish beast. In public, she kept herself -commendably in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dinner passed off without much hilarity and with no -incidents other than one or two casual allusions, on -Cornelia's part, to M. St. Hilaire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Janet went out with Robert, Kelly, full of mournful -resignation, hoped that their purses would survive the -brigandage, and their lives the epileptic locomotion, of the -Paris taxi-cab drivers. Mazie called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, my gentle pet, don't let Rob land by mistake into -the </span><em class="italics">Miroir de Venus</em><span>." (This was a cafe notorious for its -high jinks.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He might reform the joint, before the joint reforms him."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They got into an Odéon bus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On their way via the Boulevard des Italiennes to the -Seine, she named a few of the sights they passed, such as -the Théâtre Français and the Tuileries. Crossing the Pont -du Carrousel, the bus jounced him against her and, as she -thrilled to the touch, she felt his magnetic response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, outwardly, a year and a half had not changed him -greatly, she thought. There was the same fire in his eyes -(but wasn't there perhaps a shade less of friendliness?). He -listened as politely as ever to routine chit-chat, and -exhibited the same impetuous candor when the conversation -flung up a new idea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> haven't changed much, either," he said, rather suddenly, -as though he had divined her reflections. "Your contours -are a little rounder, that's all, and I think your chin -is much firmer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my big nose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pretended to appraise it judicially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a size smaller. Perhaps a size and a half."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed delightedly. It was a new thing for Robert -to pay attention to such physical details.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, as long as you say it's a change for the better—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't," he said, affecting a stern tone. "Not in the -least. Do you know what? I'm afraid you're fast turning -yourself into one of these popular Paul Helleu beauties, a -Parisian version of the Penrhyn Stanlaws girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could. But I'm not a magician, Robert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there's no magic about it. Any girl can do it, if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If, of course. Let's hear the gigantic </span><em class="italics">if</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she has a very moderate allotment of brains and -looks, and a single-minded passion for beautifying herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If this is praise, give me dispraise," she said, with a -mischievous gleam in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His senses were assailed by the tone and timbre of her -voice. In self-protection he somewhat rudely remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is I didn't come to Europe to tell you how -beautiful you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you came over on business," she said, drily. "You -always do come on business. We all assumed that. You -needn't fear that we're any of us flattering ourselves that -you came specially to see him or her. You were sent as a -delegate to some labor conference or other, weren't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not as a delegate, but as a staff correspondent of the -Confederated Press."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She learned that the Confederated Press was a new -venture backed by several radical newspapers and designed -to supply its clients with the news of the world, the -straightforward news, before it was cooked or adulterated -by the old established press services. Robert's assignment -gave him an enormously valuable experience, although his -position was not a lucrative one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what brought me to Geneva," he concluded. -"But I came to Paris to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just before he left New York, he had seen Pryor, he told -her. Of course Pryor had let out one or two startling bits -of news gathered from the four quarters of the earth. About -Hutchins Burley and Lydia Dyson—things he would tell -her later. Pryor had all the town talk (Kips Bay talk) at -his fingers' ends. The man was a regular human wireless -station. Did Janet recall how he always spoke of information -drifting his way? Well, it was from Pryor that he -first had heard that Cornelia and the famous Madame -Paulette were one and the same person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see I'd lost complete track of Cornelia after she left -the model tenements," he said. "I'm pretty sure that she -wanted to sponge the Kips Bay connection clean off the -slate. Naturally, my turning up now isn't in the least to -her liking. I can feel that, in spite of her tremendous -surface cordiality. But I had to come. Finding her was -finding you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>("A pity you didn't look me up a little sooner," said -Janet, to herself, not stopping to enlighten him as to the -subtle cause of Cornelia's displeasure.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look, here's the Ecole des Beaux Arts," she said aloud. -"We'll be in the Boulevard St. Germain in a minute."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Whilst he obediently turned his gaze from the sparkle of -the arc lights and the glitter of the shops and streets, his -thoughts were preoccupied by her puzzling manner. She -was friendly, of course. Janet was always that. An -equable, agreeable temper was the very essence of her. But -what was this disconcerting aloofness of hers which was -cleaving the air between them! Her generous eyes -and her low clear voice were sending out vibrations that -penetrated to his very soul; yet her mind was stubbornly -withholding the confidence which in the old Lorillard days -she had given him without reserve. What did the paradox -of her behavior mean? Was this a new Janet at the -opposite pole to the candid, unaffected Janet of Barr and -Lloyd? He supposed that the Claude episode might -furnish the answer. Had it changed her spiritually for the -worse as it had changed her physically for the better?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, that episode had certainly changed him, though -not precisely in any way that he could have predicted. -Changed him! For one thing it had opened his eyes to the -fact that he had been a good deal of a prig, as his Outlaw -acquaintances were so fond of intimating. He blushed to -recall his </span><em class="italics">ex cathedra</em><span> pronouncements on the subject of -free love. With what assurance he had asserted that he -did not object to free love as a matter of prejudice but only -as a point of expediency. Hypocrite! The very reverse -had been the case. When Janet ran away with Claude, the -Old Adam had risen within him and almost smothered him -with possessive emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like any common jealous man! To be sure, he had -stoutly told himself that the Claude adventure made no -difference in his estimate of Janet's worth. Absolutely -none. She was, as always, a prize for any man. For any -man? Well, he himself, on the sole ground that his life's -work might suffer, would not consider himself eligible for -the prize. That was how he had put it. That was where -the prig had shown the cloven hoof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, he could say this for himself. When he had met -Janet face to face again, all these piffling considerations of -expediency had instantly, along with his vulgar prejudices, -gone by the board. The moment he set eyes on her in -Paris, he felt himself at one with her as he had never felt -at one with any other human being (save perhaps a certain -long-lost friend of his own sex).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cause was not far to seek. Janet could pull the -trigger that released and expanded his faculties as no one -else had ever been able to do. In her presence, not merely his -better self, but his more adventurous self, his more -aspiring self, his more poetic self, and his more heroic -self—the several Roberts that other people were too dull to -perceive, or too futile, ignorant, or base to cultivate—all these -craving selves came into their own and grew in stature. -What was a previous love affair, what were a dozen previous -love affairs, in the teeth of this miracle? Claude -Fontaine! One look into the depth of Janet's eyes, and all -theories, prejudices, principles, expediencies, and -conflicting emotions went up in smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Janet's thoughts had been taking a very -different shape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not know that Robert had never seen the long -letter to Cornelia in which she had described her journey -with Claude and had given her European address. Cornelia -had withheld this letter from Robert for reasons scarcely -admitted to herself; and what Cornelia did not admit to -herself she was little likely to admit to an interested friend. -In fact, in her letter to Janet and in casual conversations -since their recent reunion, Cornelia had so often allowed it -to be inferred that Robert had had access to the letter, that -she ended by making this convenient inference herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not unnaturally then, Janet reasoned that Robert's -failure to communicate with her had been deliberate. What -dovetailed with this conclusion was the memory of his -dictum on free love. How well she remembered the relentless -words: "I can never have anything to do with free love or -with a woman who has had a free lover. It would defeat my -purpose in life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His purpose in life! He was the sort of man who took -more joy in finding and working </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> out than in loving -any woman. True, she no longer concurred in Cornelia's -view that Robert was a fanatic. No. He just escaped -fanaticism by the skin of his teeth. This view explained -both his long silence and his sudden reappearance. That is, -she knew quite well that he had borne her no grudge on -account of the past, had indulged in no theatrical repudiation -of her friendship because of her liaison with Claude. -He had simply found it profitless to pursue a friendship -with a woman in her situation. That would be enough to -commit him to silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor did she take too seriously his assertion that he had -made a special trip to Paris to see her. Why shouldn't he -pay her or Madame Paulette a visit if the ordinary course -of his business brought him almost to their doorstep? After -all, a representative of labor interests could hardly come to -Europe without visiting Paris. Paris, where a lurid, -underground drama of industrial insurrection, half smothered by -gold dust, was going on!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was there any sensible reason why Robert shouldn't -pick up the thread of an old friendship, if it was all in the -day's work? It might even be useful to a labor man to get -in touch with people who knew the ropes of the French -capital. Anyhow, Robert would be the last person in the -world to abstain from such a course if it promised to -advance his principles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hateful principles! The worst of it was, she was -beginning to have sympathy for his conviction that the -drudgery which served a purpose you believed in might be -a real pleasure, compared with which the pleasure that -served no purpose worth believing in would be an -intolerable pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, all these speculations were as nothing against the -fact of the moment. The fact of the moment was that the -swaying of the bus crushed Robert's arm against hers in an -impact that was poignantly delightful. Nor was this all. -Robert, his imperious principles notwithstanding, acted in -every respect as if he liked having his arm against her; no -as if he would like to have his arm </span><em class="italics">around</em><span> her. Robert -Lloyd amorous? She gave him a sidelong glance. Her -senses provided her with abundant evidence that her surmise -was correct. But this was a world of sensory illusions -as she had learned to her cost; and she reminded herself -sharply that she had more than one decisive reason for -trusting neither to his feelings nor to her own.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You're not doing your duty," she said to him. "We've -just passed the church of St. Germain-des-Pres. Quick -look back. Even darkness can't subdue those imposing -walls. Doesn't it look solid and impregnable? Just like -my mother and like your convictions. It's a structure that -commands your faith, though you have it not. You'll miss -the silhouette of St. Sulpice, too, if you don't look out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, I didn't come to Paris to look at churches. I -came to look at you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you came, you saw, and—you conquered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw more than you think," he went on, smiling at her -flippancy. "As I said before, you've changed physically. -But the physical change is of no importance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew it. Those fine compliments were all bunk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. You've changed physically for the better. -But what is more important is that you've changed -spiritually—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the worse, of course. Now we're coming to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say it. I'm not at all sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This may be candor, Robert. But it sounds like revenge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may as well be serious, Janet. I've got volumes -to pour out to you, and pour them out I will. When I'm -with you, I'm like the Ancient Mariner. I want to tell you -everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, almost everything, as they say in the comic opera. -What do you suppose was the most wonderful companionship -I ever formed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barr and Lloyd. Do you know why? Because, for one -thing, there was nothing in reason that I couldn't talk to -you about, with the most unvarnished frankness. I still -feel that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you do. We were very good pals, weren't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and I hope we still are. Anyhow, I want to speak -of something I heard about you from Mark Pryor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pryor seems to have kept in touch with Cornelia right -along. You know Pryor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a sparrow falleth but his eye doth see," she quoted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly. He has been keeping tabs on this rich Alsatian. -And, by the way, I ought to mention that he repeated to me -what you told him about Monsieur St. Hilaire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a nice way to treat my confidence," said Janet, -seriously annoyed. "Pryor of all people. And I took him -to be the only original human clam!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think he was fully justified—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In what way, I'd like to ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't make me go into that now, Janet. The -thing I'm driving at is this. Pryor heard that you were on -the point of—of forming a free alliance with this Alsatian -gentleman. Chiefly to escape Cornelia and this horrible -business of clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been misinformed," she retorted coldly. "Not -about the clothes. I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> loathe them. But I've no intention -of forming a free alliance with anybody. Certainly not with -Monsieur St. Hilaire. Why should I? I don't love him. -But I don't mind telling you that he has asked me to marry -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then, that's what you're considering?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said concisely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "put that in your pipe and smoke it," added a -defiant glance from her half-parted long-lashed eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If he had any notion of playing the medieval knight, -plunging through fire and water for the damsel in distress, -she would spoil that chivalrous pose in a jiffy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet, I don't understand you," he said, with quite -unnecessary vehemence. "You said you wouldn't marry -Claude, your reason being that you loved him. Now you -say you will marry Monsieur St. Hilaire, and your reason -is that you don't love him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes added: "You are inexplicable, exasperating, -maddening—and yet adorable: in short, you are Janet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bus came to a full stop, and a few minutes later they -were in the concert hall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The concert was one of a special series given by an -orchestra from Rouen. Janet's attention had been drawn to -the series by two circumstances. One was that a third of -the members of the orchestra were women. The other was -that the inclusion of women in a first-class orchestra had -plunged musical circles into a controversy which the -newspapers eagerly seized upon and played up with caricature -or abuse, satire or eulogy, according to the partisanship, -but never the merits of the case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert knew nothing of this controversy until he ventured -on a remark during the first intermission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The tone and workmanship of the orchestra are splendid," -he said. "I don't feel qualified to judge, but it strikes -me that the women are doing every whit as well as the men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As well? They're doing far better. Do you see that -first violin in the front row, the third from the left? I could -tell he was slacking all through the Cesar Franck number. -And there were four or five others as bad. You couldn't -say that of one of the women."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Their performance is amazing, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why amazing?" asked Janet, still detecting an echo of -masculine superciliousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, women don't generally reach the top-notch in -the fine arts, do they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can they," said Janet warmly, "when the patronizing -disparagement and merciless rivalry of men hold them -back at every turn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they've managed to break into this crack orchestra. -That doesn't look like merciless rivalry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but wait till I tell you the facts, Robert. As the -war went on, managers found it impossible to deny women -the privilege of playing in high-class bands. But the men -are now recovering their monopoly as fast and as -unscrupulously as possible. How? They have set up a hue -and cry against the women and have won the musical -pundits to their side. I am told that the management of -this Rouen orchestra is almost certain to yield to masculine -pressure, which means that the women will be dislodged at -the end of the current series."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did Robert appreciate the injustice of this abominable -proceeding? It was a fact that the women brought a fire, -intensity and freshness to their work which improved the -tone and effectiveness of every band they played in. They -were twice as keen as the men and worked fifty times -harder. Several of the younger, more liberal musical critics -both in Paris and in London fully admitted this. Not so -the old-timers who sat in the seats of the mighty. And yet -the men who were doing their vicious best to elbow their -rivals out of the way were the very men who fluttered about -town and with crocodile regret assured the public that, no -matter what </span><em class="italics">equal chances</em><span> the weaker sex received, the -final incapacity of women to reach the top was beyond dispute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet's shot went home. But the resumption of the program -made it impossible for Robert to offer a defense. He -was annoyed at himself for having spoken tactlessly on a -topic which Janet might well be touchy about. Still, he -considered that her rebuke was far too severe to fit the -crime, especially in view of his genuine equalitarian feeling -toward women, a feeling that Janet ought to have been the -last to deny him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It occurred to him that, if she was capable of regarding -him, of all men, with so much detachment (not to say -indifference) as to make him the target for a sharp -anti-hominist fire, she might be deeper in the M. St. Hilaire -entanglement than he or Mark Pryor had suspected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time the concert was over, Janet was sorry for the -way she had pitched into her guest. Would he forgive her -for letting the heat of argument carry her away? Not that -she retracted a word she had said. Far from it. It was -impossible to say too much on that score. Had he noticed -the wide publicity which the Paris newspapers had given to -an assertion appearing in one of Arnold Bennett's recent -books? It was the assertion that women are inferior to men -in intellectual power and that "no amount of education or -liberty of action will sensibly alter this fact." This gesture -of finality with which men, even men of genius like Bennett, -invariably polished off the future of women and consigned -them to an eternity of subordination! When would this -superficial generalization ever stop, if avowed feminists like -Robert fell to using the language of their opponents even -while avoiding their errors?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm only taking the words out of your mouth, Robert," -she concluded, in her softest pacifying tones. "I'm only -repeating what you've told me a hundred times over in the -past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled at this sop to his vanity, which none the less -helped to restore good feeling.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet had taken him towards the river. They walked -arm in arm along the Quai Voltaire and the Quai d'Orsay, -the tranquil Seine and the starry skies almost their sole -companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dispute of the evening still fresh in his mind, Robert -alluded to Janet's former ambition to create a new profession -for women of the middle class. A branch of law, wasn't -it? Authorship law, so to speak. Had she given it any -thought of late? What a nuisance it was that money -should have to be the root of all experiment as well as the -root of all evil. In the absence of enough capital, it was -probably just as well that she deferred another attempt to -realize her dream. Still, it was a pity. She had made such -a good beginning with the firm of Barr & Lloyd, humble -though the scale of its operations had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Robert, are you ready to renew the partnership?" -she challenged him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this a strictly business proposal?" he replied, in a -hesitating manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was chilled by his clumsiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Barr & Lloyd was always a 'strictly business' affair, -wasn't it?" she said, in a cool, quiet voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wanted to burst out with: "No, I never believed it -was wholly that. If you'd had my sort of partnership in -mind, I'd give a very swift and a very different answer." But -the words stuck in his throat. For two reasons. Her -sudden return to the almost hostile manner that had baffled -him earlier, was one. His knowledge that the limited and -precarious means he disposed of would make an offer of -marriage from him seem ridiculous, if not insane, was the -second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had he voiced his thoughts, they might then and there -have thrashed their differences out in half an hour. But -he could not voice them. For the first time in their -friendship, neither of them was candid when candor was the -sensible course. "This comes of caring for a woman not wisely -but too well," thought Robert. He was amazed and incredulous -to find that he cared so much; he was also a little indignant -with himself, for he had vowed never to do that very -thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be alarmed," he heard Janet saying. "I'm not going -to impress you into the cause. You have bigger fish to -fry than the feminist movement. As for me, I've had a -very good offer from Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sketched a picture of this whimsical lady, and gave -a short account of Mrs. Jerome's interest in the organized -effort to rid women of their professional disabilities. Robert -learned that Mrs. Jerome had repeatedly expressed a desire -to put Janet to some use in the cause she had at heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The work would be quite in line with my old plans," -added Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why don't you accept her offer at once?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I knew," she said, evasively. "Perhaps I can do -all I've wanted to do, and more, if I follow the beaten track, -if I buy cheap and sell dear in the marriage market; in -short, give as little of myself as I can to the richest bidder -that offers. What do you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think a cynical step of that sort would do very well -for Mazie, whose words you appear to be repeating."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't underrate Mazie's cynicism. It has been -hammered into a durable, serviceable instrument by some -very hard knocks. Knocks that she got from men. Her -flippant manner often obscures some very sound remarks, -like the one that there'll be no equality between the sexes -until women exploit men as shamelessly as men exploit -women."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't the modern woman do this, already?" asked -Robert, with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How often does she get the same chance? It's equality -of chances that I'm aiming for, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I for that matter," said Robert. "I hope we'll -get your equality of chances before long. Then we can -work together for decency."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was close upon midnight when they took a taxi back to -the Boulevard Haussman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not a soul was stirring in the Maison Paulette. Robert -and Janet walked through the corridor on the </span><em class="italics">rez-de-chausée</em><span> -to the rear building, the one used for sleeping -quarters. For a few minutes they stopped in the vestibule -at the foot of the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, as throughout the evening, their instincts swayed -them one way, their reason another. Each misunderstood -the motives of the other; and, what with this misunderstanding -and the economic insecurity of their circumstances, -the scales were tipped in favor of discretion. Besides, Janet -mistrusted her impulses far more than formerly. True, -Robert mistrusted his far less. In spite of his better -judgment, he was succumbing to her ensnaring voice and eyes, -was surrendering to an intense longing to tempt her into a -betrayal, an unambiguous betrayal, of her real feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he proceeded in a manner too inadequate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm no clearer about your plans than before," he said, -awkwardly. "You haven't really taken me into your -confidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About Monsieur St. Hilaire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A marked pause. She did not interrupt it. Discouraged, -he lamely continued: "Still, I'm glad you've changed your -point of view about men and women. It's something to find -out that marriage, like adversity, has its uses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert, what I've found out is that marriage, like -honesty, may be the best policy. I've learned that woman -cannot live by principle alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I protest I never urged it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. And if it's the least satisfaction to you, I'll admit -that I don't intend to repeat any of my Kips Bay -experiments—free love, outlawry, and so on—you know the sort -of thing. Why should I? There are few moments in the -old Lorillard tenement life that I regret; yet there are none -that I'd live over again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not one. Wait. There is a single moment—it just -occurs to me—it was so like this one—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like this one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, 'when my heart was a free and a fetterless thing, -a wave—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The line was completed without words, Robert, swept -away by her enchantment, having seized heir in his arms -and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't marry Monsieur St. Hilaire," he said, beseeching -rather than commanding her, "whatever you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She disengaged herself almost brutally, and went up the -stairs. Pausing a few steps up, she turned and, in a tone -supremely dispassionate, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whatever I do! Well, whatever I do, I can't marry a -poor man, can I?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hoping to have a few words alone with Harry Kelly, -Robert went down to breakfast early. But if he expected to -learn anything further in regard to Janet or M. St. Hilaire, -he was disappointed. Extracting teeth would have been -easier than pumping Harry who, besides being more taciturn -than ever, had developed a vein of pessimism quite out -of keeping with his material prosperity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert was actually relieved when the appearance of -Mazie Ross at the breakfast table put an end to his efforts -to draw Kelly out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her Ladyship was sweetly singing 'My Rosary' when I -passed her bedroom door," said Mazie, alluding to Cornelia. -"Things'll be humming in the Maison Paulette this -morning, if I know the Indian sign."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie was getting to be very chipper of late. Whether -from the force of association or not, the presence of Robert -and Janet had given her a chance to recover some of her -old position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kelly appeared to agree with Mazie's inference, though -he was not so cheerful about it. He wished Mark Pryor -were somewhere within reach. That fellow was a regular -clairvoyant, and could tip you off about the most -astonishing things. A tip would be handy at this time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something's going to happen," added Harry, gloomily. -"I feel it in my bones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd feel it in my bones," volunteered Mazie, "if I nearly -killed myself like you do, Harry. You fairly chew up work. -What's the use? Let the Empress do some of the worrying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's got enough to worry about, Mazie. She carries the -whole responsibility for the artistic work of the house, and -you know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet I do! The chief joy of my declining days is to -watch her Ladyship curl up on a cozy sofa in the office and -hug the responsibility while you do the work. When the -weight is too much for her, she staggers over to the house -switchboard, rings up each department in turn, and interferes -with everybody impartially. Say, if you could limber -up her knee action a bit—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this point, poor Harry, after an ineffectual attempt -to stare Mazie into silence, got up and went out, unable to -listen any longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The goof!" said Mazie, pitying him contemptuously. -"She only married him as a sure salvation from work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so manifestly unjust to Cornelia (who, however -much of a shirker she might have been in Kips Bay, was -now busy enough making her talent for line and color -productive) that Robert refrained from argument.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with Harry?" he said, attempting to -change the subject. "He was always monosyllabic, but -never as gloomy as this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He wants a son and heir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember how Cornelia used to tell every man -who paid us a call in Number Fifteen that the dearest wish -of her life was to hold a che-ild to her maternal heart? -Every brutal Outlaw that came along would offer to oblige -on the spot. Except Harry. He melted right into putty -when she sprang that mother gag; and then she gave the -cue for the wild wedding bells to ring out. But now she's -married, it's different. The muffler is on the maternal urge. -On tight! And she's strong for the birth control propaganda. -She's so strong for it that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Cornelia entered and Mazie was put to instant -flight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Cornelia's hour with Robert had come. She lost no time -in giving him to understand that his arrival in Paris had, to -put it mildly, been inopportune. Not that it was his fault. -Naturally, he couldn't very well have foreseen the rapidly -approaching crisis in Janet's life. But there it was! -M. St. Hilaire, a man of parts and of wealth, was anxious to marry -Janet, who had just begun to see that the match was -greatly to her advantage. Here was Janet's golden -opportunity to redeem the past—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To redeem the past or to redeem Monsieur St. Hilaire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be flippant, Cato. You know very well what I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm quite serious. </span><em class="italics">Redeem</em><span> is a curious word to use in -connection with Janet. It implies atonement for sin. Did -you apply this word to your own case after your return -from England to the model tenements?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at him icily. Did he intimate that Janet's -affair with Claude Fontaine was spiritually comparable to -her affair with Percival Houghton? She would show him -the difference. True, she had believed in free love ("a -hundred years ahead of my time, Cato!") and Janet had -followed suit. But when she, Cornelia, had taken up the -gauntlet against the irrational knot, she had let herself be -pilloried for her convictions. Had Janet done as much? -Let his own fairness be his tutor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not that she held Janet to blame. Oh, no. She would -have Robert know that he and his principles had been the -disturbing influence in Janet's destiny. This had been the -case in Kips Bay. She feared it would again be the case -in Paris.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I the disturbing influence? Absurd, Cornelia. When did -I ever demand that you, or Janet, or anybody else live up to -my vaunted principles?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cato, there's something about you, some Satanic magnetism, -that gives you a strange hold upon a woman's soul. -It makes her strive to appear before you always in her -loftier, sublimer flights, to put on her Sabbath character, -so to speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you call this Sabbath magnetism </span><em class="italics">Satanic</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because it's unnatural to ask a woman to assume her -Sabbath character seven days a week. She's bound to come -to grief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She assured him that this Satanic faculty of his was what -caused him to pique or fascinate women, though it seldom -inspired them with passion. And, in the long run, it always -threw them out of gear. As in the case of Janet! What had -his intoxicating mixture of visionary theories and expedient -compromises done for her in the Claude Fontaine affair? -It had brought her out at the pitifully small end of the horn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may remind you, Robert, that </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> was ready to ruin -myself for Percival Houghton, ready to stand, upright and -reckless, facing the world with him. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> didn't go slinking -from one hotel to another, as his pretended </span><em class="italics">wife</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's heroics would have amused Robert but for the -jibe flung at Janet. Thank heaven, Janet never declaimed -about having faced a whole world or having ruined herself -for anyone. After listening to such windy phrases, who -would not be biased towards any course that seemed right -to Janet and wrong to Cornelia?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hung on her lips with rapt absorption, hoping by this -look of intenseness to mask his thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this hope he was deceived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why on earth don't you marry Charlotte Beecher?" -she cross-questioned him abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know! Do you suppose a girl with position, -wealth and brains turns up every day in the week? A girl -who really </span><em class="italics">wants</em><span> you! I'm sure I can't imagine </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> she -does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor can I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repeated her question. Had he given Charlotte -Beecher up merely because she loved him so much more -than he loved her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He couldn't very well answer this question in the -affirmative. So he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charlotte is a very intellectual girl, the most intellectual -girl I know. She never met a man whom she regarded as -her equal in point of brains until she met me. The regard -was mutual. She mistook her admiration for love. I might -have made the same mistake—if I hadn't met you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't blarney me, Cato," she said, highly flattered -none the less. "It's too late in the day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean it, Cornelia. Meeting you, made me alive to the -full force of the attraction between the sexes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the one thing needful," said Cornelia, in low siren -tones. "For without it, love is as the dry stubble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, too, used to think so," replied Robert, turning a cold -douche on this sentiment. "We've all had that notion -rammed down our throats since childhood. But can we be -certain that sexual attraction is the only road to love? The -poets assure us that pity is a famous short-cut. In the case -of very young people, </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> roads seem to lead to love. For -older folk, mutual admiration may be as good a road as -any. Speaking for myself, I'm still considering a proposal -to Charlotte Beecher—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you're still considering her? And Janet is still -considering M. St. Hilaire. For ice-cold calculation, give -me a one-hundred per cent enthusiast like you or Janet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you suggesting that Janet is so well-suited to me -that I ought to propose to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose, with a growing sense of contempt for him. If -he did anything so insane—and he was doubtless capable of -it—the results would be on his own head. He had already -made a mess of his newspaper career, he had been too proud -to cultivate the Fontaine influence, he had gratuitously -antagonized his only well-to-do relation in California, even -now he could barely make a hand-to-mouth living out of his -connection with the radical press. And he actually proposed -to lengthen this catalog of disasters! Well, he'd better -remember one thing. His friends could pull him out of a -hole, but not out of a bottomless abyss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Really, did he believe in miracles? To put it bluntly: -did he suppose that two failures added together made a -success? Yes, two failures! He was an impecunious -journalist or a discredited labor propagandist—which was -it? And Janet! What had she to offer? A pirated soul -(this to remind him of Claude Fontaine) and shattered -prospects.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, Cornelia, these phrases belong to the screen -grade of fiction, not to the facts of the twentieth century."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Mazie interrupted with an urgent message from the -exhibition room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay and talk to Robert," said Cornelia with frigid -disdain. "He's a great salvager of damaged reputations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie looked inquiringly Robert's way, while Cornelia -swept towards the door. In a mock-heroic tone, he -explained:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia says that Janet </span><em class="italics">went wrong</em><span>; therefore, unless -M. St. Hilaire marries her, she'll be </span><em class="italics">ruined for life</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie caught the drift of the situation at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruined!" she cried out, in a steaming torrent of slang. -"Say, people in the States won't believe a girl is 'ruined' -nowadays, even when she's committed to the House of the -Good Shepherd. Ruined! Who's to ruin her? Why, the -average American is such a hokey-pokey, near-beer, -Sunday-school man of straw, he wouldn't ruin Cleopatra if she -begged him on her bended knees! Take it from me. If -Janet's people at the cemetery end of Brooklyn heard Claude -described as the Duc de la Fontaine, they might give her the -glassy eye. They might. They'll believe cruel things about -a foreigner. But she mustn't let on that he's a gent from the -U.S.A., or they'll think she's stringing them. Think! -They'll know it. Why, my brown-eyed cherub, there's only -one way a girl can go wrong in little old New York. And -that's to have somebody break into her bank account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the latter part of this choicely sustained opinion, -Robert was the exclusive audience, Cornelia having already -closed the door with a bang.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A little later in the morning Janet, glancing through a -copy of </span><em class="italics">Le Matin</em><span> three days old, caught sight of a familiar -name in a telegraphic despatch from New York. The name -was Fontaine. According to the brief news report, headed -</span><em class="italics">C'est fini de rire!</em><span> (the fun is over!), Fontaine and Company, -the most noted of the Fifth Avenue dealers in precious -stones, were charged with complicity in a sensational -attempt at smuggling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Piecing the somewhat disjointed details together, Janet -gathered that secret agents of the Department of Justice -on the lookout for spies had inadvertently found thousands -of dollars' worth of diamonds concealed in the bottom -boards of what purported to be cases of Japanese books. -The cases, which had been opened by the Secret Service -agents shortly after the "Ionic" docked in Hoboken, were -ostensibly consigned to a San Francisco book dealer for -whom one Hutchins Burley, a New York editor and foreign -correspondent, appeared as the representative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burley was held, and the newspapers featured him as -the "master mind" of a very clever band. On examination -he confessed that the book dealer was a mere dummy for -Fontaine and Company, whose stock rooms were the real -destination of the diamonds. A warrant for the arrest of -Mr. Rene Fontaine, head of the firm, was at once issued. -Officials of the customs house alleged that the operations -of the smugglers, whose ingenuity had baffled detection for -years, reached gigantic proportions, the government's loss -being estimated at many millions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>News so startling had to be told without delay. Janet -excitedly reported it to Harry Kelly and then descended to -the exhibition room where as a rule Cornelia held sway at -this hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entering the salon somewhat precipitately, she saw the -young Duchess of Keswick seated in great state and -surrounded by deferential minions. But no Cornelia visible. -Janet beat a swift retreat. The Duchess reminded her, not -altogether pleasantly, of Marjorie Armstrong at the Mineola -Aerodrome. The two young ladies had the same fashionable -contours, the same self-conscious pride of position, the same -patricianism of the made-to-order rather than of the inborn -type.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hastening up a flight of stairs to Cornelia's office, Janet -was brought to a stop outside the door by the sound of -voices, which she recognized at once as those of her friend -and of the Duchess's mother, Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was easy to overhear the conversation. Mrs. Jerome -announced her departure for London the next day to inspect -an apartment house restricted exclusively to professional -women who, besides being mothers, were the sole supporters -of their children. She intended to open a similar house -(as a humanitarian, not a charitable undertaking) in New -York. She had already offered Janet the post of resident -business manager. Naturally, she would like to take the -young lady with her to England at once, but she wouldn't -insist on this. If the inconvenience to the Maison Paulette -was too great, Janet could follow later, as soon as she had -wound up her affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia's reply was couched in a low voice so tense with -emotion that Janet could distinguish only a word or two -here and there. These words were ample. </span><em class="italics">M. St. Hilaire, -woman-with-her-back-to-the-wall, Henriette, redemption, -iron-law-of-retribution</em><span>, etc., such proper names and stagey -phrases showed quite clearly that Cornelia was delivering -her customary rigmarole about the sacrifices she was -making to the end that Janet might cover up her past and -glorify her future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Janet's ears, this rigmarole was now so stale as no -longer to invite even remonstrance. But to declaim it to a -comparative outsider! And to embroider it with all sorts -of sticky innuendoes! Janet grew hot and cold by turns. -So this was how one's name was buffeted about after an -episode like hers with Claude Fontaine! If one's best -friends talked this way behind one's back, what might not -less intimate associates say or take for granted?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had tried to steel herself against inevitable collisions -with public opinion; yet this first impact, though only an -oblique one, had given her a much nastier shock than any -she had anticipated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">M. St. Hilaire, the Chateau in Normandy, the prestige -that was to cover a multitude of past sins</em><span>—Cornelia was -going it again!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome replied that these matters were none of her -affair. She needed Janet and she believed Janet needed her. -Surely, the decision lay with the young woman herself?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Janet was still debating whether or not she should -walk straight in and interrupt, Cornelia shifted the attack, -her diplomatic allusions to Janet's love affair being replaced -by blunter speech. She effected the change with a great -show of diffidence and hesitation. Her sense of loyalty alike -to her friend and to Mrs. Jerome obliged her, etc.—Claude -Fontaine, the </span><em class="italics">beau ideal</em><span> of the Junior smart set, etc.—the -transatlantic honeymoon to which the newspaper troubadours -had given a far-flung notoriety, etc.—But doubtless -Mrs. Jerome recalled these particulars well enough?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Came the tart rejoinder:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I never do read newspaper scandal! The fact is, -when I'm not gambling in Paulette frocks, I'm a very busy -woman. If it wasn't for the Duchess, the Magpie Club in -Mayfair would make short work of me. But the Duchess -reads me some of the necessary tittle-tattle at breakfast so -as to keep me </span><em class="italics">au fait</em><span>. She's a great newspaper fan, is the -Duchess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Janet finally opened the door, walked in, and -electrified the room, Cornelia had just been sweetly remarking:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But about the managership of this house, a house for -unattached mothers—widows and feminist women I -presume?—about such projects public curiosity is simply -insatiable,' isn't it? Do you really think that Janet is exactly -the person for such a delicate position—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ignoring Cornelia and her innuendo, Janet spoke directly -to Mrs. Jerome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry you didn't let me tell you everything last week, -Mrs. Jerome," she said, keeping herself well in hand. "You -see, all this would have been superfluous then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My policy, child, is never to learn more than it's good -for me to know. But perhaps I was in the wrong this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had no idea you could overhear us, Janet," said -Cornelia, with as much acerbity as if she were the injured -party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet scorned to reply on the level of this remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came to show you a piece of news in the Matin," was -all she deigned to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pointing out the place, she handed Cornelia the newspaper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to speak to Mrs. Jerome alone for a few -minutes," she said. "Would you very much mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, by no means," replied Cornelia, trying hard to be -superior and authoritative. "Make any arrangements you -like to suit your own interests. Never mind the Maison -Paulette. Don't think that </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> shall stand in your light."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as she went out, unabashed, she offered the flowery -remark that she had only done her poor best to follow the -impulses of her heart, her sole desire having been to help -both Janet and Mrs. Jerome to a mutual understanding, in -the absence of which any joint project they might embark -on would be only too likely to suffer shipwreck.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Jerome drew Janet down to a place beside her on -the leather settee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, my dear," she said, "I'd just as soon you didn't -dig up ancient history. Unless it's going to relieve your -mind. But I shan't be any the wiser for it when you've -finished, trust me. Why, if you told me that you were a -new version of the Old Nick himself, one look into your -lovely gray eyes would convince me that it wasn't true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None the less, Janet, not wishing to sail under false -colors, gave a very short résumé of her life from the time -she went to the Lorillard tenements in Kips Bay to the day -she left M. St. Hilaire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Throughout this narrative, Mrs. Jerome's round little -face was sphinx-like, becoming animated only at the point -of Janet's separation from Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He left you in the lurch, then?" she had interposed, -much affected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, he would have kept on providing for me," said -Janet, evasively, and after a moment's hesitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody had really believed the story that she had left -Claude. Even Robert appeared to take the reverse for -granted. Perhaps, on the whole, she had better fall into a -view that people would be sure to adopt in any case, and -that she was almost beginning to adopt herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But of course you didn't let him," said Mrs. Jerome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good. We mustn't be under any obligation of that sort -to the selfish sex. Now don't worry about the matter any -more. You're a plucky girl, my dear. Keep your pluck, -and your pluck will keep you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome added that she hoped Claude Fontaine had -not behaved any worse than Janet had represented. She -knew the young man. Who in New York didn't? As regards -possible criticism, Janet should be comforted with the -reflection that glass houses made the whole world kin, -human architecture being nowhere complete without them. -Why, most of the girls in the Younger Set had lost their -heads over Claude, which was all they had had a chance to -lose. She herself, meeting him once at a costume ball of -the Junior League, had been knocked silly by his dashing -airs and Apollo curls, not to mention the best pair of calves -she had ever beheld.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you see, my dear, an old woman can be quite as -feeble-minded as a debutante. Nobody has ever had a -monopoly of making mistakes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet pointed out that the world did not take quite so -liberal a view. This being so, might she not prove a source -of embarrassment to Mrs. Jerome? As people looked at it, -running away with a man was—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Child, for every woman who runs away with a man, -there's a man who runs away with a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This obvious truth had been lost sight of, and the time -had come for its emphatic reassertion. Did Janet imagine -that Claude had lost any credit? Well, let her look at the -facts. Mr. Fontaine, senior, had just got himself into a -very bad mess, one that involved the Fontaine firm in a case -of diamond smuggling. The Duchess had read her the story -from the papers. And only last night </span><em class="italics">Le Temps</em><span> had -reported that Mr. Fontaine was believed to have jumped his -bail, leaving his son Claude behind to pull the firm out of -the hole. And everybody felt so sorry for Claude! Not that -he had anything to fear. He could not be held personally -accountable. Still, there were the court proceedings, -which were reckoned a terrible load for his handsome young -shoulders to bear. And so bankers and clubmen and -"sealskin" artists were rushing to his aid; matrons from upper -Fifth Avenue were pulling wires; Colonel Armstrong, the -great financier, was on the job behind the scenes; and it -was freely whispered that when the storm had blown over, -Claude and Marjorie Armstrong were to be married in -St. Thomas'. Here was retribution! If you judged from the -international tidal wave of sympathy and helpfulness that -was sweeping towards Claude, you might be pardoned for -thinking that he was Galahad, Parsifal, and Lohengrin rolled -into one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But men stand by one another," added Mrs. Jerome, -pointing the moral succinctly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Women would have to take this lesson to heart and stand -by one another just as men did. If Janet joined the Jerome -forces, she could depend on one thing, and that was her -support through thick and thin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet felt inexcusably ungrateful at not accepting the -managership on the spot, and frankly said so. She made -no attempt to explain her indecision, her motives at the -time being far from clear to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome, blissfully unaware of the existence of -Robert Lloyd as a factor in this hesitation, took it in very -good part. Janet should make up her mind when she -pleased. But surely, she wasn't again playing with the -thought of marrying M. St. Hilaire? After her emphatic -assertion that she didn't love him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet I don't dislike him, by any means," said Janet. "I -was very fond of him in Brussels, before he lost his head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fond! Child, one may marry for money without affection, -or for affection without money, but one shouldn't -marry for either money or affection without a little romance -thrown in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saying which, this whimsical little lady laughed, rose, and -put an arm lovingly around her favorite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back to the States with me, Janet," she continued. -"You'll see what we women can do when we put on steam. -You shall make an independent place for yourself in New -York, besides helping other women to do the same. And -by and by some suitable countryman of ours will come -along, and we'll have you nicely married off."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">We'll have you nicely married off</em><span>. Left alone, Janet had -to pull herself together after the shock of these words. -Everybody seemed determined to get her married. Claude, -Pryor, Cornelia, Robert. And now Mrs. Jerome, too!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clearly, even people who were extremely well disposed -towards her, had it at the back of their minds that she had -lost credit with her fellow-men. And that nothing short of -marriage could restore her to full public esteem! This was -a situation she would have to reckon with. But how comical -it was to have marriage urged upon her as though it were -a kind of penance she must do in order to regain her -standing!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Penance! She was driven to admit that it really would -be something like an act of penance to marry M. St. Hilaire. -Still, would she feel this way if she hadn't met Robert again? -Would she? Scarcely. It was Robert's turning up that had -caused M. St. Hilaire to appear in the light of a penitential -infliction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were two courses open to her, and staying with -Cornelia was not one of them. No, she recoiled from -fashionable dressmaking and all its shows, and the atmosphere -of the Maison Paulette with its lurking vapors of parasitism -and prostitution grew more oppressively sickening every day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, the big establishment was an amusing novelty at -first, when you saw only the surface glamor. Nor was it half -bad to help Harry Kelly to train the manikins, so long as -you supposed that this training merely equipped them to -wear expensive frocks in the salon or at the races or at the -opera. But when you found out that every one of these -dainty girl models expected confidently to become the mistress -of some rich merchant or politician, your zest for the -work oozed away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not that you saw much difference between the kept -mistresses who exhibited the Paulette garments and the kept -wives who purchased them. But you began to look upon -the whole traffic in dresses as a symbol of woman's -enslavement to man and of man's enslavement to the dollar sign. -And you observed how this traffic changed everybody -connected with it for the worse. (Everybody except poor -Mazie, who had experienced a revulsion of feeling against -the ghost of her Ziegfeld "Follies" self—unluckily too late -to do her any good.) You watched the crude boyish -cynicism of Harry Kelly turn into a morose pessimism, and in -Cornelia you felt the growth or stiffening of all that was -grasping and cruel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Janet saw these metamorphoses, she realized that the -house of Paulette was a house of bondage. It was not an -institution with which a free-spirited woman would wish -permanently to throw in her lot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For practical purposes, then, her choice lay between the -managership under Mrs. Jerome and a "marriage of -convenience" with M. St. Hilaire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instinct, to be sure, pointed to another alternative in -which the name of Robert figured in capital letters. But -this was a romantic dream, a dream which her fancy might -embroider but which her courage and common sense had to -dispel. Thus, when instinct urged, "A little feminine -beguilement will bring him swiftly to your feet," common -sense rejoined, "You may elect life-long poverty for -yourself; dare you inflict it on Robert?" Instinct could rear -and curvet, it could champ the bit; but it was not in the -saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As between the two available courses, she had vastly -preferred the managership. She would have jumped at it -when Mrs. Jerome first offered it, but for a tacit -understanding with Henriette. What a pull on her affections the -little girl exercised! In a moment of weakness, or rather -of passionate disgust with Paulette's, Janet had given her -former pupil all but an outright promise to become her -second mother. Yet, though the father's proposal was a -handsome one, full of concessions to Janet's conception of a -modern woman's sphere, it was difficult to ignore the -likelihood of a bitter conflict after the wedding. A conflict on -the issue of these very concessions. For between the feudal -traditions of a man like M. St. Hilaire and the equalitarian -assumptions of a woman like herself, there was a great gulf -fixed. Could it ever be bridged?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anyhow, Mrs. Jerome's offer had blazed out the real -path of independence for her, and no mistake. Or so she -had thought. A dozen times of late she had been on the -point of imparting her final decision to Henriette and facing -Cornelia and M. St. Hilaire with it. Lack of courage had -not restrained her. A very different consideration had -given her pause. Might net her "past" prove a source of -serious embarrassment to Mrs. Jerome's work? The last -two years had taught her something of the "chemical" -methods of warfare, the "poison gas" attacks which the foes -of progress did not scruple to adopt. Was it likely that the -enemies of the women's movement would lose the chance -of wrecking Mrs. Jerome's scheme by raising against her -young manager the hue and cry of </span><em class="italics">immorality</em><span>, that cry -with which a handful of knaves had so often brought a -whole nation of fools and cowards to heel?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None the less, good sense had suggested that if Mrs. Jerome -could risk it, so could she. And she had at last -nerved herself to a conclusive interview with M. St. Hilaire. -It was no more than fair that after so much shilly-shallying, -she should explain at first hand her definitive refusal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was awaiting him now. Had everything gone -smoothly, she could have shown him that her career was -already booked for passage by a different route. Booked! -But at this critical moment she had struck a snag in the -shape of Mrs. Jerome's intimation that the shortest way -with an awkward past was to "marry it down," so to speak. -Had she been mistaken in Mrs. Jerome? Was the good -lady so bravely taking a risk only with the quiet resolve -to insure this risk at the earliest opportunity? Well, if she -had to get married for her sins, one thing was certain. The -St. Hilaire she did know was better than the St. Hilaire she -didn't.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These reflections were brought to an abrupt close by the -return of Cornelia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monsieur St. Hilaire is below," she announced, stormily. -"It seems to me that you owe an explanation to me as well -as to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you don't mind," returned Janet in a voice that was -strangely calm, "let me accept him first. I'll explain to you -afterwards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia stared at her. For some time she had believed -that, despite the disturbing influence of Mrs. Jerome and -Robert, there was a fairly good chance of putting the -St. Hilaire marriage through. She had cherished this belief -until today. Then she suddenly learned that Janet had all -along been carrying on an intrigue with Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, -the upshot of which was that the benevolent Cornelia's -plans were to be set wholly at naught. And as if -this humiliation were not enough, Janet had entertained the -disloyal scheme of deserting the Maison Paulette at barely -a day's notice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These distressing facts had transpired scarcely half an -hour ago. And now Janet was again serenely proposing to -marry M. St. Hilaire! She had been acting in this erratic -fashion ever since Robert came on the scene. Had he had -anything to do with this latest change of heart?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell M. St. Hilaire to come up," she said tonelessly, -paralyzed by the instability of her friend's decisions. "The -coast is quite clear. Mazie is upstairs with Harry, and -Robert has just gone to Fontainebleau for the day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She omitted to say that she had packed him off on a -factitious errand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she continued, her cadenced speech picking up as -she went on. "I told him to make the most of his glorious -freedom. You know, he's as good as betrothed to -Charlotte Beecher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How lucky for them both!" said Janet hypocritically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia went out, having thus drawn the long bow at a -venture. And not, she trusted, in vain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>M. St. Hilaire came in. Janet had never been tempted -to rave over him as Cornelia lately did. She thought him a -little too short, but she admitted that his well-poised figure, -ruddy complexion, and auburn beard were a delight to the -eye. And she liked his courtly and somewhat superior -demeanor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, at the first intimate touch of his hand, she recoiled -almost with violence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her sudden start robbed him of every shred of confidence. -And it astonished Janet herself. The fascination -of Claude and the voltaic attraction of Robert had put -these two, for her, in a class by themselves. But she had -met men who were not half so agreeable to talk to or to look -upon as M. St. Hilaire—men whose company was dull or -whose personalities she disapproved of and yet whose -caresses she would not have wished to repel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been this way ever since their first meeting in -Brussels. M. St. Hilaire had befriended her in a time of -need, he possessed many mental and material advantages, -he was the father of Henriette. But he lacked some one -thing needful. When she dreamed her day dreams, she -never pictured him; and when he touched her, she never -thrilled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>True, in his absence, she thought of him (if she thought -of him at all) as precisely the sort of man a girl ought to be -able to love. But in his presence she was overwhelmed -with the single conviction that to live with him would be -more than she could bear. The conviction was absurd, -unjust, incomprehensible; yet it was not to be gainsaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sensing her thoughts, M. St. Hilaire was disheartened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hoped I had made amends," he said, in sorrowful allusion -to the cause of their rupture in Brussels. "But I see -you've never forgiven me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, no," she cried, with a pang of remorse. "I've -forgotten all about that. Please believe me. It isn't that -at all. It's—I don't quite know—something tells me that -I simply can't live with you as your wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, by main force suppressing caustic and resentful -comments that leapt to the tip of his tongue. He had one -more card to play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you mean to—to go back on Henriette?" he asked, -in measured tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came to his side and, affectionately taking his hand, -began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm terribly fond of Henriette—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door flew open and in walked Robert! But stopped -on the instant! He saw Janet caressing the arm of M. St. Hilaire, -heard the tender words, and felt the whole universe reel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the flash of an eye, he pulled himself together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon," he said between his teeth. And, turning -sharply round, flung headlong out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet gazed after him in stupefaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She never knew how she finished the interview with -M. St. Hilaire, nor how, with a hardening of her voice, she -made it clear to him that, in a straight conflict between -Henriette's self-interest and her own, it was not the former -that she was bound to consult.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>M. St. Hilaire took his dismissal with a good deal of -dignity and self-control, albeit Janet's display of firmness -had excited a deeper emotion than any woman had ever -aroused in him before. An unconsidered trifle, snatched -away, may become the heart's desire. And Janet had -ranked far higher than a trifle in M. St. Hilaire's European -scale of values, at least since her departure from Brussels. -Yet, throughout his courtship of this strange, incalculable -American girl, he had never been quite free from an uneasy -fear that the marriage might prove a social indiscretion. He -now felt certain that his choice had been in keeping with -the very best taste. And this certainty, while adding -poignancy to his loss, afforded some consolation to his pride.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As for Janet, she fairly bolted upstairs and threw a -bombshell into the gymnasium by the summary announcement -of her intention to leave for England with Mrs. Jerome -next day. An unalterable intention. She was -determined to establish her independence not by marriage -but by hard work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie listened to her with very mixed feelings; Harry -Kelly looked like one who heard the rumble of an -approaching earthquake; Cornelia stood petrified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came to life again with a sinister, arpeggiative laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you'll go trapesing to America on Robert's heels, -after all?" she said. "To dish his whole career!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cornelia, you're a devil!" cried Janet, incandescent with -anger. "I'd like to know the reason, the real reason for -your anxiety to get me married to M. St. Hilaire. Not -to do me a good turn, that's one sure thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mazie advanced between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Janet," she called out, pacifico-satirically, "even -the devil sometimes does a pal a good turn—just for a -change."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cornelia extinguished her with a gesture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you ever run away with Claude," she said, -turning to Janet again, "if you were so gone on Robert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How was I to tell the difference between an infatuation -that was bound to perish and a love that had scarcely been -born?" replied Janet, once more her cool, keen self. "How -was I to tell, until I had tried them out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tried them out! Words fail to describe your morals, -Janet. But go on your own way rejoicing, my dear. Hang -yourself around Robert's neck, if you like. You'll make a -charming picture there, I'm sure. Of course, clinging vines -have gone out of fashion. But clinging leeches are always -with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet went out ignoring these insults and mutely denying -Harry Kelly's passionate appeal to her not to mind what -Cornelia was saying in a vertigo of rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For God's sake, Cornelia," said Harry, making a frantic -demonstration, "don't let her leave us like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold your tongue, you imbecile!" called out his wife, -turning on him fiercely. "When I want to play the fool. -I'll ask for your advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her exit, a tempestuous one, left Mazie and Kelly alone -and forlorn. Poor Harry Kelly collapsed in his swivel -chair, while Mazie hovered around the desk like a gadfly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless you give her what for," she warned him, "</span><em class="italics">you'll</em><span> -never travel on asphalt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up and feebly waved her away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can I do?" he said plaintively. "Just jawing back -won't help matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Mazie scornfully. "Jawing back won't. But -how about knocking her down and jumping on her with -both feet? Gee, if I had your strength for five minutes! -I tell you what, my frazzled Gorilla, if you don't mop up -the floor with her this very minute, she'll make a doormat -of you for the rest of your life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tone was slighting, and there was bark in the dose -she administered. For a second, he straightened up. Then -he shook his head at her, slumped again, and buckled -down to the papers on the desk. Poor Harry! His muscle -was willing, but his nerve was weak.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The blow which Robert got between the eyes when he -saw Janet and St. Hilaire together had left him shunned. -And he was on the train speeding to Fontainebleau before -he began coming to, a painful process of returning sensibility, -beside which the pins and needles of a limb that had -been asleep would have seemed the merest child's play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wild nomadic images that chased one another across -the field of his consciousness! They racked his brain, -his world-reforming brain, and limited his feverish -introspection to one discovery, the startling discovery of how -very much he was in love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rather an awkward plight, he told himself, for a young -man who had purposed the moral regeneration of mankind -and in pursuit of this purpose had sworn to spurn fate, -scorn death, and set his hopes above happiness and love. -Especially love! Didn't all the Dick Dudgeons and Devil's -Disciples begin by renouncing love? Indeed, didn't they -make this renunciation a cardinal point of honor?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To think that even Cornelia had cautioned him against -making an utter ass of himself about Janet! Cautioned -him in vain. And Janet, too, had tried her hardest to warn -him off by jibing at his poverty. This cruel kindness had -almost worked; almost, but not quite. The poet, the lunatic, -the lover—they were the embodiments of diseases (Shakespeare -had said it!), diseases that resisted the most -desperate remedies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course she preferred St. Hilaire to himself. Why not? -According to his own theories, he should be the first to -dub her an imbecile if she didn't. When she needed sex to -gratify desire, she had taken Claude by preference. Now -that she needed a position, she would take St. Hilaire. And -rightly so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had nothing to offer her but his brains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brains and no money! And that in the twentieth century, -the triumphant mechanical century, in which any fool -with a little low cunning and a good thick skin could make -money by the bushel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What on earth had possessed Mark Pryor to start him on -this trail? Confound it! It had all grown out of a chance -encounter with Pryor in Charlotte Beecher's studio one fatal -afternoon. The fellow had taken him aside and poured -out a harrowing story of Janet's miseries coupled with a -picture of her dependence on Cornelia! But for that -</span><em class="italics">rencontre</em><span>, he wouldn't have gone on this wild-goose chase -from Geneva to Paris to rescue Janet from a gilded cage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A gilded cage! No, by heaven! He might be living in -a gilded cage himself (the gilt being drawn from Charlotte -Beecher's gilt-edged securities), instead of in one-third -of a model tenement flat in Kips Bay. To think that Pryor, -the transcendently practical Pryor, should have been the -instigator of this fatuous proceeding! Hang the fellow for -his unwarranted meddling and plausible tongue!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He reached Fontainebleau in a drizzling rain and voted -it a sleek and stupid place. In the chilly Hotel de Londres -he had ample leisure to reflect on his folly. Sightseeing! -His business in the world was to create new sights not to -see old ones. A fat lot he cared for chateaux in which the -greasy Bourbons had entertained their mistresses and in -which streams of tourists would be sure to blink in awe at -vulgarly showy decorations or childishly ornamented bric-a-brac, -not to mention the celebrated, idiotic insipidities -painted by Boucher and David.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Merely to read about these "sights" in the guidebook -made him sick. Why hadn't he followed his own nose -instead of letting Cornelia map, or rather, Baedeker, his -course for him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What dire offence from trivial causes springs," he -silently quoted. His present plight was the result of putting -Cornelia into a bad temper at the breakfast table that -morning. Afterwards, he had gone to pacify her, a feat -he had so often accomplished before. So often, in fact, that -it seemed to him rather a joke to watch Cornelia's stony -heart melt into abject sentimentality. A double-edged joke, -now he came to think it over, in his present plight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, on this occasion she had </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> been as wax in his -hands. Nor had she been sentimental. True, she had -apparently let herself be mollified as of old. But he was -so absorbed in Janet that he failed to be struck by her -unusual manner. In retrospect it stood out. Cornelia had -become playful: it was the playfulness of the panther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had begged him to go to Fontainebleau, pointing -out that everybody went at least once in a lifetime, and -that he could oblige her by doing his duty to himself and -performing a service for her at one and the same time. -The service (it would save Harry a journey!) was to give -a commission for a special Paulette design to an artist who -had an open-air studio in the famous Fontainebleau forest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On his way from Paulette's to the Gare de Lyon he had -wondered whether Janet wouldn't be mightily piqued by -his unannounced absence of two days. Two days cut -clean out of a visit that was not scheduled to be a long one! -Well, if she was piqued, so much the better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, but mightn't she suppose him deeply wounded by -her wantonly taunting shot at his impecunious, ineligible -pretentions? Possibly. But, as a matter of fact, he had -been deeply wounded. A taunt from her lips, at such a -moment, and in such a style! It was horribly unlike the -Janet he had known in Kips Bay. Had she really become -calculating to her finger tips in accordance with the law of -the evolution of the Lorillardian female? Did her -rapturous return of his kisses mean nothing to her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, well, after a tremendous love affair like hers with -Claude, a young lady was probably as much thrilled by a -kiss of rapture now and then, as by an extra slice of toast -at breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he had reasoned as he was about to jump on a bus -running to the Lyon station. He had stopped and retraced -his steps to the Maison Paulette, telling himself that as a -sane and sensible citizen of the world it would be much -better to bid her a brief good-bye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here in Fontainebleau his memory retraced these steps -for the fiftieth time. Cornelia had been in the exhibition -room, thank heaven. So he had hurried upstairs to the -gymnasium, stopping to glance in at the private office on -his way. That was how he had come to swing open the -door and burst incontinently upon Janet and St. Hilaire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly, there was nothing like a smasher in the face -for making you feel things you had been innocent of feeling -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the pain do the work!" said Robert, quoting to -himself the oldest and most respected maxim known to the -medical profession. Then he went to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sleepless night followed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The weather next morning was brisk and clear. Under -its inspiration Robert began to recover from the depression -of the night before and, for a time at least, to drive away -the misgivings that had tormented him. He yielded to the -beauty of the forest of Fontainebleau, a fact which made -the discharge of his mission for Cornelia much less tedious -than he had dreaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During his return through wooded walks to the town, -he so far regained his self-confidence that he was able to -laugh at yesterday's morbid speculations and nightmarish -fancies. What a bother he had made about a crisis that -ought to have been foreseen, and a sequel that ought to -have been taken for granted!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, as a pure point of information, could he be absolutely -sure that Janet really did mean to marry St. Hilaire?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This startling query, coming like a whisper from the -void, crystallized a decision towards which he had -unconsciously been groping. He would return posthaste to Paris -and level the invisible wall that had sprung up between -Janet and himself. "An invisible wall!" To suppose that -a figment like that could separate two people endowed -with good will, quick wit, and flexible tongues, was to insult -his intelligence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Parks, palaces, gardens, and all the other sights of -Fontainebleau could go hang!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tingled with shame as he reflected that now, more -than at any other moment since the dissolution of the firm -of Barr and Lloyd, Janet might need the friendly counsel -or the sympathetic ear that he had pressed upon her with -unlimited enthusiasm in their Kips Bay workshop. Yet this -was the moment he had chosen in which to act like the -screen hero who advances his money or his time to the -heroine in amounts arithmetically proportioned to the exact -quantity of amorous response from the lady's side. True, -this sordid barter was the popular American conception of -the course of true love. But did he propose to fall in with -this conception? Was he ready to prostitute his gifts to -the worship of the great Atlantic bitch-goddess, </span><em class="italics">Success</em><span>?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If only he had been in a position to make Janet a -tolerably acceptable offer of marriage!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, no need to blink the fact that he was now better -circumstanced than at any time since leaving the </span><em class="italics">Evening -Chronicle</em><span>. Hadn't the Confederated Press given him this -assignment at Geneva, the most responsible assignment in -its province? He flattered himself that he had reported -the proceedings of the Labor Congress with a color, -vividness, trenchancy, and fire none too common in American -journalism. It ought to make people at home sit up and -take notice; it might lead to a much more profitable -commission. Look where Hutchins Burley's articles on the -Colorado mine strike had carried him, chock-full of -rhetorical clap-trap and maudlin pathos though the beggar's -work had been!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pity that the Confederated Press served chiefly radical -newspapers with a limited circulation! It kept your tenure -on quicksand. He might have to yield to temptation and -falsify his better self by sinking into one of the fat jobs -that the plutocratic press would now be sure to offer him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the sake of marrying Janet? No, no, it wouldn't do -at all. Not even if she were insane enough to be willing to -take the plunge. He pictured himself and her together in -the marital state, saw the cramped Harlem flat in which -they'd be boxed up. Both working of course! No conveniences, -no facilities for either sociability or solitude, no -children (on less than ten thousand a year birth control -would be imperative), no health. And the economies they'd -have to practice! They'd have to deny themselves freedom -of movement, shun social and professional contacts, and -take refuge in an isolation paralyzing to their talents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Until death did them part—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thousands of childless couples in every big city existed -thus. And the lives they led were hell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of which solemn conclusion Robert had no -sooner reached his hotel than he prepared to desert the -spacious freedom of Fontainebleau. And he actually took -the first afternoon train back to Paris with the express -purpose of seeking Janet out for a heart-to-heart talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The perfection of French "system," so extensively -advertised on paper, is also realized on paper, and there only. -This truth was once more brought home to Robert when, -grimy with soot, he reached the capital long after his train -was due. He decided to skip the supper at Paulette's, -partly from a desire to avoid Cornelia, partly from a hope -that he might find Janet alone after Harry Kelly and his -wife had left, as they often did, for an evening's -entertainment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bus to the American Express Company enabled him -to get his mail just before the office closed. He kept the -dozen-odd letters in his pocket, intending to read them -whilst taking a snack in a quaint, spotless little dairy -restaurant (the </span><em class="italics">a toute heure</em><span> shop, as he and Janet called it, -in allusion to its boast of never closing) in the Boulevard -Montmartre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The waitress having taken his order, he rapidly sorted -out his letters, seven or eight of which had official or -commercial headings that at once betrayed the enclosures as -mere announcements or bills. These he stuffed back unread -into his pocket. Of the remaining few, the first one proved -to be from the London agent of the Confederated Press. -This was the man under whose orders he worked while in -Europe. A grudging, carping cuss! Robert hoped that the -fellow had at last seen the light (of Robert's merit), and -that handsome amends were forthcoming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The message ordered him home to New York at once!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So much for the recognition and advancement which his -gorgeous accounts of the Labor Congress were to bring him. -Had the ironical shafts, tipped with caustic wit and aimed -at the rancor and obstructiveness of some of the labor -leaders, given mortal offence to his own side?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a horrible sense of the insecurity of life, and with -a nameless dread more invasive and powerful than any he -had ever known before, he reached the Maison Paulette -about an hour later. He met one of the principal manikins -at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle Janet? Hadn't he heard the tragic news? -</span><em class="italics">C'est si triste</em><span>. The whole Maison was in mourning. -Mademoiselle had departed that very noon with -Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, the great rich lady without a heart. </span><em class="italics">Ah, -comme c'est triste</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The "Touraine" had been two days out from Havre in -weather decidedly rough, before Robert got his sea-legs -back again. Others on board were doubtless still deploring -the pit of instability that lurks beneath the surface of -things. But as a rule their reflections had an origin that -was strictly physical. Robert, on his first brisk walk -around the second-class deck, reasoned from premises of -a very different nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For he had reached a point where he felt constrained to -take a sort of inventory of himself, a mental stock-listing -of his reverses, his prospects, and his altered outlook on -affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not that his theories had changed in substance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From first to last, his mind had been filled with a fierce -impatience of the stupidity of man today and an unquenchable -faith in a sanity to come. Evil; as he conceived it, was -a by-product of human growth, and not, as Shelley conceived -it, something imposed on man by a malignant external -power on the fall of which the race would at once become -perfect. In short, he believed that the incessant conflict of -life was largely a struggle between high and low desires, -with money and numbers on the side of Satan, and -high-spirited intelligence on the side of the angels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In America, to be sure, where achievements not open to -a flat cash interpretation are passed by with a shrug or a -vulgar joke, Robert's view of life had excited as much -interest as a whisper in the wind. The few who gave his -philosophy a brief attention had hastily dismissed it as -a matter for milksops or imbeciles; on the fool who -preached this philosophy they had bestowed a cynical pity, -and on the failure who practised it, an amused contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The failure who practised it! Robert knew that, judged -by every standard save his own, he was a failure, a -complete, incurable failure. He did not try to dodge this -unanimous judgment. He despised it as much as he exulted -in his own faith. To be exact, as much as he </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> exulted in -his own faith.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the blow that had knocked him galley-west in the -office of the Maison Paulette had seriously shaken his -self-confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A review of his recent conduct led him straight to a very -unpalatable verdict. He had behaved as stupidly towards -Janet as any average man of stone-age instincts. Because -she had made one risky experiment in the field of sex and -had almost been tempted to make an even riskier experiment -in the field of subsistence, he had displayed in turn -his pique, jealousy, anger and scorn. The childish -resentment that had mastered him! And this when he owed Janet -unbounded gratitude for her wisdom in frightening him off -from a suicidal offer of marriage. In his varied exhibition -of neolithic folly, where was the high-spirited intelligence -he boasted of possessing?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Look how Janet had stuck to </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> guns! As he might -have foreseen (if he hadn't been a perfect donkey!), she was -going to make a glorious fight of it, on her own. She had -given to Caesar the things that were Caesar's; and for the -rest, she had kept her integrity intact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Incidentally, there was a grain of comfort in the fact -that she hadn't accepted M. St. Hilaire after all. A grain! -Say rather, several tons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suspending this train of thought, Robert turned to his -other great problem, his work in the labor movement. He -asked himself whether he, like Janet, had kept </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> integrity -intact. Two weeks ago he would have shouted out a -triumphant yes. But now the thin edge of doubt had -entered his soul. This incorruptible, critical gift—the gift -above all others that he prized—was he justified in pushing -its exercise to the furthest limit? He had always rejoiced -in the uncompromising candor with which he had exposed -and flayed the special weaknesses of the radical leaders, -the general deficiencies of his own side. But when candor -compelled you to smite people in the fifth rib in order to -save their souls, weren't you carrying virtue a little too far?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, his employers on the Confederated Press thought -so. And that they were not alone in their opinion was -evident from his several failures. He counted them up: the -</span><em class="italics">Evening Chronicle</em><span>, the Guild movement, the attempt to -unionize the mercantile workers, the Labor Party publicity, -and now this latest debacle. Not to mention his friendships!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He retained the hearty confidence of nobody.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ought a successful honest man, then, to show as much -discretion in the practice of candor as a successful knave -shows in the practice of deceit? It would seem so. Plainly, -he who would change the moral standards of his kind could -not afford to be one thing to all men. Not a specialist or -an extremist, in short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How to be an aggressive revolutionist and at the same time -a progressive evolutionist—this was the paradox that every -effective radical had to embody in his own life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was clear that he would have to begin again at the -bottom of the ladder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This being so, the first thing to do was to ascertain his -liabilities, material no less than spiritual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Robert was reminded abruptly of the half dozen -letters—bills, circulars, and the like, as he surmised—which -he had rammed into his coat pocket at the </span><em class="italics">a toute heure</em><span> -restaurant. The coat in question was in his stateroom and he -would look for the letters when he went below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half an hour later he found them. One of the first -envelopes bore the heading: Simons and Hunt, Attorneys-at-Law, -150 Broadway. It had two enclosures. The first -one he opened read:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>..vspace:: 2</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Dear Nephew:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>About a year ago you wrote to me suggesting that I do -something handsome by you. In your own delicate words -you asked me to subsidize your imagination, a quality you -believed of sufficient value to your fellow men to be worth -preserving. As a proof that you possessed this quality, you -provided me with an outline of your career in all its ups and -downs, chiefly downs. You were also good enough to favor -me with copies of your several articles on social and -industrial reform.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I am in receipt of some ten thousand requests for -money every year, it is obviously impossible for me to -comply with them all. And I am bound to say that I saw -no reason for complying with your request, the more so in -that its tone of mockery and sly derision led me to doubt -whether it was made in entire good faith. The claim of -kinship which you advanced (somewhat belatedly I thought) -had little weight with me. You know what family ties -are amongst the Lloyds! I was but a youngster of fourteen -when my father and my elder brother (</span><em class="italics">your</em><span> father) ripped -up my gilded dreams of a future as an artist and hashed -my romantic plans by a single practical act. They pitched -me out of the house into the street. There I remained to -live on my own wits, and this fate I have had little occasion -to complain of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to return to your letter. It did not win me to your -way of thinking. Nor, to be candid, did your articles on -"the collapse of modern society." I will admit that your -attacks on land speculators (like myself) were witty, if not -wise. And when you sailed into the monopoly on land -values, you wrote with astonishing authority; indeed the -only flaw I could find in your otherwise perfect qualifications -for solving the economic problem of land was the -trifling fact that you had never owned a foot of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This might have passed. Not so your observations on -the distribution of the country's wealth and other related -iniquities. Here you repeated the usual flub-dub with the -usual fine flourish of the man who imagines he has made a -startling discovery. Thus, you solemnly pointed out that -there are only two kinds of people on earth: those who prey -and those who are preyed upon. You announced that you -had never seen the profiteer forsaken, nor the preying man -begging his bread. And you informed the world that the -[Transcriber's note: some text appears to be missing -from the source book] -intensified every year, the sheep being now more securely -muzzled and more efficiently fleeced than ever before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, my dear nephew, there is nothing new in your -"discovery." Since the days of Plato all prudent men have been -of one opinion respecting the class war, but no prudent man -has ever admitted it. Conscious of this, I was unmoved -by your ringing call to the sheep that they had nothing to -lose but their muzzles; and your desire to see them organize -for the purpose of destroying the wolves by mass action, left -me cold. A world of sheep—and nothing but sheep—would -not be to my taste. For the wolves, whatever else we may -say of them, at least vary the drab monotony here below. -Besides, I suspect that your indignation in the matter of the -muzzles is largely shandygaff. It is not necessary to muzzle -sheep!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In fine, your credentials did not greatly impress me. -Your writings, it is true, were clever, witty, imaginative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what is imagination without matter or money to work -upon? Like a spark without tinder on a wet day in the -woods. At all events, I could scarcely overlook the fact -that, whereas </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> had made a fortune by my real estate -speculation, </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> were unable to make so much as a bare -living by your real estate denunciation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Have patience a little longer with the garrulity of a dying -man. A few weeks ago, I was taken ill with a fatal -dilatation of the aorta, and the end may come in a day, a month, -a year. What to do with my investments became an immediately -pressing problem. The charities I had named in my -last will were administered, as I well knew, by a host of -charity-mongers even more distasteful to me than kith and -kin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this painful dilemma I read your letter again, thinking -that my reaction to it, a year ago, had been hasty or -unfair. Perhaps the wish was father to the thought; -perhaps my infirmity has softened my brain. Whatever the -cause, one passage in your letter struck me. My eyes were -opened and I saw, or believed I saw, that you were a chosen -vessel to bear my name and fortune before the American -people. Accordingly I revoked all charitable bequests and -appointed you as my principal heir and assign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The passage that took my fancy was the one in which -you declared that it is nobler to spend a fortune than to -make one. Unhappily, I have never been able to practice -this sentiment in full. Not that I have failed to try. I -have spent millions in my time. Indeed I feel justified in -saying that I have been a constant and deliberate spendthrift -in the most literal sense of the word. But, like you, -I have an imagination (although, unlike you, I have always -prudently given my imagination the wherewithal to work -upon). Thus, in the teeth of a free and incessant -expenditure, my mind has always produced far more than my body -could possibly consume or my hands give away. And so -I come at last to the most tragic moment in a rich man's -life: that in which he arranges for others to spend what he -himself has earned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But spent it must be. And when I consider your Lloyd -heredity, your childlike ignorance of the ease with which -money is made, and your crushing innocence of the difficulty -with which it is spent, I feel I can hardly put my -future in better hands than yours. God bless you, my dear -nephew, and may your efforts at noble disbursement be -attended by success.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your affectionate uncle,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Allan D. Lloyd.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Robert's feelings beggared expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half dazed, he took out the second enclosure, a brief -communication from Messrs. Simons and Hunt, his uncle's -attorneys. This notified him of Mr. Lloyd's death, and -confirmed the fact of his designation as the residuary legatee. -After putting an estimate of two million dollars on the -minimum value of the estate, Messrs. Simons and Hunt -placed their services at the disposal of the heir and -announced their readiness to receive his instructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Followed a blank in Robert's consciousness. Slowly, very -slowly, this was replaced by the sound of the steamer -throbbing its way across the Atlantic.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The day after landing, Robert paid Messrs. Simons and -Hunt a visit, with the result that, on leaving their offices -in lower Broadway, he was a little less haunted by the -suspicion that the reality was a dream. A most reassuring -item was tucked away in his pocket in the shape of an -advance of cold cash amounting to two thousand dollars, a -sum far larger than any he had ever been in possession of -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the theory that excess of joy, like excess of sorrow, -had better be skimmed off by a long, brisk walk, Robert -trusted to his two legs to get him back to Kips Bay. He -had planned no change in his habits as yet; hence he still -shared part of a model flat with the sporting editor of one -of the evening newspapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had just turned from the open court of the Lorillard -tenement block into the rather dark entrance, when what -appeared to be a shadow on the wall assumed solidity and -life, stepped alertly forward, and tapped him on the -shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The one man in New York I particularly want to -see," cried Mark Pryor, in his cool, staccato tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The one man in New York I particularly want to -avoid," retorted Robert, not ill-naturedly, but with a lively -remembrance of Pryor as the engineer of his Parisian -misadventures. "How in thunder did you know I was back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't. Luck simply drifted my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His cordial handshake accelerated Robert's returning -sense of the reality of earthly affairs. Pryor might be slim -and wiry enough to slip in or out of the most impossible -places. He might be as elusive as a ghost. But there was -nothing weak or spirituelle about his grasp of one's hand -or his grip on life. As for his voice, which had a ring of -decency and good intent always attractive to Robert, it -dispelled fanciful grudges and installed common sense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went to lunch together in a favorite restaurant of -Pryor's, a little Austrian place in one of the side streets -east of the Pershing Square district.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine scrape you got me into with your tip about -Paris!" began Robert, as soon as they were served.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never seen you in better spirits," returned Pryor, -cool as a cucumber. "Are you engaged to marry Janet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert stared at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said emphatically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you're not the man I took you for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not," said Robert, chuckling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Pryor knew nothing of the inheritance! And if Pryor -knew nothing, who would know? He had rather supposed -that the news would create something of a stir. The -Lorillard tenements and Kips Bay generally should, in all -conscience, have been agog with it. But so far not a word had -been said by anybody he had met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clearly, it took a good deal to ripple the pachydermatous -surface of this monster city of New York!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, he would volunteer nothing. It was just as well to -keep one or two cards up your sleeve, especially when you -matched your wits against a clever man like Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Pryor did the talking. Did Robert mean to -sit there and tell him that he had missed the opportunity -of a lifetime? He'd be blessed if he ever threw him a -chance like that again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A chance!" interrupted Robert. "Are you sure it -wasn't a noose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk through your hat, Lloyd," said Pryor, affecting -indignation. "Janet's a girl in a million. Whoever -marries her is a made man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a cool hand," said Robert, lost in admiration. -"I don't know what in thunder your game is. Let me say -this, though. As a man of mystery you may be as superb -a demon as Mark Twain's </span><em class="italics">Mysterious Stranger</em><span>. But as a -matchmaker you're a hopeless old blunderbuss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He briefly outlined his recent experiences in Paris, -including the tableau of himself in the act of stumbling upon -Janet and M. St. Hilaire; he also sketched the sequel to -this climax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor's restless eyes remained singularly still during this -recital. At its close, he offered one enigmatic remark:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Janet's coming to New York, we may yet be able to -pull the chestnuts out of the fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In response to further questions, Robert gave a few -intimate word pictures of unpublishable incidents at the -Geneva Labor Congress. He also touched rather pepperily -on his recall by the Confederated Press.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Serve you right," said Pryor. "To a plain man like -me reformers who try to change moral standards, whether -for better or for worse, are a nuisance. Too many obstacles -cannot be put in their path."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All I did was to tell the truth about my own side," said -Robert indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Peach on your own side? Why, even the yeggmen -consider that bad form."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert smiled in spite of himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," he said. "Facts are facts. The truth is, -Americans habitually act like feeble-minded weaklings in -the way they receive criticism. And we radicals share the -national infirmity. Let the least suggestion of disapproval -be levelled at </span><em class="italics">Columbia, the gem of the ocean</em><span>, and all -America foams at the mouth. This is a joke to foreigners; -it's a tragedy to us. I tell you, Pryor, unless Americans -learn to stand up to criticism like men and to tolerate -dissent as the English, the Germans, and even the French do, -they'll stand where they are—at the tail end of the -procession of nations. Don't you agree with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, yes! Have it your own way. Pull your fellow -radicals to pieces if necessary. Treat 'em rough. But don't -slaughter 'em. Remember they're the only leaven in the -slimy dough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For an avowed conservative, Pryor, that's going pretty far."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll go farther than that. I'll say that if the -Confederated Press were to come to grief—which Heaven -forbid!—I should have no means of getting at the real -news of the world. None whatever. Unless I could sneak -into some private whispering gallery in Washington, D.C., -or in Wall Street, N.Y."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You perverse standpatter, what do you mean by sticking -up for </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> side? It looks fishy to me. What's your -little game now, I wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lloyd, the time has come to give you a straight answer -to that question. I'm an agent of the Secret Service; at -present, I'm detailed to help the Department of Justice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The deuce you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My game has been to watch the most dangerous radicals -in New York—some five hundred of them—whose names -are listed in the department's books. You are one of the -five hundred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really! I hope I've been a source of ample diversion? -As a friend, I'm always glad to oblige."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dienst ist dienst</em><span>, as the Germans say. While on duty, -I had no friends; I merely had five hundred suspects to -keep track of. In point of fact, my men have been through -your effects several times. We found nothing treasonable, -nothing seditious, nothing compromising, except a copy -of the Declaration of Independence with the first eight -lines underscored. I tried to have your name removed from -the black list. But the damaging evidence aforesaid was the -ground on which my recommendation was ignored."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this a joke?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's the gospel truth. But you needn't feel as -though you had been singled out for persecution. Not at -all. I'm a marked man as much as you. If the Intelligence -Service of the Government detects an atom of intelligence -in one of its agents, it makes it a special point always -to ignore that agent's recommendations. Never mind. I -wrote out my resignation this morning. Here it is. It goes -to Washington at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, Pryor, you have other reasons for resigning the -job?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, now you're coming to it. For weeks past, I've been -saturating my mind with radical literature. Tons of it. -From professional motives solely, of course. After a -studious and impartial consideration of facts and principles, -I've come to a very curious pass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say that you've been converted!" -said Robert, rising excitedly from his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I've been converted. Not to radicalism, mind. -Personally, I'm a firm believer in the aristocratic state as -championed by Plato, Ruskin, and Carlyle, the state in -which the Government is carried on by those whose equipment -best fits them to govern. We'll reach this state—in -about a thousand years. Meanwhile, I've been converted -not to radicalism, but to the view that the radicals -are right in theory and the Government wrong in practice; -the former right in demanding a complete restoration of -civil liberty and an enormous grant of industrial liberty, -the latter wrong in thwarting these demands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a few moments spent in digesting Pryor's -astonishing admissions, Robert said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One good surprise deserves another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fire away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've just inherited two million dollars!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor was stupefied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where the blue blazes did you get it from?" he cried, -his long neck rising telescopically out of his stand-up collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's one piece of information that hasn't drifted -your way, at all events," said Robert, taking a malicious -pleasure in Pryor's stupefaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A marked pause followed. Then Pryor, having congratulated -Robert, said abruptly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as I can see, nothing now stands in the way of -your marriage to Charlotte Beecher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Searching glances were exchanged. Each recognized in -the other a man of rare talent and unusual probity, and -trusted him accordingly. Pryor took the plunge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remarked quietly that, during Robert's absence -abroad, he and Charlotte had become very good friends. -He was well aware of her intense attachment to Robert. She -had, in fact, talked about it freely and frankly to him. Thus -he knew that she had taken the initiative in proposing -marriage to Robert, a very natural step, inasmuch as she -was in the vastly superior position. He knew, however -that Robert had refused on the ground of the extreme -inequality of their circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the best will in the world, Robert found it difficult -to reply. Habit and custom were strong against a ventilation -of his refusal and of the real reasons underlying it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth is," he said, after a second's hesitation, -"Charlotte and I would be very poor partners on a long -dull grind, and this is what modern marriage has become. -We're excellent friends. We put a fine edge on each other's -faculties. When we meet, the blue sparks fly. In fact, they -fly too much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say what you like, she could at least take you to art -galleries and concerts, and count on you as a sympathetic -companion. That's where I failed her. I'm such a duffer -in matters of art. And as for music! Lord, I hardly know -the difference between Beethoven and a beet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let that worry you. For all that Charlotte and I -pull so well together, our points of agreement are mostly -on the surface. True, we both get recreation from looking -at pictures or sculpture and listening to music. But not -from the same pictures or sculpture, nor from the same -music. She's all for chastity and restraint in art—Hellenism -or aristocracy, you'd call it. She resents Strauss's -volcanic turbulence; Epstein's rough-hewn symbolism -merely disgusts her; the brutal abandon of Augustus John -drives her mad. Yet I swear by these artists as she swears -by the Donatellos, Brahmses, and Raphaels whose exhibitions -of technical mastery bore me to extinction. We -really have nothing in common except our recognition of -honest craftsmanship and our joy in the clash of temperaments, -instincts and opinions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These differences that you speak of: how do you know -that they matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because they go so deep. Her hopes are not my hopes, -her dreams are not my dreams, her gods are not my gods. -These things are of the essence of comradeship, and -comradeship is the soul of love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm as much in love with Charlotte as any -normally sane man can be in love," said Pryor, quizzically. -"But on the points you mention, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't hit it off with her, -either. Her Brahms and your Strauss are equally Greek -to me, and I'd give up their collective compositions in a -jiffy for half an hour of the "Mikado" or the "Gondoliers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He supposed he'd have to work backwards and find out -what the essence of comradeship consisted in. He sincerely -trusted that it was not bound up, in his case, with -Charlotte's money. As it was, she was terribly suspicious on -that score. She was quite unshakable in the conviction -that Robert was the only man she had ever known who -was not a fortune hunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see the devilish harm you've done," said Pryor, in -conclusion, "with your reputation for disinterestedness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite an undeserved one, too," replied Robert, smiling. -"Like most reputations it was founded on my deficiencies -and not on my accomplishments. If I had known as much -about money two years ago as I do now, Charlotte might -have a very different opinion of my disinterested motives, -as well as of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He assured Pryor that he would do his level best to free -Charlotte from her delusion. In return, Pryor was to -keep secret the fact of Robert's accession to a fortune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to enjoy the luxury of being a poor man with -plenty of money in my pocket," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody was to be told and, in particular, the news was -to be kept from Janet. He didn't expect to indulge this -rather childish whim for more than a few days. All New -York would be talking about his good luck by that time, no -doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear fellow! A paltry two millions?" said Pryor -with a short laugh. "A mere pebble on the beach. Why, -the reigning plutocrats here hand out millions to charity -as I'd give pennies to a beggar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They settled their bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On their way out, Robert said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now tell me how you caught that blackguard Burley -smuggling diamonds for the Fontaines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who told you I caught them? In the strict etiquette -of the Secret Service, the names of the agents in specific -cases are never made public."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the information just drifted my way," said Robert, -bantering him. "Even without it, though, I should have -put two and two together. Nobody admires the richness and -variety of your knowledge more than I do, Pryor. Yet I'm -bound to say that your disguises seem puerile to me. -Among the Outlaws, although we didn't guess the Secret -Service, we spotted you as a Pinkerton, or something of that -sort, almost from the first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely what I wanted you to do, my friend. My -game was to spread the truth broadcast. People simply -will not believe the truth. Ask any detective worth his -salt and he'll tell you that being himself is the best of all -possible disguises, one that saves no end of trouble in -'make-up' and character acting. It causes every suspect to -feel that he and the sleuth are in each other's confidence, -as it were. And this puts people so much at their ease that -they positively can't help giving themselves away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that's how you double crossed Hutchins Burley?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a long, amusing story, Lloyd. I'll keep the details -for another day. The poor wretch is doing five years in a -Federal prison. Mr. Rene Fontaine, for whom he was a -mere tool, paid a fine of three million dollars (not your -beggarly two million!) without turning a hair, and then -decamped to England, where he lives in a regal villa -somewhere in Essex.—Lord, it's nearly three! I must make a -move. Where are you bound for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Home, now. California, the day after tomorrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"California!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert explained that all his uncle's realty holdings were -on the Pacific Coast. His mother, too, was there. What -with one thing and another, his presence out West was -imperative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall return in two months for a quest of quite another -sort," he added, significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Walk a few blocks towards the Subway with me," said -Pryor, "and I'll show you one of the high lights of our low -life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drew near the Grand Central Palace, the streets -grew thick with people. Traffic along Lexington Avenue -was suspended and a cordon of New York's "finest" was -drawn up in front of the Palace, with night sticks polished -to a turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert and Mark Pryor had just reached the outskirts -of the crowd, when several imposing motor cars drew up in -front of the exhibition building.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth's the matter now?" said Robert. "Has -our Anglo-American Prince of Wales returned?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very handsome young man with two richly dressed -young ladies alighted from the first car, whilst the moving -picture brigade went into immediate action and the crowds -thundered out cheers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the first day of the great Allied Armies' Bazaar," -said Pryor. "The Duchess of Keswick and Mr. and Mrs. Claude -Fontaine are to open the affair at three o'clock. -There they go now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a match for him!" murmured Robert, setting eyes -for the first time on Marjorie Armstrong's proud beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More than a match," said Pryor, softly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER THIRTY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You don't love me, Robert!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's false," he said, retreating. "I do love you. I've -loved you madly ever since you fled to Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why do you run away? I don't want you to marry -me. You're too poor! But you might at least kiss me. -Come back, Robert, please come back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following him, she put her arms around his neck and -clasped him tight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, Janet. I won't marry you. I won't! I'll -never, </span><em class="italics">never, NEVER</em><span> marry a woman who has had a free -lover!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still he receded, and ever so gently tried to unclasp her -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't marry me, Robert. Only treat me just as -you'd treat a man. Don't you remember that you promised -you would? You promised on the pier in Kips Bay, when -your heart was a free and a fetterless thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She concentrated all her magic upon him, upon his pale -thoughtful face and discerning hazel-brown eyes. But look! -The eyes were not hazel-brown—they were a flashing blue! -And these were not the mobile sensitive features of Robert, -but the bold virile features (somewhat distorted by angry -passion) of Claude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" he cried. "Marry you here—here in Brussels—after -all I've suffered on your account? Serpent! Shall -I never escape your sting?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hovering somewhere in the background, a thin-edged -female with horn-rimmed spectacles took a malignant joy -in fanning the flames of his rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Claude wrenched both her hands loose and flung them off, -the violence of the action sending her prone to the floor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet sat up in bed and shook back the tangles of her -nut-brown hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a horrible nightmare!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All on account of the rumpus started last night by the -thin-edged female with the horn-rimmed spectacles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not in Brussels, but in New York. Not in the Grand -Hotel, Boulevard Anspach, but in the Susan B. Anthony -House, Park Avenue, Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome's new apartment -house for self-supporting professional women with -children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, this particular rumpus had been settled, and the -attack of officious Pharisaism upon Janet's reputation had -received a black eye. Janet wondered whether the blow -was to be recorded as a knockout or merely as the end of -the first round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Time would show. Meanwhile, she dressed and breakfasted; -then, with all the gravity of her twenty-seven years, -she began to discharge the responsible duties of manager -of the House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the memory of the nightmare would not down. Not -even the excitement she still felt in making the rounds of -her three departments sufficed to dispel it. In the children's -section, she applauded the new floor games which the -kindergartner had invented for her wards; she became a ready -listener to the woes of the matron in charge of the -household division; on her way through the cuisine, she devoted -her faculties to the task of adjudicating the claims of the -cook against the dietitian in command. And she sought -distraction in the stupendous thought that these three great -departments of the Susan B. Anthony House were coordinated -in the person of Miss J. Barr, the business manager and -personal representative of Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, although these occupations drove away the haunting -nightmare for minutes at a time, they were impotent to -banish it permanently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chief trouble was, of course, that her nerves were -still shaken by the emotional explosion in which the whole -House had been involved the day before. The explosion -was the cause of the nightmare. And the nightmare itself, -its several metamorphoses and all, had marched in such a -logical, well arranged order, that she was greatly tempted to -tell it to Lydia Dyson, the novelist, who was a crank on -the subject of Freud and dreams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lydia, to be sure, would pronounce it a contemptible -dream, lamentably short of knives, pitchforks, corks, -bottles and other shining symbolic materials. Contemptible -or not, she would none the less insist that it must be -submitted to a psychoanalyst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, Lydia Dyson would torment her to be psychoanalyzed. -With a smile she recalled the novelist's visit to the -Susan B. Anthony House a week ago. Lydia, in search of -material for her new novel, </span><em class="italics">The Soul Pirates</em><span> (expression -derived from Cornelia Covert), had set the members of the -house to narrating their worst dreams. Then she had -beguiled more than half of them into having themselves -psychoanalyzed by Aristide Cambeau, an amazingly brilliant -speaker whose lectures (at the Ritz—five dollars a -ticket!) were the latest social rage, and whose clinic was -daily besieged by a long queue of fashionable ladies -impatient to have their souls laid bare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet believed she could interpret her dream fully as -well as the fascinating Mr. Cambeau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her attempt to do so led her to a review of her own -recent history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seven weeks ago she had returned with Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome -to the United States. Mrs. Jerome had resumed -training her as soon as the Statue of Liberty was sighted. -Thus, the good lady reminded her that they had come from -England (where plenty of explosive insurrectionary material -was lying around) to their own land with its "tendency -to normalcy" as a noted politician expressed it. That is, -they had come back to the America of the women's vote, -the high cost of living, the housing shortage, the unemployment -menace, the deportation of radicals and Japanese, the -reception of hoards of unhealthy South-European immigrants, -the ouija board, the stock market slump and jazz. -The same old America! It was reading "Main Street" just -then; and Mrs. Jerome opined that all America was reading -the book, </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> because it gave a memorable picture of the -soul of a nation in all its drab, desolating mediocrity, but -because it gratified the furious national craving to be paid -attention to and talked about, it mattered nothing whether -in terms of praise, disparagement or abuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jerome's gloomy view rolled off Janet like water -off a duck's back. She had youth, enthusiasm, vigor; there -was a great civilizing work to be done. And though, as -Mark Pryor took pains to assure her, it might take a -thousand years to do it, she threw herself into it heart and -soul, just as if the goal were attainable next year.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two weeks after their arrival in New York, the Susan -B. Anthony House had been opened, undemonstratively but -successfully. Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, an omnipresent deity -at first, relinquished the reins of government gradually; all -the reins save one, for it was well understood that she was -to be the power behind the scenes. Within a week, every -suite in the house was occupied and hundreds of applicants -were turned away. The rents, though far from low, were -not unreasonable; and, as special provision had been made -for the care of children, and competent experts placed in -control of each department ("quality not quantity" was the -specific motto throughout), the house was a godsend for -precisely the ones it was designed to serve, that is, for -self-supporting professional women with one or two children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time, things had gone swimmingly. Almost too -swimmingly. As the news spread, social workers and social -science students began to pay the place a visit. Before -long the unofficial busybodies followed and, with the -kindliest intentions in the world, did their level best to -disorganize the machinery of the house and subvert the -discipline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the reporters took up the scent! All the magazine -sections of the Sunday newspapers had articles describing -Mrs. Jerome's "latest hobby." Interviews with -Mrs. Jerome—some real, some alleged—appeared in increasing -numbers and with increasingly pungent specimens of this -lady's sprightly wit. Writers of special features in the -evening sheets praised or deplored the "communal upbringing" -of the children. The photogravure supplements took -up the sport and favored their readers with pictures of -every conceivable corner of the house, and also with -tableaux in which the children, looking remarkably happy and -well dressed, were grouped about three adults (from left to -right): the Duchess of Keswick, Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome and -Miss J. Barr.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally, the Infamous Players-Smartcraft Company -offered a fabulous sum for the use of the Susan B. Anthony -House as the scene of an "action" (with adagio "close-ups"), -which it insisted on calling (doubtless in irony) a -"moving" picture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the marvel of marvels was that, throughout this -period of unbought, unsought advertising, nobody breathed -the suspicion that Miss J. Barr, the calm, collected young -manageress in the neat blouse and trim skirt, might be the -notorious Janet Barr who had eloped two years before with -Claude Fontaine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, one fine day, as she was leaving the Broadway -side of Wanamaker's, a man had leapt out of a magnificent -limousine drawn up at the curb, and had seized her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Claude himself! Handsome and imposing as ever, -with perhaps a dash less of self-confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had implored her for a meeting later in the day. No, -no, he wouldn't make love to her, he solemnly swore he -wouldn't! He wanted to get a load off his conscience. His -wife? Oh, he got along well enough with Marjorie, -only— Well, surely Janet knew </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> he had married her? There -had simply been no alternative! If Colonel Armstrong -hadn't stood back of Fontaine and Company at the time of -the smuggling exposure, the firm would have gone to smash. -And so on—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet peremptorily refused to meet him. There was no -sense in a meeting, she urged. He was importunate. "What -about my House?" said she. "What about my state of -mind?" said he. She had tried hard to be firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come not between the lion and his wrath or the tigress -and her work," she said, torn this way and that between the -comedy and the tragedy of the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To get rid of him, she had at length made an appointment -for the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The appointment was never kept!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sequel proved that her encounter with Claude had -been observed. That night the bloodhounds of scandal -were unleashed in the Susan Anthony House. The -ring-leader was the thin-edged woman with the horn-rimmed -spectacles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This precious female was the mother of a whining little -boy whose father was authenticated by due process of law. -The law had not sufficed, however, to keep the gentleman -faithful for long to the nuptial vows. After his disappearance -from New York, his wife was left to support herself -and to wreak vengeance where vengeance was not due.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first that Janet knew about the coming storm was -when the dietitian took her aside and told her that the house -had been divided into two camps: for and against Janet; -or, as the anti-Janet crowd put it: for and against Morality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two days before the nightmare, things had come to a -head. In the absence of the manager, the anti-Janet faction -had assembled under the chairmanship of the thin-edged -agitator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This lady had opened the meeting with the bitter -announcement that those present were liberal and fairminded, -but that they had their children to think of. Their darling -children! Mothers, </span><em class="italics">married</em><span> mothers, mind you (and she, -for her part, had consented to join the Susan B. Anthony -House </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> on the confident assumption that </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> the -mothers were as </span><em class="italics">regularly</em><span> married as herself)—mothers, -as such, could afford to take no chances! Unhappily, she -was persuaded that in the other camp there were ladies who -had more than </span><em class="italics">one good reason</em><span> for standing by the -manager. She surmised that some of these ladies were -</span><em class="italics">unmarried mothers</em><span>! Scarcely mothers at all (if morals -counted for anything), and certainly no better than they -should be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After much nursing of self-righteousness, suitable -resolutions were moved, and a deputation was appointed to -present the facts to Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome; also to demand -the discharge of Janet and the vindication of American -morality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great impeachment had occurred last night. -Mrs. Jerome had motored into town, and both factions had -turned out for the occasion in the large reception room on -the ground floor. Mrs. Jerome had refused to start the -proceedings until Janet was seated at her right hand. This -settled, the thin-edged spokesman had made the formal -charges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the fun had begun—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this point, a telephone bell jangled across Janet's -reflections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it?" she asked the switchboard girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Pryor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let him come up," said Janet eagerly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As usual, Mark Pryor's spare form was dressed from -head to foot in materials of one color. But even Janet -noticed that, for once, the inevitable stand-up collar, with its -two prongs tilting its wearer's chin upwards, had been -replaced by a low-lying collar of creamiest silk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Circles under the eyes!" he began severely. "What's wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nightmares, witches, broomsticks," she replied laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out with it!" he commanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her calm, clear tones she gave him a graphic account -of the unpleasantness of the last few days, from its -inception in her chance encounter with Claude Fontaine down -to the demand made upon Mrs. Jerome for her dismissal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how did little Apple Dumpling meet this demand?" -inquired Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like a trump! Said she'd stand by me to the limit—also -that the Susan B. Anthony House, being designed for -busy people and not for busy*bodies*, Mrs. Farrar (the one -with the horn-rimmed spectacles) would have to vacate at -the end of the week. Further that, in the future, it is to be -a fixed rule of the house that any mother, married or -unmarried, may become a tenant, and no questions asked -other than those needed to satisfy Mrs. Jerome or her -representative that the applicant is both self-supporting and -self-respecting—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bravo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, furthermore, she then and there dictated a letter -to be sent to the liberal weeklies in New York, informing -their readers of the adoption of this new rule."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurrah!" cried Pryor. "The next time anybody queries, -in the words of the immortal William:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"'What king so strong</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I'll answer: No king; but let me tip you the name of a -</span><em class="italics">queen</em><span>—Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, the magnificent. </span><em class="italics">She</em><span> can -turn the trick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she's a perfect darling. Do you know, I didn't -mind the backbiting of those silly women a bit. But -Mrs. Jerome's unhesitating support made me want to cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She added that in a private conversation with the dear -lady she had urged her own resignation as a matter of -practical wisdom. Wasn't the cause greater than the -individual?—"Rubbish!" Mrs. Jerome had replied with a -considerable show of heat. No cause was worth the cowardly -abandonment of a comrade! For two thousand years men -had prated of the holy duties of friend to friend, and had -committed one crime against friendship after another. And -when these crimes were committed, what did they do? They -folded their hands, raised pious eyes to heaven, and sang -(through their noses), "Alas for the rarity of Christian -charity!" etc. Well, women would show them that the -time to be loyal was not when the pack curried favor with -your friend but when it turned to rend him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean to do now?" asked Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall stick it out. After all, I'm not looking for social -or official favors. All I ask is to be allowed to do the best -work of which I'm capable. Surely, I have that right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you think," said Pryor drily. "But bear in mind -that for every </span><em class="italics">bona fide</em><span> worker in New York, there are nine -idlers or time wasters, nine breeders of noise, disorder and -disease. And don't forget that the chief objection to the -idler is not that he neglects his own work, but that he -insists on interrupting or damaging yours. The doer is the -waster's sworn enemy to all eternity. And the waster -knows it! Therefore, he spies out your vulnerable spot: -social, economic, psychic, whatever it be; and the first -moment he catches you off guard, he sends his poisoned -arrow straight to your Achilles' heel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose I must take my chance of that. What else -can I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might imitate me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Imitate you! What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, get married! I'm going to marry Charlotte -Beecher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I thought that Charlotte—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she's very fond of Robert Lloyd. And I'm only her -second string. But bless your wayward curls, we're all -second strings on somebody's violin! What's the -odds—especially after the first string has snapped? I've been -madly in love myself, twice before. Once, down south in -Colon, with a dusky Isthmian beauty. The second time, -with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly, Mark, or I shall stop envying Charlotte -her extraordinary good luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hers </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> mine! Charlotte was looking for a husband -with enough brains to manage a fortune, and yet with heart -enough not to love her for her fortune alone. I was -looking for a wife with heart enough to lay her fortune at my -feet, and yet with enough brains to permit me to enjoy her -society. Are we well matched or not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit -impediment,'" quoted Janet, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you're talking sense as well as poetry, dear girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say I'd follow your example, though."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All in good time! It's human nature for young blood to -rebel against wedlock—and to come around to it in the long -run. Marriage, as Lydia Dyson says, is the easiest way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, for Lydia, who changes her lover once a season, -while her husband stays at home and keeps the household -in smooth running order. But my needs don't run in -Lydia's line."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor admitted this. But he pointed out that marriage -was a human institution. There it was, for every one of us -to reckon with. Either you made use of it, or it made use -of you. Sensible people adopted the former alternative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, look at me!" he said, waxing strangely eloquent. -"I've knocked about the world a good bit in the last -twenty years. A born adventurer if ever there was one. Do -you see me settling down to matrimony like any spirit-broken -married man in the pinchbeck salaried class? No, -by Jupiter! I've waited for the right conditions to come -to pass so that I could take up marriage as one more great -adventure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your last one, Mark!" said Janet, bantering him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More seriously, she asked him whether all his other -adventures had been in the Secret Service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord no! I've taken a shot at all sorts of jobs and been -all sorts of things from a West Point cadet to a buccaneer -in the South Seas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This quiet, self-contained man, spare of frame but -tough as a hickory stick, had he really been a gorgeous -sea-rover? Looking into his humorously inquisitive gray eyes, -Janet could not doubt his words. And, like Desdemona -entranced by Othello, she listened whilst he dipped into a -store of reminiscences and, in his own inimitably laconic -style, gave her an outline of his picturesque career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pryor as a West Point cadet, as a lieutenant in the -Engineer Corps, in service against the Moros in the -Philippines, on the sanitary staff in the thick of the Panama -Canal construction, again as a civilian on a dare-devil -voyage to Tahiti—these pictures took the romantic side of -Janet by storm. She made him tell the Tahitian story most -minutely, and hung on his lips with bated breath as he -recounted the capture of his tiny steamer by real pirates -who gave him a Hobson's choice of joining them in their -marauding trips near the Society Islands, or of walking the -plank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I never gave full satisfaction anywhere," he -concluded ruefully. "Secrets that I had better not have known -were incessantly coming my way and causing me no end -of trouble. Once, when we unexpectedly sighted a Dutch -merchantman laden with coffee and spices, I ran up the -red flag instead of the black! My shipmates swore that I -did it on purpose and assured me that, as a pirate, I was a -failure. It was true. I </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a failure! Almost a dead -failure, in fact, for they left me on what they thought was -a desert island."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he got back to the United States, the Great War -had begun, but the officials in Washington were extremely -slow to utilize his services. His record was against him. -He was one of those men with whom two and two didn't -inevitably make four, but sometimes footed up to a sum -that included human as well as mathematical factors. For -an army man, this was a fatal defect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Impatient to be of use, he eventually joined the Secret -Service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Janet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing else was open to me," he replied, with a -twinkle in his roving eyes. "When a man is a pronounced -failure, there are only three professions that will take him -into their ranks: those of detective, writer and teacher. I -chose the first as the least degrading of the three. Also -because it gave me a chance to use my gift as a telepath, an -elemental telepath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't pretend that you haven't made good at </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I've done so-so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So-so!" cried Janet indignantly. "Look how you caught -Hutchins Burley red-handed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True enough. I'm bound to confess, however, that I -went to the pier to arrest him for treason. When his boxes -of Oriental books were opened, it was the smuggled -diamonds that we found and not (as I had predicted) the -evidence of his sale of United States military secrets to the -Japanese. Later on, we got that evidence too; but that -was Smilo's doing more than mine. Ah, wait till you hear -Robert's opinion of my sleuthing skill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Robert!" she said, with the faintest quiver of her -lip. "He hasn't been near me. I'm not even sure that he's -in America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he is! And I happen to know that urgent business -is keeping him out of New York."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a peculiar business. In a sense, it's the reverse of -what I was engaged upon. I was in pursuit of rogues; -but rogues are in pursuit of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must say, you're as enigmatic as ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only till tomorrow, Janet. I pledge my word to have -everything explained to your satisfaction if you'll come -tomorrow to Charlotte's studio in Washington Mews. The -party begins at four."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The party!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely. An engagement party for Charlotte; a -surprise party for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saying which, and protesting that he had talked her -deaf, dumb and blind, and affirming that he had never felt -so horribly out of character in his life, Mark Pryor gravely -took his leave.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In fulfillment of her promise, Janet went the following -afternoon to the converted stable in Washington Mews -where Charlotte Beecher cultivated sculpture in an atmosphere -of aristocratic Bohemianism. It was the same studio -in which, of old, Cornelia Covert had luxuriated whenever -the routine of Outlawry in Kips Bay got on her nerves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Spring and hope in a young woman's breast usually add -love to their number. In Janet's case they added thoughts -of Robert. All morning she had been plagued with a -feeling, amounting to a conviction, that he would be at -Charlotte's party. But when she reached the Mews, she found -that Pryor and Lydia Dyson were the only other guests at -a gathering which bade fair to be intimate and exclusive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a minute or two her spirits were considerably dashed. -She waited for Pryor's advertised surprise to eventuate; but -she waited in the dark, nobody offering so much as a ray -of enlightenment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Lydia Dyson stretched herself supine upon the -magnificent tiger rug before the blazing fire, Pryor fetched -wineglasses and poured out champagne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's to those about to wed!" cried Lydia, raising her -glass, and then quoting:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Farewell, happy fields where Joy forever dwells,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Hail Horrors!'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You might give us a more cheerful toast, old girl," -protested Charlotte.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An occasion like this conduces to high philosophy rather -than to vulgar good cheer," retorted Lydia, whose -Egyptian beauty—ebony hair against a pale olive skin—had -never been more stunning. "However, since you wish it, -I'll take another shot: 'Here's to continued failure for all -of us!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia, you </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> a merry soul today," exclaimed Janet, -amidst the general laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why not?" inquired Lydia, with a provoking drawl. -"Why not? When I see my last blood curdler running well -into the two hundred thousands!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lydia is right," said Pryor. "In the present state of -civilization, all the best people are failures, glorious -failures."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He contrasted the fortunes of Lydia's pornographic -romances with the fate of her one serious experiment in -fiction. The romances sold like hot cakes. But the serious -work, a short novel in which, with pitiless Hogarthian -realism, she had developed an episode between a brother -and a sister, had been refused by her publisher on the -ground that "it was too terrible!" Then there was his own -case! Had he not failed as a detective because too much -secret information was always breezing his way?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't forget our young feminist over there," cried -Lydia, indicating Janet. "Don't forget her, or her heroic -gesture against wedlock!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bark is not as good as a bite," retorted Janet. "But -isn't it better than a tame crawl into the yoke?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By way of reply, Lydia half raised herself from the tiger -skin and, in measured tones, recited:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Dewdrop, thou hast fought the better fight—in vain! -Some women are born to be wedlocked, some achieve -wedlock, and some have wedlock thrust upon them. Janet -belongs to the first group, Charlotte belongs to the second, -I belong to the third."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You to the third!" cried Charlotte. "How do you make -that out? From all I see, though Charley Morrow is a -perfect dragon of jealousy, you cling to him pretty tightly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have to, Charlotte! I have to keep him in countenance -(and in pocket money, too!), because I'm afflicted -with what the doctors call 'a floating stomach.' Now, -Charley is not only the best housekeeper in New York, he's -the best cook, too. There's simply nobody else whom I can -depend on not to sneak lard instead of butter into my -bread—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or to mix cottonseed oil instead of olive oil with your -salads?" thrust in Pryor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely. Sometimes, when I eat at home I say: How -can I stand Charley another twenty-four hours? Next day -I eat at a restaurant, and say: I can stand Charley forever!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all laughed, and Lydia buried herself in the rug -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the same," she went on meditatively, "I've never -really got used to marriage. It's a well of never-ending -surprises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> surprise?" asked Janet, for the fourth time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bell rang and Charlotte went to the door a few feet away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here it comes!" announced Pryor, as a man entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Janet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Greetings all round cut their glances short.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Janet was struck with the fact that he had never looked -better. Robert, as dynamic as a battery giving out blue -sparks, was familiar enough to her. But Robert, with a -deepening pink spreading over his pale cheeks, and with a -suit that showed the craftsmanship of a fashionable Fifth -Avenue tailor, was a sight to make one gasp and stare. Nor -was this all. In times past, she had often conjured up a -picture of him poised as on a springboard, preparing to leap -upward to join the spirits of the air. But there was -nothing aerial about the way in which his feet now gripped the -solid ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She couldn't get over the change!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he alluded briefly to a trip to California from -which he had just returned and on which he appeared to -have done some work for the Confederated Press, she had -the sensation of not being in a secret that all the rest -shared. This was the sort of discourtesy that had hitherto -been taboo in Charlotte's crowd, and she resented being -made a victim of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the Confederated Press knew better than to give -you your walking papers?" drawled Lydia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They knew nothing," replied Robert. "I simply paid -them to keep me on and to let me say exactly what I -pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was more mystifying to Janet than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, Mark Pryor proposed a walk to the Lorillard -model tenements to inspect Number Fifteen, Cornelia's old -flat. It turned out that Robert had rented it and that -Donald Kyrion, perhaps the youngest and certainly the -most talented interior designer in New York, had decorated -it for him as a labor of love. Pryor pronounced the result: -"Art that congealed art!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Donald Kyrion?" said Lydia. "If Robert got him to -do anything for nothing he ought to get the Nobel prize -for wonder-working."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ahem!" said Pryor, and again he and Robert exchanged -knowing glances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Charlotte protested with all her soul against being -dragged to Kips Bay. Now that Robert could earn an -honest living, why didn't he rent a lodging in a decent -locality instead of consorting with the Outlaws who—what with -their talk of wrongs, their love of dirt, and their smell of -tobacco—were tiresome enough to bore Mephistopheles himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Outlaws parted company with me long ago," replied -Robert, putting up a vigorous defence. "It is not they who -lure me back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said that the Outlaws were, after all, not the whole -of Kips Bay. They were the most picturesque element in -the population, but they were only a tiny fraction of the -total. True, they behaved in every respect as though no -other element besides their own existed. Wasn't this, -however, merely a proof that they were New Yorkers to the -manner born? It was, in fact, undeniable that there were -plenty of simple, self-respecting toilers in Kips Bay, plenty -of them right in the very citadel of Outlawry, the Lorillard -model tenements themselves. Nay, candor compelled -the admission that there were even "rich but honest" -toilers in the Kipsian district—to be specific, in the new -"art colonies" planted around Sutton Terrace and Turtle -Bay Gardens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had found this out after the dispersal of Cornelia's -set. Force of circumstances having obliged him to look out -into the Kips Bay that extended beyond the model flats, he -had learned how parochial, in their assumptions about the -district, the Outlaws had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is," he added, "I often think it's a hankering -after the paths of rectitude and respectability that makes -me enjoy a Lorillard flat—for short stretches only, needless -to say. Anyhow, the older I get and the more I study the -flibbertigibbet Bohemian in </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> lair and the heavy-footed -Bourgeois in his, the more I'm struck with the bond -between them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bond, Robert!" exclaimed Charlotte. "Call it a -touching point, common ground, but don't call it a bond."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's a hidden bond. For the irregular doings of -the strait-laced people and the comparatively regular doings -of the gypsies show me how Bohemian the Bourgeois is, and -how Bourgeois the Bohemian."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What Robert says reminds me forcibly of a passage in -</span><em class="italics">Gulliver's Travels</em><span>," interposed Mark Pryor. "I mean the -passage in which the horses, the noble highborn creatures -that govern, move about stark naked, whilst the Yahoos, -the loathsome human creatures that live like beasts, yearn -to cover their shame with rags and strings of beads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the matter of that," continued Robert, "look at our -little group here. We've all lived and worked quite -contentedly in the thick of Kips Bay. Yet there's nothing in -our daily behavior at which a Philistine of the deepest dye -would turn a hair. Where, in fact, could one find a more -incurably respectable lot of people—always counting out -Lydia who, I believe, is still a member in good standing -among the Outlaws?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, old boy!" Lydia called out. "Are you -attacking or defending me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As the supreme ornament of Charlotte's studio, you can -always count on my homage, Lydia. But as an Outlaw, -you must expect no quarter. I've lived among the Outlaws -and weighed them in the balance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meaning what?" said Lydia, groaning for effect. "That -their honor rooted in dishonor stands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bad way of putting it, Lydia," replied Robert, -smiling. "Shall I give you the gist of Outlawry? Well, -it is an excrescence of Radicalism, often a decorative, -sometimes a merely indecorous excrescence. The purpose of -Radicalism is to remove the obstacles that lie athwart the -course of life, of life aspiring to an estate infinitely -higher than that of man. What part in this mighty -purpose is played by the mummers of Greenwich Village, the -camp-stool triflers of Washington Square, the picarescos of -Kips Bay, and the other Outlaw aggregations?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They stand for insurgency, don't they?" drawled Lydia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For insurgency, yes. But what sort of insurgency? Your -typical Outlaw 'insurges' against perfectly harmless laws -and conventions: obstacles of no importance. And at the -very same time, he conforms to ruthlessly strangling laws -and conventions: obstacles that really matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kips Bay or bust!" announced Lydia, reluctantly abandoning -her tiger skin as the only alternative to a pursuit of -Robert's theme.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the walk uptown, Lydia attached herself to Pryor and -Charlotte, while Robert with Janet soon fell far behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a first aid to free speech an independent income is! -Dozens of questions which, in Paris, had stuck on the tip -of Robert's tongue now rolled off as freely as down a -buttered slide. He was the first to break boldly into the -vicious circle of topics of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd better return my pearls and diamonds!" he began -with a grave smile. "As for me, I'll send back all your -letters and also the lock of your hair that I've worn next -my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said that there was only one conclusion to be drawn -from the unbroken silence she had maintained ever since -the end of the partnership of Barr and Lloyd; an end, he -reminded her, not of </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, she liked that! She had written long letters, -addressed to Cornelia, but expressly intended for the whole -Lorillard circle; and, seeing that several people had -replied, it would seem that her intention had been respected. -In these letters she had more than once fished for a crumb -of sympathy from him. She might say that, on reaching -the very bottom of the ladder of luck, she had signalled to -him almost as abjectly as Dives had to Lazarus. But no -Lazarus had responded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This reproach led, on both sides, to a rapid fire of -questions and answers in the course of which one of their chief -misunderstandings was cleared up. Janet learned that -Cornelia had never shown her letters to Robert. What she -had done was to give him subtly to understand that Janet, -in the hope of inducing Claude to legitimate their love -affair, was prudently burning her Kips Bay connections -behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was only one of a score of things that Cornelia did to -queer the pitch between us," was Robert's comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were silent for a space, whilst they adjusted their -thoughts to a much clearer interpretation of the curious way -that Cornelia had acted out her part in the triangle of their -relations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert's mind reverted to a bit of news which Pryor had -passed on to him the night before, after the arrival of the -San Francisco Limited at the Pennsylvania Station. Pryor -had picked up the information in the course of an interview -with Hutchins Burley in the Tombs, where the fallen editor, -garbed as a Federal convict (he had begun to serve his -sentence for smuggling), was being detained to testify -against a former confederate in the Japanese espionage case. -Burley, raging like the bull of Bashan, had lashed out -against all the people who had ever given him offence, and -against some who hadn't. As a by-product of sheer, -overflowing hatred, he had let slip the item that it was to -Cornelia that he was really indebted for having been able to -get on Janet's track in Brussels. Cornelia had not known -Janet's precise whereabouts, yet she had shown Burley the -letters, the very letters she had withheld from Robert! -This was a piquant bit of gossip, but Robert decided to -suppress it for the time being. Until he had finished with -the delicate job he had in hand!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crossing Astor Place, they proceeded along Bookworm -Lane to Union Square. Janet stopped halfway and pointed -out a quaint old shop where she had bought at secondhand -many of the text-books used in her Evening Law School. -"You are on the primrose path of dalliance!" exclaimed -Robert, who heard of these studies for the first time. "Do -you keep your mother posted regarding your wicked ways -or has she closed the front door to you forever, as she -threatened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, the front door has been left on a crack," said Janet. -And she recounted a visit she had lately paid her home. -The family atmosphere was exactly as she had left it, the -only change being that her father, having retired from -business as the result of a serious accident, had ceased to -be even the titular head of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The poor old man, a mere ghost of his former handsome -self, was in a state of coma, Robert. And I fear that, -as his salary days are over, his approaching dissolution is -being firmly and not too gently accelerated. He sat huddled -up in an invalid's chair, from time to time mumbling that -he hoped I'd be a sensible girl, and stay with them in -Brooklyn now, and learn to appreciate my mother for the -brave and unselfish woman she has always been! He'll lick -the whip to the very last breath. The sight of him was -heartrending!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otherwise, the atmosphere of the Barr household had not -changed one whit. The same musty, fusty ideas prevailed, -and the same hollow, stagnant, make-believe existence went -on. Here, at least, was one spot in America where pre-war -conditions prevailed unchallenged!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I ever have stood it as long as I did! Mother -pecked at my cheek and, without turning a hair, asked me -was I coming home at last (to be a young lady of the house -I suppose!) or did I mean to go on wasting the Lord's time? -Wasting the Lord's time! I replied that if she was alluding -to my work and to my legal studies—which together -occupied me from ten to sixteen hours a day—wasting the -Lord's time wasn't the picnic it sounded like. She muttered -something about the wages of sin being death! 'Oh, no,' I -said, 'I get a very fat salary from Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome.' I -mentioned the exact figure—the amount quite made -Emily sit up!—and I added that Mrs. Jerome, my friend -as well as my employer, had undertaken to advance my -career.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it seemed to me that this piece of news stumped -mother a bit, although she closed her eyes in that trance-like, -oblivious way of hers and affected never to have heard -of a Mrs. Jerome. Perhaps she really hadn't. Nobody has -ever fathomed the bottomless ignorance of the Barr mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody </span><em class="italics">could</em><span>—not even God!" said Robert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet nodded and went on:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't forget that the Barrs are inordinately vain and -aggressively jealous of the things they don't know. This is -the fact that makes their ignorance sublime! Take Emily. -I got her to talk about herself for a while. She is now one -of the head teachers in a public high school. Her devotion -to her business is pathetic. She teaches, eats, sleeps—and -teaches! Once in a while she shops or sews. These acts -complete the cycle of her life from day to day, from year -to year. No books, no concerts, no theatres, no travel, no -meditation, no self-training, no real companionship with -equals or superiors—never one piercing or shattering -experience of novelty—nothing that might make the pulse go fast -or the heart beat high. 'But how can you teach them -anything real, anything about life?' I maliciously asked her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Anything real!' she sneered. 'I suppose you mean -romantic adventures! Well, teaching is real enough for -me. I study the science of pedagogy every night of the -week. And when I want to learn anything more about life, -I read the </span><em class="italics">Saturday Evening Post</em><span>!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Robert; it sounds like a line from </span><em class="italics">The Old -Homestead</em><span>. But that's exactly what she said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't doubt it," said Robert. "I know the Barrs of -Brooklyn. I've met them in every part of the United -States, and one runs across them even in Europe. Age -cannot wither nor custom stale their infinite monotony. As -on creation's day, so they'll remain till the trump of doom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, Mother isn't as stupid as Emily, not by -half," said Janet. "Her behavior at parting convinces me -that she really does have an inkling of who Mrs. Jerome is -and of how my position near this influential lady sends my -stock up in the world of cash realities. When I left, she -didn't peck at my cheek as at first. No, she kissed me -almost affectionately and said, in a tone so relenting that -I'm sure Emily was greatly shocked: 'Now that you've -found the way back, my child, come and see us again soon.' And -I had always believed that Mother's moral and religious -prejudices were incorruptible—absolutely money-proof, -if nothing else in this age was! It was quite a blow -to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," rejoined Robert. "We're all easily taken -in by other people's moral counterfeit. Haven't you -observed that it's usually a Barr who circulates the Biblical -saying that a man cannot serve both God and Mammon? -Yet, though too modest to acknowledge it, the Barrs -themselves accomplish this miracle daily. It's precisely the -Barrs who, in their heart of hearts, worship these two -deities as one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had now reached the Lorillard tenements. In the -dimly lit foyer of the middle house they rested on the -settee, quite as in the chummiest days of Barr and Lloyd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speaking of Mammon," he resumed, in the most offhand -way imaginable, "don't you think you ought to marry -a rich man? Of course I mean your own sort of rich man, -not the St. Hilaire sort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet gave him a puzzled look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should hate a welter of trivial responsibilities," she -said decisively. "A great big house and a lot of servants -to manage—to say nothing of a husband!—the mere -prospect terrifies me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'm doubly sure that we're birds of a feather, -Janet! Still, aren't you rather difficult to please? In -Paris you said you wouldn't marry a man if he was poor? -Here you say you won't marry a man if he's rich."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does it matter, Robert? What rich man is likely to -ask me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're quite wrong. One is asking you now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" Had he suddenly lost his senses?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've inherited a couple of millions, Janet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He briefly put her in possession of the facts. Then he -made her a formal offer of marriage, in tones so restrained -that she could hardly guess the immortal longing beneath -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need a partner to share the rich man's burden!" he -said, with a quizzical smile. "And I know from experience -that you are the one partner in the world for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" she said, her eyes half closed, her cheeks rather -pale. "I—I'm not sure that I'm ready for marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't let that stop you! Nobody is ever ready -for birth, marriage, or death. We're just plunged -in—doubts, hesitations, and all. You don't suppose any sane -man or woman </span><em class="italics">wants</em><span> to take the plunge, do you? I know -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't. But since I've got to marry somebody, I've made -up my mind to marry no one but you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least you're quite frank," she said, with a rather -trembling lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you angry? Heaven knows it would be easier for -me to use the stock phrases on which we were brought up -and fed up. But you're a woman of the new age! And -I'm proposing partnership to an equal, to a fellow -worker—not to a goddess-drudge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They both rose from the settee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely," he said, wondering at her silence, "it isn't the -Free Love philosophy that's in the way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" she said, emphatically. "I thought I'd told -you that in Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She repeated that she was done with all that! She -admitted that, for a time, Cornelia had won her over to what -Bernard Shaw called the </span><em class="italics">Love-Is-All</em><span> school of fanatics. -And, so she feared, she had actually believed in her own -readiness to give up </span><em class="italics">All for Love</em><span>! But the hard knocks -of the last two years had opened her eyes to the inadequacy -as well as to the inexpediency of this philosophy. When -the Hutchins Burleys, the Cornelia Coverts, the women -with horn-rimmed spectacles, and their like—when these -successively popped up to interfere with her purposes, she -had realized that love, far from being </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> to her, was simply -one of her heart's desires. She still held to the view that -the love relation between two people should be subject to -no other law than that of their own consciences. And she -still hoped that society would be converted to this view, -although she no longer had a mind to risk her soul's -welfare in its behalf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, Robert, how fully I've come round to your -opinion! If I'm to risk my salvation for anything, it must -be for something bigger than the love chase."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a pause, she added, with a faintly ironical smile:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For something bigger, too, than a mere husband, don't -you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you won't risk your salvation with me, Janet," -said Robert, coming close to her side. "You're in a -position to make your own terms, absolutely—for have you I -must! Stick to your practical terms but not to your -abstract ideas. And be generous! Remember, a man who's -obliged to take care of a fortune, needs a wife to take care -of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! But why expect one able-bodied human being -to 'take care of' another human being, equally able-bodied? -Or why ask a woman to become what men gallantly -call a ministering angel, but what ought bluntly to -be called a domestic drudge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I admit it's a very stupid arrangement. Yet at present -it's the only tolerable arrangement I know of. Unquestionably, -it's haphazard, wasteful, anarchic! And no doubt -a later generation of men and women, fired with a collective -purpose, will regulate domestic affairs much better. -But what am I to do? Wasn't I born and bred on the -understanding that some ministering angel would drudge -my home to rights? Well, I'm extremely uncomfortable -without one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Selfish wretch. Do you know what Mrs. Jerome says?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She says that women have been men's cat's-paws long -enough. It's time for them to abdicate the job. If we are -to make any headway, the unmarried girls will have to be -strong enough and self-respecting enough to refuse the -empty honors offered as bribes for their servitude. They -must put a high price on their freedom!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good! I offer you a million dollars, cash down, for -yours. It's half my fortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet turned away, chilled to the soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're mocking me," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit of it," he retorted, following her. "I don't -propose to live with an economic inferior. Such a course -would wreck us at the start. That there can be no genuine -comradeship between people of unequal means is a truth -which every philosopher from Plato to William James has -pointed out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did they point it out, in the midst of a proposal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held both her hands in a firm grip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling, don't pretend to misunderstand me. Do you -want me to sink to my knees in this public place and -overwhelm you with ardors and protestations? It's easy -enough, and I'm quite mad enough now. Mad with the -enchantment of your touch, that turns my heart to fire; -with the music of your voice, in which I hear all Elfland -calling; with your haunting mystery and lilac fragrance, -at which my senses reel and swim! I'm ninety-nine parts -drenched with ecstasy! If you reproach me because one -thin gleam of sanity still remains at the helm I shall be—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Arithmetical!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the word, he seized her and kissed her and—Time -being Love's fool—they were imparadised in each other's -arms.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After a while, between endearments, she managed to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> want me to make a marriage of convenience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I want you to make a convenience of marriage. -That's what all sensible people do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid! Then you won't expect me to give up the -Susan B. Anthony House? I couldn't leave Mrs. Jerome -in the lurch now, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was to go on with her work, he with his. They -should have living places to be alone in, and living places -to be together in, like the Havelock Ellises. They'd have -a house together in the mountains or the seashore, remote -from other people—a biggish house, this would perhaps have -to be. But she need manage it no better (or no worse, he -trusted) than she now managed the Susan B. Anthony -House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Janet laughed at his incorrigible, man-made outlook on -the future. Indulgent and happy, she rested her head on -his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you take your own advice," she asked, -"and marry some independently rich woman—Charlotte, for -instance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because there are a good many women that I could -work with, yet never love. And some few that I could -love, yet never work with. But there's only one that I -could work with </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> love as well. At least, I've never met -another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a very pretty speech, Robert, for you. We </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> -good comrades, weren't we? In the days of Barr and Lloyd!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From now on, Barr and Lloyd, Inc."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it isn't the same Barr nor the same Lloyd that are -to be incorporated again. Suppose we prove not to be -good comrades, this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case, we shall hie us to some genuinely civilized -country—Sweden or Cape Comorin—where breach of -comradeship is the sole ground for divorce—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indignant voices from the staircase penetrated their -mutual absorption.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where in the world can they be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So this is your </span><em class="italics">radical</em><span> hospitality!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert—latest method?—proposing by telepathy—imperfect -communications—vast silences—heavenly harmony—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pooh! Janet's no fool—nothing like a bee line—marriage -license bureau—bird in the bush, you know—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blushing and looking like culprits, they climbed the -stairs and braved the mock indignation meeting which their -three friends were holding in the hall between flats 13 and -15. (Robert had rented both flats, as a surprise for Janet.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lydia went straight to Janet and enfolded her in a copious -embrace, whilst Charlotte stood by, ready for a cordial -handshake. Mark Pryor, stupefied at this exhibition of -feminine perspicacity, could only stare at Robert and -mutter:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Already?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was ever woman in this humor won!" drawled Lydia, -as she led the way into Number Thirteen, Kelly's old flat. -"I must say, Janet, I'm not much impressed with Robert's -1921 revision of the Lord of Burleigh stunt. Like all -modern versions of fine old idylls, it's gingerbread without -the ginger. Give me the village painter who leads his -sweetheart to a palace! There's the thrill that comes but -once in a lifetime. But fancy a millionaire taking his bride -to a Kips Bay model tenement—and Number Thirteen at that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget," said Robert, who, with Pryor, had followed -the ladies in. "You forget that '</span><em class="italics">leiser Nachhall längst -verklungner Lieder, zieht mit Erinnenings-Schauer durch -die Brust</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which means, I take it," Pryor said:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'I saw her then, as I see her yet,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>With the rose she wore, when first we met.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Pooh! Male parsimony disguised as Teuton sentiment," -said Lydia. "Don't be put upon, Janet, by this </span><em class="italics">love-in-a-tenement</em><span> -stuff. Let me give you a tip. Laurence Twickenham, -my publisher, has just put his Long Island home on -the market. He says that the ruinous royalties he's -compelled to pay me do not permit him to keep up an expensive -establishment. It's a perfectly gorgeous estate, right next -to mine, and not too far from New York. Do make Robert -buy it and settle down to a useful life as a country -gentleman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! Foster his mania for hearth and home?" cried -Janet, laughing. "Catch me! Nowadays men are almost -incurably domestic, as it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> you children going to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Children!" said Robert, coming forward, and lecturing -Lydia with gusto. "None of your wiseacre airs, Lydia. Our -program will show you that we know our own minds. Hear -ye! We shall be married as soon as Janet can get a day -off. After the ceremony Janet will return to her job of -running the Susan B. Anthony House; I shall return to -my job of trying to make America safe for those who don't -happen to be grafters, parasites, or profiteers. During the -better part of the year, our offices will be in the Kips Bay -tenements here, Numbers Thirteen and Fifteen, respectively—we -shall toss up to see who gets which. No attempt on -the part of either to impose his or her friends, diet, hygiene, -or recreations upon the other without consent, will be -tolerated for a moment. Each is to be absolute master in what -may jointly be agreed upon to be his own domain, provided -only that Janet is to darn all my socks or buy new pairs as -fast as the big toe protrudes. At the end of nine months, -we shall both be ready for a trip to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Sweden," Janet put in softly, going to his side and -caressing his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Sweden!" exclaimed Lydia, while Charlotte and -Pryor laughed at her bewilderment. "To the psychopathic -ward, if you ask </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">BY FELIX GRENDON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>WILL HE COME BACK?</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>A Play</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>NIXOLA OF WALL STREET</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>A Novel</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>FREEDOM IN THE WORKSHOP</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>A Study</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>[Transcriber's note: Inconsistent spelling and punctuation has been -preserved as printed.]</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 LOVE CHASE</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/49632"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49632</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be -used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific -permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, -complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for -nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away – you may do practically </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> in the United States with -eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject -to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.</span></p> -<div class="level-3 section" id="the-full-project-gutenberg-license"> -<span id="project-gutenberg-license"></span><h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title"><span>The Full Project Gutenberg License</span></h3> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Please read this before you distribute or use this work.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-1-general-terms-of-use-redistributing-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.A.</strong><span> By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by -the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.B.</strong><span> “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.C.</strong><span> The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free -access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works -in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project -Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with -the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format -with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it -without charge with others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.D.</strong><span> The copyright laws of the place where you are located also -govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most -countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the -United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms -of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.</strong><span> Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.1.</strong><span> The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a><span> . If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.2.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.3.</strong><span> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and -distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and -any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted -with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of -this work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.4.</strong><span> Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project -Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a -part of this work or any other work associated with Project -Gutenberg™.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.5.</strong><span> Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute -this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.6.</strong><span> You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other -than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site -(</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a><span>), you must, at no additional cost, fee or -expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a -means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include -the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.7.</strong><span> Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.8.</strong><span> You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided -that</span></p> -<ul class="open"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from -the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you -already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to -the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to -donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 -days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally -required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments -should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, -“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation.”</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies -you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he -does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ -License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all -copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue -all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ -works.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of -any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the -electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of -receipt of the work.</span></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free -distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</span></p> -</li> -</ul> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.9.</strong><span> If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.</strong></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.1.</strong><span> Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend -considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe -and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating -the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be -stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, -incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a -copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or -damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that -damage or cannot be read by your equipment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.2.</strong><span> LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the -“Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the -Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.3.</strong><span> LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.4.</strong><span> Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set -forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH -NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.5.</strong><span> Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.6.</strong><span> INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, -the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause.</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-2-information-about-the-mission-of-project-gutenberg"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation web page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a><span> .</span></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-3-information-about-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a><span> . Contributions to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to -the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email </span><a class="reference external" href="mailto:business@pglaf.org">business@pglaf.org</a><span>. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For additional contact information:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Dr. Gregory B. Newby</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Chief Executive and Director</span></div> -<div class="line"><a class="reference external" href="mailto:gbnewby@pglaf.org">gbnewby@pglaf.org</a></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-4-information-about-donations-to-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing -the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely -distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of -equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to -$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status -with the IRS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-5-general-information-about-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title"><span>Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works.</span></h4> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's -eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, -compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Corrected </span><em class="italics">editions</em><span> of our eBooks replace the old file and take over -the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is -renamed. </span><em class="italics">Versions</em><span> based on separate sources are treated as new -eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including -how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe -to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</body> -</html> |