diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-8.txt | 4331 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-8.zip | bin | 59778 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-h.zip | bin | 132205 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-h/63125-h.htm | 7855 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 59036 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63125-h/images/logo.jpg | bin | 7051 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 12186 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d58ea0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63125 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63125) diff --git a/old/63125-8.txt b/old/63125-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3a5acb6..0000000 --- a/old/63125-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4331 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna -Vitek, by Alfred Kreymborg - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna Vitek - -Author: Alfred Kreymborg - -Editor: Man Ray - Alfred Kreymborg - -Release Date: September 5, 2020 [EBook #63125] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GLEBE 1914/03 (VOL. 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This book was -produced from images made available by the Blue Mountain -Project, Princeton University. - - - - - - - THE - GLEBE - - VOLUME 1 - NUMBER 6 - - MARCH - 1914 - - SUBSCRIPTION - Three Dollars Yearly - THIS ISSUE 50 CENTS - - ERNA VITEK - - By Alfred Kreymborg - - - ERNA VITEK - - - - - ERNA VITEK - - - BY - Alfred Kreymborg - - - NEW YORK - ALBERT AND CHARLES BONI - 96 Fifth Avenue - 1914 - - - Copyright, 1914 - by - Albert and Charles Boni - - - - - ERNA VITEK - - - - - I - - -Three young men, the best of friends, a painter, Bainbridge Breen, a -writer, Eric Nielsen, and a composer, John Carstairs, were arguing that -three-faced conundrum, morals. Quite an accident had provoked them to -it: a waitress, Erna Vitek. From picking at her they had launched into -axiomizing, only to come back to her. Her morals were the vital topic of -the evening. Carstairs' studio provided the _mise en scène_. - -"Well, we've hit a conclusion at last," said Breen with an air of -comfortable finality. "Carstairs calls her moral, I say she's unmoral, -and Nielsen that she may be moral, unmoral or even both." - -"Yes!" - -"Now, we've all conceded that Erna's not immoral--at least she doesn't -lead a life inconsistent with morality?" - -"Yes!" - -"Very well then," Breen concluded contentedly. "Now let me make a -proposition." - -"What kind of a proposition?" Nielsen quizzed in droll tones and looked -at Carstairs, who was frowning. - -"There's very little to it. I can dish it out in a few words. It's -simply this: that we put Erna to the test." - -"What do you mean?" was Carstairs' immediate challenge. - -"Don't worry!" Breen responded blandly. "I'm not going to injure the -girl." - -"Well, what did you mean--" - -"Merely this," the painter interrupted quietly. "I don't believe that -any of us know her very well. She's only been working at Landsmann's a -few months. Of course, Carstairs, you've taken her out on one or two -occasions, so you've had an opportunity of studying her at closer -range." - -"Not of studying her!" - -"You don't study her, certainly. You--er--what would you call it, -Nielsen?" - -"Why, John has been burned a little by the divine flame." - -Carstairs blushed angrily. "If you fellows intend to be personal--" - -"Never mind, John," Nielsen cut in. "You must allow us the occasional -escape of some of our surplus wind. Now, let's drop these bravado poses -and get down to business. I want the rest of the proposition. We know -that we're to put Erna to the test. Now, Breen, tell us how." - -"There's nothing to explain. I said, put her to the test. Let each one, -in his own way and for himself, perhaps, pay her attentions--I don't -mean, make love to her--but simply, well, let him take her to the -theatre or to supper some evening--she's free nights--and find out how -close he can get to her--I don't mean seduction--but that he penetrate -her character. Let each, in his own way, learn for himself, and later -we'll compare notes and decide whether the respected lady has the moral -or the unmoral tendency or even whether she might develop an--er--" - -"See here, Breen!" Carstairs exploded. - -"Oh, I'd forgotten that we agreed to throw that out," the painter -apologized. "You see, I couldn't help thinking of that little affair -with the young prize ring gladiator. What was his name? Allen!" - -"But that was only a temptation," Carstairs fought back. - -"Of course, only a temptation. But we have only her word that it never -proved more." - -The composer was ready with a hot retaliation when Nielsen interposed: -"Now don't let's revert to that topic again, Breen. We can never know -the whole story, and it only annoys John to refer to it. We know that -Erna was down and out at the time--she'd just come to Landsmann's, was -unsettled and that sort of thing--that much we know and that young Allen -followed her there with an offer of cash. At least, she intimated -something like that to John and said it was a case of being good or bad -then and there. She chose being good. Even if she had chosen the other, -the transaction might have been an unmoral and not an immoral one, for -she was fond of Allen." - -"But--" - -"Now never mind, Breen! We've threshed that out often enough. Erna -didn't flop--in fact, she showed Mr. Allen the door, hasn't seen him -since and--" - -"But we have only _her_ word for all that stuff." - -"All right. There's no other to contradict." - -Breen, although silenced, was busy reflecting; Carstairs' ire was -appeased. Nielsen concluded: "Let's take up Breen's proposition, John, -each in his own way, whatever that may be, and then we'll compare notes -some day and settle the business. After all, Erna's only a waitress; we -needn't spend more than an ordinary amount of excitement over her." - -"But she isn't a waitress. I tell you, she's a woman." - -"All right, woman let her be," Nielsen conceded gracefully. "Now, we -don't want to sit here throwing words and phrases around all evening. -We've been at it too long as it is. Why not put the matter to a vote and -then drop it?" - -"Yes." - -"Breen, of course, votes that we put her to the test. Will you vote that -way too?" - -Carstairs gave in with an effort. - -"Fine!" Nielsen applauded. "I'll vote 'yes' too." - -"Motion proposed and carried that one Erna Vitek, employed as waitress -at the Café Landsmann--" - -"That'll do, Breen. We've had enough of your eloquence for one evening. -You've given me a headache. Besides, I'm sick of this subject. Let's -start something else." - -Breen laughed his ever-ready, self-satisfied laugh, and Nielsen, and -even Carstairs, joined him. Presently, the studio slept the sleep of the -unperturbed. Carefully, Breen filled his pipe and began a deliberate -puffing, while Nielsen introduced some new anecdote in his droll, -even-tempered way. Carstairs, on the other hand, was meditating -gloomily: in an hour or so he would be due at that damnable hole, the -Phoenix Music Hall--where he earned his bread playing accompaniments. A -second thought cheered him not a little. He would still have time to eat -his supper at Landsmann's. - - - - - II - - -"Erna! What is the matter with you? Another cup of coffee for Mr. -Nolan!" - -"I know it. I ordered it an hour ago." - -The stocky, middle-aged, stolid-faced German stared at the handsome -sensual girl of twenty, muttered something, as she returned his critical -stare with a defiant one, and passed out of the kitchen into the store. - -"What is the matter with Erna to-day?" he demanded of his stocky, -middle-aged, stolid-faced wife, who stood behind the counter waiting on -customers. - -"Why?" - -"This is the third time she has been _schnautzing_ me." - -"Oh, she has something on her mind," was the woman's unconcerned reply. - -The storekeeper was not satisfied. "That _fellow_ must be to blame," he -said. - -"Who?" - -"That Allen! He's been coming here again." - -"Has he?" the woman returned with the same unconcern. "Let him come. -What do you care?" - -Erna Vitek was in a morose humor. Her pugnacious nose seemed more -pugnacious than ever, and even her mouth, usually so soft and yielding, -appeared hard this morning. And her brown eyes, which could give you -gentle glances one day and repelling ones the next, were filled with -ominous signs. There was a good reason. She had just overheard the other -waitresses exchanging remarks about her. This would not have been so bad -if their talk had been without foundation. But it was true: she had been -glad to see Jimmy Allen yesterday noon and evening, when he came -in--after an absence of three months. He had stopped drinking. He had -been living and training in the country, so that the old color had -returned to his face and the old light to his eyes. He looked stronger -than ever, more energetic and happier. Yes, he was to begin fighting -again--next week--but that had never been his worst fault. The girls -said that she still "liked him" or that she would "like him again." This -would not have been so bad if-- - -Gretchen and Mollie were small, mean, dirty. They were always gossipping -about her. And she had given them her old dresses, old hats, -encouragement, advice. What a lot of gratitude women felt toward you! - -Her face cleared. A laughing, splendidly built young fellow was making -his way through the store, returning salutations. He stopped in the -kitchen long enough to barter laughing glances with Erna and passed down -the two steps into the dining room: a small low one containing six -tables--Erna's empire. There, he received more greetings and one or two -short tributes on his return to the public eye. The young athlete pulled -off his coat and cap and hung them on the wall. He flung himself into a -chair at an empty table and was soon at his ease. - -Erna was a shrewd girl. She did not come to take his order at once. -First, she served another patron. Then, she cleared away some dishes. -Finally, she came to Jimmy's table, but with a careless air. - -He gave her a frank look. "How's the girl?" was his familiar greeting. - -"Pretty fair!" she responded in cool tones. "How are you?" - -"Bully!" - -"What do you want?" she went on indifferently. - -"Gimme time to breathe!" he protested, and tried to stare into her face -and to take her hand. - -"Stop!" she warned him and drew back. - -"Why, what the deuce--" - -"Customers are waitin'--" she cut him short. - -He gave the bill of fare a contemptuous glance. "Bring me a soft boiled -egg, toast an' a glass o' milk." - -She looked at him with sudden irritation, but smiled, turned her back -and left the room with aggravating slowness. - -Jimmy appeared angry, but one of the patrons disturbed his mood with an -admiring: "On a diet, Jimmy?" - -"Yes." - -"What night does it come off?" - -"Next Tuesday." - -"How do you feel?" - -Jimmy expanded his chest, gave himself a solid punch and answered: -"Great! Harder than a rock!" - -"Feel sorry for 'the Kid.' How long are you goin' to let him stay?" - -"Oh, part o' the second," was Jimmy's laughing assurance. - -A sigh of pleasure and envy escaped the patrons. And they quickly -announced their intention to be present at the joyous butchery. - -Erna came back. She pretended to wipe off the neighboring table. Pretty -soon, however, she was at Jimmy's side. - -"What's the grouch?" he asked confidentially. - -"Nothin'." - -"Still sore at me?" - -"No." - -"Sore at somebody else?" - -"No." - -He looked up at her anxiously, but Erna smiled; her eyes softened and -winked slyly. Jimmy, who was always willing to laugh, laughed again. -"You're still the kiddo," he whispered. - -Erna blushed and moved away. - -"Erna!" he called. - -"Wait a moment!" - -She stayed away about two minutes and then returned with Jimmy's order, -which was overdue. Three of the patrons, exchanging "so longs!" with the -prize-fighter, went out. Two remained, milkmen, but they were fast -asleep. - -Erna set Jimmy's order before him. He tried to catch her hand, but she -was too quick. An irritable grunt escaped him. - -"What's the matter?" she taunted him. - -"What's the matter with _you_?" - -"Nothin'." - -But she dropped her glance coquettishly. He gave her face and figure an -admiring look. - -"Erna," he said gently. - -She looked at him for a shy instant. - -"I say, Erna," he repeated. - -"Well?" - -"You're not sore?" - -"No." - -"Sure?" - -"Yes." - -"You know what I mean?" - -"Sure!" - -He studied her. "Then why do you treat me this way--now?" - -She tried bold and bashful glances, turned her head a little and said -enigmatically "Just because." - -"Just because what?" - -"Just because." - -He shook his head, but his ever-ready laugh came to his assistance. -"Then you're not sore?" - -"No." - -"Sure?" - -"Of course." - -"Even though--" - -"Yes." - -"Then you like to treat me this way just--" - -"Sure." - -"Why?" - -"Just because!" she echoed and started to laugh. - -He gave her an adoring glance and this time caught her hand. She tried -to pull it away, but his grip was too powerful. He squeezed her hand. - -"Don't, don't!" she begged in pain. - -He let go and smiled. She was not angry. Instead, she placed her hand on -his biceps. He raised his forearm and imprisoned her hand. "Oo-oo!" she -sighed in happy homage, and her eyes shone. - -Once more, he freed her hand. "Well?" - -"Terrible!" she whispered. "What'll happen to the poor 'Kid'?" - -"Death!" was his jovial rejoinder. - -He caught her hand once more. "Don't, don't!" she warned him. He let go -as before, but she did not withdraw it immediately. - -His glance grew bolder and bolder, but he hesitated. He busied himself -with his breakfast for a moment, shaking salt into his egg and stirring -it with a spoon. He looked up and hesitated again. Finally, he began: -"Then it'll be all right to-night?" - -"To-night?" - -"Yes. You said you'd tell me to-day." - -"I know." - -"It'll be all right?" he pleaded. - -She eyed him a moment, softened a little and then gave in: "But where -can we go?" - -"We can take in a show," he suggested. - -"A show?" - -"Yes!" - -"Where?" - -"Oh, Miner's, the Gran' or a movie." - -She meditated. - -"Hurry up! Here come some customers." - -She turned her head quickly, and then looked back at him. "All right," -she whispered. - -"Where'll I meet you?" he demanded eagerly. - -"At the old corner--eight o'clock!" - -He pressed her hand in hurried understanding, as three young men entered -the dining room. They were Breen, Carstairs and Nielsen. Erna passed -them on her way out with a nervous "good-morning." - -She stayed out some time. Jimmy ate and drank rapidly, got up, took his -check, put on his cap and coat, and ignoring the newcomers, left the -room. Breen and Nielsen had recognized him with amazement. They watched -him curiously, but not so Carstairs. He sat there, staring gloomily at -the table. - - - - - III - - -"Moral or unmoral, but not--" Breen started and waited for Nielsen to -supply the last word. - -Nielsen, who understood, shook his head and corrected: "Moral or -unmoral--no more," and smiled confidently. - -Carstairs looked from Nielsen to Breen and continued staring at the -table. - -"How do you account then for the recrudescence of our young gladiator?" -Breen went on. - -"And what has that to do with Erna's life, present or future?" Nielsen -argued amiably. - -"If he's calling again?" - -"Let him call! Does that necessarily affect Erna's conduct?" - -"But _hasn't_ it affected her conduct? Didn't you notice it as we came -in?" - -"Yes." - -"Well?" - -Nielsen wore a thoughtful frown, but smiled mischievously and declared: -"There was nothing _im_moral, as far as I could make out." - -Breen was gracious enough to agree: "Perhaps not." - -They were silent. Carstairs watched them gloomily and then returned to -his occupation. Erna came in, affecting a matter-of-fact air. - -Breen and Nielsen pressed her with playful greetings and compliments. -She accepted them as part of the tribute due her each day, but her -stereotyped expression disappeared, and she was ready to take up her -duties as gracious empress. Even her pugnacious nose appeared less -pugnacious. Having recognized the young men's tribute by a favor or two, -she criticized genially: "You're late this morning." - -"Nielsen overslept himself," Breen explained. - -"Don't you believe him--he overslept himself," Nielsen retorted. - -Erna was leaning against their table, her arms akimbo. The pair received -a glance each, as was their due, and then she studied Carstairs. "Maybe -it was you, Mr. Carstairs?" - -He looked up. "Me?" - -"Yes--maybe it was you that overslept yourself." - -Carstairs blushed, his friends laughed, and he denied with a return of -good nature: "No. They were the ones." - -"He's not awake yet, Erna," Breen fought back. - -"He doesn't look it," she seconded. - -The young composer blushed again, but did not defend himself this time. -Nielsen eyed him with friendly concern. - -"Your orders, gentlemen." - -"What's your hurry?" Breen complained. - -"You don't suppose I can stand here all day," she reminded him. - -"But I want to admire you a little," he protested. "Who wants to eat in -the presence of a--of a--Why, look at the beautiful red ribbon! Is it a -new one, Erna?" - -"Yes," and instantly, Erna, always susceptible to praise or flattery, -raised her hands to arrange the ribbon. - -"It matches your hair to perfection," Breen pursued. "You love color, -don't you?" - -"Sure." - -"Red the most?" - -"Sure." - -"Blood, blood red?" - -"Yes." - -"My favorite color, too!" - -"That'll do," Nielsen interposed. "Don't steal all the crumbs, Breen." - -Erna laughed. - -"But they belong to me," Breen defended himself. "Color is my line. Red -is my color too." - -"These grasping conceited painters!" Nielsen grumbled. - -"No," Erna interceded. "If he likes red, he likes red." - -"'A second Daniel'," quoted Breen. "I thank thee, gracious Lady. Thou -and I are of one mind and desire. By the way, Erna! Did you ever wear -all red?" - -"No--oh, yes, two or three years ago." - -"You did? Have you still got the dress?" - -"Oh, I've outgrown it. I'm--I'm stouter now," and she expanded her chest -and laughed again. - -"But you must find it," he continued with growing interest. "You could -easily alter it to fit, couldn't you? I want you to pose for me. You -know you've promised me several times. Wouldn't you like to? All in red: -red ribbon, red waist, and skirt and even red slippers, but best of all, -red cheeks and red lips!" - -Erna's pleasure-loving scent was aroused. - -"Will you, Erna?" - -"Sure!" - -"When?" - -"Oh, not to-day." - -"When then?" - -"Not to-morrow." - -"Oh, pshaw--when then?" - -"My first afternoon off?" - -"Fine! When will that be?" - -"Next Monday." - -"Good! And you'll be ready?" - -"Yes, if you really want me to. But I won't be able--" - -"That's all right," he interrupted. "Come anyhow! You'll be immense just -the same. You will create--" - -"Pooh, pooh, and likewise tut, tut!" Nielsen broke in. "When are we to -hear an end to this?" - -"He's jealous," said Erna. - -"Of course," Nielsen admitted. "To the painter go all the spoils. No one -ever poses for a writer. It wouldn't be proper." - -"Why?" she challenged. - -Nielsen got up in a hurry. "What?" he demanded in mock seriousness. - -"Order, order!" she said roguishly and looked away. - -"But--" - -"Order, order!" Breen echoed. "The lady is right. We must have order. -Besides, we haven't ordered." - -Nielsen fell back with a philosophic sigh. "All is unfair when bad puns -make their appearance." - -It did not take the young men long to make their choice of breakfast. -Erna went away. - -"Come back soon!" pleaded Breen. - -"In a wink," she called back. - -Breen started drumming on the table; Nielsen looked across at him and -hummed a pleasant tune. "You're a clever individual," he observed. - -"Why?" - -"You're not going to have her pose, old Sly Fox." - -"Certainly not, thou reader of souls." - -"I thought not." - -"But I'm only carrying out our program of last night. You seem to have -forgotten it." - -"No." - -"Then why criticize me for being the first one on the job? It'll be up -to you and Carstairs too." - -"I know," Nielsen agreed jovially. - -"Count me out!" Carstairs interrupted suddenly. - -"The sleeper's awake," Breen applauded. "He's back from the land of -dreams. What news from Arcadia, Colonel?" - -"You can count me out," Carstairs repeated stubbornly, and would not -look at his friends. - -"Why, what's the matter?" Nielsen interposed sympathetically, and raised -his hand to forewarn Breen. - -"Nothing." - -"Breen's only been fooling all along!" - -"I know." - -"Then you're not angry with him, or me?" - -"No." - -"Then what's the trouble?" - -"I don't like it--I hate it," the young composer went on with -difficulty. - -"What don't you like?" - -"This business!" - -"What, this business of testing Erna?" Nielsen asked gently, and studied -him. "John!" The latter refused to look at him. "It's all in fun. I -thought you were satisfied with our arrangement? We are each to study -Erna in our own way, then to compare notes to learn whether--You don't -have to use Breen's method. I don't intend to. You don't have to -either." - -"I know." - -"Then there ought to be no complaint." - -"Count me out anyhow." - -"Why?" - -Breen wanted to poke into the argument, but Nielsen raised his hand -again. - -"She's not a waitress or a--or a working woman--or a table or a chair," -Carstairs said with obvious difficulty. - -Nielsen understood. He squeezed his neighbor's arm and declared with his -most soothing tone: "She's a woman, of course--as we concluded last -night. Breen and I know that. You feel that we do, don't you?" - -Carstairs, who was in his most sentimental mood, seemed on the verge of -tears. "Yes," he managed to agree. - -Nielsen broke off the subject at once. "Well, we'll talk over the whole -business some other time. You're not feeling well this morning. It must -be your work at that confounded moving picture hole." - -"Yes," Carstairs said doubtfully. - -"Cheer up!" Breen succeeded in interpolating. "Forget your troubles in -the music world and listen to that concert over there. That duet -recital, I should say." - -Carstairs smiled. - -"Tristan and Isolde are being undone," Nielsen added, catching Breen's -cue. "Or Salome and Jokannan, eh? Away with Wagner and Strauss: Richard -the First and Second--what do you say, John?" - -"Yes." - -The two milkmen, who were sleeping more soundly than ever, appreciated -their listeners' applause. They were indulging in a crescendo. - -"Silence and listen!" Breen warned so solemnly that Nielsen, and even -Carstairs, laughed. - -Breen and Nielsen exchanged nods. They had accomplished their object. -Erna came back with their orders. - -"What music have we here?" Breen hailed her. - -She set their orders on the table, and arranged their plates, knives, -forks and spoons. "What did you say?" - -"What music is this emanating from yon Orpheus and his Eurydice?" - -"Must be some ragtime," she suggested. - -Breen feigned disappointment. - -"It all depends upon one's taste, you see," Nielsen interpreted for him. - -And Carstairs laughed again. - -Erna eyed him. "Why, he's awake," she said. - -"Yes," Breen and Nielsen assured her. - -Carstairs raised his head and met her glance for an instant, and the -sudden warmth he felt brought color to his face. He looked elsewhere, -but it was plainly evident that he was feeling better. - -"You're sure you're awake now?" she questioned wantonly. - -"Yes, thanks," he responded gratefully. - -The young men started eating. Erna attended to her remaining duties with -them and then went over to another table and sat down. Presently, she -was occupied folding paper napkins. Breen, with Nielsen's assistance, -opened a discussion on the newest fad of French painting, examples of -which were being exhibited at a Fifth Avenue gallery. - -Carstairs stole cautious glances at Erna. Once or twice, she raised her -eyes and caught his glance in hers. Both looked away in embarrassment. -This performance was repeated several times. There seemed to be some shy -understanding between them. - -About a half hour later, the young men arose and put on their hats and -coats. Erna came over and gave them their checks. "So long, Erna," -Nielsen parted cordially. "_Au midi_," Breen seconded. And the pair made -their way up the steps and out of the dining room. - -Carstairs had delayed his departure a moment. He approached Erna -nervously and in a hurried voice, began: "Is it all right for to-night? -You know, you were going to let me know." - -She frowned a little and then returned: "Yes--oh no, I can't go out with -you to-night." - -His face became tragic. She, possessed by one of her soft moods, played -the sympathetic: "Will you be off again this week?" - -"Yes--Sunday night--from seven to nine," he explained in an eager -whisper. - -"Well?" She waited, smiling. - -"Will it be all right then?" he asked, his courage rising. - -"Yes." - -"All right--Sunday--seven o'clock," he whispered, hurried out--and -forgot his check. - -She came after him and caught him at the counter, where he had joined -his friends. - -"You've forgotten your check," she told him, with a bright glance. - -"Oh, yes, thanks," he stammered. - -Breen and Nielsen stared at him. The trio passed out into the street. - -"Where shall we go?" Breen questioned. - -"Let's bum a while in my room," Nielsen proposed. - -"I can't," Carstairs declined. - -"Why not, John?" - -"I want to work a little," Carstairs explained. - -Breen and Nielsen stared at him again. - -Somewhat later, the painter and the writer were comfortably seated in -the latter's comfortable workshop. - -"I guess so, but I hope it isn't true," Nielsen was saying. - -"Oh, he'll get over it. These attachments of his are never serious nor -of long duration. And at best, she's only a hardened little thing, a -fact he'll realize in good season." - -"John was always much slower to learn matters than the rest of us," -Nielsen said dreamily. - -"Yes." - -"He's foolishly sensitive too." - -"And foolishly sentimental," Breen concluded. - -There was a pause. - -"And how about your story?" the painter continued. - -"By the way, I'm thinking of using Erna as a model for--" - -"Want her to pose for you too, old Sly Fox?" Breen demanded in revenge. - -"Of course, and incidentally to find out--" - -"I know," Breen interrupted, and the pair laughed in mutual admiration. - -In the meanwhile, John Carstairs was busy--working. He was seated at the -small upright piano, which monopolized a good part of the space in his -small studio. About an hour later, he had finished improvising and -selecting and arranging his material and now placed a large sheet of -music paper against the piano rack. The staves were blank at present, -but it was certain that the young composer intended covering them as -rapidly as possible. First of all, however, he wrote the title of the -composition at the head of the page: To Thee. - - - - - IV - - -An evening performance was in full swing at the Phoenix Music Hall, a -small but well attended five and ten cent moving picture and vaudeville -establishment on Eighth Avenue, not far from Landsmann's. At present, -the moving pictures were doing a turn, and the auditorium was dark. -Music from a piano, placed close to the stage, was the only -accompaniment, but it was an adequate one. A young, slender, anaemic -individual was seated at the piano. - -At the moment, he was playing a dainty popular waltz as a descriptive -background for a French comedy scene. Many a laugh rolled toward him. -Then he commenced a two-step, as the screen announced a change of -pictures. The audience laughed more frequently and with heartier -approval, as an American farce romped by. Again, the screen announced a -change. - -An Irish romance was under way. For this class of sketch, Carstairs was -expected to interpolate or to improvise something "sweet and dreamy." -Therefore, he took advantage of the opportunity. He leaned closer to the -keyboard, lowered his head and was soon engulfed in what he was -rendering--so much so, that he did not turn to keep in touch with the -pictures, as was his habit. The yearning sentimental composition had -made him captive. - -Let others talk against Erna, he would still hold fast to his faith in -her. Breen was a cynic, and Nielsen too. They flattered themselves that -they knew human nature, but they did not, for they were lacking in -sympathy. He had been foolish to listen to their prattle concerning -Erna. He would not do so in the future. In fact, he ought to drop their -acquaintance or to avoid their company, at least. He would do that. Now, -he could keep his thought of her, so pure, to himself--his thought of -her, who, in spite of her fun-loving and prank-playing nature, was as -pure as the purest and whitest of-- Yes, he would keep her pure. And -Jimmy Allen, well, he had come back, but his influence over her was -dead, dead since the day she had shown him the door, as she had confided -to him that time. He could trust her. She was strong enough and pure -enough to take care of herself. - -This was Friday; to-morrow would be Saturday, and then Sunday, a long, -long Sunday, would come and have to pass before she would be with him. -Of course, he would see her to-morrow morning at breakfast, but he must -be careful to avoid the cynics. Even so, how could he tell her that he -had composed this for her, this, the best of his compositions, thanks to -the circumstance that she had been its inspiration. Perhaps, it would be -better not to tell her; it would be a bigger surprise if he were to play -it for her and then offer it to her, as one would a flower or some other -symbol. - -Would he have the courage to ask her to come to his studio, so that he -might play for her? And if he had, suppose she should refuse? But she -had accepted an invitation from Breen, and only to pose for him. Surely, -she would not refuse him? And if she did not, could he actually amuse -and hold her attention by merely playing for her? Why not? She sang a -great deal in the store,--it is true, popular music, which he hated--but -she had not been educated to anything higher. That did not make her any -the less musical; moreover, she would learn in time, at his guidance -perhaps, since she possessed so much temperament along with that lovely -voice. Therefore, she would not object should he offer to play for her. -And he would play as he never had for any one, eventually to lead up to -this composition, that belonged so naturally to her. What would she say -when he would offer it to her as her own? He must push his courage far -enough to ask her to come to his studio. - -Carstairs continued playing and dreaming. - -The audience was very still now. At one end of the front row, a young -couple were sitting, holding hands. When the lights were up a while ago, -one might have recognized them as Erna Vitek and Jimmy Allen. Both were -living in the proverbial seventh heaven. - -"Ain't it lovely?" she was whispering. - -"The two boobs in the love story?" - -"Not them so much--but the music!" - -"Pretty good." - -"Nice an' dreamy, ain't it?" - -"Yes--sounds as though the guy was playing for us." - -Erna gave him a reproving nudge, and he laughed. They listened and -watched in silence. But he grew impatient. "Don't care for the story, do -you?" - -"Sure! What's the matter with it?" - -"Them two boobs gimme a pain." - -"Why?" - -"I dunno." - -"They're true to life?" - -"So's my dead gran'mother." - -She laughed. "What's wrong with 'em?" - -He squeezed her hand as gently as he was able. "Where do we come in?" - -"What?" - -"Ain't we true to life?" - -She pulled her hand away. - -"What's the matter?" he demanded. - -"Nothin'." - -"Gimme your--my hand again!" - -"No." - -"Why not?" - -"Just because." - -"Sore?" - -"No." - -He was silent. - -Presently, she commanded: "Jimmy!" - -No answer. - -"Jimmy!" - -Again, no answer. - -Her hand slid across his arm and sought his. - -"Mad?" - -"Mm--no." - -"Sure?" - -"Yes." - -"Then why wouldn't you answer?" - -"Just because!" he mimicked her. - -She slapped his hand gently, his hand opened and they clasped again. -There was a pause. - -"Erna," he said in bolder tones. - -"Not so loud!" she warned him. - -"Well then--Erna," he repeated in very low tones. - -"That's better." - -"How about it?" - -"About what?" - -"What I asked you 'fore we came here?" - -"I asked you not to repeat that," was her reproach. - -"I know, but I can't help it. Don't you like it here?" - -"Sure." - -"I mean here, side o' me--in the dark?" - -"Yes." - -"Well--" He hesitated. - -"Well?" she mocked him. - -"Think o' how swell it'd be--" - -"Be careful, Jimmy!" - -"I can't help it," he persisted. "Think o' how swell it'd be--" - -"Jimmy!" she warned him once more. - -"Oh shucks!" he returned aloud, and was silent. There was a longer -pause. - -"Jimmy!" - -No answer. - -"Jimmy!" - -Again, no answer. - -"Jimmy!" - -A third time, no answer. - -She pressed his hand and pushed against his shoulder, but he would not -respond. Erna gave in. "I'm sorry--forgive me?" - -"Mm--" - -"Do you forgive me?" - -"Yes." - -"You don't say it very loud." - -"Well, you jumped on me before for talkin' loud." - -"You'd wake the audience," she apologized. - -"Well?" he challenged. - -"Well what?" she retorted. - -"What did you want to say?" - -"Nothin'." - -"All right!"--and he was silent. - -"Ah yes, Jimmy," she resigned. - -"Well?" - -"You can go on with--with your story, but--but don't go too far." - -"All right." - -"Promise?" - -"Yes." - -"Then go ahead." - -He revolved matters in his blunt mind, and recommenced: "You remember, I -told you 'bout the--the little furnished flat my manager, Nolan, asked -me to move in?" - -"Yes?" - -"Well, why couldn't we--just you an' me--" - -"Jimmy!" - -"I know, but I can't help it, Erna. Things is different now. When I -asked you that time--well, that's all over now. You an' I's forgotten -that. So what's buried's buried. An' times is different now. You've got -a job, though it's a punk one. I've got a little money an' more to come, -an' I've cut drinkin'. My health's fine an' prospects great. After I -finish 'the Kid' there'll be Young Walcott--an' after Walcott, a bunch -o' others--" - -"But Jimmy--" - -"Don't butt in!" he begged seriously. "Now, I know you hate that job o' -yours--" - -"It ain't all cheese an' honey," she confessed. - -"No, an' it never will be. Now, why can't you pull up stakes--" - -"Jimmy!" - -"Don't butt in!" he begged more seriously. "This is different than last -time. I'm a--a respectable man now an' you're a respectable woman." - -"Always have been," she cautioned him. - -"I know," he hastened to admit. "What I've been tryin' to say is: Keep -your job a little longer if you want to, till I go on with mine an' get -lots o' dough. In the meanwhile--" He stopped. - -"Well?" she ventured, but with an ominous inflection. - -"I'll rent the little flat off Nolan, an' you an' I can--" - -"Jimmy!" - -"But I'm askin' you to _marry_ me this time," he protested. - -"I know." - -"Ain't that different?" - -"No." - -"Why not?" - -"Because it ain't." - -"Why not?" - -"Because it ain't." - -"But Erna--" - -"Now listen, Jimmy! You promised not to go too far." - -"Oh shucks!" he broke out. - -They were silent. He let go her hand and drew away a short distance. She -removed her hand rather reluctantly. Once or twice, she pushed against -his shoulder. But he would not respond. - -The romantic pictures disappeared, and the music ceased. The lights were -turned on. There was a sigh throughout the audience. Erna and Jimmy -seemed glad of the change as well. A little sooner, they would have been -sorry. - -She glanced his way. He was not looking in her direction. She nudged -him. He still refused to turn his head. "Jimmy," she whispered tenderly. - -He stole a half glance at her. She was smiling in invitation. He could -not help smiling too. - -"You all right now?" she ventured. - -He turned toward her, and instantly, his ever-ready laugh dispelled -their gloom. - -"You all right?" she repeated. - -"Yes," he admitted, and declared: "Some scrap that!" - -"No, it wasn't," she reassured him and smiled with revived mischief. - -Their hands fell back to their natural occupation. - -"Turn out the lights!" Jimmy commanded in so loud a tone that most of -their neighbors, as well as Erna, giggled. - -A German comedian made his appearance and offered the usual monologue. -No musical accompaniment was required for this act; therefore, Carstairs -had disappeared under the stage. He had not seen Erna and Jimmy, nor -they him. - - - - - V - - -Carstairs was waiting at the street corner rendezvous early the -following Sunday evening. Impatience had kept him company all day, a -long day, but the impatience he felt now was even keener. He had been -ahead of their appointment by about twenty minutes, for he was afraid -that Erna might be there first. His vigil was that much the longer and -more trying. What hours it took for minutes to pass! Suppose she did not -come? - -The fates, however, were good-humored. He could see an athletic figure -coming along at a familiar leisurely pace. It was Erna. His joy and -excitement were such that he could scarcely wait for her to reach him. -What made her walk so slowly? - -"Hello," was her soft cheery greeting. - -He had avoided the bakery restaurant all day. He could hardly return her -salutation, the last of his courage having fled. - -"Where--where shall we go?" he questioned. - -"Anywhere," she agreed genially. - -Now was his opportunity. He must ask her. Of course, they could not walk -the streets the whole of his two hours' freedom. Nor could they go to -the theatre so early. Would she sense these arguments? Moreover, they -had been to a restaurant for a little refreshment and conversation on -their two former outings. She had not enjoyed those visits particularly, -reminding her, as they must have, of her daily life at Landsmann's. - -"It's a little bit too cold," he ventured. - -"Not so very," she returned mischievously, as they started walking. - -He was frightened. "But--" - -She was enjoying his embarrassment, but came to his assistance with: -"Well, where _shall_ we go? It's up to you. You did the invitin'." - -"I've got nearly two hours," he explained. "Can you stay out that long?" - -"I'm off for the rest o' the night," she assured him; "but I ought to be -back under the quilt by ten. I'm a bit tired." - -"Of course, you are," he agreed hurriedly--this was another -opportunity--"so we mustn't do any walking. Do you--would you like to -come--" - -"Yes." - -"How would you like to come over to my place?" - -It was out. What would she say? - -"Will anybody else be there?" - -"Oh no!" - -"It's over there on Fourteenth Street somewhere, ain't it?" - -"Yes." - -"I don't mind," she said. - -Joy and excitement overwhelmed him. He could not speak. And he had -imagined all along that it would be so difficult to induce her to come. -He did not know what to say. - -"Do we cross here?" she suggested. - -"Yes," he said in a low tone. - -The need of politeness forced itself upon him. Timidly, he took her arm -and led her across the street. As a matter of fact, it was she, who was -so much stronger and more daring than he, who had done the leading. They -reached the opposite side, and walked along in silence. After a minute -or so, they approached an old building. - -"Here it is," he declared nervously and let go her arm. - -They climbed three smelly flights of stairs, followed a dark hallway and -came to a halt. He took out his keys and opened a door. "Step in," he -requested. - -"You've got the light lit," she announced. - -"Yes, I thought it'd be--" - -"It's awful nice here." - -"Do you think so?" he questioned eagerly, greatly encouraged. "But it's -such a small, dingy place." - -"Oh no," she maintained. "It's nice an' cosy." - -Erna walked about, examining articles with her inquisitive eyes. "So -this is your piano?" - -"Yes, it's an old box." - -"No, it's nice lookin'. An' whose picture is that?" - -"My mother's." - -"An' that one?" - -"Oh that--that's only--" - -"An old _friend_?" she assisted him. - -"Yes," he agreed, and his blushes appeared. - -Fortunately, Erna's back was turned. But she knew he was blushing, and -her face lighted with pleasure. She examined other articles. - -Carstairs asked quickly: "Won't you take off your things?" - -Slowly, she removed her coat and hat, and fixed her hair at a small -looking glass. "Men use these things too," she observed. - -"Yes, we do," he echoed, and put her things on the couch, where he -likewise laid his own. - -"Sit down," he advised. - -"Over here?" - -"Yes." - -"Oh, this is a nice soft chair." - -Carstairs walked about a while. He was so nervous that he did not know -what to do. Nevertheless, he realized that he must offer to entertain -her. At least, he must say something. - -But Erna spoke first. "What makes you walk around?" - -"Oh nothing," he returned abruptly, looked about in confusion and -finally selected the piano stool, which, however, was so close to Erna's -chair that his confusion grew. The girl, herself, had betrayed a little -embarrassment once or twice, but she had conquered its last sign. This -was perhaps possible because of her enjoyment of Carstairs' rather -pathetic condition. Erna loved and craved praise or flattery, and the -young composer's substitute for them was certainly a decided tribute. - -"It's awful nice here," she repeated. - -"I'm glad you think so," he responded gratefully, and glanced toward -her, only to look away. - -"It's kind o' restful too." - -This was an excellent opening. - -"You must be very tired," he declared. - -"A little bit." - -"You've been working all day?" - -"Since six-thirty this morning." - -"Lord, then you must be tired." - -"Not so very much," she denied with pride. "I can stand work." - -He dared a glance at her strong body and her bold eyes. How splendid she -was! - -"But _you_ must be tired," she continued. - -"Yes,--no, only a very little." - -"You've been workin' all day too." - -"At the afternoon performance. I didn't get away until six o'clock." - -"An' you go on to-night?" - -"From nine to eleven, yes," he explained, and felt ashamed that he was -so weary. And she had been working in that stuffy, unhealthy dining room -and kitchen since half-past six and was as cheerful as ever. - -"You'll be needin' a rest now," she went on. - -"Oh no!" he hastily assured her. - -"Then will you play for me? I never heard you play, an' I've heard Mr. -Breen an' Mr. Nielsen talk so much about you." - -"They are flatterers," he said, with a self-conscious laugh. "But if -you'd like--if you--would you really like to have me?" - -"Of course." - -This was his next opportunity, but again, his courage would not assist -him. What should he play? "Do you really feel like listening?" he began -once more. - -"Of course--I like music," she argued. - -There was nothing else to do. He had better start playing. And Carstairs -turned on the stool. "What shall I play for you?" - -"Anything at all." - -"But wouldn't you rather--" - -"Play somethin' you like yourself," she interrupted. - -Carstairs hesitated. He had not had the faintest idea how difficult it -would be. Moreover, he could feel her soft brown eyes resting on him. -And he had been vowing such wonderful deeds of late: that he would play -for her as he never had for any one--that he would play her composition, -which belonged so naturally to her. Instead, he could scarcely touch a -key. - -A spirit of self-condemnation took possession of him. He must forget -himself. She would think him a fool. Besides, she might learn how much -he--No, she must not learn that. He commenced improvising. - -The young composer blundered considerably at first, but his -self-resentment helped him, and his efforts soon displayed more -coherence and warmth. Should he open his program with "To Thee"? Why -not? Why wait until later? But she might understand. She might catch its -significance and then--But how could she know that he had written the -composition? It might just as easily belong to some other composer. Yes, -he would play it. - -"Are you ready?" he asked with attempted levity. - -"Of course, don't stop!" she encouraged him. - -Carstairs played "To Thee", at first, with timidity and uncertainty, but -by and by with more resolution and consequent expressiveness as his -faith in the composition, as an expression of himself, returned. -Gradually, too, he realized how appropriate was the mood that flowed -through its measures. - -Erna watched him. A greedy little smile played about the corners of her -mouth and her nose twitched slightly. But the corners straightened and -her nose stopped twitching. - -No, he was too soft. His shoulders were so weak and his hands so small -and his face so pale--just like his nature. He belonged to his mother up -there and to that soft pretty face over there. But he was a nice, decent -fellow. And he was lots of fun, he was so different from other men. But -he was sad. She loved joy and freedom. He seemed like a mean little -prisoner, and he made her feel soft too. But he had always been decent -toward her. Yes, he belonged to such as his mother and the pretty face. -Anyhow, he knew how to play the piano.... What a different time she had -had last night! Jimmy was such a big, strong, happy fellow. But even he -did not quite satisfy her. Erna sighed just a little. - -She regained immediate control of herself and stopped studying -Carstairs. Instead, she followed the patterns in the small rug at her -feet. Presently, she gave herself up to the music. It was very pretty. -It sounded familiar too. - -Carstairs finished playing. - -"I like that," she said instantly. - -"Do you?" he demanded, wheeling toward her. - -"Yes, it's awful nice," she complimented him. - -He brightened perceptibly. "Do you really think so? Do you really like -it?" - -"Of course!" - -He could not repress his emotion. "Do you--I--what do you think?" he -asked with enthusiasm. - -"What?" - -"Do you know who wrote that?" - -"No." - -"I wrote that," he broke out, and leaned forward. - -"You did?" - -"Yes!" - -"It's awful nice," she repeated. - -This was not very strong applause, but it was more than sufficient for -Carstairs, and he grew reckless. In one moment, he had confessed himself -the author of the work, and in the next, such was his present rashness, -he was about to go much farther. - -"How would you like--" but he stopped, and smiled in a happy way. - -"What?" she urged him. - -"You're sure you like it?" he repeated. - -"Yes." - -"Would you like to have it?" he asked with sudden boldness. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Don't you understand?" he rambled on, and explained: "Composers, you -know, write songs and piano pieces and orchestral works, and afterward -they often dedicate them to somebody--to one of their friends or--or one -of their relatives. Do you understand?" - -"Yes." - -"That's what I want to do," he continued excitedly. "I wrote the -piece--it's nothing wonderful, but I--I put myself into it and--and you -like it--" - -"Yes." - -"So I'd like to give it to you." - -"But I don't play," she protested. - -"That isn't the point," he declared. "I'm dedicating it to you--that is, -your name appears on it: first, the name of the composition, then my -name, as composer, and then 'to Miss Erna Vitek.' Do you see?" - -"Oh yes!" - -"Do you like the idea?" - -"Yes, that's fine." - -"Great!" he cried. - -"But what's the name o' the piece?" she requested quietly. - -"Why, I--I gave it a name--but suppose I call it simply: 'A Song'?" - -"Yes." - -"Sure! That'd be a nice title, wouldn't it?" - -"Yes." - -His emotions threatened to run over. He wanted to tell her the rest: -that, as a matter of fact, she had been the one to inspire the -composition--his inspiration--but, well, that would be going too far. -She would be learning too much. But this was the happiest day of his -life. He had made a long stride, even over the evening when, for a few -confidential minutes, she had confided to him those details of her past -relation with Allen. He must compose many compositions for her. - -Carstairs played other music, composition after composition, many of -them his own, but all the while he waited to hear Erna ask him to repeat -her composition. She did not do so at once, but eventually, bored--to -tell the truth--by the incessant flow of music, she made the request. -Overjoyed, he repeated the work, and every measure lingered, breathed -and swayed with the mood of its creator. Near the close, Erna succeeded -in stifling a yawn. - -It was after nine o'clock when Carstairs conducted her down the three -flights. He would receive a reprimand and fine when he reported at the -music hall. But what did he care? - -The young composer did not return to his sanctum until eleven thirty. He -quickly lit the gas. At the theatre, a thought had come to torment him, -as he had rehearsed the evening's doings and joys many times over. He -went to the piano and took down the picture of the girl. Presently, he -buried it under a heap of odds and ends that littered the drawer of a -bureau, and said to himself for at least the fiftieth time: "What a -careless damned fool I am!" - - - - - VI - - -It was early the next afternoon. Breen and Nielsen were arguing in the -former's studio: a large unusually well furnished and attractively -decorated West Fourteenth Street skylight room. - -"Now, you clear out of here!" Breen was commanding. "She'll be here -right away." - -"Sure she won't disappoint thee?" Nielsen mocked pleasantly. - -"No, I saw her this morning and this noon for a moment, and she intends -keeping her royal promise." - -"How about the rouge garment?" - -"She hasn't had time to alter it." - -"That won't make any difference, of course," Nielsen ventured in -provoking tones. - -"Go on! Clear out of here!" Breen repeated. - -"You painters!" sang Nielsen, as he backed toward the door. - -"We're no worse than you fellows are," Breen retorted. "Besides, this -afternoon is no more and no less than an experiment in line with the -contract of our triumvirate. Your inning will come, especially as you -are writing a story, for which purpose--" - -"I know," Nielsen admitted with cheerful slyness. "And I really need -Erna to help me with it." - -"And Carstairs will have to contribute his share of the contract, unless -he persists in that 'count me out' air of his." - -"Oh, he'll come around, in his own way," was Nielsen's confident -assurance. "I saw him this morning, by the way--the first time I've seen -him at Landsmann's in several days." - -"How is he?" - -"Unusually cheery and affable." - -"He'll recover from that foolishness." - -"I think so too, but--" - -"Now, get out!" Breen commanded a third time. "You'll be gossipping here -forever." - -Nielsen took hold of the door knob, smiled in an aggravating manner, -opened the door, bowed low and said in a droll tone: "Moral or unmoral, -but--?" - -Breen followed him, but Nielsen escaped, and the painter slammed the -door. His mood changed instantly. He bustled around the studio, fixing -this and rearranging that object and eventually looked about with -satisfaction. He then approached a looking glass, readjusted his tie, -smoothed his hair with his hand and otherwise subjected himself to a -critical but self-satisfied examination, which, however, was cut short -by a knock at the door. He hurried over to the door and opened it. "Come -in!" he said cordially and stepped aside for Erna. - -She was wearing her best clothes, which were very attractive on her. -Unfortunately, the only red in the picture was a profusion of ribbons on -her black hat and a neat tie--but fortunately, her red cheeks and lips -were not missing. Altogether, Erna was a seductive apparition. - -Certainly, this was Breen's opinion too. "How charming you look, your -Ladyship!" he exclaimed. - -"Do I?" she retorted, smiling. - -"Oh decidedly, decidedly," and Breen bowed in anticipation of a pleasant -afternoon. Bringing all of his courtesy to the surface, he helped Erna -to remove her coat. She went over to the looking glass, laughed, cried: -"You've got a glass too," and took off her hat with careless ease. - -"What do you mean?" demanded Breen, standing behind her and surveying -her reflection with open admiration. - -"Nothin'," she returned rather impudently. - -"A lovely girl that!" he added significantly. - -"Think so?" she challenged. - -"Decidedly," he repeated. - -She shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled at him in the glass. -Breen's interest grew. He tried to put his hands on her shoulders, by -way of confidence, but Erna turned toward him with a quick supple -movement. Like the accomplished artist she was, she said nothing, not -even by way of reproach, but laughed again. He eyed her with still -franker admiration. - -"Well?" she questioned. - -"Oh, I know," he said, recollecting his rôle, and went on evasively: -"But you're not wearing your red dress or very much red?" - -"What difference does that make? Maybe you'd rather have me come some -other time?" - -"No, no! You stay right here, now that you've come. You'll do just as -well in that costume. The same Erna Vitek is inside it. But--er--" - -"But what?" - -"I won't attempt a color sketch of you in that dress. There, there, -forgive me--it's very charming, my dear, but-- Perhaps, I'll just make a -pencil sketch of you to-day. Artists ought to commence with pencil -sketches anyhow, until the characters of their subjects have had time to -properly enter their blood, so to speak. Which, of course, is all Greek -to you. Do you object, madame?" - -"No, do me any way you like," she consented. - -"Oh, if you feel that way about it," he hinted audaciously. - -"Take care!" she warned. - -Breen went over to the model throne and pretended to place the chair for -her. He was sorry that he had had to suggest even a pencil sketch of -her, but he was forced to attempt some part of their original agreement. -What is more, he had practically cast away all thought of "studying" -Erna, later to make his report before the triumvirate. She was too -interesting and magnetic an individual to be used for such a childish -purpose. "Come over here and sit down," he requested calmly. - -Giving herself an unexpected air of modesty, she complied, at the same -time adding a prudish touch by fixing her skirt carefully as she sat -down. Breen was puzzled, but drew up a chair, took a pencil and sketch -book and seated himself. "I'm going ta draw you at close range," he -apologized. She smiled in encouragement. - -Breen commenced drawing, very carelessly, it is true. Erna watched him -with innocent eyes. "Do I pose right?" she asked at length. - -"Yes," he assured her. - -She was silent. - -A little later, she asked: "Do your models have to keep quiet?" - -"Not at all! Chatter away!" - -But she preferred to remain silent. To tell the truth, this was not -Erna's first experience as a sitter. She had posed for two or three -other artists in the past: once as Carmen, another time as a madonna, -and a third time for some allegorical effort concerning Spring. Breen -continued to study her for the drawing. His mind, however, or that -region wherein its desires lay, was more busy than his pencil. Ten -minutes or so later, he stopped drawing and held the pad off, squinted -one eye at Erna, then at the drawing and again at Erna. - -"Do you like being winked at?" he asked. - -"Depends upon who's doin' it," she commented. - -"Don't you like me to do it?" - -"I don't know," she replied enigmatically. - -He got up from his chair and approached her. - -"Bring the picture with you!" she requested. - -Breen, however, once more tried to put his hands on her. She pushed back -her chair, and in outraged tones commanded: "Mr. Breen!" - -"I beg your pardon," he said with well assumed candor, but he was -irritated to a considerable degree. "I merely wanted to change your pose -a bit." - -"Well, why didn't you ask _me_ to do it?" she complained, her innocent -self again. - -He returned to his chair without explaining. - -"Am I all right now?" she asked. - -"Pull your chair forward again." - -"So?" - -"That'll do." - -Erna watched him as before, and Breen went on drawing. But his usually -well balanced mind was ruffled. He tried to construct some other scheme. -Erna had always been quite prone (after all, she was only a waitress) to -permit occasional familiarity on his part at Landsmann's. What made her -play the prude away from home? Perhaps she was, at heart, like the rest -of her class, nothing more than a narrow moralistic thing, and not the -unmoral soul he had constantly given her credit for being. His disgust -was supreme. On the contrary, he mused, she might only be playing a -part. Admitting that Erna, in society, only held the position of -waitress, still, she was a very shrewd girl. He must try some other -attack, allowing her the credit she deserved. He had attempted flattery, -pleasantry and not a little boldness. What should be his next step? - -Eventually, the young artist tried bribery. Having finished his work, he -presented it to Erna accompanied by a short but eloquently complimentary -speech. The girl did not neglect to admire the drawing and to thank him -for the present. His act, apparently, made no stronger impression on -her. Later, he suggested and, with her consent, prepared and served some -tea and biscuits. They were sitting at a small cosy table. About them, -the atmosphere had spread a halo of warmth and intimacy. And Breen -played host and admirer to the best of his accomplished ability. But -Erna refused to respond any more than she had done earlier. She appeared -grateful; she talked a good deal; and she seemed completely at ease with -Breen and her surroundings. But she would not respond more than she had -done. Breen's disgust threatened to reach a climax. - -There was a reason for Erna's conduct. She, in her greed of heart, -playing with Breen, as she had with Carstairs, the part of a watchful -cat, had come to several conclusions. She disliked the artist's long, -angular figure, his sharp, shrewd face, and most of all, his cold, -self-sympathetic eyes. And she disliked him personally even more. -Without claiming any undue powers of discernment for Erna, one would -surely have had to credit her with the possession of a strong feminine -instinct. Her instinct had resented his attentions, for, behind them -all, she had felt that he, as a gentleman, was shoving her down where -she belonged. She was a waitress, but she was good looking enough and -lots of fun for him--and much more in prospect. In a word, Breen had -brought out the hard calculating side of her nature, and she had raised -her guard against him. - -Furthermore, Erna was in a bad humor when she came to Breen's studio, -her genial conduct notwithstanding. She had seen Jimmy that noon in the -dining room, but he had spent all of his time talking fight with the -customers. As though the fact that he was to turn to the ring to-morrow -night would bring the world to an end! She would pay him for neglecting -her. Besides, Mr. Nielsen had been approaching her. He had been asking -her to "pose" for him too. Did he also want to take advantage of her? -Still, there was something human inside of him. He had always acted a -little differently from the others. As for Jimmy-- - -Breen interrupted her reflection. He reached across the table and tried -to touch her hand. Erna's face flushed with anger, and her hand came -down upon his with a loud slap. Just as quickly, she recollected -herself. "Excuse me!" she asked sullenly. - -Breen, however, was through. He arose from his chair. This had been -impudence beyond all impudence. And the man of success turned his back -upon the waitress. - -Erna likewise got up, leaving the sketch on the table. She did not offer -a second apology. Instead, she drew on her coat, picked up her hat and -walked over to the glass. Her face was crimson. - -Breen was quite sorry. He came behind Erna and made several attempts to -clear some momentary pangs of conscience. But Erna would not listen. He -moved away, pride clouding his face. - -Erna hurried toward the door. Breen followed her, offering one or two -final excuses. But she refused to answer, and went out. Breen slammed -the door behind her. Presently, he was busy pacing the studio in a vain -endeavor to regain some of his composure. - -Steps were to be heard coming along the hallway. The door was opened -cautiously, and Nielsen's head and shoulders appeared. And his caressing -voice questioned: "Well, your Highness, what is your decision? Moral, -unmoral or--?" - -Breen faced about, swore a strong oath and commanded: "Get out of here!" - -"But, dear Bainbridge--" - -"Get out, you spy!" Breen continued angrily, and went toward the door. - -"But I want to know your decision." - -"Moral, moral, a million times moral--she has degenerated--in fact, she -hasn't even degenerated. I wouldn't do her the honor of saying so. She's -always been a narrow, conventional, contemptible little thing. Is that -enough, you ass? She's a--" - -"Enough, noble Sire!" Nielsen interrupted with a mysterious air. "Thou -hast spoken. Enough!" Luckily, his head and shoulders disappeared just -in time. - -Breen slammed the door. - - - - - VII - - -Wednesday morning was a particularly noisy morning in the rear dining -room of Landsmann's. Jimmy Allen was the hero. On the night before, he -had knocked out his opponent toward the close of the first round. Some -of his admirers had met at Landsmann's to discuss and celebrate the -event, and one who had been present was supplying the others with the -details. - -"An' toward the end o' the round," he was describing, "Jimmy ducked -under the poor 'Kid's' flabby guard an' caught 'im an awful soak in the -guts, an' as 'the Kid' doubled up, Jimmy swung the finisher--it was a -terror!--right on the point o' the jaw. 'The Kid' hit the mat deader -than a door nail. An' they carried 'im away, a smashed hope inside o' -three minutes." - -The listeners clamored for more, and one of them queried: "But I thought -'the Kid' was such a clever sidestepper?" - -"He is, but he couldn't sidestep Jimmy. Jimmy's a terror in the ring. -He's a good-natured feller outside, but the sight of another feller in -front of 'im kind o' riles 'is blood. He can't rest till he's battered -the guy away, an' let 'im see a little blood, like 'the Kid's' mouth -bleedin', an' it's all off 'cept the count, for Jimmy goes wild. He got -to 'the Kid' by constant borein' in. Half a dozen fierce body taps -weakened the poor guy, then a couple o' face smashers, an' then the -finish. Oh, it was awful." - -The listeners sighed with awe. "An' Jimmy?" requested the interlocutor. - -"Oh, he got a scratch or two. But he was 'is smilin' self soon's it was -over." - -Standing near the doorway, listening to every word with feverish -interest, was Erna. Her eyes shone, and her heart beat with joyous -pride. - -Landsmann suddenly called to her from the kitchen: "Erna, your order is -here." She did not heed him, but waited for more details. Again, the -storekeeper called to her, but once more, she refused to heed him. The -man appeared in the doorway, his face red with vexation. "Erna! Do you -hear me?" - -"Yes, yes," she retorted petulantly, and hurried past him. He followed -close behind her, and as she turned, gave her a stupid but indignant -stare. Erna returned his stare with interest, and Landsmann, beaten as -he had been so often, retreated to the store, there to seek muttered -consultation with his wife. - -Erna was about to take up her order, when she came upon a remarkable -sight. She stopped, stared and, stimulated by a desire to emulate, -tiptoed forward, her strong white teeth showing in the joy of -anticipation. On the bottom of the kitchen sink, a goodly sized rat was -drinking. - -The girl continued to sneak forward without making a sound. Suddenly, -her hand darted out and seized the rat by the neck; at the same time, -she turned on the water from the large faucet. With a strong grip, she -held the squirming, squeaking animal under the stream. - -Gretchen screamed and ran out into the store. "_Was ist los?_" demanded -the storekeeper. Gretchen told her story in a frightened whisper. Mrs. -Landsmann and Molly screamed; several customers arose and, led by -Landsmann, who waddled forward, came into the kitchen. Landsmann stopped -short at a respectful distance from Erna, eyed her furiously and shouted -imprecations. She paid no attention to him, but continued her pleasant -task, her face alight with animal joy and brutality. The rat's life was -soon extinguished, due, perhaps, more to Erna's fingers than the water. -Proudly holding it out by the tail for display, she dropped the body -into a pail under the sink. - -The storekeeper approached her, followed by the customers. The latter -profferred congratulations, but not so Herr Landsmann. He grabbed some -table refuse and dumping it into the pail, piled some old newspapers on -top, all the while averting his face as much as possible. He then turned -upon Erna, but she stood her ground, defying him, and the storekeeper -was forced to resort to still stronger imprecation. Erna grew impudent -in the knowledge of her righteousness, and Landsmann had to retreat once -more, but this time with threatening gestures and for an even angrier -consultation with his wife. The other waitresses refused to return to -the kitchen, but went over to assist Landsmann. - -The customers, who had been joined by others from the rear dining room, -refused to leave the kitchen, each one wishing to pay Erna homage by -compliment or by taking her arm. Jimmy Allen was forgotten. At first, -the girl, conscious of the sensation she had created so -accidentally,--killing rats was not entirely new to her--faced her -worshippers with an exultant smile. Soon, she tired of their praise, and -more so of their physical attentions, a repetition of their usual -conduct toward her. Furthermore, the storekeeper's attitude rankled -deeper and deeper, until anger controlled her. Therefore, she pushed her -way through the gathering, ordered all back to their tables, a command -they obeyed under protest, and returned to her duties with a decidedly -willful air. If only Jimmy were here! - -Within the next hour or so, Herr Landsmann, backed by his wife's moral -support, came into the kitchen four times to reprimand Erna. He had even -hunted for other pretexts to scold her. By nine o'clock, when Erna was -almost alone in her small empire, her resentment had reached a state of -revolt. Why didn't he bounce her at once? It would be better. In fact, -she would leave of her own free will. That would be better still. She -would be free. She had a right to be happy. She had always been happy. -So she would be free, Landsmann, his wife and the rest of the world -notwithstanding. How she hated and despised them! Let any one else try -to tie her hands! - -Another half hour passed, and Erna's determination grew. Her whole -fighting instinct had been set astir. As a result, she had treated the -few remaining customers with contemptuous neglect. They were all of one -breed. And they left, one by one, passing remarks, laughing or trying to -banter her. Soon she was left to herself and surly reflection, as -Landsmann, luckily, had discontinued molesting her--for the present, at -least. However, a newcomer entered the dining room. But he was the -highly welcome Jimmy Allen. - -Erna greeted him with joy. She had forgotten her yesterday's resentment, -in his sudden rise to honor and in her present need. And Jimmy greeted -her with joy. No other word passed between them. Instead, Jimmy embraced -her with all of his brute strength. He then tried kissing her, only to -have Erna slip from his grasp. Jimmy's blood was aroused. He pursued -Erna, cornered her and caught her with an even stronger embrace than -before, breathing hard with passion. They overturned a chair, and Jimmy -tripped and lost his hold. They both breathed rapidly, and stood apart, -watching each other. Herr Landsmann looked into the dining room, scowled -and disappeared. - -Jimmy again came closer, but Erna shook her head in warning. She had -seen the storekeeper. Presently, she gave her lover a short nervous -account of her morning's trial. Jimmy swore a generous oath and begged -her to drop her work at once. But Erna hesitated. - -"Ah, come out o' this!" he pleaded. - -Erna would not answer. - -"Come out o' this, Erna!" he repeated seriously. "You're sick o' this. -I'm sick o' this. Let's go away. We're fixed now--or as good as fixed. -The only job's the minister's. Come on, Erna!" - -Still, the girl refused to answer, but it was evident that she was -weakening--as Jimmy was aware too. Hurriedly, he recounted his victory -of last night, emphasized the fact that he was stronger than ever, knew -"more about the game," and outlined the near future: that he was soon to -meet Young Walcott, whom he would dispose of, and some unknown from -Chicago. He would have quite a little money shortly, and he could -support her "as a decent woman should be supported." She would be happy. -They would both be happy. "Come on, Erna!" he concluded. "Be a sport!" - -Erna was in a groggy state. One last stinging argument would have -finished her. She hesitated, as did Jimmy, who, unfortunately, resorted -to stalling. - -At length, she said: "Gimme until to-night!" - -Now, Jimmy missed entirely: "But I say, Erna. I got an important date -then." - -Her resentment returned at once. She recalled his neglect of yesterday. -"What?" she demanded jealously. - -"I got to see Nolan an' Walcott an' his manager to-night. We got to talk -over an' arrange things. Besides, Nolan's givin' a little spread in my -honor among the boys. Can't you tell me now? Tell me now!" - -"I said _to-night_, didn't I?" she retorted in dangerous tones. - -"I know, Erna, but I can't see you to-night. Make it to-morrow night, -an' we'll talk it over, long's you won't say now. Make it to-morrow -night! An' I'll spend the whole evenin' with you." - -Erna had turned her back on him. Jimmy came closer, but she walked away, -while he followed her, foolishly continuing to apologize and to cajole -her. Unhappily, Jimmy's suit was interrupted. Another man came into the -dining room: Eric Nielsen. - -Glances passed between them. Nielsen went over to the farthermost -corner, took off his hat and coat and sat down. Jimmy looked at Erna on -the sly, but she paid no attention to him. The young fighter did not -stay for breakfast. He left the room without another word. And Erna -smiled secretly. - -Nielsen, always a lover of other's secrets, had digested most of the -scene. But he was still a diplomat. Consequently, he said nothing and -permitted Erna to come over for his order. She looked nervous and -uncertain. - -"What's new?" he asked pleasantly. - -"Nothin'." - -"Still ham and eggs and the old program?" - -She smiled slightly. "Yes!" - -He ordered some eggs, toast and a cup of black coffee and explained: "I -need some energy for work this morning. I feel dopy." - -Erna smiled again and went away. She was feeling a little better. There -was always something soothing in Nielsen and his banter. And she did not -wait in the kitchen for his order, but came back to his table. Erna -rarely acted parts in Nielsen's company. - -He looked up sympathetically. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but -knowing her antipathy for expressed sympathy or soft advances, remained -silent. Herr Landsmann looked in upon them. Erna flushed with her old -resentment, and the storekeeper frowned and disappeared. Nielsen -remarked the exchange. "That's it, is it?" he observed gently. - -"What?" - -"The boss?" - -She was thoughtful and then admitted: "Yes." - -"What's the Dutchman done?" - -Slowly, and not without reluctance in the beginning, she told him the -details, he interrupting her once or twice with encouragement. "Shades -of Norway!" he exclaimed in admiration. "You could easily play the -Rat-wife in 'Little Eyolf'." - -She looked at him in a puzzled way, but he laughed and advised her: -"Don't mind me; I'm cracked. Go on!" - -Erna related the rest of the incident. He was quietly attentive to every -detail, and at the conclusion of her recital, broke out cheerfully: "The -trouble with the German is that he's too slow to catch even a cockroach. -Therefore, he resents speed. So Landsmann calls you down. And the -girls--well, they're children, like most females. You're entirely too -dramatic for their comfort." - -Erna never quite understood Nielsen, but she mellowed down to some of -her old good nature. Nielsen continued his reassuring nonsense, and -gradually, the rest of her good nature was restored. The young writer -was not slow to notice the change, and he was glad to have been of -service to her. He had no desire to make any personal use of Erna's -present mental condition, but nevertheless, he proceeded: "Erna, you -must be tired." - -"Yes?" - -"Certainly. You need a little rest--a little diversion. Let me help you -out; there's a sensible girl. Will you come over and spend part of the -evening with me?" - -His request had not been a bold one; he had made it seriously, and with -no thought of himself. But Erna gave him a sharp look. He met her glance -with an honest one and pursued: "I don't want you to pose for the story, -as I asked you yesterday--honestly, I don't. I just want to amuse you a -little, if I can. You need a bit of a change, even by having me supply -it." - -This was approaching dangerously close to a soft advance, but Erna did -not heed it. She was still busy trying to read Nielsen, but reading -Nielsen was not so easy as appearances would have led one to believe. -However, she was able to read humanity behind his lurking smile, and -likewise his seriousness of purpose. "I don't know," she said in doubt. - -"You're not afraid?" - -"No," she admitted. - -"Come ahead then. We'll have a quiet little evening together, or you can -tell me some more about your enemies, German and others. As for posing, -I'll do the posing, such as standing on my head, for example." - -Erna had always felt that Nielsen was human. It now come as a -realization. She gave him a final penetrating glance. He smiled frankly, -and she had to smile as well. "All right," she resigned. - -"You're a good sport, Erna," he complimented her. "But you're too -trusting, I'm afraid." - -"Think so?" - -"Yes." - -She looked somewhat doubtful, and then her face cleared. Nielsen -understood. - -"Your order's ready, Erna," came Landsmann's voice. - -And the girl hurried out. - - - - - VIII - - -Erna was in a splendid mood when she called on Nielsen that evening. In -the first place, the young Norwegian-American had earned her gratitude. -Secondly, and what is perhaps more important, Jimmy Allen had come into -Landsmann's both for the noon and the evening meal and had paid her -humble devotion. She had agreed to spend to-morrow evening with him, but -principally that she might add coal to the fire of his impatience by -putting off her answer, which she had not formed as yet but in the -existence of which she had succeeded in leading him to believe. Thirdly, -she had had two more tilts with Landsmann and was victorious in both. -Consequently, Erna was in high spirit. In addition, her greedy nature -was looking forward to the new sensation that life might be on the point -of offering her in Nielsen. - -It was evident at once that he was likewise in the best of humor. His -greeting of Erna was of the heartiest cordiality and cheer. And he -required only a minute or two to settle her comfortably on the couch and -to make her feel otherwise at home. She was not surprised. On the -contrary, she entered immediately into the mood of the young writer's -hospitality. - -"Well, Rat-wife, how've you been?" he commenced. "I haven't seen you -since this morning." - -"Why do you call me Rat-wife?" - -"Because you're a professional rat catcher." - -"I've caught rats before," she confessed. - -"Have you? Great! I always thought you must have had another vocation in -life." - -"But I hate caterpillars, don't you?" she declared naïvely. - -"By all means," he agreed. "They give one the fuzzy-wuzzies, don't -they?" - -They both laughed. He drew his chair closer to the couch and watched her -frankly. She watched him with equal candor. There was honest admiration -in his next remark: "You're strong, aren't you, Erna?" - -"Yes." - -"How'd you get that way?" he pursued. - -"I must 'a' been born that way. I guess my father an' mother were strong -an' healthy. Any way, I exercise a great deal--" - -"In the store, you mean?" - -"No, at night, by the open window, in--" - -"Not in the nude?" he ventured. - -"Not quite, but almost!" she admitted, and they laughed again. - -"But Erna, what made you say you _guess_ your father and mother were -strong? Don't you know whether they were? Aren't they alive?" - -She looked at him suddenly, but his straightforward glance reassured -her. She announced quietly: "I never saw my parents." - -"What?" he broke out. "Then how--but I beg your pardon, child. I didn't -mean to be inquisitive." - -"You're not inquisitive," she returned with unaccustomed seriousness. -"Only--" - -"I understand," he interrupted. "Don't speak of it! It's too painful. -Besides, we mustn't be growing gloomy." - -Erna was meditative. She had never confided that part of her life to any -one. It might be nice to unburden some of it. And Mr. Nielsen--he was -so--She glanced at him. - -"Please don't!" he requested. "I'd much rather you wouldn't." - -She smiled and said: "It isn't so sad; it's just kind o' funny." - -"Well, if it's funny, out with it, but if it isn't--" - -"It's kind o' funny that I should be tellin' at all." - -"To me, you mean?" - -"Yes!" - -"That's easy. You trust me; that's the reason," he explained jocularly. - -"Do I? How do you know?" - -"Oh, I'm a wise old know-it-all. Which is certainly a nice bunch of -conceit, isn't it?" - -"No," she denied good-humoredly. - -Without pretense of any sort, and completely at her ease sitting there -on the couch only a yard or two from him, she gave Nielsen a few points -in her knowledge of past years. Briefly, she laid claim to having lived -nearly all her life with adopted parents, from whom, thanks to their -continued selfishness and maltreatment, she had run away about a year -ago. These people had once informed her that her father had married some -woman of position in Bohemia, where Erna was born, and that, having -squandered her money, he had disappeared for good. Her mother had died -in giving birth to her, and her adopted parents, related to him as -cousins, had received her indirectly through some friends of her -father's, as well as money, through various mysterious channels, up to -her sixth year. The remittances stopped suddenly, and she was left a -beggar on their hands, a fact of which they were often careful to remind -her. At the age of twelve or thirteen, Erna had hunted for and found a -situation, and later others, and had been able to pay some sort of board -through the intervening years. But her "parents," who had five children -of their own, despised her and maltreated her accordingly, as did the -children, guided by the elders' precepts. Only her strength of body and -endowed pugnaciousness had saved her from greater maltreatment. - -"And this you call a funny story?" demanded Nielsen, stopping her. - -"There's nothing so very sad in it," she declared stubbornly. - -"There isn't?" - -"No." - -His admiration for her developed. Erna certainly possessed sterling -qualities. - -"But I haven't finished," she interposed. - -"Never mind, Erna. I've heard enough." - -"You haven't heard why I quit my 'parents'." - -"I don't have to," he tried to stop her. - -"There's only a little to it." - -"Well?" - -"They tried to sell me." - -"What?" - -"Just what I said." - -"What do you mean?" - -"They tried to sell me to an old admirer o' mine in Paterson." - -"You must be crazy, child." - -"No more'n you," she insisted. "The man was all ready with his money -an'--" - -"But this is impossible," he interrupted. - -"No, it isn't. I ought to know. It made me jump the track." - -"That's how you ran away?" - -"Yes." - -"A year ago?" - -"Yes. It was the last straw. They'd tried the same game twice before. I -was through." - -Nielsen eyed her in sympathy. He had not credited the whole of her -story, incoherent and almost imaginary as some of its details sounded, -but the climax had moved him deeply. He was not as superficial as his -outward demeanor might indicate. But he was still a diplomat, and -knowing Erna's nature better than ever now, did not offer her open -sympathy. Instead, he questioned: "So you wandered around New York -looking for jobs?" - -"Yes." - -"Till you landed at Landsmann's?" - -"Oh no, I had two other jobs before that." - -"Where?" - -"At other bakeries, but I was fired." - -"For--for sassing back?" he asked, smiling. - -"Yes, just as I sass old Landsmann." - -He grew serious. "Hadn't you better be careful?" - -"How?" - -"About angering Landsmann?" - -"I can't help it. I hate him. I hate Germans. My 'parents' were German -an'--" - -"He may fire you too." - -"I don't care." - -"But you don't want to be forced to run about New York again, do you?" - -Erna was about to break out, thinking of Jimmy, "I won't have to," but -substituted staring at Nielsen. He was so fine, so human, so-- - -"Never mind, Erna! Let's talk of something more cheerful." Suddenly, it -was his turn to look thoughtful. Before he was aware of himself, he -commenced: "Erna!" - -"Yes?" - -"If you ever need anybody--" - -"Yes?" - -"I mean in case you should ever lose your job--" - -"Yes?" - -"Don't hesitate to come to me for help." - -He had spoken in a more earnest tone than was his custom. Erna looked -quantities of gratitude. "Do you mean--" - -"Yes," he forestalled her. "I'm a man, Erna, or a part o' one. I know -you're a good sport, I've seen so much evidence of it. In fact, you're -as good and probably a better sport than I am"--all this with a return -to banter--"so it's up to me, if you ever need assistance." - -Erna was unable to reply. - -"Will you?" he requested more quietly. - -"Yes," she agreed, and was silent. - -Presently, he came back to the whimsical. "We're a funeral party, aren't -we?" - -"No." - -"Well, we can start a partnership as funeral directors to bury the past, -can't we?" - -"Sure!" - -Nielsen laughed, and she followed his example. - -"Erna, I envy you," he started again. - -"Why?" - -"Nothing downs you long. You're such a happy Indian that you're able to -run your world." - -"Am I?" - -"Yes. It takes happy people to run the world, you know." - -"Does it?" - -"Certainly. That's my humble belief anyhow. Dost believe in philosophy?" - -"No time for it!" she returned. - -"You're right," he applauded. "It's only a pastime for lemon natures. -Stick to your joy, Erna!" - -Erna was indulging in more abstract matters than she had ever attempted, -for she said: "I can't help it, I suppose. I love joy and happy people. -An' fresh air, strength, freedom." But it was Nielsen's fault, he used -such a subtle method of probing her. - -"That'll do, Erna," he interrupted. "You have spoken. There is nothing -to be added to fresh air, the breeder of strength, the breeder of -freedom. This ought to be enough philosophy for one day, eh? We'll have -headaches soon, won't we?" - -"Not me!" she denied, and he laughed and added: "Then I'll close the -sermon with a little text, if I may." - -"Go ahead." - -"Whatever happens," he bantered her; "stick to your freedom with your -last dying breath!" - -"Thanks!" - -The evening developed even further intimacy. And Erna soon came to -realize that she had discovered her new sensation. As for Nielsen, he -was spending an unusual evening too. Several times, he thought of Jimmy -Allen and his connection with Erna. He was a splendid joyous animal like -her. It did not surprise him that he had been restored to her favor, -they were so well mated. And he recalled the short but significant scene -he had spoiled that morning. - -Erna, surely, was a rare nature,--hard, perhaps, selfish and cruel in -many ways too, quite a little more so than others, but her strength of -will, self reliance and her stubborn pursuit of pleasure and -excitement--her life of joy--were irresistible. And she was only a -waitress. But she was far more than that, an individual, as Carstairs -had vaunted that time; she had lived a life harder to endure than that -loaded upon his educated acquaintances, for example, and yet, she, -lacking their knowledge and so called experience and wisdom, controlled -life; life did not control her. And Nielsen, who seldom overlooked -dissecting himself along with others, admitted readily that Erna -attracted him powerfully, and not in the name of the story, which he had -forgotten--for the present, anyhow. - -Erna's mind was making more rapid calculations than ever before. "Stick -to your freedom!" he had advised her. It was true. She must go on -fighting for that. But what of Jimmy--and marriage? Marriage, that word -with a bad taste, marriage even with Jimmy would steal a good portion of -her freedom. She must be careful. Besides, her power over Jimmy was so -easy just the same. And Nielsen, that puzzling human man, disconcerted -her. He was different from Jimmy. He was strong physically too, if not -quite as handsome, and he possessed a strong heart and mind, which Jimmy -did not. But his constant joking--was he really serious? She never knew -just where to find him, he eluded her so. If she were to marry, she -would never see him again, a prospect her greediness did not like to -consider, as she sat there slyly watching him, clothed in that easy, -cheerful, even-tempered strength of his. - -Erna and Nielsen did not leave the latter's workshop until close upon -midnight. The rest of the time had passed swiftly and pleasantly. Their -parting was warm to a decided degree. And they made an appointment for -the following Friday evening. - -"I'll be a night owl soon," she complained. - -"Oh no--you'll always be a Rat-wife," he corrected. - -She pressed the book under her arm--Ibsen's "Little Eyolf," which he had -lent her--and laughed. - -"Now, don't forget my text," he warned her gently, as they stood on the -dark street corner near Landsmann's, their hands clasped in friendly -embrace. - -"I won't." - -"And if there's any real trouble with Landsmann?" - -"Yes, I will," she agreed. - -He pressed her hand. - -"Good-night," she said. - -"Good-night," he returned. - -And they separated. But they both looked back twice and waved their -hands--in the old fashioned way. - - - - - IX - - -"An order of mocha tart, Erna!" - -It was Bainbridge Breen who had spoken. The girl left the dining room -with a cheery: "All right!" The young artist turned to his friends, -Carstairs and Nielsen, who were sitting with him at the rear table: -"Mocha tart is still the prince of Landsmann pastries." - -"You've made up with Erna, I see," Nielsen ventured quietly. - -"Oh, of course! I'm too busy a man to spend any time harboring -animosity. Besides, I guess I'm sufficiently broad-minded to forgive the -girl her indiscretion." - -"And on her side, she's too light-hearted to hold animosity," the author -supplied. - -"I expect so," Breen agreed generously, and then challenged: "But how -about _you_ and Erna? And how about your story?" - -"Haven't been able to finish it as yet," Nielsen returned somewhat -evasively. - -"Haven't had enough opportunity for _studying_ Erna?" - -"No, I'm not quite through." - -Breen laughed significantly, and Carstairs flushed. - -"Then you haven't reached your decision as regards Erna's morals?" the -painter continued. - -"Not just yet!" was Nielsen's response, keyed in deeper evasiveness. - -"You'll reach my conclusion absolutely," Breen closed confidently. -"She's a moral little thing." - -"Of course," Carstairs interposed indignantly. - -"Whoop-la!" cried Breen. "So you've come to _your_ decision, Brother -John? How did it happen, you sly dog?" - -"I haven't come to any decision," Carstairs denied wearily. "I told you -in the beginning what I thought of Erna." - -"That's so," Breen gave in with a tone of fatherly wisdom. "But when and -where did you find opportunity to strengthen your belief? You haven't -been coming here very often of late?" - -"That's my affair," Carstairs retorted. - -He was in a melancholy mood. Erna had been neglecting him since their -evening together. Moreover, she had treated him with more or less -indifference as well, as though his visits bored her, and had allowed -him no opening for inviting her again. - -Nielsen wisely changed the subject: "Been doing much work lately, John?" - -"Yes, I've been busy." - -"What are you doing?" - -"I've been writing a little set of piano songs," he rejoined. - -"Good for you!" Breen applauded. "There's nothing like work after all, -and we all seem engaged to that lady at present. She's the best wife in -the world." - -Nielsen smiled philosophically, but the tired expression had revisited -Carstairs' face. The trio continued eating their supper, and the -conversation strayed to other and less personal topics. - -That same evening, Erna was to meet Jimmy Allen. The hero of Landsmann's -was well ahead of their appointment time, for he was strangely excited. -He had some news to impart to Erna. - -She was ten minutes late. He did not call her attention to the fact, but -greeted her boisterously and began: "Gee, Erna! I got great news for -you." - -"Have you?" she replied with well feigned indifference. - -"What do you think? Nolan's offered to let us have the rooms free for -one month." - -"Did he?" - -"Sure! What do you think o' that? Ain't he the pippin? Ain't he the -classy guy?" - -She did not answer. They were walking slowly. He grabbed her arm. -"What's the matter now?" he demanded. - -"Nothin'." - -"You said you'd made up your mind," he maintained anxiously. - -"I said: not quite," she corrected him. - -"Oh, but you have, Erna," he pleaded. "You'll join hands with me? You're -sick o' Landsmann's. You--we're stuck on each other, an' the -minister's--Well, wait'll you see the flat!" he broke off. "That'll -settle it. Wait'll you see the _flat_!" - -"Why?" - -"I'm takin' you there," he informed her eagerly. - -"Now?" - -"Of course!" he cajoled her. "You'll come, won't you?" and he squeezed -her arm. "There's no harm in it. You don't have to like the place? It -don't hurt to see it?" - -"No." - -"Then we'll go." - -Erna was busy eyeing a millinery show window. - -"How about it?" he questioned. - -"All right." - -He sighed with relief and satisfaction. - - * * * * * - -There were two rooms and a bath. The furnishings were fairly -attractive--garish in some respects, but on the whole, adequate. Erna -admitted to herself that they surpassed her expectation, the garish -qualities, no doubt, appealing to her love of life and violent color. -But she made no such admission to Jimmy. - -He was watching her with wide open eyes. Gradually, his anxiety forsook -him and his natural cheerfulness appeared. "Well?" he asked quietly. - -Erna continued reticent. Neither of the rooms compared with Mr. -Nielsen's, which was so wonderfully cosy, but she could easily improve -them. Her woman's housekeeper instinct declared itself; it would be nice -to occupy herself making changes here and there. And it would be a nice -place to spend a few lazy hours every day, it was such a fine little -apartment. Best of all, it would be her first home.... Erna studied the -large couch for the first time and hesitated. "Stick to your freedom!" -he had advised her. Marriage? No, marriage would not be so nice. Still, -strong, broad shouldered, handsome, happy Jimmy was standing right near -her. She glanced his way. - -"Well?" he repeated. - -Erna looked away. - -"What's the matter?" he asked, and approached a little. - -She did not answer.... That other time matters were different. She had -not felt as drawn to him then as she had since his return. His offer of -money that day--well, it had been an honest one: he had cared for her, -and he had been her best friend in those days. She must do him that much -justice. And he was offering her much more now. She hated Landsmann's -more and more. She could not endure the place many days longer. And this -would be her first home. But suppose she should want to change--as she -had done so often before, due to her hatred of any steady existence? Her -hands would be tied. Marriage meant loss of freedom. She cared for -Jimmy, yes, but not quite enough. If she were only given more time for a -decision! Perhaps, Mr. Nielsen would help her to decide. But she would -not ask _him_. - -"What's the matter?" Jimmy demanded once more and with returning -anxiety. He came closer. - -Erna turned toward him. She cast aside the part she usually played with -him, and gave him the first honest glance he had received from her in -several days. He quickly put his arm about her shoulders. - -Erna turned her head away and tried to pull back, but his other arm -found its way about her. "Erna!" he begged for the last time. - -She commenced to struggle. His instincts of battle were aroused; and his -exasperation of nearly two years' standing seized this opportunity. -Heedless of her cries, he tightened his grip and pressed her breast -against his with brutal strength. There was a moment of tugging and -swaying. Suddenly, Erna raised her face, and he kissed her mouth with -the same undeniable brutality. The girl no longer struggled. But he -would not let her go. - -At length, she tried to break away, but his strength was much greater -than hers. He continued to weaken her, strong and stubborn though she -was, by more unmerciful kisses and embraces. Erna attempted to beat his -breast with what freedom her hands were permitted and not succeeding, -kicked his shins. But Jimmy, laughing with joy and suffering with -passion, hugged her with such finality that she was left powerless. - -As usual, that old but simple law of physics, concerning the continued -contact of bodies, was vindicated. Soon after, it was satisfied. Erna -and Jimmy did not rise from the couch for nearly three hours. - -Erna was tired, but happy. She looked at Jimmy. He laughed. She laughed -too. And then they laughed together. Suddenly, she became serious. - -"What's the trouble?" he questioned. - -Erna looked at him differently now, but her seriousness soon fled. After -all, just as posing for Breen had not been quite new to her, so her -present experience was not quite new. Furthermore, Erna possessed -unlimited gameness. Life had never been able to throw her for a long -fall. Therefore, her boldness returned. Jimmy laughed as before, and she -joined him once more. - -"All right?" he requested. - -"Yes!" - -He got up. She watched him dress. He was slow and careless in the -performance. But her attention was absorbed by the muscular play of his -splendid body. - -"Well?" he asked smiling. - -"Well what?" she challenged. - -"What makes you stare?" - -"Nothin'!" - -"Am I nothin'?" - -"Yes!" - -He laughed with his usual readiness, and content, turned his back on her -with lazy ease and walked over to the mirror. Erna frowned slightly. -Somehow, his "I" had put her on her old guard. It seemed to spell -property, as did his care-free satisfaction with himself. Erna watched -him with glances sharpened by caution. - -But it was necessary to dress. She was beginning to feel chilly. Without -getting up, she slipped on her waist, that had been lying nearby on the -floor. - -Jimmy Allen's mood had reached a state of hopeless disregard. He -committed a decided blunder. With cheerful candor, he asked, without -troubling himself to turn around: "Erna! When do we move in?" - -She gave his back an indignant glance. "What did you say?" - -"I said: when do we move in?" - -Her instinct was up in arms. Throwing coolness into her reply, she -returned deliberately: "Not until doomsday." - -He stopped fixing his tie. But he continued: "You're gettin' crazy -again." - -"I'm not," she replied without changing her tone. "I said: not until -doomsday." - -He turned toward her, smiling. But the smile left his face. "What's the -matter now?" he asked, coming forward. - -"Go on dressin'!" she commanded, his smile having started her petulance. - -He, however, had come over to the couch and now stood over her, staring -at her stupidly. She looked up at him, animosity in her glance. His -vapid expression deepened. - -"Well?" she challenged. - -"Sore?" he asked humbly. - -"No!" - -He tried to study her. Gradually, light penetrated his cloudy -understanding: Erna was just like other women. Luckily, some stroke of -intuition prompted him not to turn away this time. Instead, he put his -hands on her shoulders and said with unaccustomed seriousness: "Erna! -Don't be sore." - -"I'm not sore," she resented. - -"I know--but--" - -"You don't have to explain," she cried melodramatically. Strange to say, -Erna seemed ready to cry. - -At a loss, Jimmy tried philosophy: "'Cause life is Hell to some folks, -Erna, we don't have to imitate 'em, do we?" He could not tell whether -she was listening. "Gimme a chance!" he added more cheerfully. "Quit the -beanery an' gimme a chance! I don't want life to be Hell for you. Gimme -the chance, won't you?" He waited, but she did not look up. "You -listenin'?" - -"Yes," she said. - -"Then quit the beanery, Erna! We can live nice an' cosy an' happy here, -can't we? You like it here?" - -"Yes," she admitted. - -"Let's get the minister then!" he concluded quietly. - -She removed his hands from her shoulders. - -"Erna!" he repeated. - -"Wait a moment," she cut him short, although in a milder tone. - -"Stick to your freedom!" he had advised her. He was so human that he -understood everything. And yet, Jimmy--if she were not forced to decide -so soon! - -Her strength came back under the influence of this tonic. A little of -her innate cheerfulness revived as well. She looked up at Jimmy. His -puzzled expression disappeared, and he smiled in encouragement. She -smiled too. - -"Got somethin' to say," he read. "What is it?" - -"Marriage'd be Hell, Jimmy," she announced without emotion. - -"Why?" he demanded abruptly, but recollecting himself, stopped. Dimly, -he once more realized that Erna was a woman. And the man's psychology -assisted him: Nature and his long enduring exasperation had been -satisfied. Why worry his head trying to understand Erna? Let her take -care of herself. She would outgrow her present mood. He grew blasé, and -repeated quietly: "Why?" - -"I dunno," she explained doubtfully. "Just because, I suppose." - -He sat down beside her, not so much to help her wrestle with the problem -as to encourage her to speak. She was thoughtful. "I guess I don't want -to," she continued, but with increasing doubt. - -"You don't want to marry? Why?" - -"I wouldn't be free," she declared in an uncertain way. - -"Why not?" he demanded. "You'd be free? You could do what you want. I -wouldn't stop you?" - -She shook her head. - -An idea came to him. "Maybe you'd rather--" but he stopped, remembering -a former experience. - -"Go ahead," she advised him. - -"You'll get sore again," he protested. - -"No, I won't," she disagreed, but anticipated him with: "I know what you -were goin' to say." - -"You do? Well?" - -Erna averted her glance. The old thoughts passed in quick review: -Landsmann's--Mr. Nielsen's advice--scraps of the past--home. She could -live with him a little while and then marry him if all went well. That -seemed best for her. - -"Wait'll to-morrow!" he interrupted her. "You're kind o' up in the air -now. You'll be surer to-morrow." - -She nodded absent-mindedly. - -"You'll let me know to-morrow?" - -"Yes." - -"Sure?" - -"Yes." - -"All right! Forget it! We'll get it all settled to-morrow. An' if you'd -still want to have the minister--" - -She shook her head negatively. Jimmy appeared just as well satisfied. He -did not understand, but what was the difference, and what the use of -worrying? "You love me, don'tcher?" - -Again, she nodded absent-mindedly. He pushed her with rough good nature. -Presently, he got up, returned to the mirror and again busied himself -with his tie. Erna likewise continued dressing. She had reached a -decision. And she was cheerful once more. But she would wait until -to-morrow. It might be better. - - - - - X - - -Mollie and Gretchen, the Landsmann waitresses, were gossipping. It was -about eight o'clock, the next morning. Above the rattle of dishes in the -kitchen, this is what one might have overheard: - -"Yes, I saw her with him." - -"So did I a few nights ago." - -"They must go out every night." - -"Of course! She's out every night since he's back. Who else would she go -with?" - -"It's just like her." - -"Yes! I always said she'd go back to 'im." - -"It was _me_ said that." - -"Maybe you did, but I said it first. She's a fine girl to be workin' in -an honest place like this to be goin' out with a common prize-fighter." - -"Not to have any more self-respect!" - -"Yes! I always said she'd come to a bad end." - -"Looks that way!" - -Their gossipping might have continued indefinitely had not part of it -been heard by an eavesdropper. She came stealthily into the kitchen and -of a sudden, the waitresses received some resounding slaps. The pair -screamed. - -Erna called them one or two unquotable names and tried to continue her -attack. But she saw Landsmann coming into the kitchen and beat a retreat -into the dining room, although not without this parting shot: "So you're -the kind I've been givin' dresses to!" - -Herr Landsmann was a busy man. Both waitresses were trying to explain at -the same time. And Mollie was weeping violently. At length, he succeeded -in holding an excited consultation with the girls, and with him at their -head, they marched out into the store in ragged single file. The trio -hurriedly argued the case before Mrs. Landsmann, who was standing behind -the counter, guarding the cash register. Pretty soon, Mollie cried: -"Here he comes now!" - -Jimmy Allen entered. He greeted the Landsmanns and the waitresses and -then some of his friends, as he passed the store tables. "How about -Young Walcott?" called one. "Next Wednesday," Jimmy returned. "Trainin' -again?" "Yes, I start to-day." And the young hero penetrated the kitchen -and stepped down into the dining room. - -Erna was in a disordered state. Some of the customers were endeavoring -to pacify her, but she refused their offers. She spied Jimmy and -throwing down all caution, hurried over to him. He soon heard enough -details. - -The young man struck a melodramatic pose. "We'll clear out o' this -hole," he exclaimed. She put her hand on his arm, but he shook it off. -"Go up-stairs an' pack your things!" - -"But Jimmy--" - -"Never mind!" he interrupted. "You don't have to stay here. If you did, -it'd be different. Go up-stairs an' pack up!" - -She looked at him with momentary dread, but Jimmy waved his hand toward -the doorway. Two of the customers got up to interfere, but he gave them -threatening glances. Erna moved away and then stopped in uncertainty. -"Go ahead!" he ordered her. She tried to go, but Landsmann stood in the -doorway. His face was struggling between anger and dignity. - -"Erna!" he commanded. - -She stared at him. - -"Go right up-stairs and--" - -The storekeeper noticed Jimmy's threatening attitude and hesitated. "Go -on!" that individual encouraged him. "Got any more to say?" - -Evidently, the German had not. - -"Then get 'er money ready an' see there ain't a cent short, you lousy -Dutchman! I'll see she gets her deserts. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I'll -help you!" - -Herr Landsmann disappeared and so did Erna. Jimmy, master of the moment, -gave the dining room denizens a look of contemptuous pride and likewise -went out. - -Consternation prevailed. Each patron wanted to express an opinion, and -argument rose high. Only one of them held his peace: John Carstairs. He -sat aloof, a picture of gloom and stupor. - - * * * * * - -It was an early hour that evening. Carstairs was seated at the piano in -his small cosy room. The gas was turned fairly low. Except for -intermittent sounds from the instrument, the room was quiet. - -The young man was composing. Vague measures, desolate of all cheer, -followed one another in funeral tempo. The monotony, unbroken by even -one note of prophecying gladness, was maddening. But the young man -persisted in his lugubrious incantation. Presently, he got up, turned -the gas a little higher and sat down again. A sheet of music paper lay -in front of him. Only a few measures and the title--Dirge--had been -transcribed. He started jotting down more notes. - -There was a knock at the door. He did not hear it. The knock was -repeated. Carstairs struck a petulant dissonance, arose wearily, went -over to the door and opened it part way. - -"Special delivery!" a man announced. - -Carstairs signed the slip, the postman went away and the door was -closed. The young composer examined the handwriting and quickly tore -open the envelope. The note was very short. - -He gave way to eager joy. And he breathed a name twice over: "Elsie!" -Nervous animation betrayed him further. He re-read the note five or six -times, looked about in bewilderment and re-read the note again. Of a -sudden, he hurried over to the bureau and pulled open the bottom drawer. -A litter of odds and ends was laid bare. With anxious haste, he threw -them all about on the floor. At last, he came to a picture: the -photograph of a pretty girl. His joy deepened; he held the picture at -arm's length and gazed a fill of delight. He then arighted himself, went -over to the piano, moved the photograph of an older woman to one side -and placed this picture near the centre. He was soon occupied studying -the effect, and ultimate satisfaction was his. - -He again sat down at the piano, but was unable to take his glance from -the picture. Eventually, he smiled, gave the picture an _au revoir_ look -and again turned his attention to the keyboard and manuscript. He had -decided to finish his composition just the same. The dirge continued -intoning its gloomy measures, but a note of prophecying gladness -appeared. From time to time, too, the composer stole shy glances at the -photograph. - - * * * * * - -In a cosy room in a building not far away, a different scene was taking -place. Eric Nielsen and Erna Vitek were sitting close together on a -couch, chatting confidentially and bantering each other. - -Erna had not broken off her appointment with the young writer even -though a sudden change had come into her life. Luckily, Jimmy was away -all afternoon, training up in Fordham, and, thanks to his continued -absence, she was able to leave their flat shortly after six o'clock. She -would only stay out an hour or so and, should he return before her, -would tell him that she had to visit Landsmann's for some small articles -she had left behind. On the way to Nielsen's, she bought two or three -trifles. Fortunately, she had found him at home, although she was two -hours beforehand. - -He had heard of the morning's event and was heartily sorry. But Erna -quickly reassured him. Of course, he did not believe the hazy part of -her story,--that she was "stayin' with some friends"--but his philosophy -was equal to the occasion: what Erna hid from him was no concern of his. -In all, they had been spending a delightful evening. As a consequence, -Erna was staying much longer than she had planned. - -Nielsen enjoyed her company. She was a splendid stimulant to his -stimulant-craving mental system. After his recent intercourse with the -every-day woman and the every-day man,--a monotonous gallery of drab -souls--she was a touch of brilliant color. Her joy, animal spirit and -fighting instinct enthralled him. She stimulated his imagination -particularly and consequently brought him back to his old interest in -his life and work. So he was trebly indebted to her. - -Erna's greed had developed rapidly, and she had grown reckless in short -order. Nielsen inspired her complete confidence. He did not take her too -seriously, neither did he take her too lightly. This was just what she -had craved so long. As a result, at the height of her confidence and his -bantering comment, she allowed him to sit next to her, and they -developed their further intimacy. For the present, she had forgotten -Jimmy. He was physical and did not inspire her as Nielsen's human -temperament did so easily and so quietly. Moreover, her Vitek blood had -been excited. - -Therefore, it was inside a natural sequence of happenings that Nielsen's -arm stole about Erna's waist and that she submitted to the liberty. To -tell the truth, Nielsen was decidedly under the influence of the wine in -her nature and she under that in his. - -"Isn't this wicked?" he questioned pleasantly. - -"No," she denied. - -"But it's growing darker," he protested. - -"So much the better!" she retorted. - -And they both laughed. - -"This is rat time," he warned her. - -"I don't care," she vaunted. - -And they laughed again. - -Erna did not leave the Nielsen workshop until well after nine o'clock. - - - - - XI - - -It was the following Monday noon. Breen and Nielsen were seated at the -last table in Landsmann's rear dining room, eating and gossipping. -"Gretchen!" called the former. - -Erna's successor came forward. - -"Bring me a mocha tart, please." - -"Yes, sir"--and the girl walked away. - -"So you think you'll be able to finish your story?" Breen questioned. - -"I think so," was Nielsen's thoughtful response. "I've found the missing -link." - -"But is any story ever finished?" Breen protested. "Can't you always -find room for additional installments?" - -Not being in an argumentative mood, Nielsen quietly accepted his -friend's criticism. Soon, they were both meditative. Gretchen brought -the mocha tart and went away. Hers was a peace-loving temperament, in -distinct contrast to Erna's, an opinion Breen expressed. Nielsen again -accepted his criticism. - -"After all," the artist added comfortably: "Erna was quite a study. I -confess, she fooled me." - -"How so?" - -"By running off with that young gladiator." - -"Then you think she's living with him?" - -"Of course. What other conclusion should I come to?" - -Nielsen did not answer. At length he said: "Then you're ready to alter -your decision of the other day?" - -"That she's a moral little thing?" Breen replied. - -"Yes, to some extent," he declared generously. "Her last act does change -my first consideration a bit. But I still refuse to credit her with -being _un_moral." - -"Which means that you believe her _im_moral?" Nielsen ventured in a -droll tone. - -"I suppose so." - -"Explain yourself!" - -"She's accepted a life contrary to Society's code or her own code--if -she was ever unconventional enough to have one, which I doubt." - -Nielsen smiled. "If what you say is true, we're all of us more or less -immoral." - -"Why so?" - -"Because every one barters his soul some time during his existence, and -some of us are doing so all the time. At heart, you know, we're most of -us, unmoral, in appearance, moral, but in action, immoral." - -Breen laughed in amiable derision. "What scrambled egg philosophy!" he -cried. "Where did you learn it, noble scholar?" - -"Nowhere," Nielsen answered and frowned. But his ready good nature -intervened and he observed gently: "At any rate, Breen, I disagree with -you regarding Erna." - -"That she's neither moral nor immoral?" - -"She has a little bit of each--like all of us," the young author agreed; -"but fundamentally she's unmoral." - -"Bravo! So that will be the end of your story?" - -"I don't know," Nielsen silenced him and smiled a second time. - -Breen shook his head with a knowing air. After an interval, he -requested: "Will you see her again?" - -"I'm not certain," Nielsen said without emotion. "I imagine I will some -time. But it won't be necessary." - -The young men finished their meal. - -A little later, Nielsen was alone in his studio. He was sitting at his -small writing desk, looking over some material that lay in front of him. -Presently, he seemed worried, but only for a moment. No, the point was -absolutely clear. Erna had settled it for him the other evening. At -heart, she was unmoral. The young author commenced writing. - -Through some insidious channel, a thought managed to come between his -mind and the manuscript: would he see her again? Quickly, he beat it -down: it would be unnecessary to see her again; there was nothing more -for him to learn. Still, he had enjoyed himself the other evening. The -physical, so glorious, so great, had once more penetrated his life. -Would he drive it away? Nielsen stopped writing. - -Almost resentfully, he mused: What had he and the physical to do with -each other? The physical gave him new experience, yes, but it was almost -always experience that he courted and utilized for his work. He must not -expect more; he must continue to sacrifice everything--thought, emotion, -volition--to work. Nothing else existed; in no other way could he hope -to reach the realm of artist. He must drive Erna and the other evening's -sensations from his memory. She had served as his model, no more; so he -must not permit her personality or his own to interfere again. -Furthermore, he must be cautious on her behalf as well. She was a -joyous, healthy animal. Jimmy Allen was a joyous, healthy animal. They -were mated, and were living together, undoubtedly. The chapter was -closed. He must not desire more. - -Nielsen tightened his resolve. In another moment, he was again busy, -writing. - -There was a knock at the door. He did not hear it. The knock was -repeated more loudly. He looked around petulantly, got up, went over to -the door and opened it. "Oh, it's you," he said, but not with -cordiality. - -Erna came in. - -"I was down in the neighborhood," she apologized. - -"You were right to come up," he reassured her, sorry to have treated her -discourteously. "Take off your things!" - -"But you're busy," she protested. - -"Not at all. Only a little touch or two I was working on. They can -wait." - -Reluctantly, Erna permitted him to help her remove her coat. She did not -take off her hat. "Sit down," he advised her, his regret for his -momentary show of self-interest developing. - -She sat down on a chair. He seated himself at his desk, but faced her. -"What's new?" he asked pleasantly. - -"Nothin' much," she returned and glanced at him. - -His glance met hers, and he quickly looked elsewhere. He felt a sharp -pain: he had gone too far the other evening. Erna likewise looked away. -She had seen enough; her instinct knew. There was an awkward pause. - -Nielsen gave her a sidelong glance. What could he do? This was dreadful. -He should not have gone so far. Erna was staring at the floor. He could -see her pugnacious nose and her determined mouth and chin, and felt -somewhat relieved. Her case might not be as serious as he feared. She -had tenacious strength of character. But the situation was very -uncomfortable notwithstanding. He should not have gone so far. It was -selfish--whether a man's selfishness or an artist's. Nielsen turned -away. - -Again, he glanced in her direction, but she was still staring at the -floor. Luckily, she had Jimmy; they were living together--at least, he -had taken that much for granted by putting her story and the bakery -scandal side by side. They were suited to each other. What could or -should she have to do with such a thing as an artist? Perhaps, the -novelty in their short affair had appealed to her. She was a greedy -nature. She craved everything: sun, moon, stars and all. He himself had -only been one of them. This conjecture satisfied him considerably. And -he breathed with returning freedom. - -She looked up. He smiled. She smiled too. And he breathed still more -freely. - -"What have you been doing lately?" he questioned cheerfully. - -"I've been busy straightenin' out," she replied, and looked at him. - -He moved restlessly. There was a second pause, but only a short one. - -"You've been busy too," she said. - -"Oh yes, I--I've been working on a story." - -"What kind of a story?" - -"Merely a foolish little affair about a foolish little affair," he -hastened to condemn. - -Her glance dropped. His work and her own lived apart. "I brought back -'Little Eyolf'." - -"So I saw. Did you like it?" - -"Not very much." - -"Why not?" - -"It's too sad," she explained. "An' I don't like cripples." - -"Of course!" he broke out. "I forgot that you love only joy and happy -people." - -"An' freedom," she concluded unconsciously. - -"Certainly, and freedom," he agreed. - -He caught a glimpse of her eyes--eyes that could love you to-day and -hate you to-morrow--and felt still more reconciled with circumstances. -Erna craved freedom, and was free. She could take care of herself. She -possessed that rare thing, the life-controlling temperament. Perhaps, -she would not need even Jimmy Allen. How splendid she was! Would she -hate him to-morrow? It would be a shame. He had only to raise his -hand--and they could continue. But he must not, it would be so much -better for her. She would be miserable with him: an artist and not a -physical man. She belonged to Jimmy--and still more, to herself. He must -not interfere, but leave her destiny to destiny. Nielsen felt almost -completely relieved. - -"You _love_ your work, don't you?" Erna announced with unexpected -candor. - -Nielsen looked at her with sharpened eyes. She was glorious. She had -emphasized "love" and not "work." He could scarcely reply. - -"Don't you?" she repeated. - -She was more than glorious. Her own gameness had fought the problem for -her. She required assistance from no one. - -"Yes," was all he was able to say, his emotions crowding him. - -"Do you write a whole lot?" - -"Yes, lots and lots, but it's all trivial." - -"Oh no!" she contradicted him. - -"Oh yes!" he mimicked her, and laughed, although he did not know why. -"My writings are as much like life--" as you are like art, he would have -finished, but hesitated. - -"As what?" she assisted him. - -"As the catching of butterflies is like the catching of rats," he closed -with a return to himself. - -"Oh, the Rat-wife!" she interpreted. - -"Yes." - -"You're not a rat-wife writer then?" - -"No." - -"You're not a butterfly writer either?" - -"Why not?" - -"'Cause butterflies come from caterpillars, don't they?" - -"Yes," Nielsen admitted and laughed again, although his emotions were -threatening him, as before. "I forgot about the caterpillars." - -"Yes, I hate 'em," she reminded him. "They're too--too--" - -"Fuzzy wuzzy!" he helped her. - -"Yes," she accepted and laughed for the first time, if not very -heartily. - -Nielsen studied her with frank admiration. Her nature was that of a -lioness. She looked capable of pushing over or slipping from under any -circumstance. She did not even require one's sympathy. And still?--But -he resisted the temptation. For her sake, it would be better not to -continue. - -"I must be goin'," she said suddenly. - -"Oh no, not yet!" he begged. - -"Yes, I must be goin'," she insisted and got up. "I got shoppin' to do." - -"Haven't you finished decorating?" he inquired, and got up against his -will. - -"No," she returned and smiled. - -Nielsen helped her with her coat. He was tempted to put his arms about -her, but resisted. It would make her departure more difficult. She -turned around. "Is my hat on straight?" - -"Oh yes," he assured her and added, by way of controlling himself: -"_Vanitas vanitatum!_" - -"What's that?" - -"More triviality!" he declared. - -Erna started toward the door, but he stopped her with: "Don't you want -another book to read?" - -The temptation was a strong one, but she dodged it: "No, I'll be too -busy now. Maybe, later on," she concluded with a lingering tone. - -Nielsen looked away. Erna continued toward the door, but he hurried -after her and opened and held it open for her. - -"Good-bye," she said. - -"Oh no, not good-bye, but _au revoir_!" he quoted gently. - -"That's a hard word to pronounce." - -"Try it anyhow," he encouraged her. - -"Orrevore!" - -"Fine!" he congratulated her, repeated the phrase, and added: "Come in -again soon." - -"Yes," she agreed. - -But she never did. - - - - - XII - - -Two months passed. - -Erna Vitek was still living with Jimmy Allen. There was, however, less -and less likelihood that they would ever marry. In fact, the most -probable issue to their affair was that they would separate again, in -the near future and this time for good. - -Erna was tired of Jimmy. For some weeks past, her restless nature had -been craving some one else, or better still, some other mode of living, -her present one having reached a state of unbearable monotony. She -recovered from her experience with Eric Nielsen only after several weeks -of struggle. Even such a fine tonic as that supplied her so freely by -her resource of blood found the healing of her wound no ordinary matter, -but she had recovered, except for an occasional memory. Her battle with -her craving for Nielsen did not assist her attachment for Jimmy; on the -contrary, the latter degenerated by contrast. And Jimmy, himself, was -very much to blame as well. He had changed toward her. - -It is no doubt true that possession often breeds boredom, and boredom, -carelessness. Erna, before possession and after possession, was not the -same individual, and Jimmy treated her accordingly. He was no longer an -anxious desire-maddened suitor. - -Furthermore, he was softening physically. He continued training for his -schedule of fistic contests and carried out that schedule; he defeated -Young Walcott, the man from Chicago and another, but lately, had fought -two very poor draws, in the latter of which he, himself, was on the -point of being knocked out. His manager, the astute Jerry Nolan, was -losing patience with him. He bluntly attributed his protégé's decline to -the fact that he was "livin' with a woman. A man's got to cut out drink -if he wants to succeed as a athlete, but he's got to be _sure_ to cut -out women. They sucks his blood an' strength." - -Jimmy did not agree with this sentiment. He continued to live with Erna. -What is more, he had threatened to move out of the Nolan apartment and -"to throw up the sponge"--quit the prize-ring--if his manager persisted -in arguing along these lines. Although Nolan submitted, he found other -grounds upon which to pick quarrels with Jimmy. The truth is, the young -manager was ambitious, and Jimmy's ability to climb the pugilistic -ladder reflected credit upon him. He had always felt and expressed his -faith in his protégé and prophesied that he would be "mixin' it with the -top notchers" not far hence, a prophecy Jimmy substantiated by defeating -"the Kid," Young Walcott and the westerner so decisively. But he was in -danger now, as his recent battles and his late mutiny testified. Should -Jimmy fall from grace a second time, it would be irrevocably. Therefore, -Nolan was using eloquence, persuasion, threats, anything, to save him. - -Many of their quarrels took place in Erna's presence. After a while, -Jimmy, much to her growing distaste, formed the habit of bringing Nolan -and "some o' the boys" to the flat. Custom gradually trained them to -believe that she was nothing more than part of the furniture, and they -accepted her attentions, due them as Jimmy's guests, just so. They -stayed well on into the night, amused themselves, played pranks, broke -dishes, quarrelled, made up--and came again. And more and more, they -looked upon Erna with contempt. On her side, she hated and despised -them. - -During the day, Jimmy was usually absent, training at the Nolan -headquarters in Fordham. Erna saw him for a moment in the morning, when -she prepared his breakfast, and at evening, when she prepared his -supper, not to see him again, as a rule, until fairly late at night, -except when he brought "the boys." To be sure, she slept with him -and--well, she hated that too. It made her feel herself some dirty, -inferior animal. - -Erna's days were still more monotonous. She sewed quite a little, -attended to details of house work, which were few, and otherwise, took -long walks or went to an afternoon vaudeville or moving picture show. As -she was accustomed to a day of constant labor and occupation, she had -never known much idleness; her evenings were spent in resting or in the -search of a little excitement. Moreover, Erna's was purely an emotional -nature; she did not possess the intellect or imagination so requisite -toward making idleness useful. Unfortunately, she had no friends to -visit. - -At first, Jimmy gave her money in regular installments. Their house -expenses paid, she would have a sufficient balance with which to indulge -herself--with a new hat, a new dress, a few odds and ends, or her -afternoon amusements. The installments, however, were more and more -irregular and smaller in amount; last week, none had materialized. The -reason was this: Jimmy had returned to drinking. And the climax was -impending. One night, he came home late, pretty well drunk. - -Erna opened the door. He swayed and then staggered into the room, a -broad leer on his face. "Howsh--the--girl?" he demanded stupidly. - -He tried to embrace her, but Erna stepped back, and he nearly fell. With -an effort, he straightened himself and laughed. "Wha--whash--a--matter?" - -Erna's resentment poured over. "You beast!" she said in low tones. - -"You--what?" He leaned forward to hear better. - -"Beast, I said," and she pelted him with epithets and reproaches. - -Jimmy made several ludicrous attempts to apologize, and protested: -"I--I'm not--d-drunk; I--I'm just--ossified." And he laughed more -stupidly and tried to approach. - -"Keep away!" - -"Wha--whash--a--matter?" - -"Keep away!" - -"Wheresh--No--Nolan?" - -"Nolan's in hell, where he belongs," she cried angrily, and a second -tirade followed, directed this time at the manager and Jimmy's friends. - -"Be c-c-careful!" he interrupted, but she added further condemnation. -"Be c-c-careful!" he repeated. "No--Nolan's a frien' o' mine an' so's -P-p-piggy Wallace. Be c-c-careful!" - -His defence only succeeded in infuriating her. She concluded with two or -three judgments that included the families of those gentlemen. Jimmy's -good nature stopped. "You ----!" he called her and stumbled toward her. - -Erna retreated, her face aflame. Once more, he called her ---- and fell -toward her. She tried to ward him off, for he had driven her against the -couch. But Jimmy pushed himself forward and raising his fist, brought it -down clumsily upon her face. Erna slipped and fell upon the couch, her -mouth bleeding. - -Furious, she jumped up and attacked Jimmy. He was in a defenceless -condition, and blows rained upon his shoulders, body and head. He tried -to raise his guard, but it was useless. At length, swearing -incoherently, she struck him full in the face, and he swayed, mumbled -stupidly and toppled over on the couch, unconscious or asleep--more -likely the latter. Handsome Jimmy was a disgusting sight. - -Erna, still struggling with herself, looked down at him. He started -snoring, a part painful, part beatific smile wrinkling his face. His -legs were dangling over the side of the couch. She gave them a kick, -lifted them and shoved them onto the couch. She then turned away and -wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Erna had come to a simple -determination. - -Without hesitation, she went over to a closet and opened the door. She -likewise pulled open the drawer of a commode. And somewhere, she found -an old suit case and dragged that forth. Her packing did not last more -than twenty minutes. She left a hat, a dress and some odds and ends -behind her. - - * * * * * - -One pleasant late afternoon about two weeks later, Eric Nielsen was -occupied in writing at his desk. He was engaged on an essay he had -planned and started some time ago. His pencil was moving more rapidly -than usual. - -The door was opened gently and Bainbridge Breen came in. "Busy?" he -inquired. - -"Come in! I'll be through in a second," Nielsen returned without looking -up. - -The painter came forward. The author's pencil scribbled a little faster, -a period was jotted down, and he laid aside the pencil, at the same time -eyeing his work and sighing with satisfaction. - -"Finished?" - -"Oh no, not for some time. I've got several thousand words more," -Nielsen explained. - -"How's it coming on?" - -"Splendidly!" was the optimistic rejoinder. "If I can keep sufficient -enthusiasm in my body, I ought to be able to carry it through -perfectly." - -"It'll be your _chef-d'oeuvre_, I suppose," Breen observed with his -customary pleasantry. - -"I hope so," Nielsen admitted seriously. "It's stronger than anything -I've done, I feel. It shows maturity, I think, not only maturity of -judgment, but maturity of execution as well." - -"In other words, Art," Breen interrupted slyly. "What more do you ask?" - -"Nothing," confessed Nielsen, and his warm smile appeared. - -"But what's the matter with the story?" the painter demanded. - -"How do you mean?" the author retorted. - -"I thought _that_ had fulfilled your ambition." - -"Not quite, not quite," Nielsen hastened to deny, and was thoughtful. "I -don't know just what it was, but there was something missing in it," he -said gently, and changing the subject, concluded abruptly: "I'm sure I -have that something in this essay." - -Breen explained himself: "You know what made me ask about the story?" - -"No. What?" - -"I had lunch in a small bakery on Sixth Avenue this noon." - -"Well?" - -"Guess whom I saw there?" - -"Well?" - -"Can't you guess?" - -"Out with it!" - -"Our old friend: Erna Vitek!" - -Nielsen turned and stared at his friend. He was unable to speak. - -"What do you think o' that?" Breen pursued, unruffled. - -"She must have left Allen." - -"Yes!" - -"And is working again?" - -"Yes!" - -Nielsen stared at the floor now. He seemed unable to formulate, much -less express, an opinion. "How is she? Changed?" he requested at last. - -"Somewhat! She's quite a little harder and a bit more quiet--that is the -way matters appeared to me. But her eyes have lost none of their -boldness. And besides, she seems to like it there." - -"She does?" - -"Yes, and she's very popular too." - -"How so?" - -"The men are very attentive, it looked to me," Breen volunteered -significantly. - -"And she?" - -"She's still got an eye open. Not as wide open, perhaps, as in the old -days, but it isn't closed, that's certain." - -Nielsen was silent, reflecting. - -At length, Breen asked: "What do you imagine will become of her?" - -"How?" - -"I mean, of her life--what life do you suppose she'll lead eventually: -this young lady so moral, unmoral or--" - -"I can't say exactly," Nielsen, who disliked the topic, interrupted. - -"Think she'll take to the streets?" - -"No, no, not that!" was the vehement denial. - -"Why not?" - -Again, Nielsen seemed unable to answer, but he boasted unexpectedly: -"She's too strong. She has fight in her--and love of freedom." - -"But so have street ladies." - -"Yes, but they don't carry it through." - -"Why not?" - -"I don't know," was the stubborn reply. "They don't, that's all." - -"Well, do you? Does Tom, Dick or Harry? Does Erna?" - -"I don't know. Let's drop the subject." - -"_I_ wouldn't be so certain that she does," Breen insinuated, still -persisting. - -"Of course, _you_ wouldn't," Nielsen condemned, unable longer to hold -back his emotion. "You're wisdom itself." - -The young artist decided to shift the topic: "Heard from Carstairs -lately?" - -Animation returned to Nielsen. "Yes, I heard from John last night." - -"Is he still in Indianapolis?" - -"Yes, he has a fine position there and seems contented now." - -"And Elsie Pearson?" - -"Oh, that'll come off, as you said the other day." - -"Marriage?" - -"Yes!" - -"Good for John! I'm glad he won. He was a long time waiting." - -Nelsen nodded. He was thoughtful once more. But he shook off the mood -and asked: "What are you doing, Breen?" - -"Getting ready for spring." - -"That's so--spring'll be here in a week or two. Going out to the country -as usual?" - -"Yes, I've gathered a bunch of canvases and plenty of tubes, etcetera, -and off I'll go." - -"Going to Connecticut again?" - -"Yes, that's the only country for a landscape painter." - -"I suppose so," Nielsen agreed. - -"How about supper?" Breen interposed. - -"Why, what time is it?" - -"After five o'clock." - -"By Jove--that late? I must be getting dressed soon." - -"Got an engagement?" - -"Yes, I'm going to feed with the Plymptons." - -"Too bad! That means, I'll have to eat alone. See you in the morning! So -long!" and Breen moved away. - -"Going over to Landsmann's?" - -"Yes. But it's hopelessly dull there these days. It'll give me the -incurables to-night." - -"Or a tummy-ache, at least," Nielsen added good-humoredly. - -"Yes, so long!" - -"So long!" - -Breen went out quietly and closed the door. Nielsen studied the door -with a blank expression. But he shook himself and returned to his -manuscript. In a moment, he was absorbed, re-reading. - - - POETRY - - A MAGAZINE OF VERSE - - Edited by Harriet Monroe, 543 Cass St., Chicago, Ill. - - POETRY, at the end of its first year, is no longer an experiment - but an assured artistic success, a publication whose importance - is authoritatively recognized, not only in this country, but in - Great Britain and France as well. The field it has opened up is - full of brilliant possibilities, encouraging the editors to hope - for the enthusiastic support of a discriminating public. - - POETRY endeavors to present the best verse now being written in - English, quality alone being the test of acceptance. - - POETRY is an effort to create an organ for the art. While the - ordinary magazines must minister to a large public little - interested in poetry, this magazine appeals to and will develop a - public primarily interested in poetry as an art, potentially the - highest, most complete human expression of truth and beauty. Thus - it offers to poets a chance to be heard by their own audience, in - their own place, without the limitations imposed by the popular - magazines. And to lovers of poetry it offers each month a sheaf - of new verse in delicate form uninterrupted by prose articles - demanding a different mood. - - If You Love Good Poetry, Subscribe-- - - POETRY - 543 Cass Street, Chicago. - - Send POETRY for one year ($1.50 enclosed) beginning - - ............................. to - - Name ........................... - - Address ........................ - - - THE INTERCOLLEGIATE SOCIALIST - - Thought-Compelling, Admirably Written Quarterly of - Socialism and the Socialist Movement - - Among the year's contributors are: - - Karl Kautsky, Jean Longuet, Keir Hardie, Morris Hillquit, - Alexander Irvine, Helen L. Sumner, Sidney and Beatrice Webb, - Prof. Vida D. Scudder, Upton Sinclair, William English Walling, - Charles Zueblin, Ernest Poole, Howard Brubaker, Albert Edwards, - Jessie W. Hughan, Caro Lloyd. - - READ ITS REVIEW OF BOOKS! - - SUBSCRIPTION, 25c. - SINGLE COPY, 10c. - 15 COPIES, $1.00. - - INTERCOLLEGIATE SOCIALIST SOCIETY - 105 WEST 40TH STREET - - NEW YORK CITY - - - THE INTERNATIONAL - - A magazine for matured minds. - - A magazine for those who dare to think. - - A magazine for all true cosmopolites. - - A magazine with a courage so fearless that it publishes the best. - - Brieux, Schnitzler, Strindberg are only a few of the advanced - thinkers who have appeared in the pages of THE INTERNATIONAL. - - We have been in the vanguard of intellectual freedom. - - We shall always be far ahead of our times. - - You may glimpse the future by reading THE INTERNATIONAL. - - George Sylvester Viereck, Editor. - Leonard D. Abbott, Richard Le Gallienne, Associate Editors. - - 15 CENTS A COPY. $1.50 A YEAR. - - MOODS PUBLISHING COMPANY - 29 WEST 42ND STREET - - NEW YORK CITY - - - The April issue of THE - GLEBE will present - Collects and prose-pieces - by Horace Traubel. - - Subscription price per year, $3.00 - - - - - Transcriber's Notes - - -The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical -errors were silently corrected. All other changes are listed here -(before/after): - - [p. 104]: - ... her desserts. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I'll help ... - ... her deserts. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I'll help ... - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): -Erna Vitek, by Alfred Kreymborg - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GLEBE 1914/03 (VOL. 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 63125-8.txt or 63125-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/1/2/63125/ - -Produced by Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This book was -produced from images made available by the Blue Mountain -Project, Princeton University. - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm 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 ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -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-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.B. "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-tm 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-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain 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-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. 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-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm 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: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (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-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. 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-tm License. - -1.E.6. 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-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -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-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm 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." - -- 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-tm - 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-tm works. - -- 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. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -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 Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.F.2. 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-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.F.3. 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. - -1.F.4. 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. - -1.F.5. 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. - -1.F.6. 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-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm 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 http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -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 -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. 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. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., 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 -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -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 http://pglaf.org - -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. - -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. - -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: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -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. diff --git a/old/63125-8.zip b/old/63125-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1e55f37..0000000 --- a/old/63125-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63125-h.zip b/old/63125-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 244f844..0000000 --- a/old/63125-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63125-h/63125-h.htm b/old/63125-h/63125-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 0ceb8c5..0000000 --- a/old/63125-h/63125-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7855 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna Vitek, by Alfred Kreymborg</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - <!-- TITLE="The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna Vitek" --> - <!-- AUTHOR="Alfred Kreymborg" --> - <!-- LANGUAGE="en" --> - <!-- PUBLISHER="Albert and Charles Boni, New York" --> - <!-- DATE="1914" --> - <!-- COVER="images/cover.jpg" --> - -<style type='text/css'> - -body { margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%; } - -div.coverpage { display:none; } -div.coverpage p { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-bottom:1em; } -div.frontmatter { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:30em; } -div.frontmatter h1.title { text-indent:0; text-align:center; } -div.frontmatter .aut { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; - margin-bottom:2em; } -div.frontmatter .aut .line1{ font-size:0.8em; } -div.frontmatter .logo { margin-bottom:2em; } -div.frontmatter .pub { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; - font-size:0.8em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; } -div.frontmatter .cop { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em; - margin-top:4em; } -div.frontmatter .halftitle { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; - margin-top:4em; } -div.backmatter { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:15em; } -div.backmatter .next { border-top:4px double black; border-bottom:4px double black; - padding-top:1em; padding-bottom:1em; margin-top:4em; } -div.backmatter .price { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em; } - -div.chapter{ page-break-before:always; } -p.tit2 { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold; - margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:1em; } -h2 { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1em; } - -p { margin:0; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em; } -p.first { text-indent:0; } -p.noindent { text-indent:0; } -.tb { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin:1em; } - -/* spans */ -.underline { text-decoration:underline; } -.hidden { display:none; } - -/* ads */ -div.ads { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:40em; font-size:0.8em; - border:1px solid black; margin-bottom:1em; page-break-before:always; - margin-top:1em; padding:0.5em; } -div.ads p { text-indent:0; margin-bottom:0.5em; } -div.ads .adh { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; margin:1em; - font-size:1.5em; } -div.ads .ads { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin:1em; } -div.ads .adp { text-indent:0; text-align:center; margin:1em; font-size:0.8em; } -div.ads .ade { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; margin:1em; - font-size:1.2em; } -div.ads .c { text-indent:0; text-align:center; } -div.ads .b { font-weight:bold; } -div.ads .s { font-size:0.8em; } -div.ads .i { font-style:italic; } -div.ads .hang { text-indent:-2em; margin-left:2em; } - -a:link { text-decoration: none; color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); } -a:visited { text-decoration: none; color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); } -a:hover { text-decoration: underline; } -a:active { text-decoration: underline; } - -/* Transcriber's note */ -.trnote { font-size:0.8em; line-height:1.2em; background-color: #ccc; - color: #000; border: black 1px dotted; margin: 2em; padding: 1em; - page-break-before:always; margin-top:3em; } -.trnote p { text-indent:0; margin-bottom:1em; } -.trnote ul { margin-left: 0; padding-left: 0; } -.trnote li { text-align: left; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 1em; } -.trnote ul li { list-style-type: square; } -.trnote .transnote { text-indent:0; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; } - -/* page numbers */ -a[title].pagenum { position: absolute; right: 1%; } -a[title].pagenum:after { content: attr(title); color: gray; background-color: inherit; - letter-spacing: 0; text-indent: 0; text-align: right; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: x-small; - border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 4px 1px 4px; - display: inline; } - -div.centerpic { text-align:center; text-indent:0; display:block; } - -@media handheld { - body { margin-left:0; margin-right:0; } - div.frontmatter { max-width:inherit; } - div.backmatter { max-width:inherit; } - div.ads { max-width:inherit; border:0; border-top:1px solid black; } - a.pagenum { display:none; } - a.pagenum:after { display:none; } -} - -@media speech { - div.coverpage { display:block; } - a.pagenum { display:none; } - a.pagenum:after { display:none; } -} - -</style> -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna -Vitek, by Alfred Kreymborg - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): Erna Vitek - -Author: Alfred Kreymborg - -Editor: Man Ray - Alfred Kreymborg - -Release Date: September 5, 2020 [EBook #63125] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GLEBE 1914/03 (VOL. 1 *** - - - - -Produced by Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This book was -produced from images made available by the Blue Mountain -Project, Princeton University. - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="centerpic"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<div class="coverpage"> -<p class="journal"> -THE<br /> -GLEBE -</p> - -<p class="issue"> -VOLUME 1<br /> -NUMBER 6 -</p> - -<p class="issue"> -MARCH<br /> -1914 -</p> - -<p class="price"> -SUBSCRIPTION<br /> -Three Dollars Yearly<br /> -THIS ISSUE 50 CENTS -</p> - -<p class="tit"> -ERNA VITEK -</p> - -<p class="aut"> -<span class="line1">By Alfred Kreymborg</span> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="frontmatter chapter"> -<p class="halftitle"> -ERNA VITEK -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="frontmatter chapter"> -<h1 class="title"> -ERNA VITEK -</h1> - -<p class="aut"> -<span class="line1">BY</span><br /> -<span class="line2">Alfred Kreymborg</span> -</p> - -<div class="centerpic logo"> -<img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="pub"> -NEW YORK<br /> -ALBERT AND CHARLES BONI<br /> -96 Fifth Avenue<br /> -1914 -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="frontmatter chapter"> -<p class="cop"> -Copyright, 1914<br /> -by<br /> -Albert and Charles Boni -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="tit2"> -<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a> -ERNA VITEK -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-1"> -I -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Three young men, the best of friends, a painter, -Bainbridge Breen, a writer, Eric Nielsen, and a -composer, John Carstairs, were arguing that three-faced -conundrum, morals. Quite an accident had -provoked them to it: a waitress, Erna Vitek. From -picking at her they had launched into axiomizing, -only to come back to her. Her morals were the vital -topic of the evening. Carstairs’ studio provided the -<em>mise en scène</em>. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we’ve hit a conclusion at last,” said Breen -with an air of comfortable finality. “Carstairs calls -her moral, I say she’s unmoral, and Nielsen that she -may be moral, unmoral or even both.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Now, we’ve all conceded that Erna’s not immoral—at -least she doesn’t lead a life inconsistent -with morality?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well then,” Breen concluded contentedly. -“Now let me make a proposition.” -</p> - -<p> -“What kind of a proposition?” Nielsen quizzed -<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a> -in droll tones and looked at Carstairs, who was -frowning. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s very little to it. I can dish it out in a -few words. It’s simply this: that we put Erna to -the test.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” was Carstairs’ immediate -challenge. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t worry!” Breen responded blandly. “I’m -not going to injure the girl.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, what did you mean—” -</p> - -<p> -“Merely this,” the painter interrupted quietly. “I -don’t believe that any of us know her very well. -She’s only been working at Landsmann’s a few -months. Of course, Carstairs, you’ve taken her out -on one or two occasions, so you’ve had an opportunity -of studying her at closer range.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not of studying her!” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t study her, certainly. You—er—what -would you call it, Nielsen?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, John has been burned a little by the divine -flame.” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs blushed angrily. “If you fellows intend -to be personal—” -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind, John,” Nielsen cut in. “You -must allow us the occasional escape of some of our -surplus wind. Now, let’s drop these bravado poses -and get down to business. I want the rest of the -<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a> -proposition. We know that we’re to put Erna to -the test. Now, Breen, tell us how.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s nothing to explain. I said, put her to -the test. Let each one, in his own way and for himself, -perhaps, pay her attentions—I don’t mean, -make love to her—but simply, well, let him take her -to the theatre or to supper some evening—she’s free -nights—and find out how close he can get to her—I -don’t mean seduction—but that he penetrate her -character. Let each, in his own way, learn for -himself, and later we’ll compare notes and decide -whether the respected lady has the moral or the unmoral -tendency or even whether she might develop -an—er—” -</p> - -<p> -“See here, Breen!” Carstairs exploded. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I’d forgotten that we agreed to throw that -out,” the painter apologized. “You see, I couldn’t -help thinking of that little affair with the young -prize ring gladiator. What was his name? Allen!” -</p> - -<p> -“But that was only a temptation,” Carstairs -fought back. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, only a temptation. But we have -only her word that it never proved more.” -</p> - -<p> -The composer was ready with a hot retaliation -when Nielsen interposed: “Now don’t let’s revert -to that topic again, Breen. We can never know the -whole story, and it only annoys John to refer to it. -<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a> -We know that Erna was down and out at the time—she’d -just come to Landsmann’s, was unsettled and -that sort of thing—that much we know and that -young Allen followed her there with an offer of -cash. At least, she intimated something like that to -John and said it was a case of being good or bad -then and there. She chose being good. Even if she -had chosen the other, the transaction might have -been an unmoral and not an immoral one, for she -was fond of Allen.” -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -“Now never mind, Breen! We’ve threshed that -out often enough. Erna didn’t flop—in fact, she -showed Mr. Allen the door, hasn’t seen him since -and—” -</p> - -<p> -“But we have only <em>her</em> word for all that stuff.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right. There’s no other to contradict.” -</p> - -<p> -Breen, although silenced, was busy reflecting; -Carstairs’ ire was appeased. Nielsen concluded: -“Let’s take up Breen’s proposition, John, each in -his own way, whatever that may be, and then we’ll -compare notes some day and settle the business. -After all, Erna’s only a waitress; we needn’t spend -more than an ordinary amount of excitement over -her.” -</p> - -<p> -“But she isn’t a waitress. I tell you, she’s a -woman.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a> -“All right, woman let her be,” Nielsen conceded -gracefully. “Now, we don’t want to sit here throwing -words and phrases around all evening. We’ve -been at it too long as it is. Why not put the matter -to a vote and then drop it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Breen, of course, votes that we put her to the -test. Will you vote that way too?” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs gave in with an effort. -</p> - -<p> -“Fine!” Nielsen applauded. “I’ll vote ‘yes’ -too.” -</p> - -<p> -“Motion proposed and carried that one Erna -Vitek, employed as waitress at the Café Landsmann—” -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do, Breen. We’ve had enough of your -eloquence for one evening. You’ve given me a -headache. Besides, I’m sick of this subject. Let’s -start something else.” -</p> - -<p> -Breen laughed his ever-ready, self-satisfied laugh, -and Nielsen, and even Carstairs, joined him. Presently, -the studio slept the sleep of the unperturbed. -Carefully, Breen filled his pipe and began a deliberate -puffing, while Nielsen introduced some new -anecdote in his droll, even-tempered way. Carstairs, -on the other hand, was meditating gloomily: in an -hour or so he would be due at that damnable hole, -the Phoenix Music Hall—where he earned his -<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a> -bread playing accompaniments. A second thought -cheered him not a little. He would still have time -to eat his supper at Landsmann’s. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-2"> -<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a> -II -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -“Erna! What is the matter with you? Another -cup of coffee for Mr. Nolan!” -</p> - -<p> -“I know it. I ordered it an hour ago.” -</p> - -<p> -The stocky, middle-aged, stolid-faced German -stared at the handsome sensual girl of twenty, muttered -something, as she returned his critical stare -with a defiant one, and passed out of the kitchen into -the store. -</p> - -<p> -“What is the matter with Erna to-day?” he demanded -of his stocky, middle-aged, stolid-faced -wife, who stood behind the counter waiting on -customers. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“This is the third time she has been <em>schnautzing</em> -me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she has something on her mind,” was the -woman’s unconcerned reply. -</p> - -<p> -The storekeeper was not satisfied. “That <em>fellow</em> -must be to blame,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Who?” -</p> - -<p> -“That Allen! He’s been coming here again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Has he?” the woman returned with the same -unconcern. “Let him come. What do you care?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a> -Erna Vitek was in a morose humor. Her pugnacious -nose seemed more pugnacious than ever, and -even her mouth, usually so soft and yielding, appeared -hard this morning. And her brown eyes, -which could give you gentle glances one day and -repelling ones the next, were filled with ominous -signs. There was a good reason. She had just -overheard the other waitresses exchanging remarks -about her. This would not have been so bad if their -talk had been without foundation. But it was true: -she had been glad to see Jimmy Allen yesterday -noon and evening, when he came in—after an absence -of three months. He had stopped drinking. -He had been living and training in the country, so -that the old color had returned to his face and the -old light to his eyes. He looked stronger than ever, -more energetic and happier. Yes, he was to begin -fighting again—next week—but that had never been -his worst fault. The girls said that she still “liked -him” or that she would “like him again.” This -would not have been so bad if— -</p> - -<p> -Gretchen and Mollie were small, mean, dirty. -They were always gossipping about her. And she -had given them her old dresses, old hats, encouragement, -advice. What a lot of gratitude women felt -toward you! -</p> - -<p> -Her face cleared. A laughing, splendidly built -<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a> -young fellow was making his way through the store, -returning salutations. He stopped in the kitchen -long enough to barter laughing glances with Erna -and passed down the two steps into the dining room: -a small low one containing six tables—Erna’s empire. -There, he received more greetings and one or -two short tributes on his return to the public eye. -The young athlete pulled off his coat and cap and -hung them on the wall. He flung himself into a -chair at an empty table and was soon at his ease. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was a shrewd girl. She did not come to -take his order at once. First, she served another -patron. Then, she cleared away some dishes. -Finally, she came to Jimmy’s table, but with a careless -air. -</p> - -<p> -He gave her a frank look. “How’s the girl?” -was his familiar greeting. -</p> - -<p> -“Pretty fair!” she responded in cool tones. “How -are you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Bully!” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you want?” she went on indifferently. -</p> - -<p> -“Gimme time to breathe!” he protested, and tried -to stare into her face and to take her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Stop!” she warned him and drew back. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, what the deuce—” -</p> - -<p> -“Customers are waitin’—” she cut him short. -</p> - -<p> -He gave the bill of fare a contemptuous glance. -<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a> -“Bring me a soft boiled egg, toast an’ a glass o’ -milk.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him with sudden irritation, but -smiled, turned her back and left the room with -aggravating slowness. -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy appeared angry, but one of the patrons -disturbed his mood with an admiring: “On a diet, -Jimmy?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“What night does it come off?” -</p> - -<p> -“Next Tuesday.” -</p> - -<p> -“How do you feel?” -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy expanded his chest, gave himself a solid -punch and answered: “Great! Harder than a -rock!” -</p> - -<p> -“Feel sorry for ‘the Kid.’ How long are you -goin’ to let him stay?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, part o’ the second,” was Jimmy’s laughing -assurance. -</p> - -<p> -A sigh of pleasure and envy escaped the patrons. -And they quickly announced their intention to be -present at the joyous butchery. -</p> - -<p> -Erna came back. She pretended to wipe off the -neighboring table. Pretty soon, however, she was -at Jimmy’s side. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the grouch?” he asked confidentially. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a> -“Still sore at me?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sore at somebody else?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked up at her anxiously, but Erna smiled; -her eyes softened and winked slyly. Jimmy, -who was always willing to laugh, laughed again. -“You’re still the kiddo,” he whispered. -</p> - -<p> -Erna blushed and moved away. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna!” he called. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait a moment!” -</p> - -<p> -She stayed away about two minutes and then returned -with Jimmy’s order, which was overdue. -Three of the patrons, exchanging “so longs!” with -the prize-fighter, went out. Two remained, milkmen, -but they were fast asleep. -</p> - -<p> -Erna set Jimmy’s order before him. He tried to -catch her hand, but she was too quick. An irritable -grunt escaped him. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter?” she taunted him. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter with <em>you</em>?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -But she dropped her glance coquettishly. He -gave her face and figure an admiring look. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna,” he said gently. -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him for a shy instant. -</p> - -<p> -“I say, Erna,” he repeated. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not sore?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“You know what I mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure!” -</p> - -<p> -He studied her. “Then why do you treat me -this way—now?” -</p> - -<p> -She tried bold and bashful glances, turned her -head a little and said enigmatically “Just because.” -</p> - -<p> -“Just because what?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just because.” -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head, but his ever-ready laugh came -to his assistance. “Then you’re not sore?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course.” -</p> - -<p> -“Even though—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you like to treat me this way just—” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just because!” she echoed and started to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -He gave her an adoring glance and this time -caught her hand. She tried to pull it away, but his -grip was too powerful. He squeezed her hand. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a> -“Don’t, don’t!” she begged in pain. -</p> - -<p> -He let go and smiled. She was not angry. Instead, -she placed her hand on his biceps. He raised -his forearm and imprisoned her hand. “Oo-oo!” -she sighed in happy homage, and her eyes shone. -</p> - -<p> -Once more, he freed her hand. “Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Terrible!” she whispered. “What’ll happen to -the poor ‘Kid’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Death!” was his jovial rejoinder. -</p> - -<p> -He caught her hand once more. “Don’t, don’t!” -she warned him. He let go as before, but she did -not withdraw it immediately. -</p> - -<p> -His glance grew bolder and bolder, but he hesitated. -He busied himself with his breakfast for a -moment, shaking salt into his egg and stirring it with -a spoon. He looked up and hesitated again. Finally, -he began: “Then it’ll be all right to-night?” -</p> - -<p> -“To-night?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. You said you’d tell me to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’ll be all right?” he pleaded. -</p> - -<p> -She eyed him a moment, softened a little and -then gave in: “But where can we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“We can take in a show,” he suggested. -</p> - -<p> -“A show?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Where?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a> -“Oh, Miner’s, the Gran’ or a movie.” -</p> - -<p> -She meditated. -</p> - -<p> -“Hurry up! Here come some customers.” -</p> - -<p> -She turned her head quickly, and then looked -back at him. “All right,” she whispered. -</p> - -<p> -“Where’ll I meet you?” he demanded eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -“At the old corner—eight o’clock!” -</p> - -<p> -He pressed her hand in hurried understanding, as -three young men entered the dining room. They -were Breen, Carstairs and Nielsen. Erna passed -them on her way out with a nervous “good-morning.” -</p> - -<p> -She stayed out some time. Jimmy ate and drank -rapidly, got up, took his check, put on his cap and -coat, and ignoring the newcomers, left the room. -Breen and Nielsen had recognized him with amazement. -They watched him curiously, but not so Carstairs. -He sat there, staring gloomily at the table. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-3"> -<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a> -III -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -“Moral or unmoral, but not—” Breen started -and waited for Nielsen to supply the last word. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen, who understood, shook his head and corrected: -“Moral or unmoral—no more,” and smiled -confidently. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs looked from Nielsen to Breen and continued -staring at the table. -</p> - -<p> -“How do you account then for the recrudescence -of our young gladiator?” Breen went on. -</p> - -<p> -“And what has that to do with Erna’s life, -present or future?” Nielsen argued amiably. -</p> - -<p> -“If he’s calling again?” -</p> - -<p> -“Let him call! Does that necessarily affect -Erna’s conduct?” -</p> - -<p> -“But <em>hasn’t</em> it affected her conduct? Didn’t you -notice it as we came in?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen wore a thoughtful frown, but smiled mischievously -and declared: “There was nothing <em>im</em>moral, -as far as I could make out.” -</p> - -<p> -Breen was gracious enough to agree: “Perhaps -not.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a> -They were silent. Carstairs watched them -gloomily and then returned to his occupation. Erna -came in, affecting a matter-of-fact air. -</p> - -<p> -Breen and Nielsen pressed her with playful greetings -and compliments. She accepted them as part -of the tribute due her each day, but her stereotyped -expression disappeared, and she was ready to take -up her duties as gracious empress. Even her pugnacious -nose appeared less pugnacious. Having recognized -the young men’s tribute by a favor or two, -she criticized genially: “You’re late this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nielsen overslept himself,” Breen explained. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you believe him—he overslept himself,” -Nielsen retorted. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was leaning against their table, her arms -akimbo. The pair received a glance each, as was -their due, and then she studied Carstairs. “Maybe -it was you, Mr. Carstairs?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked up. “Me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—maybe it was you that overslept yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs blushed, his friends laughed, and he -denied with a return of good nature: “No. They -were the ones.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s not awake yet, Erna,” Breen fought back. -</p> - -<p> -“He doesn’t look it,” she seconded. -</p> - -<p> -The young composer blushed again, but did not -<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a> -defend himself this time. Nielsen eyed him with -friendly concern. -</p> - -<p> -“Your orders, gentlemen.” -</p> - -<p> -“What’s your hurry?” Breen complained. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t suppose I can stand here all day,” -she reminded him. -</p> - -<p> -“But I want to admire you a little,” he protested. -“Who wants to eat in the presence of a—of a—Why, -look at the beautiful red ribbon! Is it a new -one, Erna?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” and instantly, Erna, always susceptible -to praise or flattery, raised her hands to arrange the -ribbon. -</p> - -<p> -“It matches your hair to perfection,” Breen pursued. -“You love color, don’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Red the most?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Blood, blood red?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“My favorite color, too!” -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do,” Nielsen interposed. “Don’t steal -all the crumbs, Breen.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“But they belong to me,” Breen defended himself. -“Color is my line. Red is my color too.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a> -“These grasping conceited painters!” Nielsen -grumbled. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” Erna interceded. “If he likes red, he -likes red.” -</p> - -<p> -“’A second Daniel’,” quoted Breen. “I thank -thee, gracious Lady. Thou and I are of one mind -and desire. By the way, Erna! Did you ever wear -all red?” -</p> - -<p> -“No—oh, yes, two or three years ago.” -</p> - -<p> -“You did? Have you still got the dress?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I’ve outgrown it. I’m—I’m stouter now,” -and she expanded her chest and laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -“But you must find it,” he continued with growing -interest. “You could easily alter it to fit, couldn’t -you? I want you to pose for me. You know you’ve -promised me several times. Wouldn’t you like to? -All in red: red ribbon, red waist, and skirt and even -red slippers, but best of all, red cheeks and red lips!” -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s pleasure-loving scent was aroused. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you, Erna?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure!” -</p> - -<p> -“When?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, not to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -“When then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, pshaw—when then?” -</p> - -<p> -“My first afternoon off?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a> -“Fine! When will that be?” -</p> - -<p> -“Next Monday.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good! And you’ll be ready?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, if you really want me to. But I won’t be -able—” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s all right,” he interrupted. “Come anyhow! -You’ll be immense just the same. You will -create—” -</p> - -<p> -“Pooh, pooh, and likewise tut, tut!” Nielsen -broke in. “When are we to hear an end to this?” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s jealous,” said Erna. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” Nielsen admitted. “To the painter -go all the spoils. No one ever poses for a writer. -It wouldn’t be proper.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” she challenged. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen got up in a hurry. “What?” he demanded -in mock seriousness. -</p> - -<p> -“Order, order!” she said roguishly and looked -away. -</p> - -<p> -“But—” -</p> - -<p> -“Order, order!” Breen echoed. “The lady is -right. We must have order. Besides, we haven’t -ordered.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen fell back with a philosophic sigh. “All -is unfair when bad puns make their appearance.” -</p> - -<p> -It did not take the young men long to make their -choice of breakfast. Erna went away. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a> -“Come back soon!” pleaded Breen. -</p> - -<p> -“In a wink,” she called back. -</p> - -<p> -Breen started drumming on the table; Nielsen -looked across at him and hummed a pleasant tune. -“You’re a clever individual,” he observed. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not going to have her pose, old Sly Fox.” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly not, thou reader of souls.” -</p> - -<p> -“I thought not.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I’m only carrying out our program of last -night. You seem to have forgotten it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then why criticize me for being the first one on -the job? It’ll be up to you and Carstairs too.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know,” Nielsen agreed jovially. -</p> - -<p> -“Count me out!” Carstairs interrupted suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“The sleeper’s awake,” Breen applauded. “He’s -back from the land of dreams. What news from -Arcadia, Colonel?” -</p> - -<p> -“You can count me out,” Carstairs repeated -stubbornly, and would not look at his friends. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, what’s the matter?” Nielsen interposed -sympathetically, and raised his hand to forewarn -Breen. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Breen’s only been fooling all along!” -</p> - -<p> -“I know.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a> -“Then you’re not angry with him, or me?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then what’s the trouble?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t like it—I hate it,” the young composer -went on with difficulty. -</p> - -<p> -“What don’t you like?” -</p> - -<p> -“This business!” -</p> - -<p> -“What, this business of testing Erna?” Nielsen -asked gently, and studied him. “John!” The latter -refused to look at him. “It’s all in fun. I thought -you were satisfied with our arrangement? We are -each to study Erna in our own way, then to compare -notes to learn whether—You don’t have to -use Breen’s method. I don’t intend to. You don’t -have to either.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then there ought to be no complaint.” -</p> - -<p> -“Count me out anyhow.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -Breen wanted to poke into the argument, but -Nielsen raised his hand again. -</p> - -<p> -“She’s not a waitress or a—or a working woman—or -a table or a chair,” Carstairs said with obvious -difficulty. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen understood. He squeezed his neighbor’s -arm and declared with his most soothing tone: “She’s -a woman, of course—as we concluded last night. -<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a> -Breen and I know that. You feel that we do, don’t -you?” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs, who was in his most sentimental mood, -seemed on the verge of tears. “Yes,” he managed -to agree. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen broke off the subject at once. “Well, -we’ll talk over the whole business some other time. -You’re not feeling well this morning. It must be -your work at that confounded moving picture hole.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” Carstairs said doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -“Cheer up!” Breen succeeded in interpolating. -“Forget your troubles in the music world and listen -to that concert over there. That duet recital, I -should say.” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“Tristan and Isolde are being undone,” Nielsen -added, catching Breen’s cue. “Or Salome and -Jokannan, eh? Away with Wagner and Strauss: -Richard the First and Second—what do you say, -John?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -The two milkmen, who were sleeping more -soundly than ever, appreciated their listeners’ applause. -They were indulging in a crescendo. -</p> - -<p> -“Silence and listen!” Breen warned so solemnly -that Nielsen, and even Carstairs, laughed. -</p> - -<p> -Breen and Nielsen exchanged nods. They had -<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a> -accomplished their object. Erna came back with -their orders. -</p> - -<p> -“What music have we here?” Breen hailed her. -</p> - -<p> -She set their orders on the table, and arranged -their plates, knives, forks and spoons. “What did -you say?” -</p> - -<p> -“What music is this emanating from yon Orpheus -and his Eurydice?” -</p> - -<p> -“Must be some ragtime,” she suggested. -</p> - -<p> -Breen feigned disappointment. -</p> - -<p> -“It all depends upon one’s taste, you see,” Nielsen -interpreted for him. -</p> - -<p> -And Carstairs laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -Erna eyed him. “Why, he’s awake,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” Breen and Nielsen assured her. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs raised his head and met her glance for -an instant, and the sudden warmth he felt brought -color to his face. He looked elsewhere, but it was -plainly evident that he was feeling better. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re sure you’re awake now?” she questioned -wantonly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, thanks,” he responded gratefully. -</p> - -<p> -The young men started eating. Erna attended -to her remaining duties with them and then went -over to another table and sat down. Presently, she -was occupied folding paper napkins. Breen, with -Nielsen’s assistance, opened a discussion on the newest -<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a> -fad of French painting, examples of which were -being exhibited at a Fifth Avenue gallery. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs stole cautious glances at Erna. Once -or twice, she raised her eyes and caught his glance -in hers. Both looked away in embarrassment. This -performance was repeated several times. There -seemed to be some shy understanding between them. -</p> - -<p> -About a half hour later, the young men arose and -put on their hats and coats. Erna came over and -gave them their checks. “So long, Erna,” Nielsen -parted cordially. “<em>Au midi</em>,” Breen seconded. -And the pair made their way up the steps and out -of the dining room. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs had delayed his departure a moment. -He approached Erna nervously and in a hurried -voice, began: “Is it all right for to-night? You -know, you were going to let me know.” -</p> - -<p> -She frowned a little and then returned: “Yes—oh -no, I can’t go out with you to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -His face became tragic. She, possessed by one -of her soft moods, played the sympathetic: “Will -you be off again this week?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—Sunday night—from seven to nine,” he -explained in an eager whisper. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” She waited, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Will it be all right then?” he asked, his courage -rising. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right—Sunday—seven o’clock,” he whispered, -hurried out—and forgot his check. -</p> - -<p> -She came after him and caught him at the counter, -where he had joined his friends. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve forgotten your check,” she told him, -with a bright glance. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes, thanks,” he stammered. -</p> - -<p> -Breen and Nielsen stared at him. The trio -passed out into the street. -</p> - -<p> -“Where shall we go?” Breen questioned. -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s bum a while in my room,” Nielsen proposed. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t,” Carstairs declined. -</p> - -<p> -“Why not, John?” -</p> - -<p> -“I want to work a little,” Carstairs explained. -</p> - -<p> -Breen and Nielsen stared at him again. -</p> - -<p> -Somewhat later, the painter and the writer were -comfortably seated in the latter’s comfortable workshop. -</p> - -<p> -“I guess so, but I hope it isn’t true,” Nielsen was -saying. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he’ll get over it. These attachments of his -are never serious nor of long duration. And at best, -she’s only a hardened little thing, a fact he’ll realize -in good season.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a> -“John was always much slower to learn matters -than the rest of us,” Nielsen said dreamily. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s foolishly sensitive too.” -</p> - -<p> -“And foolishly sentimental,” Breen concluded. -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. -</p> - -<p> -“And how about your story?” the painter continued. -</p> - -<p> -“By the way, I’m thinking of using Erna as a -model for—” -</p> - -<p> -“Want her to pose for you too, old Sly Fox?” -Breen demanded in revenge. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, and incidentally to find out—” -</p> - -<p> -“I know,” Breen interrupted, and the pair -laughed in mutual admiration. -</p> - -<p> -In the meanwhile, John Carstairs was busy—working. -He was seated at the small upright piano, -which monopolized a good part of the space in his -small studio. About an hour later, he had finished -improvising and selecting and arranging his material -and now placed a large sheet of music paper against -the piano rack. The staves were blank at present, -but it was certain that the young composer intended -covering them as rapidly as possible. First of all, -however, he wrote the title of the composition at the -head of the page: To Thee. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-4"> -<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a> -IV -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -An evening performance was in full swing at the -Phoenix Music Hall, a small but well attended five -and ten cent moving picture and vaudeville establishment -on Eighth Avenue, not far from Landsmann’s. -At present, the moving pictures were doing -a turn, and the auditorium was dark. Music -from a piano, placed close to the stage, was the only -accompaniment, but it was an adequate one. A -young, slender, anaemic individual was seated at -the piano. -</p> - -<p> -At the moment, he was playing a dainty popular -waltz as a descriptive background for a French -comedy scene. Many a laugh rolled toward him. -Then he commenced a two-step, as the screen announced -a change of pictures. The audience -laughed more frequently and with heartier approval, -as an American farce romped by. Again, the -screen announced a change. -</p> - -<p> -An Irish romance was under way. For this class -of sketch, Carstairs was expected to interpolate or -to improvise something “sweet and dreamy.” Therefore, -he took advantage of the opportunity. He -leaned closer to the keyboard, lowered his head and -<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a> -was soon engulfed in what he was rendering—so -much so, that he did not turn to keep in touch with -the pictures, as was his habit. The yearning sentimental -composition had made him captive. -</p> - -<p> -Let others talk against Erna, he would still hold -fast to his faith in her. Breen was a cynic, and -Nielsen too. They flattered themselves that they -knew human nature, but they did not, for they were -lacking in sympathy. He had been foolish to listen -to their prattle concerning Erna. He would not do -so in the future. In fact, he ought to drop their acquaintance -or to avoid their company, at least. He -would do that. Now, he could keep his thought -of her, so pure, to himself—his thought of her, who, -in spite of her fun-loving and prank-playing nature, -was as pure as the purest and whitest of— Yes, he -would keep her pure. And Jimmy Allen, well, he -had come back, but his influence over her was dead, -dead since the day she had shown him the door, as -she had confided to him that time. He could trust -her. She was strong enough and pure enough to -take care of herself. -</p> - -<p> -This was Friday; to-morrow would be Saturday, -and then Sunday, a long, long Sunday, would come -and have to pass before she would be with him. Of -course, he would see her to-morrow morning at breakfast, -but he must be careful to avoid the cynics. -<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a> -Even so, how could he tell her that he had composed -this for her, this, the best of his compositions, thanks -to the circumstance that she had been its inspiration. -Perhaps, it would be better not to tell her; it would -be a bigger surprise if he were to play it for her and -then offer it to her, as one would a flower or some -other symbol. -</p> - -<p> -Would he have the courage to ask her to come to -his studio, so that he might play for her? And if -he had, suppose she should refuse? But she had -accepted an invitation from Breen, and only to pose -for him. Surely, she would not refuse him? And -if she did not, could he actually amuse and hold her -attention by merely playing for her? Why not? -She sang a great deal in the store,—it is true, popular -music, which he hated—but she had not been -educated to anything higher. That did not make -her any the less musical; moreover, she would learn -in time, at his guidance perhaps, since she possessed -so much temperament along with that lovely voice. -Therefore, she would not object should he offer to -play for her. And he would play as he never had -for any one, eventually to lead up to this composition, -that belonged so naturally to her. What -would she say when he would offer it to her as her -own? He must push his courage far enough to ask -her to come to his studio. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a> -Carstairs continued playing and dreaming. -</p> - -<p> -The audience was very still now. At one end -of the front row, a young couple were sitting, holding -hands. When the lights were up a while ago, -one might have recognized them as Erna Vitek and -Jimmy Allen. Both were living in the proverbial -seventh heaven. -</p> - -<p> -“Ain’t it lovely?” she was whispering. -</p> - -<p> -“The two boobs in the love story?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not them so much—but the music!” -</p> - -<p> -“Pretty good.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nice an’ dreamy, ain’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes—sounds as though the guy was playing -for us.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna gave him a reproving nudge, and he -laughed. They listened and watched in silence. -But he grew impatient. “Don’t care for the story, -do you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure! What’s the matter with it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Them two boobs gimme a pain.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I dunno.” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re true to life?” -</p> - -<p> -“So’s my dead gran’mother.” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. “What’s wrong with ’em?” -</p> - -<p> -He squeezed her hand as gently as he was able. -“Where do we come in?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ain’t we true to life?” -</p> - -<p> -She pulled her hand away. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter?” he demanded. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -“Gimme your—my hand again!” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just because.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sore?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -He was silent. -</p> - -<p> -Presently, she commanded: “Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -No answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -Again, no answer. -</p> - -<p> -Her hand slid across his arm and sought his. -</p> - -<p> -“Mad?” -</p> - -<p> -“Mm—no.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then why wouldn’t you answer?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just because!” he mimicked her. -</p> - -<p> -She slapped his hand gently, his hand opened and -they clasped again. There was a pause. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna,” he said in bolder tones. -</p> - -<p> -“Not so loud!” she warned him. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a> -“Well then—Erna,” he repeated in very low -tones. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s better.” -</p> - -<p> -“How about it?” -</p> - -<p> -“About what?” -</p> - -<p> -“What I asked you ’fore we came here?” -</p> - -<p> -“I asked you not to repeat that,” was her reproach. -</p> - -<p> -“I know, but I can’t help it. Don’t you like it -here?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure.” -</p> - -<p> -“I mean here, side o’ me—in the dark?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well—” He hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” she mocked him. -</p> - -<p> -“Think o’ how swell it’d be—” -</p> - -<p> -“Be careful, Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t help it,” he persisted. “Think o’ how -swell it’d be—” -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” she warned him once more. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh shucks!” he returned aloud, and was silent. -There was a longer pause. -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -No answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -Again, no answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a> -A third time, no answer. -</p> - -<p> -She pressed his hand and pushed against his -shoulder, but he would not respond. Erna gave in. -“I’m sorry—forgive me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Mm—” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you forgive me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t say it very loud.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you jumped on me before for talkin’ -loud.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’d wake the audience,” she apologized. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” he challenged. -</p> - -<p> -“Well what?” she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -“What did you want to say?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right!”—and he was silent. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah yes, Jimmy,” she resigned. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“You can go on with—with your story, but—but -don’t go too far.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right.” -</p> - -<p> -“Promise?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then go ahead.” -</p> - -<p> -He revolved matters in his blunt mind, and recommenced: -“You remember, I told you ’bout the—the -<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a> -little furnished flat my manager, Nolan, asked -me to move in?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, why couldn’t we—just you an’ me—” -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -“I know, but I can’t help it, Erna. Things is -different now. When I asked you that time—well, -that’s all over now. You an’ I’s forgotten that. So -what’s buried’s buried. An’ times is different now. -You’ve got a job, though it’s a punk one. I’ve got -a little money an’ more to come, an’ I’ve cut drinkin’. -My health’s fine an’ prospects great. After I finish -‘the Kid’ there’ll be Young Walcott—an’ after -Walcott, a bunch o’ others—” -</p> - -<p> -“But Jimmy—” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t butt in!” he begged seriously. “Now, -I know you hate that job o’ yours—” -</p> - -<p> -“It ain’t all cheese an’ honey,” she confessed. -</p> - -<p> -“No, an’ it never will be. Now, why can’t you -pull up stakes—” -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t butt in!” he begged more seriously. “This -is different than last time. I’m a—a respectable -man now an’ you’re a respectable woman.” -</p> - -<p> -“Always have been,” she cautioned him. -</p> - -<p> -“I know,” he hastened to admit. “What I’ve -been tryin’ to say is: Keep your job a little longer -<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a> -if you want to, till I go on with mine an’ get lots o’ -dough. In the meanwhile—” He stopped. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” she ventured, but with an ominous inflection. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll rent the little flat off Nolan, an’ you an’ I -can—” -</p> - -<p> -“Jimmy!” -</p> - -<p> -“But I’m askin’ you to <em>marry</em> me this time,” he -protested. -</p> - -<p> -“I know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ain’t that different?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because it ain’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because it ain’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“But Erna—” -</p> - -<p> -“Now listen, Jimmy! You promised not to go -too far.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh shucks!” he broke out. -</p> - -<p> -They were silent. He let go her hand and drew -away a short distance. She removed her hand -rather reluctantly. Once or twice, she pushed -against his shoulder. But he would not respond. -</p> - -<p> -The romantic pictures disappeared, and the music -ceased. The lights were turned on. There was a -sigh throughout the audience. Erna and Jimmy -<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a> -seemed glad of the change as well. A little sooner, -they would have been sorry. -</p> - -<p> -She glanced his way. He was not looking in her -direction. She nudged him. He still refused to -turn his head. “Jimmy,” she whispered tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -He stole a half glance at her. She was smiling -in invitation. He could not help smiling too. -</p> - -<p> -“You all right now?” she ventured. -</p> - -<p> -He turned toward her, and instantly, his ever-ready -laugh dispelled their gloom. -</p> - -<p> -“You all right?” she repeated. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he admitted, and declared: “Some scrap -that!” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it wasn’t,” she reassured him and smiled -with revived mischief. -</p> - -<p> -Their hands fell back to their natural occupation. -</p> - -<p> -“Turn out the lights!” Jimmy commanded in so -loud a tone that most of their neighbors, as well as -Erna, giggled. -</p> - -<p> -A German comedian made his appearance and -offered the usual monologue. No musical accompaniment -was required for this act; therefore, Carstairs -had disappeared under the stage. He had not -seen Erna and Jimmy, nor they him. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-5"> -<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></a> -V -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Carstairs was waiting at the street corner rendezvous -early the following Sunday evening. Impatience -had kept him company all day, a long day, -but the impatience he felt now was even keener. He -had been ahead of their appointment by about -twenty minutes, for he was afraid that Erna might be -there first. His vigil was that much the longer and -more trying. What hours it took for minutes to -pass! Suppose she did not come? -</p> - -<p> -The fates, however, were good-humored. He -could see an athletic figure coming along at a -familiar leisurely pace. It was Erna. His joy and -excitement were such that he could scarcely wait -for her to reach him. What made her walk so -slowly? -</p> - -<p> -“Hello,” was her soft cheery greeting. -</p> - -<p> -He had avoided the bakery restaurant all day. -He could hardly return her salutation, the last of -his courage having fled. -</p> - -<p> -“Where—where shall we go?” he questioned. -</p> - -<p> -“Anywhere,” she agreed genially. -</p> - -<p> -Now was his opportunity. He must ask her. Of -course, they could not walk the streets the whole of -<a id="page-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></a> -his two hours’ freedom. Nor could they go to the -theatre so early. Would she sense these arguments? -Moreover, they had been to a restaurant for a little -refreshment and conversation on their two former -outings. She had not enjoyed those visits particularly, -reminding her, as they must have, of her daily -life at Landsmann’s. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a little bit too cold,” he ventured. -</p> - -<p> -“Not so very,” she returned mischievously, as -they started walking. -</p> - -<p> -He was frightened. “But—” -</p> - -<p> -She was enjoying his embarrassment, but came to -his assistance with: “Well, where <em>shall</em> we go? It’s -up to you. You did the invitin’.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve got nearly two hours,” he explained. “Can -you stay out that long?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m off for the rest o’ the night,” she assured him; -“but I ought to be back under the quilt by ten. I’m -a bit tired.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, you are,” he agreed hurriedly—this -was another opportunity—“so we mustn’t do any -walking. Do you—would you like to come—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“How would you like to come over to my place?” -</p> - -<p> -It was out. What would she say? -</p> - -<p> -“Will anybody else be there?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no!” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></a> -“It’s over there on Fourteenth Street somewhere, -ain’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t mind,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -Joy and excitement overwhelmed him. He could -not speak. And he had imagined all along that it -would be so difficult to induce her to come. He did -not know what to say. -</p> - -<p> -“Do we cross here?” she suggested. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he said in a low tone. -</p> - -<p> -The need of politeness forced itself upon him. -Timidly, he took her arm and led her across the -street. As a matter of fact, it was she, who was so -much stronger and more daring than he, who had -done the leading. They reached the opposite side, -and walked along in silence. After a minute or so, -they approached an old building. -</p> - -<p> -“Here it is,” he declared nervously and let go her -arm. -</p> - -<p> -They climbed three smelly flights of stairs, followed -a dark hallway and came to a halt. He took -out his keys and opened a door. “Step in,” he -requested. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve got the light lit,” she announced. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I thought it’d be—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s awful nice here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think so?” he questioned eagerly, greatly -<a id="page-44" class="pagenum" title="44"></a> -encouraged. “But it’s such a small, dingy place.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no,” she maintained. “It’s nice an’ cosy.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna walked about, examining articles with her -inquisitive eyes. “So this is your piano?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it’s an old box.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it’s nice lookin’. An’ whose picture is -that?” -</p> - -<p> -“My mother’s.” -</p> - -<p> -“An’ that one?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh that—that’s only—” -</p> - -<p> -“An old <em>friend</em>?” she assisted him. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he agreed, and his blushes appeared. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, Erna’s back was turned. But she -knew he was blushing, and her face lighted with -pleasure. She examined other articles. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs asked quickly: “Won’t you take off -your things?” -</p> - -<p> -Slowly, she removed her coat and hat, and fixed -her hair at a small looking glass. “Men use these -things too,” she observed. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, we do,” he echoed, and put her things on -the couch, where he likewise laid his own. -</p> - -<p> -“Sit down,” he advised. -</p> - -<p> -“Over here?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, this is a nice soft chair.” -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs walked about a while. He was so -<a id="page-45" class="pagenum" title="45"></a> -nervous that he did not know what to do. Nevertheless, -he realized that he must offer to entertain -her. At least, he must say something. -</p> - -<p> -But Erna spoke first. “What makes you walk -around?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh nothing,” he returned abruptly, looked about -in confusion and finally selected the piano stool, -which, however, was so close to Erna’s chair that his -confusion grew. The girl, herself, had betrayed a -little embarrassment once or twice, but she had conquered -its last sign. This was perhaps possible because -of her enjoyment of Carstairs’ rather pathetic -condition. Erna loved and craved praise or flattery, -and the young composer’s substitute for them was -certainly a decided tribute. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s awful nice here,” she repeated. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m glad you think so,” he responded gratefully, -and glanced toward her, only to look away. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s kind o’ restful too.” -</p> - -<p> -This was an excellent opening. -</p> - -<p> -“You must be very tired,” he declared. -</p> - -<p> -“A little bit.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve been working all day?” -</p> - -<p> -“Since six-thirty this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“Lord, then you must be tired.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not so very much,” she denied with pride. “I -can stand work.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-46" class="pagenum" title="46"></a> -He dared a glance at her strong body and her bold -eyes. How splendid she was! -</p> - -<p> -“But <em>you</em> must be tired,” she continued. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,—no, only a very little.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve been workin’ all day too.” -</p> - -<p> -“At the afternoon performance. I didn’t get -away until six o’clock.” -</p> - -<p> -“An’ you go on to-night?” -</p> - -<p> -“From nine to eleven, yes,” he explained, and -felt ashamed that he was so weary. And she had -been working in that stuffy, unhealthy dining room -and kitchen since half-past six and was as cheerful -as ever. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll be needin’ a rest now,” she went on. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no!” he hastily assured her. -</p> - -<p> -“Then will you play for me? I never heard you -play, an’ I’ve heard Mr. Breen an’ Mr. Nielsen talk -so much about you.” -</p> - -<p> -“They are flatterers,” he said, with a self-conscious -laugh. “But if you’d like—if you—would -you really like to have me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course.” -</p> - -<p> -This was his next opportunity, but again, his -courage would not assist him. What should he play? -“Do you really feel like listening?” he began once -more. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course—I like music,” she argued. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-47" class="pagenum" title="47"></a> -There was nothing else to do. He had better start -playing. And Carstairs turned on the stool. “What -shall I play for you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Anything at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“But wouldn’t you rather—” -</p> - -<p> -“Play somethin’ you like yourself,” she interrupted. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs hesitated. He had not had the faintest -idea how difficult it would be. Moreover, he could -feel her soft brown eyes resting on him. And he had -been vowing such wonderful deeds of late: that he -would play for her as he never had for any one—that -he would play her composition, which belonged -so naturally to her. Instead, he could scarcely touch -a key. -</p> - -<p> -A spirit of self-condemnation took possession of -him. He must forget himself. She would think him -a fool. Besides, she might learn how much he—No, -she must not learn that. He commenced improvising. -</p> - -<p> -The young composer blundered considerably at -first, but his self-resentment helped him, and his efforts -soon displayed more coherence and warmth. -Should he open his program with “To Thee”? Why -not? Why wait until later? But she might understand. -She might catch its significance and then—But -how could she know that he had written the -<a id="page-48" class="pagenum" title="48"></a> -composition? It might just as easily belong to some -other composer. Yes, he would play it. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you ready?” he asked with attempted -levity. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, don’t stop!” she encouraged him. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs played “To Thee”, at first, with timidity -and uncertainty, but by and by with more resolution -and consequent expressiveness as his faith in the composition, -as an expression of himself, returned. -Gradually, too, he realized how appropriate was -the mood that flowed through its measures. -</p> - -<p> -Erna watched him. A greedy little smile played -about the corners of her mouth and her nose twitched -slightly. But the corners straightened and her nose -stopped twitching. -</p> - -<p> -No, he was too soft. His shoulders were so weak -and his hands so small and his face so pale—just -like his nature. He belonged to his mother up there -and to that soft pretty face over there. But he was -a nice, decent fellow. And he was lots of fun, he -was so different from other men. But he was sad. -She loved joy and freedom. He seemed like a mean -little prisoner, and he made her feel soft too. But he -had always been decent toward her. Yes, he belonged -to such as his mother and the pretty face. -Anyhow, he knew how to play the piano.... What -a different time she had had last night! Jimmy was -<a id="page-49" class="pagenum" title="49"></a> -such a big, strong, happy fellow. But even he did -not quite satisfy her. Erna sighed just a little. -</p> - -<p> -She regained immediate control of herself and -stopped studying Carstairs. Instead, she followed -the patterns in the small rug at her feet. Presently, -she gave herself up to the music. It was very pretty. -It sounded familiar too. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs finished playing. -</p> - -<p> -“I like that,” she said instantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you?” he demanded, wheeling toward her. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, it’s awful nice,” she complimented him. -</p> - -<p> -He brightened perceptibly. “Do you really -think so? Do you really like it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course!” -</p> - -<p> -He could not repress his emotion. “Do you—I—what -do you think?” he asked with enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know who wrote that?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wrote that,” he broke out, and leaned forward. -</p> - -<p> -“You did?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s awful nice,” she repeated. -</p> - -<p> -This was not very strong applause, but it was -more than sufficient for Carstairs, and he grew reckless. -In one moment, he had confessed himself the -<a id="page-50" class="pagenum" title="50"></a> -author of the work, and in the next, such was his -present rashness, he was about to go much farther. -</p> - -<p> -“How would you like—” but he stopped, and -smiled in a happy way. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” she urged him. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re sure you like it?” he repeated. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Would you like to have it?” he asked with sudden -boldness. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you understand?” he rambled on, and -explained: “Composers, you know, write songs and -piano pieces and orchestral works, and afterward -they often dedicate them to somebody—to one of -their friends or—or one of their relatives. Do you -understand?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s what I want to do,” he continued excitedly. -“I wrote the piece—it’s nothing wonderful, -but I—I put myself into it and—and you like it—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“So I’d like to give it to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I don’t play,” she protested. -</p> - -<p> -“That isn’t the point,” he declared. “I’m dedicating -it to you—that is, your name appears on it: -first, the name of the composition, then my name, as -<a id="page-51" class="pagenum" title="51"></a> -composer, and then ‘to Miss Erna Vitek.’ Do you -see?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you like the idea?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, that’s fine.” -</p> - -<p> -“Great!” he cried. -</p> - -<p> -“But what’s the name o’ the piece?” she requested -quietly. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, I—I gave it a name—but suppose I call -it simply: ‘A Song’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure! That’d be a nice title, wouldn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -His emotions threatened to run over. He wanted -to tell her the rest: that, as a matter of fact, she had -been the one to inspire the composition—his inspiration—but, -well, that would be going too far. She -would be learning too much. But this was the happiest -day of his life. He had made a long stride, -even over the evening when, for a few confidential -minutes, she had confided to him those details of her -past relation with Allen. He must compose many -compositions for her. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs played other music, composition after -composition, many of them his own, but all the while -he waited to hear Erna ask him to repeat her composition. -She did not do so at once, but eventually, -<a id="page-52" class="pagenum" title="52"></a> -bored—to tell the truth—by the incessant flow of -music, she made the request. Overjoyed, he repeated -the work, and every measure lingered, -breathed and swayed with the mood of its creator. -Near the close, Erna succeeded in stifling a yawn. -</p> - -<p> -It was after nine o’clock when Carstairs conducted -her down the three flights. He would receive a -reprimand and fine when he reported at the music -hall. But what did he care? -</p> - -<p> -The young composer did not return to his sanctum -until eleven thirty. He quickly lit the gas. At the -theatre, a thought had come to torment him, as he -had rehearsed the evening’s doings and joys many -times over. He went to the piano and took down -the picture of the girl. Presently, he buried it under -a heap of odds and ends that littered the drawer of -a bureau, and said to himself for at least the fiftieth -time: “What a careless damned fool I am!” -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-6"> -<a id="page-53" class="pagenum" title="53"></a> -VI -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -It was early the next afternoon. Breen and Nielsen -were arguing in the former’s studio: a large unusually -well furnished and attractively decorated -West Fourteenth Street skylight room. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, you clear out of here!” Breen was commanding. -“She’ll be here right away.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure she won’t disappoint thee?” Nielsen -mocked pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I saw her this morning and this noon for a -moment, and she intends keeping her royal promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“How about the rouge garment?” -</p> - -<p> -“She hasn’t had time to alter it.” -</p> - -<p> -“That won’t make any difference, of course,” -Nielsen ventured in provoking tones. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on! Clear out of here!” Breen repeated. -</p> - -<p> -“You painters!” sang Nielsen, as he backed toward -the door. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re no worse than you fellows are,” Breen -retorted. “Besides, this afternoon is no more and -no less than an experiment in line with the contract -of our triumvirate. Your inning will come, especially -as you are writing a story, for which purpose—” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-54" class="pagenum" title="54"></a> -“I know,” Nielsen admitted with cheerful slyness. -“And I really need Erna to help me with it.” -</p> - -<p> -“And Carstairs will have to contribute his share -of the contract, unless he persists in that ‘count me -out’ air of his.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he’ll come around, in his own way,” was -Nielsen’s confident assurance. “I saw him this -morning, by the way—the first time I’ve seen him at -Landsmann’s in several days.” -</p> - -<p> -“How is he?” -</p> - -<p> -“Unusually cheery and affable.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’ll recover from that foolishness.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think so too, but—” -</p> - -<p> -“Now, get out!” Breen commanded a third time. -“You’ll be gossipping here forever.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen took hold of the door knob, smiled in an -aggravating manner, opened the door, bowed low -and said in a droll tone: “Moral or unmoral, -but—?” -</p> - -<p> -Breen followed him, but Nielsen escaped, and the -painter slammed the door. His mood changed instantly. -He bustled around the studio, fixing this -and rearranging that object and eventually looked -about with satisfaction. He then approached a looking -glass, readjusted his tie, smoothed his hair with -his hand and otherwise subjected himself to a critical -but self-satisfied examination, which, however, was -<a id="page-55" class="pagenum" title="55"></a> -cut short by a knock at the door. He hurried over -to the door and opened it. “Come in!” he said -cordially and stepped aside for Erna. -</p> - -<p> -She was wearing her best clothes, which were -very attractive on her. Unfortunately, the only red -in the picture was a profusion of ribbons on her black -hat and a neat tie—but fortunately, her red cheeks -and lips were not missing. Altogether, Erna was a -seductive apparition. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly, this was Breen’s opinion too. “How -charming you look, your Ladyship!” he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -“Do I?” she retorted, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh decidedly, decidedly,” and Breen bowed in -anticipation of a pleasant afternoon. Bringing all of -his courtesy to the surface, he helped Erna to remove -her coat. She went over to the looking glass, -laughed, cried: “You’ve got a glass too,” and took -off her hat with careless ease. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” demanded Breen, standing -behind her and surveying her reflection with open -admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’,” she returned rather impudently. -</p> - -<p> -“A lovely girl that!” he added significantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Think so?” she challenged. -</p> - -<p> -“Decidedly,” he repeated. -</p> - -<p> -She shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled at -him in the glass. Breen’s interest grew. He tried -<a id="page-56" class="pagenum" title="56"></a> -to put his hands on her shoulders, by way of confidence, -but Erna turned toward him with a quick -supple movement. Like the accomplished artist she -was, she said nothing, not even by way of reproach, -but laughed again. He eyed her with still franker -admiration. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” she questioned. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I know,” he said, recollecting his rôle, and -went on evasively: “But you’re not wearing your -red dress or very much red?” -</p> - -<p> -“What difference does that make? Maybe you’d -rather have me come some other time?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no! You stay right here, now that you’ve -come. You’ll do just as well in that costume. The -same Erna Vitek is inside it. But—er—” -</p> - -<p> -“But what?” -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t attempt a color sketch of you in that -dress. There, there, forgive me—it’s very charming, -my dear, but— Perhaps, I’ll just make a pencil -sketch of you to-day. Artists ought to commence -with pencil sketches anyhow, until the characters of -their subjects have had time to properly enter their -blood, so to speak. Which, of course, is all Greek -to you. Do you object, madame?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, do me any way you like,” she consented. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, if you feel that way about it,” he hinted -audaciously. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-57" class="pagenum" title="57"></a> -“Take care!” she warned. -</p> - -<p> -Breen went over to the model throne and pretended -to place the chair for her. He was sorry -that he had had to suggest even a pencil sketch of -her, but he was forced to attempt some part of their -original agreement. What is more, he had practically -cast away all thought of “studying” Erna, -later to make his report before the triumvirate. She -was too interesting and magnetic an individual to be -used for such a childish purpose. “Come over here -and sit down,” he requested calmly. -</p> - -<p> -Giving herself an unexpected air of modesty, she -complied, at the same time adding a prudish touch -by fixing her skirt carefully as she sat down. Breen -was puzzled, but drew up a chair, took a pencil and -sketch book and seated himself. “I’m going ta draw -you at close range,” he apologized. She smiled in -encouragement. -</p> - -<p> -Breen commenced drawing, very carelessly, it is -true. Erna watched him with innocent eyes. “Do -I pose right?” she asked at length. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he assured her. -</p> - -<p> -She was silent. -</p> - -<p> -A little later, she asked: “Do your models have -to keep quiet?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all! Chatter away!” -</p> - -<p> -But she preferred to remain silent. To tell the -<a id="page-58" class="pagenum" title="58"></a> -truth, this was not Erna’s first experience as a sitter. -She had posed for two or three other artists in the -past: once as Carmen, another time as a madonna, -and a third time for some allegorical effort concerning -Spring. Breen continued to study her for the -drawing. His mind, however, or that region wherein -its desires lay, was more busy than his pencil. Ten -minutes or so later, he stopped drawing and held the -pad off, squinted one eye at Erna, then at the drawing -and again at Erna. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you like being winked at?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Depends upon who’s doin’ it,” she commented. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you like me to do it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” she replied enigmatically. -</p> - -<p> -He got up from his chair and approached her. -</p> - -<p> -“Bring the picture with you!” she requested. -</p> - -<p> -Breen, however, once more tried to put his hands -on her. She pushed back her chair, and in outraged -tones commanded: “Mr. Breen!” -</p> - -<p> -“I beg your pardon,” he said with well assumed -candor, but he was irritated to a considerable degree. -“I merely wanted to change your pose a bit.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, why didn’t you ask <em>me</em> to do it?” she -complained, her innocent self again. -</p> - -<p> -He returned to his chair without explaining. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I all right now?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Pull your chair forward again.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-59" class="pagenum" title="59"></a> -“So?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna watched him as before, and Breen went on -drawing. But his usually well balanced mind was -ruffled. He tried to construct some other scheme. -Erna had always been quite prone (after all, she -was only a waitress) to permit occasional familiarity -on his part at Landsmann’s. What made her play -the prude away from home? Perhaps she was, at -heart, like the rest of her class, nothing more than a -narrow moralistic thing, and not the unmoral soul -he had constantly given her credit for being. His -disgust was supreme. On the contrary, he mused, -she might only be playing a part. Admitting that -Erna, in society, only held the position of waitress, -still, she was a very shrewd girl. He must try some -other attack, allowing her the credit she deserved. -He had attempted flattery, pleasantry and not a little -boldness. What should be his next step? -</p> - -<p> -Eventually, the young artist tried bribery. Having -finished his work, he presented it to Erna accompanied -by a short but eloquently complimentary -speech. The girl did not neglect to admire the -drawing and to thank him for the present. His act, -apparently, made no stronger impression on her. -Later, he suggested and, with her consent, prepared -and served some tea and biscuits. They were sitting -<a id="page-60" class="pagenum" title="60"></a> -at a small cosy table. About them, the atmosphere -had spread a halo of warmth and intimacy. And -Breen played host and admirer to the best of his -accomplished ability. But Erna refused to respond -any more than she had done earlier. She appeared -grateful; she talked a good deal; and she seemed -completely at ease with Breen and her surroundings. -But she would not respond more than she had done. -Breen’s disgust threatened to reach a climax. -</p> - -<p> -There was a reason for Erna’s conduct. She, in -her greed of heart, playing with Breen, as she had -with Carstairs, the part of a watchful cat, had come -to several conclusions. She disliked the artist’s long, -angular figure, his sharp, shrewd face, and most of -all, his cold, self-sympathetic eyes. And she disliked -him personally even more. Without claiming -any undue powers of discernment for Erna, one -would surely have had to credit her with the possession -of a strong feminine instinct. Her instinct had -resented his attentions, for, behind them all, she had -felt that he, as a gentleman, was shoving her down -where she belonged. She was a waitress, but she -was good looking enough and lots of fun for him—and -much more in prospect. In a word, Breen had -brought out the hard calculating side of her nature, -and she had raised her guard against him. -</p> - -<p> -Furthermore, Erna was in a bad humor when she -<a id="page-61" class="pagenum" title="61"></a> -came to Breen’s studio, her genial conduct notwithstanding. -She had seen Jimmy that noon in the dining -room, but he had spent all of his time talking -fight with the customers. As though the fact that -he was to turn to the ring to-morrow night would -bring the world to an end! She would pay him for -neglecting her. Besides, Mr. Nielsen had been approaching -her. He had been asking her to “pose” -for him too. Did he also want to take advantage -of her? Still, there was something human inside of -him. He had always acted a little differently from -the others. As for Jimmy— -</p> - -<p> -Breen interrupted her reflection. He reached -across the table and tried to touch her hand. Erna’s -face flushed with anger, and her hand came down -upon his with a loud slap. Just as quickly, she recollected -herself. “Excuse me!” she asked sullenly. -</p> - -<p> -Breen, however, was through. He arose from his -chair. This had been impudence beyond all impudence. -And the man of success turned his back -upon the waitress. -</p> - -<p> -Erna likewise got up, leaving the sketch on the -table. She did not offer a second apology. Instead, -she drew on her coat, picked up her hat and walked -over to the glass. Her face was crimson. -</p> - -<p> -Breen was quite sorry. He came behind Erna -and made several attempts to clear some momentary -<a id="page-62" class="pagenum" title="62"></a> -pangs of conscience. But Erna would not listen. -He moved away, pride clouding his face. -</p> - -<p> -Erna hurried toward the door. Breen followed -her, offering one or two final excuses. But she -refused to answer, and went out. Breen slammed -the door behind her. Presently, he was busy pacing -the studio in a vain endeavor to regain some of his -composure. -</p> - -<p> -Steps were to be heard coming along the hallway. -The door was opened cautiously, and Nielsen’s head -and shoulders appeared. And his caressing voice -questioned: “Well, your Highness, what is your -decision? Moral, unmoral or—?” -</p> - -<p> -Breen faced about, swore a strong oath and commanded: -“Get out of here!” -</p> - -<p> -“But, dear Bainbridge—” -</p> - -<p> -“Get out, you spy!” Breen continued angrily, and -went toward the door. -</p> - -<p> -“But I want to know your decision.” -</p> - -<p> -“Moral, moral, a million times moral—she has -degenerated—in fact, she hasn’t even degenerated. -I wouldn’t do her the honor of saying so. She’s always -been a narrow, conventional, contemptible little -thing. Is that enough, you ass? She’s a—” -</p> - -<p> -“Enough, noble Sire!” Nielsen interrupted with a -mysterious air. “Thou hast spoken. Enough!” -<a id="page-63" class="pagenum" title="63"></a> -Luckily, his head and shoulders disappeared just in -time. -</p> - -<p> -Breen slammed the door. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-7"> -<a id="page-64" class="pagenum" title="64"></a> -VII -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Wednesday morning was a particularly noisy -morning in the rear dining room of Landsmann’s. -Jimmy Allen was the hero. On the night before, he -had knocked out his opponent toward the close of -the first round. Some of his admirers had met at -Landsmann’s to discuss and celebrate the event, and -one who had been present was supplying the others -with the details. -</p> - -<p> -“An’ toward the end o’ the round,” he was describing, -“Jimmy ducked under the poor ‘Kid’s’ -flabby guard an’ caught ’im an awful soak in the -guts, an’ as ‘the Kid’ doubled up, Jimmy swung the -finisher—it was a terror!—right on the point o’ -the jaw. ‘The Kid’ hit the mat deader than a door -nail. An’ they carried ’im away, a smashed hope -inside o’ three minutes.” -</p> - -<p> -The listeners clamored for more, and one of them -queried: “But I thought ‘the Kid’ was such a clever -sidestepper?” -</p> - -<p> -“He is, but he couldn’t sidestep Jimmy. Jimmy’s -a terror in the ring. He’s a good-natured feller outside, -but the sight of another feller in front of ’im -kind o’ riles ’is blood. He can’t rest till he’s battered -<a id="page-65" class="pagenum" title="65"></a> -the guy away, an’ let ’im see a little blood, -like ‘the Kid’s’ mouth bleedin’, an’ it’s all off ’cept -the count, for Jimmy goes wild. He got to ‘the Kid’ -by constant borein’ in. Half a dozen fierce body -taps weakened the poor guy, then a couple o’ face -smashers, an’ then the finish. Oh, it was awful.” -</p> - -<p> -The listeners sighed with awe. “An’ Jimmy?” -requested the interlocutor. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he got a scratch or two. But he was ’is -smilin’ self soon’s it was over.” -</p> - -<p> -Standing near the doorway, listening to every -word with feverish interest, was Erna. Her eyes -shone, and her heart beat with joyous pride. -</p> - -<p> -Landsmann suddenly called to her from the -kitchen: “Erna, your order is here.” She did not -heed him, but waited for more details. Again, the -storekeeper called to her, but once more, she refused -to heed him. The man appeared in the doorway, -his face red with vexation. “Erna! Do you hear -me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes,” she retorted petulantly, and hurried -past him. He followed close behind her, and as she -turned, gave her a stupid but indignant stare. Erna -returned his stare with interest, and Landsmann, -beaten as he had been so often, retreated to the store, -there to seek muttered consultation with his wife. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was about to take up her order, when she -<a id="page-66" class="pagenum" title="66"></a> -came upon a remarkable sight. She stopped, stared -and, stimulated by a desire to emulate, tiptoed forward, -her strong white teeth showing in the joy of -anticipation. On the bottom of the kitchen sink, a -goodly sized rat was drinking. -</p> - -<p> -The girl continued to sneak forward without making -a sound. Suddenly, her hand darted out and -seized the rat by the neck; at the same time, she -turned on the water from the large faucet. With a -strong grip, she held the squirming, squeaking animal -under the stream. -</p> - -<p> -Gretchen screamed and ran out into the store. -“<em>Was ist los?</em>” demanded the storekeeper. Gretchen -told her story in a frightened whisper. Mrs. -Landsmann and Molly screamed; several customers -arose and, led by Landsmann, who waddled forward, -came into the kitchen. Landsmann stopped -short at a respectful distance from Erna, eyed her -furiously and shouted imprecations. She paid no -attention to him, but continued her pleasant task, her -face alight with animal joy and brutality. The rat’s -life was soon extinguished, due, perhaps, more to -Erna’s fingers than the water. Proudly holding it -out by the tail for display, she dropped the body -into a pail under the sink. -</p> - -<p> -The storekeeper approached her, followed by the -customers. The latter profferred congratulations, -<a id="page-67" class="pagenum" title="67"></a> -but not so Herr Landsmann. He grabbed some -table refuse and dumping it into the pail, piled some -old newspapers on top, all the while averting his -face as much as possible. He then turned upon -Erna, but she stood her ground, defying him, and the -storekeeper was forced to resort to still stronger imprecation. -Erna grew impudent in the knowledge of -her righteousness, and Landsmann had to retreat -once more, but this time with threatening gestures -and for an even angrier consultation with his wife. -The other waitresses refused to return to the kitchen, -but went over to assist Landsmann. -</p> - -<p> -The customers, who had been joined by others -from the rear dining room, refused to leave the -kitchen, each one wishing to pay Erna homage by -compliment or by taking her arm. Jimmy Allen -was forgotten. At first, the girl, conscious of the -sensation she had created so accidentally,—killing -rats was not entirely new to her—faced her worshippers -with an exultant smile. Soon, she tired of their -praise, and more so of their physical attentions, -a repetition of their usual conduct toward her. Furthermore, -the storekeeper’s attitude rankled deeper -and deeper, until anger controlled her. Therefore, -she pushed her way through the gathering, ordered -all back to their tables, a command they obeyed under -<a id="page-68" class="pagenum" title="68"></a> -protest, and returned to her duties with a decidedly -willful air. If only Jimmy were here! -</p> - -<p> -Within the next hour or so, Herr Landsmann, -backed by his wife’s moral support, came into the -kitchen four times to reprimand Erna. He had even -hunted for other pretexts to scold her. By nine -o’clock, when Erna was almost alone in her small -empire, her resentment had reached a state of revolt. -Why didn’t he bounce her at once? It would be -better. In fact, she would leave of her own free -will. That would be better still. She would be -free. She had a right to be happy. She had always -been happy. So she would be free, Landsmann, -his wife and the rest of the world notwithstanding. -How she hated and despised them! Let -any one else try to tie her hands! -</p> - -<p> -Another half hour passed, and Erna’s determination -grew. Her whole fighting instinct had been set -astir. As a result, she had treated the few remaining -customers with contemptuous neglect. They were -all of one breed. And they left, one by one, passing -remarks, laughing or trying to banter her. Soon -she was left to herself and surly reflection, as Landsmann, -luckily, had discontinued molesting her—for -the present, at least. However, a newcomer entered -the dining room. But he was the highly welcome -Jimmy Allen. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-69" class="pagenum" title="69"></a> -Erna greeted him with joy. She had forgotten -her yesterday’s resentment, in his sudden rise to honor -and in her present need. And Jimmy greeted her -with joy. No other word passed between them. -Instead, Jimmy embraced her with all of his brute -strength. He then tried kissing her, only to have -Erna slip from his grasp. Jimmy’s blood was -aroused. He pursued Erna, cornered her and caught -her with an even stronger embrace than before, -breathing hard with passion. They overturned a -chair, and Jimmy tripped and lost his hold. They -both breathed rapidly, and stood apart, watching -each other. Herr Landsmann looked into the dining -room, scowled and disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy again came closer, but Erna shook her -head in warning. She had seen the storekeeper. -Presently, she gave her lover a short nervous account -of her morning’s trial. Jimmy swore a generous -oath and begged her to drop her work at once. -But Erna hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, come out o’ this!” he pleaded. -</p> - -<p> -Erna would not answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Come out o’ this, Erna!” he repeated seriously. -“You’re sick o’ this. I’m sick o’ this. Let’s go -away. We’re fixed now—or as good as fixed. The -only job’s the minister’s. Come on, Erna!” -</p> - -<p> -Still, the girl refused to answer, but it was evident -<a id="page-70" class="pagenum" title="70"></a> -that she was weakening—as Jimmy was aware too. -Hurriedly, he recounted his victory of last night, -emphasized the fact that he was stronger than ever, -knew “more about the game,” and outlined the near -future: that he was soon to meet Young Walcott, -whom he would dispose of, and some unknown from -Chicago. He would have quite a little money shortly, -and he could support her “as a decent woman -should be supported.” She would be happy. They -would both be happy. “Come on, Erna!” he concluded. -“Be a sport!” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was in a groggy state. One last stinging -argument would have finished her. She hesitated, as -did Jimmy, who, unfortunately, resorted to stalling. -</p> - -<p> -At length, she said: “Gimme until to-night!” -</p> - -<p> -Now, Jimmy missed entirely: “But I say, Erna. -I got an important date then.” -</p> - -<p> -Her resentment returned at once. She recalled -his neglect of yesterday. “What?” she demanded -jealously. -</p> - -<p> -“I got to see Nolan an’ Walcott an’ his manager -to-night. We got to talk over an’ arrange things. -Besides, Nolan’s givin’ a little spread in my honor -among the boys. Can’t you tell me now? Tell me -now!” -</p> - -<p> -“I said <em>to-night</em>, didn’t I?” she retorted in dangerous -tones. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-71" class="pagenum" title="71"></a> -“I know, Erna, but I can’t see you to-night. -Make it to-morrow night, an’ we’ll talk it over, long’s -you won’t say now. Make it to-morrow night! An’ -I’ll spend the whole evenin’ with you.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna had turned her back on him. Jimmy came -closer, but she walked away, while he followed her, -foolishly continuing to apologize and to cajole her. -Unhappily, Jimmy’s suit was interrupted. Another -man came into the dining room: Eric Nielsen. -</p> - -<p> -Glances passed between them. Nielsen went over -to the farthermost corner, took off his hat and coat -and sat down. Jimmy looked at Erna on the sly, -but she paid no attention to him. The young fighter -did not stay for breakfast. He left the room without -another word. And Erna smiled secretly. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen, always a lover of other’s secrets, had -digested most of the scene. But he was still a diplomat. -Consequently, he said nothing and permitted -Erna to come over for his order. She looked nervous -and uncertain. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s new?” he asked pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -“Still ham and eggs and the old program?” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled slightly. “Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -He ordered some eggs, toast and a cup of black -coffee and explained: “I need some energy for work -this morning. I feel dopy.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-72" class="pagenum" title="72"></a> -Erna smiled again and went away. She was feeling -a little better. There was always something -soothing in Nielsen and his banter. And she did -not wait in the kitchen for his order, but came back -to his table. Erna rarely acted parts in Nielsen’s -company. -</p> - -<p> -He looked up sympathetically. He wanted to -ask her what was wrong, but knowing her antipathy -for expressed sympathy or soft advances, remained -silent. Herr Landsmann looked in upon them. Erna -flushed with her old resentment, and the storekeeper -frowned and disappeared. Nielsen remarked the exchange. -“That’s it, is it?” he observed gently. -</p> - -<p> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -“The boss?” -</p> - -<p> -She was thoughtful and then admitted: “Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the Dutchman done?” -</p> - -<p> -Slowly, and not without reluctance in the beginning, -she told him the details, he interrupting her -once or twice with encouragement. “Shades of -Norway!” he exclaimed in admiration. “You could -easily play the Rat-wife in ‘Little Eyolf’.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him in a puzzled way, but he -laughed and advised her: “Don’t mind me; I’m -cracked. Go on!” -</p> - -<p> -Erna related the rest of the incident. He was -quietly attentive to every detail, and at the conclusion -<a id="page-73" class="pagenum" title="73"></a> -of her recital, broke out cheerfully: “The -trouble with the German is that he’s too slow to catch -even a cockroach. Therefore, he resents speed. So -Landsmann calls you down. And the girls—well, -they’re children, like most females. You’re entirely -too dramatic for their comfort.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna never quite understood Nielsen, but she mellowed -down to some of her old good nature. Nielsen -continued his reassuring nonsense, and gradually, -the rest of her good nature was restored. The young -writer was not slow to notice the change, and he -was glad to have been of service to her. He had -no desire to make any personal use of Erna’s present -mental condition, but nevertheless, he proceeded: -“Erna, you must be tired.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly. You need a little rest—a little diversion. -Let me help you out; there’s a sensible girl. -Will you come over and spend part of the evening -with me?” -</p> - -<p> -His request had not been a bold one; he had -made it seriously, and with no thought of himself. -But Erna gave him a sharp look. He met her glance -with an honest one and pursued: “I don’t want you -to pose for the story, as I asked you yesterday—honestly, -I don’t. I just want to amuse you a little, -<a id="page-74" class="pagenum" title="74"></a> -if I can. You need a bit of a change, even by having -me supply it.” -</p> - -<p> -This was approaching dangerously close to a soft -advance, but Erna did not heed it. She was still -busy trying to read Nielsen, but reading Nielsen was -not so easy as appearances would have led one to -believe. However, she was able to read humanity -behind his lurking smile, and likewise his seriousness -of purpose. “I don’t know,” she said in doubt. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not afraid?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” she admitted. -</p> - -<p> -“Come ahead then. We’ll have a quiet little -evening together, or you can tell me some more about -your enemies, German and others. As for posing, -I’ll do the posing, such as standing on my head, for -example.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna had always felt that Nielsen was human. It -now come as a realization. She gave him a final -penetrating glance. He smiled frankly, and she had -to smile as well. “All right,” she resigned. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re a good sport, Erna,” he complimented -her. “But you’re too trusting, I’m afraid.” -</p> - -<p> -“Think so?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked somewhat doubtful, and then her face -cleared. Nielsen understood. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-75" class="pagenum" title="75"></a> -“Your order’s ready, Erna,” came Landsmann’s -voice. -</p> - -<p> -And the girl hurried out. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-8"> -<a id="page-76" class="pagenum" title="76"></a> -VIII -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Erna was in a splendid mood when she called on -Nielsen that evening. In the first place, the young -Norwegian-American had earned her gratitude. -Secondly, and what is perhaps more important, -Jimmy Allen had come into Landsmann’s both for the -noon and the evening meal and had paid her humble -devotion. She had agreed to spend to-morrow evening -with him, but principally that she might add -coal to the fire of his impatience by putting off her -answer, which she had not formed as yet but in the -existence of which she had succeeded in leading him -to believe. Thirdly, she had had two more tilts with -Landsmann and was victorious in both. Consequently, -Erna was in high spirit. In addition, her -greedy nature was looking forward to the new sensation -that life might be on the point of offering her in -Nielsen. -</p> - -<p> -It was evident at once that he was likewise in the -best of humor. His greeting of Erna was of the -heartiest cordiality and cheer. And he required only -a minute or two to settle her comfortably on the -couch and to make her feel otherwise at home. She -was not surprised. On the contrary, she entered immediately -<a id="page-77" class="pagenum" title="77"></a> -into the mood of the young writer’s hospitality. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Rat-wife, how’ve you been?” he commenced. -“I haven’t seen you since this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why do you call me Rat-wife?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because you’re a professional rat catcher.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve caught rats before,” she confessed. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you? Great! I always thought you must -have had another vocation in life.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I hate caterpillars, don’t you?” she declared -naïvely. -</p> - -<p> -“By all means,” he agreed. “They give one the -fuzzy-wuzzies, don’t they?” -</p> - -<p> -They both laughed. He drew his chair closer to -the couch and watched her frankly. She watched -him with equal candor. There was honest admiration -in his next remark: “You’re strong, aren’t -you, Erna?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“How’d you get that way?” he pursued. -</p> - -<p> -“I must ’a’ been born that way. I guess my father -an’ mother were strong an’ healthy. Any way, I -exercise a great deal—” -</p> - -<p> -“In the store, you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, at night, by the open window, in—” -</p> - -<p> -“Not in the nude?” he ventured. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-78" class="pagenum" title="78"></a> -“Not quite, but almost!” she admitted, and they -laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -“But Erna, what made you say you <em>guess</em> your -father and mother were strong? Don’t you know -whether they were? Aren’t they alive?” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him suddenly, but his straightforward -glance reassured her. She announced quietly: -“I never saw my parents.” -</p> - -<p> -“What?” he broke out. “Then how—but I beg -your pardon, child. I didn’t mean to be inquisitive.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not inquisitive,” she returned with unaccustomed -seriousness. “Only—” -</p> - -<p> -“I understand,” he interrupted. “Don’t speak of -it! It’s too painful. Besides, we mustn’t be growing -gloomy.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was meditative. She had never confided -that part of her life to any one. It might be nice to -unburden some of it. And Mr. Nielsen—he was so—She -glanced at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Please don’t!” he requested. “I’d much rather -you wouldn’t.” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled and said: “It isn’t so sad; it’s just -kind o’ funny.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, if it’s funny, out with it, but if it isn’t—” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s kind o’ funny that I should be tellin’ at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“To me, you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-79" class="pagenum" title="79"></a> -“That’s easy. You trust me; that’s the reason,” -he explained jocularly. -</p> - -<p> -“Do I? How do you know?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I’m a wise old know-it-all. Which is certainly -a nice bunch of conceit, isn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” she denied good-humoredly. -</p> - -<p> -Without pretense of any sort, and completely at -her ease sitting there on the couch only a yard or two -from him, she gave Nielsen a few points in her -knowledge of past years. Briefly, she laid claim to -having lived nearly all her life with adopted parents, -from whom, thanks to their continued selfishness and -maltreatment, she had run away about a year ago. -These people had once informed her that her father -had married some woman of position in Bohemia, -where Erna was born, and that, having squandered -her money, he had disappeared for good. Her -mother had died in giving birth to her, and her -adopted parents, related to him as cousins, had received -her indirectly through some friends of her -father’s, as well as money, through various mysterious -channels, up to her sixth year. The remittances -stopped suddenly, and she was left a beggar on their -hands, a fact of which they were often careful to remind -her. At the age of twelve or thirteen, Erna -had hunted for and found a situation, and later -others, and had been able to pay some sort of board -<a id="page-80" class="pagenum" title="80"></a> -through the intervening years. But her “parents,” -who had five children of their own, despised her and -maltreated her accordingly, as did the children, -guided by the elders’ precepts. Only her strength -of body and endowed pugnaciousness had saved her -from greater maltreatment. -</p> - -<p> -“And this you call a funny story?” demanded -Nielsen, stopping her. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s nothing so very sad in it,” she declared -stubbornly. -</p> - -<p> -“There isn’t?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -His admiration for her developed. Erna certainly -possessed sterling qualities. -</p> - -<p> -“But I haven’t finished,” she interposed. -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind, Erna. I’ve heard enough.” -</p> - -<p> -“You haven’t heard why I quit my ‘parents’.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t have to,” he tried to stop her. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s only a little to it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“They tried to sell me.” -</p> - -<p> -“What?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just what I said.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“They tried to sell me to an old admirer o’ mine -in Paterson.” -</p> - -<p> -“You must be crazy, child.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-81" class="pagenum" title="81"></a> -“No more’n you,” she insisted. “The man was -all ready with his money an’—” -</p> - -<p> -“But this is impossible,” he interrupted. -</p> - -<p> -“No, it isn’t. I ought to know. It made me -jump the track.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s how you ran away?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“A year ago?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. It was the last straw. They’d tried the -same game twice before. I was through.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen eyed her in sympathy. He had not credited -the whole of her story, incoherent and almost -imaginary as some of its details sounded, but the -climax had moved him deeply. He was not as -superficial as his outward demeanor might indicate. -But he was still a diplomat, and knowing Erna’s -nature better than ever now, did not offer her open -sympathy. Instead, he questioned: “So you wandered -around New York looking for jobs?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Till you landed at Landsmann’s?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, I had two other jobs before that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Where?” -</p> - -<p> -“At other bakeries, but I was fired.” -</p> - -<p> -“For—for sassing back?” he asked, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, just as I sass old Landsmann.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-82" class="pagenum" title="82"></a> -He grew serious. “Hadn’t you better be careful?” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“About angering Landsmann?” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t help it. I hate him. I hate Germans. -My ‘parents’ were German an’—” -</p> - -<p> -“He may fire you too.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t care.” -</p> - -<p> -“But you don’t want to be forced to run about -New York again, do you?” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was about to break out, thinking of Jimmy, -“I won’t have to,” but substituted staring at Nielsen. -He was so fine, so human, so— -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind, Erna! Let’s talk of something -more cheerful.” Suddenly, it was his turn to look -thoughtful. Before he was aware of himself, he -commenced: “Erna!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you ever need anybody—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“I mean in case you should ever lose your job—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes?” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t hesitate to come to me for help.” -</p> - -<p> -He had spoken in a more earnest tone than was -his custom. Erna looked quantities of gratitude. -“Do you mean—” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he forestalled her. “I’m a man, Erna, or -<a id="page-83" class="pagenum" title="83"></a> -a part o’ one. I know you’re a good sport, I’ve seen -so much evidence of it. In fact, you’re as good and -probably a better sport than I am”—all this with a -return to banter—“so it’s up to me, if you ever need -assistance.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was unable to reply. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you?” he requested more quietly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she agreed, and was silent. -</p> - -<p> -Presently, he came back to the whimsical. “We’re -a funeral party, aren’t we?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we can start a partnership as funeral directors -to bury the past, can’t we?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure!” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen laughed, and she followed his example. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna, I envy you,” he started again. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing downs you long. You’re such a happy -Indian that you’re able to run your world.” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. It takes happy people to run the world, -you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Does it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly. That’s my humble belief anyhow. -Dost believe in philosophy?” -</p> - -<p> -“No time for it!” she returned. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re right,” he applauded. “It’s only a -<a id="page-84" class="pagenum" title="84"></a> -pastime for lemon natures. Stick to your joy, -Erna!” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was indulging in more abstract matters than -she had ever attempted, for she said: “I can’t help -it, I suppose. I love joy and happy people. An’ -fresh air, strength, freedom.” But it was Nielsen’s -fault, he used such a subtle method of probing her. -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do, Erna,” he interrupted. “You have -spoken. There is nothing to be added to fresh air, -the breeder of strength, the breeder of freedom. -This ought to be enough philosophy for one day, eh? -We’ll have headaches soon, won’t we?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not me!” she denied, and he laughed and -added: “Then I’ll close the sermon with a little -text, if I may.” -</p> - -<p> -“Go ahead.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whatever happens,” he bantered her; “stick to -your freedom with your last dying breath!” -</p> - -<p> -“Thanks!” -</p> - -<p> -The evening developed even further intimacy. -And Erna soon came to realize that she had discovered -her new sensation. As for Nielsen, he was -spending an unusual evening too. Several times, he -thought of Jimmy Allen and his connection with -Erna. He was a splendid joyous animal like her. -It did not surprise him that he had been restored to -her favor, they were so well mated. And he recalled -<a id="page-85" class="pagenum" title="85"></a> -the short but significant scene he had spoiled -that morning. -</p> - -<p> -Erna, surely, was a rare nature,—hard, perhaps, -selfish and cruel in many ways too, quite a little more -so than others, but her strength of will, self reliance -and her stubborn pursuit of pleasure and excitement—her -life of joy—were irresistible. And she was -only a waitress. But she was far more than that, -an individual, as Carstairs had vaunted that time; -she had lived a life harder to endure than that loaded -upon his educated acquaintances, for example, and -yet, she, lacking their knowledge and so called experience -and wisdom, controlled life; life did not -control her. And Nielsen, who seldom overlooked -dissecting himself along with others, admitted readily -that Erna attracted him powerfully, and not in the -name of the story, which he had forgotten—for the -present, anyhow. -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s mind was making more rapid calculations -than ever before. “Stick to your freedom!” he had -advised her. It was true. She must go on fighting -for that. But what of Jimmy—and marriage? -Marriage, that word with a bad taste, marriage even -with Jimmy would steal a good portion of her freedom. -She must be careful. Besides, her power -over Jimmy was so easy just the same. And Nielsen, -that puzzling human man, disconcerted her. He -<a id="page-86" class="pagenum" title="86"></a> -was different from Jimmy. He was strong physically -too, if not quite as handsome, and he possessed -a strong heart and mind, which Jimmy did not. But -his constant joking—was he really serious? She -never knew just where to find him, he eluded her so. -If she were to marry, she would never see him again, -a prospect her greediness did not like to consider, as -she sat there slyly watching him, clothed in that easy, -cheerful, even-tempered strength of his. -</p> - -<p> -Erna and Nielsen did not leave the latter’s workshop -until close upon midnight. The rest of the time -had passed swiftly and pleasantly. Their parting -was warm to a decided degree. And they made an -appointment for the following Friday evening. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll be a night owl soon,” she complained. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no—you’ll always be a Rat-wife,” he corrected. -</p> - -<p> -She pressed the book under her arm—Ibsen’s -“Little Eyolf,” which he had lent her—and -laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, don’t forget my text,” he warned her -gently, as they stood on the dark street corner near -Landsmann’s, their hands clasped in friendly embrace. -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if there’s any real trouble with Landsmann?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-87" class="pagenum" title="87"></a> -“Yes, I will,” she agreed. -</p> - -<p> -He pressed her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-night,” he returned. -</p> - -<p> -And they separated. But they both looked back -twice and waved their hands—in the old fashioned -way. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-9"> -<a id="page-88" class="pagenum" title="88"></a> -IX -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -“An order of mocha tart, Erna!” -</p> - -<p> -It was Bainbridge Breen who had spoken. The -girl left the dining room with a cheery: “All right!” -The young artist turned to his friends, Carstairs and -Nielsen, who were sitting with him at the rear table: -“Mocha tart is still the prince of Landsmann pastries.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve made up with Erna, I see,” Nielsen -ventured quietly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, of course! I’m too busy a man to spend -any time harboring animosity. Besides, I guess I’m -sufficiently broad-minded to forgive the girl her indiscretion.” -</p> - -<p> -“And on her side, she’s too light-hearted to hold -animosity,” the author supplied. -</p> - -<p> -“I expect so,” Breen agreed generously, and then -challenged: “But how about <em>you</em> and Erna? And -how about your story?” -</p> - -<p> -“Haven’t been able to finish it as yet,” Nielsen -returned somewhat evasively. -</p> - -<p> -“Haven’t had enough opportunity for <em>studying</em> -Erna?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, I’m not quite through.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-89" class="pagenum" title="89"></a> -Breen laughed significantly, and Carstairs flushed. -</p> - -<p> -“Then you haven’t reached your decision as regards -Erna’s morals?” the painter continued. -</p> - -<p> -“Not just yet!” was Nielsen’s response, keyed in -deeper evasiveness. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll reach my conclusion absolutely,” Breen -closed confidently. “She’s a moral little thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” Carstairs interposed indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Whoop-la!” cried Breen. “So you’ve come to -<em>your</em> decision, Brother John? How did it happen, -you sly dog?” -</p> - -<p> -“I haven’t come to any decision,” Carstairs denied -wearily. “I told you in the beginning what I -thought of Erna.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so,” Breen gave in with a tone of fatherly -wisdom. “But when and where did you find opportunity -to strengthen your belief? You haven’t been -coming here very often of late?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s my affair,” Carstairs retorted. -</p> - -<p> -He was in a melancholy mood. Erna had been -neglecting him since their evening together. Moreover, -she had treated him with more or less indifference -as well, as though his visits bored her, and had -allowed him no opening for inviting her again. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen wisely changed the subject: “Been doing -much work lately, John?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I’ve been busy.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-90" class="pagenum" title="90"></a> -“What are you doing?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been writing a little set of piano songs,” he -rejoined. -</p> - -<p> -“Good for you!” Breen applauded. “There’s -nothing like work after all, and we all seem engaged -to that lady at present. She’s the best wife in the -world.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen smiled philosophically, but the tired expression -had revisited Carstairs’ face. The trio continued -eating their supper, and the conversation -strayed to other and less personal topics. -</p> - -<p> -That same evening, Erna was to meet Jimmy -Allen. The hero of Landsmann’s was well ahead -of their appointment time, for he was strangely excited. -He had some news to impart to Erna. -</p> - -<p> -She was ten minutes late. He did not call her -attention to the fact, but greeted her boisterously -and began: “Gee, Erna! I got great news for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you?” she replied with well feigned indifference. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think? Nolan’s offered to let us -have the rooms free for one month.” -</p> - -<p> -“Did he?” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure! What do you think o’ that? Ain’t he -the pippin? Ain’t he the classy guy?” -</p> - -<p> -She did not answer. They were walking slowly. -<a id="page-91" class="pagenum" title="91"></a> -He grabbed her arm. “What’s the matter now?” -he demanded. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’.” -</p> - -<p> -“You said you’d made up your mind,” he maintained -anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“I said: not quite,” she corrected him. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, but you have, Erna,” he pleaded. “You’ll -join hands with me? You’re sick o’ Landsmann’s. -You—we’re stuck on each other, an’ the minister’s—Well, -wait’ll you see the flat!” he broke off. -“That’ll settle it. Wait’ll you see the <em>flat</em>!” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m takin’ you there,” he informed her eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -“Now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course!” he cajoled her. “You’ll come, -won’t you?” and he squeezed her arm. “There’s no -harm in it. You don’t have to like the place? It -don’t hurt to see it?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then we’ll go.” -</p> - -<p> -Erna was busy eyeing a millinery show window. -</p> - -<p> -“How about it?” he questioned. -</p> - -<p> -“All right.” -</p> - -<p> -He sighed with relief and satisfaction. -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -There were two rooms and a bath. The furnishings -were fairly attractive—garish in some respects, -<a id="page-92" class="pagenum" title="92"></a> -but on the whole, adequate. Erna admitted to herself -that they surpassed her expectation, the garish -qualities, no doubt, appealing to her love of life and -violent color. But she made no such admission to -Jimmy. -</p> - -<p> -He was watching her with wide open eyes. Gradually, -his anxiety forsook him and his natural cheerfulness -appeared. “Well?” he asked quietly. -</p> - -<p> -Erna continued reticent. Neither of the rooms -compared with Mr. Nielsen’s, which was so wonderfully -cosy, but she could easily improve them. -Her woman’s housekeeper instinct declared itself; -it would be nice to occupy herself making changes -here and there. And it would be a nice place to -spend a few lazy hours every day, it was such a fine -little apartment. Best of all, it would be her first -home.... Erna studied the large couch for the -first time and hesitated. “Stick to your freedom!” -he had advised her. Marriage? No, marriage -would not be so nice. Still, strong, broad shouldered, -handsome, happy Jimmy was standing right -near her. She glanced his way. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” he repeated. -</p> - -<p> -Erna looked away. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter?” he asked, and approached -a little. -</p> - -<p> -She did not answer.... That other time matters -<a id="page-93" class="pagenum" title="93"></a> -were different. She had not felt as drawn to him -then as she had since his return. His offer of money -that day—well, it had been an honest one: he -had cared for her, and he had been her best friend -in those days. She must do him that much justice. -And he was offering her much more now. She hated -Landsmann’s more and more. She could not endure -the place many days longer. And this would be her -first home. But suppose she should want to change—as -she had done so often before, due to her hatred -of any steady existence? Her hands would be tied. -Marriage meant loss of freedom. She cared for -Jimmy, yes, but not quite enough. If she were only -given more time for a decision! Perhaps, Mr. Nielsen -would help her to decide. But she would not -ask <em>him</em>. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the matter?” Jimmy demanded once -more and with returning anxiety. He came closer. -</p> - -<p> -Erna turned toward him. She cast aside the part -she usually played with him, and gave him the first -honest glance he had received from her in several -days. He quickly put his arm about her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -Erna turned her head away and tried to pull back, -but his other arm found its way about her. “Erna!” -he begged for the last time. -</p> - -<p> -She commenced to struggle. His instincts of battle -were aroused; and his exasperation of nearly two -<a id="page-94" class="pagenum" title="94"></a> -years’ standing seized this opportunity. Heedless -of her cries, he tightened his grip and pressed her -breast against his with brutal strength. There was a -moment of tugging and swaying. Suddenly, Erna -raised her face, and he kissed her mouth with the -same undeniable brutality. The girl no longer struggled. -But he would not let her go. -</p> - -<p> -At length, she tried to break away, but his strength -was much greater than hers. He continued to -weaken her, strong and stubborn though she was, by -more unmerciful kisses and embraces. Erna attempted -to beat his breast with what freedom her -hands were permitted and not succeeding, kicked his -shins. But Jimmy, laughing with joy and suffering -with passion, hugged her with such finality that she -was left powerless. -</p> - -<p> -As usual, that old but simple law of physics, concerning -the continued contact of bodies, was vindicated. -Soon after, it was satisfied. Erna and -Jimmy did not rise from the couch for nearly three -hours. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was tired, but happy. She looked at Jimmy. -He laughed. She laughed too. And then they -laughed together. Suddenly, she became serious. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the trouble?” he questioned. -</p> - -<p> -Erna looked at him differently now, but her -seriousness soon fled. After all, just as posing for -<a id="page-95" class="pagenum" title="95"></a> -Breen had not been quite new to her, so her present -experience was not quite new. Furthermore, Erna -possessed unlimited gameness. Life had never been -able to throw her for a long fall. Therefore, her -boldness returned. Jimmy laughed as before, and -she joined him once more. -</p> - -<p> -“All right?” he requested. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -He got up. She watched him dress. He was -slow and careless in the performance. But her attention -was absorbed by the muscular play of his -splendid body. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” he asked smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Well what?” she challenged. -</p> - -<p> -“What makes you stare?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’!” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I nothin’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -He laughed with his usual readiness, and content, -turned his back on her with lazy ease and walked -over to the mirror. Erna frowned slightly. Somehow, -his “I” had put her on her old guard. It -seemed to spell property, as did his care-free satisfaction -with himself. Erna watched him with -glances sharpened by caution. -</p> - -<p> -But it was necessary to dress. She was beginning -<a id="page-96" class="pagenum" title="96"></a> -to feel chilly. Without getting up, she slipped on -her waist, that had been lying nearby on the floor. -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy Allen’s mood had reached a state of hopeless -disregard. He committed a decided blunder. -With cheerful candor, he asked, without troubling -himself to turn around: “Erna! When do we move -in?” -</p> - -<p> -She gave his back an indignant glance. “What -did you say?” -</p> - -<p> -“I said: when do we move in?” -</p> - -<p> -Her instinct was up in arms. Throwing coolness -into her reply, she returned deliberately: “Not -until doomsday.” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped fixing his tie. But he continued: -“You’re gettin’ crazy again.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not,” she replied without changing her tone. -“I said: not until doomsday.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned toward her, smiling. But the smile left -his face. “What’s the matter now?” he asked, coming -forward. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on dressin’!” she commanded, his smile having -started her petulance. -</p> - -<p> -He, however, had come over to the couch and now -stood over her, staring at her stupidly. She looked -up at him, animosity in her glance. His vapid expression -deepened. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” she challenged. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-97" class="pagenum" title="97"></a> -“Sore?” he asked humbly. -</p> - -<p> -“No!” -</p> - -<p> -He tried to study her. Gradually, light penetrated -his cloudy understanding: Erna was just like other -women. Luckily, some stroke of intuition prompted -him not to turn away this time. Instead, he put his -hands on her shoulders and said with unaccustomed -seriousness: “Erna! Don’t be sore.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not sore,” she resented. -</p> - -<p> -“I know—but—” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t have to explain,” she cried melodramatically. -Strange to say, Erna seemed ready -to cry. -</p> - -<p> -At a loss, Jimmy tried philosophy: “’Cause life -is Hell to some folks, Erna, we don’t have to imitate -’em, do we?” He could not tell whether she was -listening. “Gimme a chance!” he added more cheerfully. -“Quit the beanery an’ gimme a chance! I -don’t want life to be Hell for you. Gimme the -chance, won’t you?” He waited, but she did not -look up. “You listenin’?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Then quit the beanery, Erna! We can live nice -an’ cosy an’ happy here, can’t we? You like it -here?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she admitted. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-98" class="pagenum" title="98"></a> -“Let’s get the minister then!” he concluded quietly. -</p> - -<p> -She removed his hands from her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna!” he repeated. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait a moment,” she cut him short, although -in a milder tone. -</p> - -<p> -“Stick to your freedom!” he had advised her. He -was so human that he understood everything. And -yet, Jimmy—if she were not forced to decide so -soon! -</p> - -<p> -Her strength came back under the influence of this -tonic. A little of her innate cheerfulness revived -as well. She looked up at Jimmy. His puzzled expression -disappeared, and he smiled in encouragement. -She smiled too. -</p> - -<p> -“Got somethin’ to say,” he read. “What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Marriage’d be Hell, Jimmy,” she announced -without emotion. -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” he demanded abruptly, but recollecting -himself, stopped. Dimly, he once more realized that -Erna was a woman. And the man’s psychology -assisted him: Nature and his long enduring exasperation -had been satisfied. Why worry his head trying -to understand Erna? Let her take care of herself. -She would outgrow her present mood. He grew -blasé, and repeated quietly: “Why?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-99" class="pagenum" title="99"></a> -“I dunno,” she explained doubtfully. “Just because, -I suppose.” -</p> - -<p> -He sat down beside her, not so much to help her -wrestle with the problem as to encourage her to -speak. She was thoughtful. “I guess I don’t want -to,” she continued, but with increasing doubt. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t want to marry? Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I wouldn’t be free,” she declared in an uncertain -way. -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” he demanded. “You’d be free? -You could do what you want. I wouldn’t stop -you?” -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -An idea came to him. “Maybe you’d rather—” -but he stopped, remembering a former experience. -</p> - -<p> -“Go ahead,” she advised him. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll get sore again,” he protested. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I won’t,” she disagreed, but anticipated him -with: “I know what you were goin’ to say.” -</p> - -<p> -“You do? Well?” -</p> - -<p> -Erna averted her glance. The old thoughts -passed in quick review: Landsmann’s—Mr. Nielsen’s -advice—scraps of the past—home. She could -live with him a little while and then marry him if all -went well. That seemed best for her. -</p> - -<p> -“Wait’ll to-morrow!” he interrupted her. -<a id="page-100" class="pagenum" title="100"></a> -“You’re kind o’ up in the air now. You’ll be surer -to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -She nodded absent-mindedly. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll let me know to-morrow?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Sure?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right! Forget it! We’ll get it all settled -to-morrow. An’ if you’d still want to have the minister—” -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head negatively. Jimmy appeared -just as well satisfied. He did not understand, but -what was the difference, and what the use of worrying? -“You love me, don’tcher?” -</p> - -<p> -Again, she nodded absent-mindedly. He pushed -her with rough good nature. Presently, he got up, -returned to the mirror and again busied himself -with his tie. Erna likewise continued dressing. She -had reached a decision. And she was cheerful once -more. But she would wait until to-morrow. It -might be better. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-10"> -<a id="page-101" class="pagenum" title="101"></a> -X -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Mollie and Gretchen, the Landsmann waitresses, -were gossipping. It was about eight o’clock, the next -morning. Above the rattle of dishes in the kitchen, -this is what one might have overheard: -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I saw her with him.” -</p> - -<p> -“So did I a few nights ago.” -</p> - -<p> -“They must go out every night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course! She’s out every night since he’s -back. Who else would she go with?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s just like her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes! I always said she’d go back to ’im.” -</p> - -<p> -“It was <em>me</em> said that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Maybe you did, but I said it first. She’s a fine -girl to be workin’ in an honest place like this to be -goin’ out with a common prize-fighter.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not to have any more self-respect!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes! I always said she’d come to a bad end.” -</p> - -<p> -“Looks that way!” -</p> - -<p> -Their gossipping might have continued indefinitely -had not part of it been heard by an eavesdropper. -She came stealthily into the kitchen and of a sudden, -the waitresses received some resounding slaps. The -pair screamed. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-102" class="pagenum" title="102"></a> -Erna called them one or two unquotable names -and tried to continue her attack. But she saw -Landsmann coming into the kitchen and beat a retreat -into the dining room, although not without this -parting shot: “So you’re the kind I’ve been givin’ -dresses to!” -</p> - -<p> -Herr Landsmann was a busy man. Both waitresses -were trying to explain at the same time. And -Mollie was weeping violently. At length, he succeeded -in holding an excited consultation with the -girls, and with him at their head, they marched out -into the store in ragged single file. The trio hurriedly -argued the case before Mrs. Landsmann, who -was standing behind the counter, guarding the cash -register. Pretty soon, Mollie cried: “Here he -comes now!” -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy Allen entered. He greeted the Landsmanns -and the waitresses and then some of his -friends, as he passed the store tables. “How about -Young Walcott?” called one. “Next Wednesday,” -Jimmy returned. “Trainin’ again?” “Yes, -I start to-day.” And the young hero penetrated the -kitchen and stepped down into the dining room. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was in a disordered state. Some of the customers -were endeavoring to pacify her, but she refused -their offers. She spied Jimmy and throwing -<a id="page-103" class="pagenum" title="103"></a> -down all caution, hurried over to him. He soon -heard enough details. -</p> - -<p> -The young man struck a melodramatic pose. -“We’ll clear out o’ this hole,” he exclaimed. She -put her hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “Go -up-stairs an’ pack your things!” -</p> - -<p> -“But Jimmy—” -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind!” he interrupted. “You don’t have -to stay here. If you did, it’d be different. Go up-stairs -an’ pack up!” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him with momentary dread, but -Jimmy waved his hand toward the doorway. Two -of the customers got up to interfere, but he gave -them threatening glances. Erna moved away and -then stopped in uncertainty. “Go ahead!” he -ordered her. She tried to go, but Landsmann stood -in the doorway. His face was struggling between -anger and dignity. -</p> - -<p> -“Erna!” he commanded. -</p> - -<p> -She stared at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Go right up-stairs and—” -</p> - -<p> -The storekeeper noticed Jimmy’s threatening attitude -and hesitated. “Go on!” that individual encouraged -him. “Got any more to say?” -</p> - -<p> -Evidently, the German had not. -</p> - -<p> -“Then get ’er money ready an’ see there ain’t a -cent short, you lousy Dutchman! I’ll see she gets -<a id="page-104" class="pagenum" title="104"></a> -her <a id="corr-10"></a>deserts. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I’ll help -you!” -</p> - -<p> -Herr Landsmann disappeared and so did Erna. -Jimmy, master of the moment, gave the dining room -denizens a look of contemptuous pride and likewise -went out. -</p> - -<p> -Consternation prevailed. Each patron wanted to -express an opinion, and argument rose high. Only -one of them held his peace: John Carstairs. He sat -aloof, a picture of gloom and stupor. -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -It was an early hour that evening. Carstairs was -seated at the piano in his small cosy room. The gas -was turned fairly low. Except for intermittent -sounds from the instrument, the room was quiet. -</p> - -<p> -The young man was composing. Vague measures, -desolate of all cheer, followed one another in -funeral tempo. The monotony, unbroken by even -one note of prophecying gladness, was maddening. -But the young man persisted in his lugubrious incantation. -Presently, he got up, turned the gas a little -higher and sat down again. A sheet of music paper -lay in front of him. Only a few measures and the -title—Dirge—had been transcribed. He started -jotting down more notes. -</p> - -<p> -There was a knock at the door. He did not hear -<a id="page-105" class="pagenum" title="105"></a> -it. The knock was repeated. Carstairs struck a -petulant dissonance, arose wearily, went over to the -door and opened it part way. -</p> - -<p> -“Special delivery!” a man announced. -</p> - -<p> -Carstairs signed the slip, the postman went away -and the door was closed. The young composer examined -the handwriting and quickly tore open the -envelope. The note was very short. -</p> - -<p> -He gave way to eager joy. And he breathed a -name twice over: “Elsie!” Nervous animation betrayed -him further. He re-read the note five or six -times, looked about in bewilderment and re-read the -note again. Of a sudden, he hurried over to the -bureau and pulled open the bottom drawer. A litter -of odds and ends was laid bare. With anxious -haste, he threw them all about on the floor. At last, -he came to a picture: the photograph of a pretty girl. -His joy deepened; he held the picture at arm’s -length and gazed a fill of delight. He then arighted -himself, went over to the piano, moved the photograph -of an older woman to one side and placed this -picture near the centre. He was soon occupied -studying the effect, and ultimate satisfaction was his. -</p> - -<p> -He again sat down at the piano, but was unable -to take his glance from the picture. Eventually, he -smiled, gave the picture an <em>au revoir</em> look and again -turned his attention to the keyboard and manuscript. -<a id="page-106" class="pagenum" title="106"></a> -He had decided to finish his composition just the -same. The dirge continued intoning its gloomy -measures, but a note of prophecying gladness appeared. -From time to time, too, the composer stole -shy glances at the photograph. -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -In a cosy room in a building not far away, a -different scene was taking place. Eric Nielsen and -Erna Vitek were sitting close together on a couch, -chatting confidentially and bantering each other. -</p> - -<p> -Erna had not broken off her appointment with the -young writer even though a sudden change had -come into her life. Luckily, Jimmy was away all -afternoon, training up in Fordham, and, thanks to -his continued absence, she was able to leave their flat -shortly after six o’clock. She would only stay out -an hour or so and, should he return before her, -would tell him that she had to visit Landsmann’s for -some small articles she had left behind. On the way -to Nielsen’s, she bought two or three trifles. Fortunately, -she had found him at home, although she was -two hours beforehand. -</p> - -<p> -He had heard of the morning’s event and was -heartily sorry. But Erna quickly reassured him. Of -course, he did not believe the hazy part of her story,—that -she was “stayin’ with some friends”—but his -<a id="page-107" class="pagenum" title="107"></a> -philosophy was equal to the occasion: what Erna hid -from him was no concern of his. In all, they had -been spending a delightful evening. As a consequence, -Erna was staying much longer than she had -planned. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen enjoyed her company. She was a splendid -stimulant to his stimulant-craving mental system. -After his recent intercourse with the every-day -woman and the every-day man,—a monotonous gallery -of drab souls—she was a touch of brilliant color. -Her joy, animal spirit and fighting instinct enthralled -him. She stimulated his imagination particularly -and consequently brought him back to his -old interest in his life and work. So he was trebly indebted -to her. -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s greed had developed rapidly, and she had -grown reckless in short order. Nielsen inspired her -complete confidence. He did not take her too seriously, -neither did he take her too lightly. This was -just what she had craved so long. As a result, at -the height of her confidence and his bantering comment, -she allowed him to sit next to her, and they -developed their further intimacy. For the present, -she had forgotten Jimmy. He was physical and did -not inspire her as Nielsen’s human temperament did -so easily and so quietly. Moreover, her Vitek blood -had been excited. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-108" class="pagenum" title="108"></a> -Therefore, it was inside a natural sequence of happenings -that Nielsen’s arm stole about Erna’s waist -and that she submitted to the liberty. To tell the -truth, Nielsen was decidedly under the influence of -the wine in her nature and she under that in his. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t this wicked?” he questioned pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” she denied. -</p> - -<p> -“But it’s growing darker,” he protested. -</p> - -<p> -“So much the better!” she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -And they both laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“This is rat time,” he warned her. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t care,” she vaunted. -</p> - -<p> -And they laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -Erna did not leave the Nielsen workshop until -well after nine o’clock. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-11"> -<a id="page-109" class="pagenum" title="109"></a> -XI -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -It was the following Monday noon. Breen and -Nielsen were seated at the last table in Landsmann’s -rear dining room, eating and gossipping. -“Gretchen!” called the former. -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s successor came forward. -</p> - -<p> -“Bring me a mocha tart, please.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir”—and the girl walked away. -</p> - -<p> -“So you think you’ll be able to finish your story?” -Breen questioned. -</p> - -<p> -“I think so,” was Nielsen’s thoughtful response. -“I’ve found the missing link.” -</p> - -<p> -“But is any story ever finished?” Breen protested. -“Can’t you always find room for additional -installments?” -</p> - -<p> -Not being in an argumentative mood, Nielsen -quietly accepted his friend’s criticism. Soon, they -were both meditative. Gretchen brought the mocha -tart and went away. Hers was a peace-loving temperament, -in distinct contrast to Erna’s, an opinion -Breen expressed. Nielsen again accepted his -criticism. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” the artist added comfortably: -<a id="page-110" class="pagenum" title="110"></a> -“Erna was quite a study. I confess, she fooled -me.” -</p> - -<p> -“How so?” -</p> - -<p> -“By running off with that young gladiator.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you think she’s living with him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. What other conclusion should I -come to?” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen did not answer. At length he said: -“Then you’re ready to alter your decision of the -other day?” -</p> - -<p> -“That she’s a moral little thing?” Breen replied. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, to some extent,” he declared generously. -“Her last act does change my first consideration a -bit. But I still refuse to credit her with being <em>un</em>moral.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which means that you believe her <em>im</em>moral?” -Nielsen ventured in a droll tone. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose so.” -</p> - -<p> -“Explain yourself!” -</p> - -<p> -“She’s accepted a life contrary to Society’s code -or her own code—if she was ever unconventional -enough to have one, which I doubt.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen smiled. “If what you say is true, we’re -all of us more or less immoral.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why so?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because every one barters his soul some time during -his existence, and some of us are doing so all the -<a id="page-111" class="pagenum" title="111"></a> -time. At heart, you know, we’re most of us, unmoral, -in appearance, moral, but in action, immoral.” -</p> - -<p> -Breen laughed in amiable derision. “What -scrambled egg philosophy!” he cried. “Where did -you learn it, noble scholar?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nowhere,” Nielsen answered and frowned. -But his ready good nature intervened and he observed -gently: “At any rate, Breen, I disagree with -you regarding Erna.” -</p> - -<p> -“That she’s neither moral nor immoral?” -</p> - -<p> -“She has a little bit of each—like all of us,” the -young author agreed; “but fundamentally she’s unmoral.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bravo! So that will be the end of your story?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” Nielsen silenced him and smiled -a second time. -</p> - -<p> -Breen shook his head with a knowing air. After -an interval, he requested: “Will you see her -again?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not certain,” Nielsen said without emotion. -“I imagine I will some time. But it won’t be necessary.” -</p> - -<p> -The young men finished their meal. -</p> - -<p> -A little later, Nielsen was alone in his studio. He -was sitting at his small writing desk, looking over -some material that lay in front of him. Presently, -he seemed worried, but only for a moment. No, the -<a id="page-112" class="pagenum" title="112"></a> -point was absolutely clear. Erna had settled it for -him the other evening. At heart, she was unmoral. -The young author commenced writing. -</p> - -<p> -Through some insidious channel, a thought managed -to come between his mind and the manuscript: -would he see her again? Quickly, he beat it down: -it would be unnecessary to see her again; there was -nothing more for him to learn. Still, he had enjoyed -himself the other evening. The physical, so glorious, -so great, had once more penetrated his life. Would -he drive it away? Nielsen stopped writing. -</p> - -<p> -Almost resentfully, he mused: What had he and -the physical to do with each other? The physical -gave him new experience, yes, but it was almost always -experience that he courted and utilized for his -work. He must not expect more; he must continue -to sacrifice everything—thought, emotion, volition—to -work. Nothing else existed; in no other way -could he hope to reach the realm of artist. He must -drive Erna and the other evening’s sensations from -his memory. She had served as his model, no more; -so he must not permit her personality or his own to -interfere again. Furthermore, he must be cautious -on her behalf as well. She was a joyous, healthy -animal. Jimmy Allen was a joyous, healthy animal. -They were mated, and were living together, undoubtedly. -<a id="page-113" class="pagenum" title="113"></a> -The chapter was closed. He must not -desire more. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen tightened his resolve. In another moment, -he was again busy, writing. -</p> - -<p> -There was a knock at the door. He did not -hear it. The knock was repeated more loudly. He -looked around petulantly, got up, went over to the -door and opened it. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, but not -with cordiality. -</p> - -<p> -Erna came in. -</p> - -<p> -“I was down in the neighborhood,” she apologized. -</p> - -<p> -“You were right to come up,” he reassured her, -sorry to have treated her discourteously. “Take off -your things!” -</p> - -<p> -“But you’re busy,” she protested. -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all. Only a little touch or two I was -working on. They can wait.” -</p> - -<p> -Reluctantly, Erna permitted him to help her remove -her coat. She did not take off her hat. “Sit -down,” he advised her, his regret for his momentary -show of self-interest developing. -</p> - -<p> -She sat down on a chair. He seated himself at -his desk, but faced her. “What’s new?” he asked -pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothin’ much,” she returned and glanced at -him. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-114" class="pagenum" title="114"></a> -His glance met hers, and he quickly looked elsewhere. -He felt a sharp pain: he had gone too far -the other evening. Erna likewise looked away. -She had seen enough; her instinct knew. There was -an awkward pause. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen gave her a sidelong glance. What could -he do? This was dreadful. He should not have -gone so far. Erna was staring at the floor. He -could see her pugnacious nose and her determined -mouth and chin, and felt somewhat relieved. Her -case might not be as serious as he feared. She had -tenacious strength of character. But the situation -was very uncomfortable notwithstanding. He should -not have gone so far. It was selfish—whether a -man’s selfishness or an artist’s. Nielsen turned -away. -</p> - -<p> -Again, he glanced in her direction, but she was -still staring at the floor. Luckily, she had Jimmy; -they were living together—at least, he had taken that -much for granted by putting her story and the bakery -scandal side by side. They were suited to each -other. What could or should she have to do with -such a thing as an artist? Perhaps, the novelty in -their short affair had appealed to her. She was a -greedy nature. She craved everything: sun, moon, -stars and all. He himself had only been one of -<a id="page-115" class="pagenum" title="115"></a> -them. This conjecture satisfied him considerably. -And he breathed with returning freedom. -</p> - -<p> -She looked up. He smiled. She smiled too. -And he breathed still more freely. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you been doing lately?” he questioned -cheerfully. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been busy straightenin’ out,” she replied, and -looked at him. -</p> - -<p> -He moved restlessly. There was a second pause, -but only a short one. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve been busy too,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes, I—I’ve been working on a story.” -</p> - -<p> -“What kind of a story?” -</p> - -<p> -“Merely a foolish little affair about a foolish little -affair,” he hastened to condemn. -</p> - -<p> -Her glance dropped. His work and her own -lived apart. “I brought back ‘Little Eyolf’.” -</p> - -<p> -“So I saw. Did you like it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not very much.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s too sad,” she explained. “An’ I don’t like -cripples.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course!” he broke out. “I forgot that you -love only joy and happy people.” -</p> - -<p> -“An’ freedom,” she concluded unconsciously. -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly, and freedom,” he agreed. -</p> - -<p> -He caught a glimpse of her eyes—eyes that could -<a id="page-116" class="pagenum" title="116"></a> -love you to-day and hate you to-morrow—and felt -still more reconciled with circumstances. Erna -craved freedom, and was free. She could take care -of herself. She possessed that rare thing, the life-controlling -temperament. Perhaps, she would not -need even Jimmy Allen. How splendid she was! -Would she hate him to-morrow? It would be a -shame. He had only to raise his hand—and they -could continue. But he must not, it would be so -much better for her. She would be miserable with -him: an artist and not a physical man. She belonged -to Jimmy—and still more, to herself. He must not -interfere, but leave her destiny to destiny. Nielsen -felt almost completely relieved. -</p> - -<p> -“You <em>love</em> your work, don’t you?” Erna announced -with unexpected candor. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen looked at her with sharpened eyes. She -was glorious. She had emphasized “love” and not -“work.” He could scarcely reply. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you?” she repeated. -</p> - -<p> -She was more than glorious. Her own gameness -had fought the problem for her. She required assistance -from no one. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” was all he was able to say, his emotions -crowding him. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you write a whole lot?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, lots and lots, but it’s all trivial.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-117" class="pagenum" title="117"></a> -“Oh no!” she contradicted him. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes!” he mimicked her, and laughed, although -he did not know why. “My writings are as -much like life—” as you are like art, he would have -finished, but hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“As what?” she assisted him. -</p> - -<p> -“As the catching of butterflies is like the catching -of rats,” he closed with a return to himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, the Rat-wife!” she interpreted. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not a rat-wife writer then?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not a butterfly writer either?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“’Cause butterflies come from caterpillars, don’t -they?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” Nielsen admitted and laughed again, although -his emotions were threatening him, as before. -“I forgot about the caterpillars.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I hate ’em,” she reminded him. “They’re -too—too—” -</p> - -<p> -“Fuzzy wuzzy!” he helped her. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she accepted and laughed for the first time, -if not very heartily. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen studied her with frank admiration. Her -nature was that of a lioness. She looked capable of -pushing over or slipping from under any circumstance. -<a id="page-118" class="pagenum" title="118"></a> -She did not even require one’s sympathy. -And still?—But he resisted the temptation. For -her sake, it would be better not to continue. -</p> - -<p> -“I must be goin’,” she said suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, not yet!” he begged. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I must be goin’,” she insisted and got up. -“I got shoppin’ to do.” -</p> - -<p> -“Haven’t you finished decorating?” he inquired, -and got up against his will. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” she returned and smiled. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen helped her with her coat. He was tempted -to put his arms about her, but resisted. It would -make her departure more difficult. She turned -around. “Is my hat on straight?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes,” he assured her and added, by way of -controlling himself: “<em>Vanitas vanitatum!</em>” -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that?” -</p> - -<p> -“More triviality!” he declared. -</p> - -<p> -Erna started toward the door, but he stopped her -with: “Don’t you want another book to read?” -</p> - -<p> -The temptation was a strong one, but she dodged -it: “No, I’ll be too busy now. Maybe, later on,” -she concluded with a lingering tone. -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen looked away. Erna continued toward the -door, but he hurried after her and opened and held -it open for her. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-bye,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-119" class="pagenum" title="119"></a> -“Oh no, not good-bye, but <em>au revoir</em>!” he quoted -gently. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s a hard word to pronounce.” -</p> - -<p> -“Try it anyhow,” he encouraged her. -</p> - -<p> -“Orrevore!” -</p> - -<p> -“Fine!” he congratulated her, repeated the -phrase, and added: “Come in again soon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she agreed. -</p> - -<p> -But she never did. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="chapter" id="chapter-0-12"> -<a id="page-120" class="pagenum" title="120"></a> -XII -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="first"> -Two months passed. -</p> - -<p> -Erna Vitek was still living with Jimmy Allen. -There was, however, less and less likelihood that -they would ever marry. In fact, the most probable -issue to their affair was that they would separate -again, in the near future and this time for good. -</p> - -<p> -Erna was tired of Jimmy. For some weeks past, -her restless nature had been craving some one else, -or better still, some other mode of living, her present -one having reached a state of unbearable monotony. -She recovered from her experience with Eric Nielsen -only after several weeks of struggle. Even such a -fine tonic as that supplied her so freely by her resource -of blood found the healing of her wound no -ordinary matter, but she had recovered, except for an -occasional memory. Her battle with her craving for -Nielsen did not assist her attachment for Jimmy; on -the contrary, the latter degenerated by contrast. -And Jimmy, himself, was very much to blame as -well. He had changed toward her. -</p> - -<p> -It is no doubt true that possession often breeds -boredom, and boredom, carelessness. Erna, before -possession and after possession, was not the same -<a id="page-121" class="pagenum" title="121"></a> -individual, and Jimmy treated her accordingly. He -was no longer an anxious desire-maddened suitor. -</p> - -<p> -Furthermore, he was softening physically. He -continued training for his schedule of fistic contests -and carried out that schedule; he defeated Young -Walcott, the man from Chicago and another, but -lately, had fought two very poor draws, in the latter -of which he, himself, was on the point of being -knocked out. His manager, the astute Jerry Nolan, -was losing patience with him. He bluntly attributed -his protégé’s decline to the fact that he was “livin’ -with a woman. A man’s got to cut out drink if he -wants to succeed as a athlete, but he’s got to be <em>sure</em> -to cut out women. They sucks his blood an’ -strength.” -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy did not agree with this sentiment. He -continued to live with Erna. What is more, he had -threatened to move out of the Nolan apartment and -“to throw up the sponge”—quit the prize-ring—if -his manager persisted in arguing along these lines. -Although Nolan submitted, he found other grounds -upon which to pick quarrels with Jimmy. The truth -is, the young manager was ambitious, and Jimmy’s -ability to climb the pugilistic ladder reflected credit -upon him. He had always felt and expressed his -faith in his protégé and prophesied that he would -be “mixin’ it with the top notchers” not far hence, -<a id="page-122" class="pagenum" title="122"></a> -a prophecy Jimmy substantiated by defeating “the -Kid,” Young Walcott and the westerner so decisively. -But he was in danger now, as his recent -battles and his late mutiny testified. Should Jimmy -fall from grace a second time, it would be irrevocably. -Therefore, Nolan was using eloquence, persuasion, -threats, anything, to save him. -</p> - -<p> -Many of their quarrels took place in Erna’s -presence. After a while, Jimmy, much to her growing -distaste, formed the habit of bringing Nolan and -“some o’ the boys” to the flat. Custom gradually -trained them to believe that she was nothing more -than part of the furniture, and they accepted her -attentions, due them as Jimmy’s guests, just so. -They stayed well on into the night, amused themselves, -played pranks, broke dishes, quarrelled, made -up—and came again. And more and more, they -looked upon Erna with contempt. On her side, she -hated and despised them. -</p> - -<p> -During the day, Jimmy was usually absent, training -at the Nolan headquarters in Fordham. Erna -saw him for a moment in the morning, when she -prepared his breakfast, and at evening, when she -prepared his supper, not to see him again, as a rule, -until fairly late at night, except when he brought -“the boys.” To be sure, she slept with him and—well, -<a id="page-123" class="pagenum" title="123"></a> -she hated that too. It made her feel herself -some dirty, inferior animal. -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s days were still more monotonous. She -sewed quite a little, attended to details of house -work, which were few, and otherwise, took long -walks or went to an afternoon vaudeville or moving -picture show. As she was accustomed to a day of -constant labor and occupation, she had never known -much idleness; her evenings were spent in resting or -in the search of a little excitement. Moreover, -Erna’s was purely an emotional nature; she did not -possess the intellect or imagination so requisite toward -making idleness useful. Unfortunately, she -had no friends to visit. -</p> - -<p> -At first, Jimmy gave her money in regular installments. -Their house expenses paid, she would have -a sufficient balance with which to indulge herself—with -a new hat, a new dress, a few odds and ends, -or her afternoon amusements. The installments, -however, were more and more irregular and smaller -in amount; last week, none had materialized. The -reason was this: Jimmy had returned to drinking. -And the climax was impending. One night, he -came home late, pretty well drunk. -</p> - -<p> -Erna opened the door. He swayed and then -staggered into the room, a broad leer on his face. -“Howsh—the—girl?” he demanded stupidly. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-124" class="pagenum" title="124"></a> -He tried to embrace her, but Erna stepped back, -and he nearly fell. With an effort, he straightened -himself and laughed. “Wha—whash—a—matter?” -</p> - -<p> -Erna’s resentment poured over. “You beast!” -she said in low tones. -</p> - -<p> -“You—what?” He leaned forward to hear -better. -</p> - -<p> -“Beast, I said,” and she pelted him with epithets -and reproaches. -</p> - -<p> -Jimmy made several ludicrous attempts to apologize, -and protested: “I—I’m not—d-drunk; I—I’m -just—ossified.” And he laughed more stupidly -and tried to approach. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep away!” -</p> - -<p> -“Wha—whash—a—matter?” -</p> - -<p> -“Keep away!” -</p> - -<p> -“Wheresh—No—Nolan?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nolan’s in hell, where he belongs,” she cried -angrily, and a second tirade followed, directed this -time at the manager and Jimmy’s friends. -</p> - -<p> -“Be c-c-careful!” he interrupted, but she added -further condemnation. “Be c-c-careful!” he repeated. -“No—Nolan’s a frien’ o’ mine an’ so’s -P-p-piggy Wallace. Be c-c-careful!” -</p> - -<p> -His defence only succeeded in infuriating her. -She concluded with two or three judgments that included -<a id="page-125" class="pagenum" title="125"></a> -the families of those gentlemen. Jimmy’s -good nature stopped. “You ——!” he called her -and stumbled toward her. -</p> - -<p> -Erna retreated, her face aflame. Once more, he -called her —— and fell toward her. She tried to -ward him off, for he had driven her against the -couch. But Jimmy pushed himself forward and -raising his fist, brought it down clumsily upon her -face. Erna slipped and fell upon the couch, her -mouth bleeding. -</p> - -<p> -Furious, she jumped up and attacked Jimmy. -He was in a defenceless condition, and blows rained -upon his shoulders, body and head. He tried to -raise his guard, but it was useless. At length, -swearing incoherently, she struck him full in the -face, and he swayed, mumbled stupidly and toppled -over on the couch, unconscious or asleep—more -likely the latter. Handsome Jimmy was a disgusting -sight. -</p> - -<p> -Erna, still struggling with herself, looked down -at him. He started snoring, a part painful, part -beatific smile wrinkling his face. His legs were -dangling over the side of the couch. She gave them -a kick, lifted them and shoved them onto the couch. -She then turned away and wiped her mouth with her -sleeve. Erna had come to a simple determination. -</p> - -<p> -Without hesitation, she went over to a closet and -<a id="page-126" class="pagenum" title="126"></a> -opened the door. She likewise pulled open the -drawer of a commode. And somewhere, she found -an old suit case and dragged that forth. Her packing -did not last more than twenty minutes. She left -a hat, a dress and some odds and ends behind her. -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -One pleasant late afternoon about two weeks -later, Eric Nielsen was occupied in writing at his -desk. He was engaged on an essay he had planned -and started some time ago. His pencil was moving -more rapidly than usual. -</p> - -<p> -The door was opened gently and Bainbridge -Breen came in. “Busy?” he inquired. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in! I’ll be through in a second,” Nielsen -returned without looking up. -</p> - -<p> -The painter came forward. The author’s pencil -scribbled a little faster, a period was jotted down, -and he laid aside the pencil, at the same time eyeing -his work and sighing with satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -“Finished?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, not for some time. I’ve got several -thousand words more,” Nielsen explained. -</p> - -<p> -“How’s it coming on?” -</p> - -<p> -“Splendidly!” was the optimistic rejoinder. “If -I can keep sufficient enthusiasm in my body, I ought -to be able to carry it through perfectly.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-127" class="pagenum" title="127"></a> -“It’ll be your <em>chef-d’oeuvre</em>, I suppose,” Breen -observed with his customary pleasantry. -</p> - -<p> -“I hope so,” Nielsen admitted seriously. “It’s -stronger than anything I’ve done, I feel. It shows -maturity, I think, not only maturity of judgment, but -maturity of execution as well.” -</p> - -<p> -“In other words, Art,” Breen interrupted slyly. -“What more do you ask?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing,” confessed Nielsen, and his warm -smile appeared. -</p> - -<p> -“But what’s the matter with the story?” the -painter demanded. -</p> - -<p> -“How do you mean?” the author retorted. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought <em>that</em> had fulfilled your ambition.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not quite, not quite,” Nielsen hastened to deny, -and was thoughtful. “I don’t know just what it -was, but there was something missing in it,” he said -gently, and changing the subject, concluded abruptly: -“I’m sure I have that something in this essay.” -</p> - -<p> -Breen explained himself: “You know what -made me ask about the story?” -</p> - -<p> -“No. What?” -</p> - -<p> -“I had lunch in a small bakery on Sixth Avenue -this noon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Guess whom I saw there?” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-128" class="pagenum" title="128"></a> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t you guess?” -</p> - -<p> -“Out with it!” -</p> - -<p> -“Our old friend: Erna Vitek!” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen turned and stared at his friend. He was -unable to speak. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think o’ that?” Breen pursued, -unruffled. -</p> - -<p> -“She must have left Allen.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“And is working again?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen stared at the floor now. He seemed unable -to formulate, much less express, an opinion. -“How is she? Changed?” he requested at last. -</p> - -<p> -“Somewhat! She’s quite a little harder and a -bit more quiet—that is the way matters appeared to -me. But her eyes have lost none of their boldness. -And besides, she seems to like it there.” -</p> - -<p> -“She does?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, and she’s very popular too.” -</p> - -<p> -“How so?” -</p> - -<p> -“The men are very attentive, it looked to me,” -Breen volunteered significantly. -</p> - -<p> -“And she?” -</p> - -<p> -“She’s still got an eye open. Not as wide open, -<a id="page-129" class="pagenum" title="129"></a> -perhaps, as in the old days, but it isn’t closed, that’s -certain.” -</p> - -<p> -Nielsen was silent, reflecting. -</p> - -<p> -At length, Breen asked: “What do you imagine -will become of her?” -</p> - -<p> -“How?” -</p> - -<p> -“I mean, of her life—what life do you suppose -she’ll lead eventually: this young lady so moral, -unmoral or—” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t say exactly,” Nielsen, who disliked the -topic, interrupted. -</p> - -<p> -“Think she’ll take to the streets?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, not that!” was the vehement denial. -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -Again, Nielsen seemed unable to answer, but -he boasted unexpectedly: “She’s too strong. She -has fight in her—and love of freedom.” -</p> - -<p> -“But so have street ladies.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, but they don’t carry it through.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” was the stubborn reply. “They -don’t, that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, do you? Does Tom, Dick or Harry? -Does Erna?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. Let’s drop the subject.” -</p> - -<p> -“<em>I</em> wouldn’t be so certain that she does,” Breen -insinuated, still persisting. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-130" class="pagenum" title="130"></a> -“Of course, <em>you</em> wouldn’t,” Nielsen condemned, -unable longer to hold back his emotion. “You’re -wisdom itself.” -</p> - -<p> -The young artist decided to shift the topic: -“Heard from Carstairs lately?” -</p> - -<p> -Animation returned to Nielsen. “Yes, I heard -from John last night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is he still in Indianapolis?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, he has a fine position there and seems contented -now.” -</p> - -<p> -“And Elsie Pearson?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that’ll come off, as you said the other day.” -</p> - -<p> -“Marriage?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes!” -</p> - -<p> -“Good for John! I’m glad he won. He was a -long time waiting.” -</p> - -<p> -Nelsen nodded. He was thoughtful once more. -But he shook off the mood and asked: “What are -you doing, Breen?” -</p> - -<p> -“Getting ready for spring.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so—spring’ll be here in a week or two. -Going out to the country as usual?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I’ve gathered a bunch of canvases and -plenty of tubes, etcetera, and off I’ll go.” -</p> - -<p> -“Going to Connecticut again?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, that’s the only country for a landscape -painter.” -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-131" class="pagenum" title="131"></a> -“I suppose so,” Nielsen agreed. -</p> - -<p> -“How about supper?” Breen interposed. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, what time is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“After five o’clock.” -</p> - -<p> -“By Jove—that late? I must be getting dressed -soon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Got an engagement?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I’m going to feed with the Plymptons.” -</p> - -<p> -“Too bad! That means, I’ll have to eat alone. -See you in the morning! So long!” and Breen -moved away. -</p> - -<p> -“Going over to Landsmann’s?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. But it’s hopelessly dull there these days. -It’ll give me the incurables to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Or a tummy-ache, at least,” Nielsen added -good-humoredly. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, so long!” -</p> - -<p> -“So long!” -</p> - -<p> -Breen went out quietly and closed the door. -Nielsen studied the door with a blank expression. -But he shook himself and returned to his manuscript. -In a moment, he was absorbed, re-reading. -</p> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="adh"> -POETRY -</p> - -<p class="ads"> -A MAGAZINE OF VERSE -</p> - -<p class="c"> -Edited by Harriet Monroe, 543 Cass St., Chicago, Ill. -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -POETRY, at the end of its first year, is no longer an experiment -but an assured artistic success, a publication whose -importance is authoritatively recognized, not only in this -country, but in Great Britain and France as well. The -field it has opened up is full of brilliant possibilities, encouraging -the editors to hope for the enthusiastic support -of a discriminating public. -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -POETRY endeavors to present the best verse now being -written in English, quality alone being the test of acceptance. -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -POETRY is an effort to create an organ for the art. While -the ordinary magazines must minister to a large public -little interested in poetry, this magazine appeals to and -will develop a public primarily interested in poetry as -an art, potentially the highest, most complete human expression -of truth and beauty. Thus it offers to poets a -chance to be heard by their own audience, in their own -place, without the limitations imposed by the popular -magazines. And to lovers of poetry it offers each month -a sheaf of new verse in delicate form uninterrupted by -prose articles demanding a different mood. -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -If You Love Good Poetry, Subscribe— -</p> - -<p class="u hang"> -POETRY<br /> -543 Cass Street, Chicago. -</p> - - <div class="form"> -<p> -Send POETRY for one year ($1.50 enclosed) beginning -</p> - -<p> -............................. to -</p> - -<p> -Name ........................... -</p> - -<p> -Address ........................ -</p> - - </div> -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="adh"> -THE INTERCOLLEGIATE SOCIALIST -</p> - -<p class="i ads"> -Thought-Compelling, Admirably Written Quarterly -of Socialism and the Socialist Movement -</p> - -<p class="c"> -Among the year’s contributors are: -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Karl Kautsky, Jean Longuet, Keir Hardie, Morris Hillquit, -Alexander Irvine, Helen L. Sumner, Sidney and Beatrice -Webb, Prof. Vida D. Scudder, Upton Sinclair, William English -Walling, Charles Zueblin, Ernest Poole, Howard Brubaker, -Albert Edwards, Jessie W. Hughan, Caro Lloyd. -</p> - -<p class="b c"> -READ ITS REVIEW OF BOOKS! -</p> - -<p class="u adp"> -SUBSCRIPTION, 25c.<br /> -SINGLE COPY, 10c.<br /> -15 COPIES, $1.00. -</p> - -<p class="u ade"> -INTERCOLLEGIATE SOCIALIST SOCIETY<br /> -105 WEST 40TH STREET - - NEW YORK CITY -</p> - -<p class="adh"> -THE INTERNATIONAL -</p> - -<p> -A magazine for matured minds. -</p> - -<p> -A magazine for those who dare to think. -</p> - -<p> -A magazine for all true cosmopolites. -</p> - -<p> -A magazine with a courage so fearless that it publishes -the best. -</p> - -<p> -Brieux, Schnitzler, Strindberg are only a few of the advanced -thinkers who have appeared in the pages of THE -INTERNATIONAL. -</p> - -<p> -We have been in the vanguard of intellectual freedom. -</p> - -<p> -We shall always be far ahead of our times. -</p> - -<p> -You may glimpse the future by reading THE INTERNATIONAL. -</p> - -<p class="u c"> -George Sylvester Viereck, Editor.<br /> -Leonard D. Abbott, Richard Le Gallienne, Associate Editors. -</p> - -<p class="adp"> -15 CENTS A COPY. $1.50 A YEAR. -</p> - -<p class="u ade"> -MOODS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> -29 WEST 42ND STREET - - NEW YORK CITY -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="backmatter chapter"> -<p class="next"> -The April issue of THE -GLEBE will present Collects -and prose-pieces by Horace -Traubel. -</p> - -<p class="s price"> -Subscription price per year, $3.00 -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="trnote chapter"> -<p class="transnote"> -Transcriber’s Notes -</p> - -<p> -The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical errors -were silently corrected. All other changes are listed here (before/after): -</p> - - - -<ul> - -<li> -... her <span class="underline">desserts</span>. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I’ll help ...<br /> -... her <a href="#corr-10"><span class="underline">deserts</span></a>. Hurry up, you fat slob, or I’ll help ...<br /> -</li> -</ul> -</div> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Glebe 1914/03 (Vol. 1, No. 6): -Erna Vitek, by Alfred Kreymborg - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GLEBE 1914/03 (VOL. 1 *** - -***** This file should be named 63125-h.htm or 63125-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/1/2/63125/ - -Produced by Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. This book was -produced from images made available by the Blue Mountain -Project, Princeton University. - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm 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 ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -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-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.B. "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-tm 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-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain 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-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. 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-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm 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: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (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-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. 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-tm License. - -1.E.6. 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-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -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-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm 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." - -- 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-tm - 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-tm works. - -- 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. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -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 Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.F.2. 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-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm 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. - -1.F.3. 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. - -1.F.4. 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. - -1.F.5. 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. - -1.F.6. 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-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm 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-tm 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 http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -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 -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. 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. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., 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 -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm 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. - -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 http://pglaf.org - -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. - -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. - -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: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -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. - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/63125-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/63125-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 39fc613..0000000 --- a/old/63125-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63125-h/images/logo.jpg b/old/63125-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d18d840..0000000 --- a/old/63125-h/images/logo.jpg +++ /dev/null |
