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- letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - h2.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - text-transform: none; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 135%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - page-break-before: avoid; - line-height: 1; } - h3.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - text-transform: none; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 110%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - h4.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - text-transform: none; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 100%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - hr.pgx { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } -</style> -</head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Madame Claire, by Susan Ertz</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Madame Claire</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Susan Ertz</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 13, 2020 [eBook #63448]<br /> -[Most recently updated: April 9, 2023]</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Robert J. Homa, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME CLAIRE ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">i</a></span></p> -<h1>Madame Claire</h1> - -<hr /> - - - -<div id="titlepage"> - <p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">iii</a></span></p> - <div id="title-and-author"> - <p class="title-name">Madame Claire</p> - <p class="by-line">By</p> - <p class="author-name">Susan Ertz</p> - </div> - <div id="publisher-logo"> - <img src="images/dappleton-small.jpg" alt="D. Appleton Logo" - width="88" height="85" /> - </div> - <div class="publisher"> - <p class="pub-name">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.</p> - <p class="city">NEW YORK</p> - <p class="year">MCMXXIII</p> - </div> - </div> - <hr /> - - <div id="copyright-info"> - <p> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">iv</a></span> - </p> - <p>COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY</p> - <p class="printer-name">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> - <p>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> - </div> - - -<hr /> - - - - -<div id="tableOfContents"> -<p><a name="linkTOC" id="linkTOC"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">v</a></span> -</p> -<h2>Contents</h2> -<table summary="Table of Contents"> -<caption>Madame Claire</caption> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC01" id="linkTOC01" - href="#linkChapter01">Chapter I.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_001">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC02" id="linkTOC02" - href="#linkChapter02">Chapter II.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_014">14</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC03" id="linkTOC03" - href="#linkChapter03">Chapter III.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_026">26</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC04" id="linkTOC04" - href="#linkChapter04">Chapter IV.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_041">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC05" id="linkTOC05" - href="#linkChapter05">Chapter V.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_050">50</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC06" id="linkTOC06" - href="#linkChapter06">Chapter VI.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_065">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC07" id="linkTOC07" - href="#linkChapter07">Chapter VII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_076">76</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC08" id="linkTOC08" - href="#linkChapter08">Chapter VIII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_085">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC09" id="linkTOC09" - href="#linkChapter09">Chapter IX.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_097">97</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC10" id="linkTOC10" - href="#linkChapter10">Chapter X.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC11" id="linkTOC11" - href="#linkChapter11">Chapter XI.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC12" id="linkTOC12" - href="#linkChapter12">Chapter XII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC13" id="linkTOC13" - href="#linkChapter13">Chapter XIII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC14" id="linkTOC14" - href="#linkChapter14">Chapter XIV.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC15" id="linkTOC15" - href="#linkChapter15">Chapter XV.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC16" id="linkTOC16" - href="#linkChapter16">Chapter XVI.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC17" id="linkTOC17" - href="#linkChapter17">Chapter XVII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC18" id="linkTOC18" - href="#linkChapter18">Chapter XVIII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC19" id="linkTOC19" - href="#linkChapter19">Chapter XIX.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC20" id="linkTOC20" - href="#linkChapter20">Chapter XX.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC21" id="linkTOC21" - href="#linkChapter21">Chapter XXI.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC22" id="linkTOC22" - href="#linkChapter22">Chapter XXII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC23" id="linkTOC23" - href="#linkChapter23">Chapter XXIII.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC24" id="linkTOC24" - href="#linkChapter24">Chapter XXIV.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC25" id="linkTOC25" - href="#linkChapter25">Chapter XXV.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC26" id="linkTOC26" - href="#linkChapter26">Chapter XXVI.</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOC27" id="linkTOC27" - href="#linkChapter27">Novels of Supreme Literary Art.</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><a name="linkTOCTNOTE" id="linkTOCTNOTE" - href="#linkTNote">Transcriber’s Note.</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter01" id="linkChapter01"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_001" id="Page_001">1</a></span> - </p> - <p class="book-title">Madame Claire</p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC01" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER I</a></h2> -</div> -<p> -<span class="firstWord">If</span> -you wish to be relieved from the worries of -housekeeping; if you wish to cultivate the society -of retired army folk, or that of blameless spinsterhood, -ask for a room (inclusive terms) at the -Kensington Park Hotel, Kensington. It is unprogressive, -it is Early Victorian—though of late that -term has lost some of its reproach—but it is -eminently safe and respectable. -</p> - -<p> -Although neither of these qualities had ever -particularly attracted Lady Gregory—or Madame -Claire, as her grandchildren called her—she -found herself at the age of seventy a candidate -for admission. It was out of the question -for her to keep up the big house in Prince’s Gardens -after her only son Eric married. Live with -him she would not, valuing his love for her and -his own happiness too much to risk a ménage-à-trois -with a daughter-in-law—even a daughter-in-law -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_002" id="Page_002">2</a></span> -of whom at that time she approved. For -Madame Claire not only faced facts squarely, -but she had a way of seeing under and around -them as well, which greatly endeared her to the -more discriminating of her children and grandchildren. -</p> - -<p> -It was eight years since Eric had married -Louise Broughton, and eight years since Madame -Claire had come to live at the Kensington Park -Hotel. Her little suite was arranged with -charming taste. Guests of the hotel were not -encouraged to furnish their own rooms, but Madame -Claire had succeeded little by little in ousting -the hotel atrocities and had put in their place -some favorite pieces left from the sale of the -house in Prince’s Gardens. Her meals were -served in her sitting-room by Dawson, her elderly -maid, and there too she held her little court. -She had a great pity for other old ladies less -fortunately placed, who were obliged to be in, -yet not of, the homes of their children or grandchildren—“Always -there, like pieces of furniture. -Whereas,” she would say, “if my family -wish to see me they must come to me, and make -an occasion of it.” -</p> - -<p> -A wonderful woman she was then at seventy-eight, -with all her senses very much on the alert. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_003" id="Page_003">3</a></span> -She read a great deal, but thought more, looking -out of her windows at the world. She usually -dressed in gray or dark blue, avoiding black which -she said was only for the young. She was more -nearly beautiful at seventy-eight than at any other -period of her life, though she had always been -a woman of great charm. She had been a loved -and invaluable wife to the late Sir Robert Gregory, -whom the world knew best as ambassador -to Italy. She often said that for the connoisseur -there were only two countries, England and -Italy. -</p> - -<p> -When Robert Gregory died, leaving her a -widow of sixty, she was speedily—too speedily -some said—sought in marriage by their lifelong -friend, Stephen de Lisle. That was eighteen -years ago. Refused by her, and perhaps made to -feel just a little an old fool, he went abroad in -one of his black tempers, and she had not heard -one word from him since. It was a great sorrow -to her, for both she and her husband had loved -him devotedly. The grandchildren, especially -Judy and Noel, thought it a delightful romance. -They liked having a grandmother who had refused -a famous man at sixty and broken his heart. -But it was a subject on which she would permit -no affectionate comment. It would have meant -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_004" id="Page_004">4</a></span> -so much to her to have had him as a dear contemporary -and friend. -</p> - -<p> -One foggy morning in late December when the -whole world seemed bounded by the thick yellow -fog which pressed against her window panes, -Dawson brought her a letter bearing a French -stamp. She knew the handwriting at once, though -it had been firmer in the old days. She read a -few lines of it, then stopped and turned to her -maid who was busy about the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Dawson,” said Madame Claire in a voice that -was far from steady, “here’s a letter from Mr. -de Lisle.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, m’lady!” cried Dawson who loved surprises, -“it’s like a voice from the grave, isn’t it -now?” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s not well,” continued her mistress, reading -on. “Gout he says, poor old thing. He -writes from Cannes, where he’s gone for the -sunshine. He has to have a nurse. How he -must hate it!” -</p> - -<p> -“And you as strong and well as ever,” exulted -Dawson. It was a source of peculiar joy to her -when any of Madame Claire’s contemporaries -fell victims to the maladies of old age, or that -severest malady of all, death. Her beloved mistress -seemed to her then like the winner in a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_005" id="Page_005">5</a></span> -great race, and who was she, Dawson, but the -groom who tended and groomed the racer? She -thrilled with pride. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire read the letter through to the -end, and then went at once to her desk, with as -free a step, Dawson thought, as she had ever had. -</p> - -<p> -“I must write to him immediately,” she said, -a flush on her old cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -The letter took her several hours to write, -because there was so much to tell him. He kept -it, as he kept all her letters, and when he died -they came into Eric’s possession, and finally into -the writer’s. -</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting"> -“My dear old Stephen,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">she wrote,</span> -</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“Nothing that has happened to me in the -last ten years has given me as much pleasure as -your letter from Cannes. After a silence a fifth -of a century long, you have come alive for me -again. Stephen, Stephen! How am I to forgive -you for that silence? But I do forgive you, -as you knew I would, and I thank you for the -happiness you have given me by breaking it. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t believe you have changed much, though -you say you are an invalid—gout, phlebitis, rheumatism! -Infirm, crotchety old Stephen! Infirm -as to legs, but very active, I gather, as to brain, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_006" id="Page_006">6</a></span> -heart, and temper. How I wish we might see -each other! But you cannot travel, and I—yes, -I can, but I will not. I motor gently down to my -little house in Sussex in the summer, and back -again in the autumn, and that is enough. The -rest of the time I dwell in peace and security in -three rooms here at the Kensington Park Hotel, -and it suits me very well. -</p> - -<p> -“How good it is that we can pick up the -threads of our friendship again! As far as I am -concerned it has neither lapsed nor waned. You -say I dealt you a great blow. But, Stephen, how -could you expect Robert’s widow, already a grandmother, -to have married again? That, my dearest -friend, would have been an elderly folly for -which I would never have forgiven myself. You -sulked badly, Stephen, and I think now you owe -it to your years and mine to laugh. Do laugh! -There is nothing like the mirth of old age, for -old age knows why it laughs. -</p> - -<p> -“You say you want me to write you about -everything that concerns myself. I know you are -only trying to cover up your tracks here, for the -one you really want to hear about is Judy. I am -well aware of your elderly partiality for my -granddaughter, with whom you fell in love when -she was seven—twenty years ago. But I don’t -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_007" id="Page_007">7</a></span> -intend to pander to it at the expense of the others. -Judy must take her turn along with the rest. -</p> - -<p> -“Stephen, would you be young again? You, -thinking of your gout and your phlebitis, would -cry ‘Yes!’ But don’t you see that you would -merely be inviting gout and phlebitis again? For -myself, the answer is no, no, no! And I have -been happy, too, and with reason. Not for anything -would I be blind again, uncertain, groping; -feeling my way, wondering where my duty lay, -dreading the blows of fate before they struck, -valuing happiness too highly. That is life. -Now the turmoil has died down, confusion is no -more. It’s like sitting on a quiet hilltop in the -light of the setting sun. Fate cannot harm me—I -have lived. There is nothing to be feared, and -there is nothing to be expected except the kindly -hand of death, and the opening of another door. -Perhaps one is a little tired, but the climb, after -all, was worth it, and one can think here, and -listen to the cries of birds, and the sound of the -wind in the grass. The lie of the land over which -one has come taken a different aspect and falls -into a pattern. Those woods where one felt so -lost—how little they were, and how many openings -they had, if one had only gone forward, -instead of rushing in blind circles.… -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_008" id="Page_008">8</a></span> -“Gordon, my tactless grandson, said the other -day that no one would dream I was nearly eighty -if it were not for the evidence of the family tree. -That did not please me. I take as much pride in -being nearly eighty as I once took in being sixteen. -After all, being an old woman is my rôle -at present, and naturally it is a rôle I wish to -play well. Perhaps you’ll say that I would accept -old age less philosophically if I were blind, or -deaf, or bedridden. I wonder? Even without -all one’s faculties, surely there are thoughts and -memories enough to furnish the mind. (Why, -why, Stephen, don’t we cultivate -<em>contemplation</em>?) -And that tantalizing veil that shuts us -off from the beyond should be wearing thin at our -age, so that by watching and waiting one should -be able to catch glimpses of what it hides. -</p> - -<p> -“And now you will say, ‘For Heaven’s sake -stop moralizing and tell me about Judy.’ -</p> - -<p> -“I hate describing people—especially those I -love, but I will try. She is lovely in her strange -way, with moments of real beauty. I say strange, -because she follows no accepted rules. She is -somber, but lights up charmingly when she smiles. -I suppose her mouth is too wide, but I like it. -She, is dark—the sort of girl who wears tawny -colors well. She has brains and humor and in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_009" id="Page_009">9</a></span> -responsiveness is not even second to Eric. Her -mother, my daughter Millicent whom you will of -course remember, is foolishly trying to goad her -into marriage. How I pity youth! It’s so vulnerable! -Judy tells me she sometimes wakes at -night in a sort of fever, hagridden by the thought -that she may have made a mess of her life by not -marrying this man or that, fearful that she may -never meet the right one at all, hating the thought -of spinsterhood, and, she says, seeing nothing else -for it. -</p> - -<p> -“‘What,’ you may ask, ‘are all the young men -about?’ Well, we lost many of our best in the -war, as you and I know full well, and Judy expects—everything—And -why not, as she has -everything to give? She is not a girl to make -concessions easily. Noel, her younger brother, is -a great joy to her. Do you remember Noel, or -can you only remember Judy? He was a dear -little boy in those days, with his prickly, unusual -notions, and his elfishness. He is not exactly -good-looking, but his height, and his extremely -attractive smile make him at least noticeable. He -lost his left arm in France, and is now finding it -very difficult to fit into a job. His health was so -bad before the war that he had never settled down -to anything, and the doctors had frightened him -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_010" id="Page_010">10</a></span> -and all of us into the belief that a severe winter -cold would kill him. Then the war came, and -three winters in the trenches made a new man of -him. -</p> - -<p> -“Gordon, of course, went back to the Foreign -Office, where he seems perfectly happy. He will -never fit his grandfather’s shoes, however. Robert -had more wit in his little finger than Gordon -has in his handsome head—but it is a very handsome -head. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know that I am practicing great self-restraint? -I have hardly mentioned your godson -Eric—for fear, perhaps, of saying too much. He -was away at school when you were last here, so -he must be a very shadowy figure to you. He -might have been like a son to you all these years, -if only you had not cut yourself adrift from us all. -For five years, you say, you have been almost -within a day’s journey of England without once -crossing the Channel. And yet time was when -London was like a ball at your feet. Your great -fault, Stephen, is that you take defeat badly. I -still believe that you could have turned your political -reverse at least into victory if you had -stayed. -</p> - -<p> -“At forty-one Eric is very like what Robert -was at that age, but more dynamic. Keep that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_011" id="Page_011">11</a></span> -word in mind if you would know him. He infuses -life into me through his voice, through his smile, -through his intensely blue eyes. He is impetuous -and headlong—but headlong always on the side -of fairness. He has his father’s quick grasp of -things. He is tremendously interested in what -you say—in what he says—and in you. When -he smiles he makes you smile, when he laughs you -must laugh too. He treats me as if I were an -interesting old friend whom he likes, as well as -his mother whom he loves. -</p> - -<p> -“His wife—he married Louise Broughton, the -daughter of old Admiral Broughton—doesn’t in -the least understand him. If I have a regret in -the world it is that. But I will tell you more -about her another time. -</p> - -<p> -“And now a few words about Millicent whom -you knew as a sedate young matron. She is still -sedate. She is in fact the very embodiment of all -that is correct and conventional (I almost said -and dull) in the English character. By that I -mean that she is always well-poised and completely -mistress of herself whether at Court or in -her nightdress in an open boat. (Where indeed -she was, poor thing, for she was torpedoed crossing -from America during the war. She had gone -there to raise funds for the Belgians. An eye-witness -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_012" id="Page_012">12</a></span> -told me she presided all the time, especially -when it came to handing round the rum and -biscuits. She was always a good, if stiff, hostess. -He said that her nightdress, barely covered by a -waterproof and a lifebelt, became by some miracle -of deportment a quite proper and suitable -garment, and made the women who were wrapped -in furs look overdressed. I can imagine it perfectly.) -</p> - -<p> -“I have never outgrown a feeling of amazement -at having achieved anything as correct as -Millicent. She is always certain she is right, and -she never sees obstacles. When Gordon, Eric, -and Noel went to the war she never worried, but -looked quite calmly to their safe return, completely -ignoring the awful and uncertain ground -between. I believe she thought that the Almighty -had a special mission to look after Pendletons -and Gregorys. It seems she had some grounds -for her belief, only Judy says she forgot to concentrate -on Noel’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“John, her husband, is as negligible as ever. -I cannot think what you found in him to dislike, -unless you, like Nature, abhor a vacuum. -</p> - -<p> -“As for Connie—my poor Connie! Stephen, -I don’t know where she is, nor whether she’s alive -or dead. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_013" id="Page_013">13</a></span> -“Get better of your gout and the other things, -and come to England. After all, there is no place -like it. Although we are in the midst of winter -and coal is scarce and dear, and though the descendants -of the daughters of the horseleech -have multiplied exceedingly and cry louder than -ever, ‘Give, give, give!’ And although even the -children nowadays seem to lisp in grumbles, for -the grumbles come, it is still the best country in -the world and you must come back to it and take -it to your heart again before—but you hate the -thought of that, so I won’t say the words. -</p> - -<p> -“I will write again next week; there is so much -to tell you. So good-bye, for now. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="closing-signature"> -“Claire.” -</p> - - -</blockquote> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter02" id="linkChapter02"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_014" id="Page_014">14</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC02" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER II</a></h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstWord">Dawson</span> -thought her mistress must have begun -to write her “memoyers,” she wrote so long. She -said as much to Judy and Noel when they came -to pay Madame Claire a visit the next day. They -were much interested in the news. Judy remembered -“Old Stephen,” as she had called him years -ago, and identified him by describing a mole that -he had on one cheek. It was her first experience -with moles, and for a long time after she confused -that little mound on his face, with the bigger -mounds the moles made in the lawn, and -thought that a much smaller animal of the same -species must have been to blame for it. -</p> - -<p> -As a child she had an extraordinary memory—a -memory that seemed to go beyond the things -of this life. She came trailing clouds of glory in -a way that used to alarm her mother and delight -her grandmother. Millicent was quite shocked at -a question of hers when she was four. -</p> - -<p> -“Mummy, whose little girl was I before I was -yours?” -</p> - -<p> -Of course Millicent answered: -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_015" id="Page_015">15</a></span> -“Little silly, you’ve always been my little girl.” -</p> - -<p> -But Judy wouldn’t hear of it, and shook her -head till the curls flew. -</p> - -<p> -When her grandmother questioned her about it, -she would only repeat: -</p> - -<p> -“It was another mummy under the big tree.” -</p> - -<p> -Millicent was convinced that she only said it -to annoy. -</p> - -<p> -Noel too had little peculiarities as a child. -Loud music always hurt his eyes, he said, and -when he heard a noisy brass band he would shut -them tightly and cry out: -</p> - -<p> -“It’s hideous! It’s so red. I hate that color.” -</p> - -<p> -He always saw color in music and heard music -in color, and never knew that he was different -from other people until he went to school, and -there the boys teased him out of it. Think of the -individual oddnesses that are strangled (for better -or for worse) in school! Limbo must be full -of childish conceits and strange gleams of knowledge. -</p> - -<p> -On that particular afternoon the two of them -amused their grandmother even more than usual. -They had no secrets from Madame Claire, which -of course is the greatest compliment the young -can pay to the old. -</p> - -<p> -The subject of Judy’s spinsterhood was introduced -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_016" id="Page_016">16</a></span> -by her brother. She had refused a friend -of his a week before, and he pretended that the -situation seriously alarmed him. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s not a man on the tapis at present,” -he told Madame Claire. “She’s given poor old -Pat Enderby his walking papers, and I’m hanged -if I know what she’s going to do now. There -isn’t even a nibble that I’m aware of.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy,” said Judy from the other end -of the sofa, “I’ve got till I’m thirty-five. That’s -nearly eight years. If I don’t find somebody by -that time, I’ll know I’m not intended for matrimony.” -</p> - -<p> -“Every woman is intended for matrimony,” -said her brother judicially. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s nonsense. And anyway,” Judy defended -herself, “I’ve no intention of rushing -about looking for a husband. I’m quite content -to stay single as long as I have you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Rot,” said Noel unfeelingly. “I want a lot -of nephews and nieces, and Gordon’s would be -such awful prigs.” -</p> - -<p> -“So might mine be,” she retorted. “There’s -no telling, apparently. Who’d think that Mother -was Madame Claire’s daughter?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, if they were prigs, their Uncle Noel -would soon knock it out of them. Besides, provided -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_017" id="Page_017">17</a></span> -you don’t marry a prig—which heaven forbid, -there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be regular -young devils.” -</p> - -<p> -“You seem to be well up in eugenics, Noel,” -observed Madame Claire, her eyes twinkling. -She was sitting near the fire in an old chair with -a high, carved back. She loved their nonsense, -and liked to spur them on to greater absurdities. -</p> - -<p> -“He thinks he is,” Judy said. “But honestly, -spinsterhood is fast losing its terrors for me. -One ought to be proud of it, and put it after one’s -name, like an order of merit. I shall begin signing -myself, ‘Judy Pendleton, V.F.C.’ Virgin -From Choice. Doesn’t it sound charming?” -</p> - -<p> -“Horrible!” exclaimed Noel. “I certainly -wouldn’t advertise the fact. I think spinsterhood -is awful. I believe I’d rather see you a lady of -easy virtue than a spinster, Judy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really, Noel!” cried Judy. “And before -Madame Claire!” -</p> - -<p> -“She doesn’t mind,” scoffed Noel. “Besides, -she agrees with me. Don’t you, Madame -Claire?” -</p> - -<p> -She appeared to consider the question. -</p> - -<p> -“I think spinsterhood would be less dull, in the -long run,” she answered. “After all, no one is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_018" id="Page_018">18</a></span> -freer from ties—if that is a desirable thing—than -the modern unmarried woman.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” Judy seconded her. “Noel’s point -of view is ridiculously young. Personally I could -be quite content if I had some money of my own, -freedom, and a few friends.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bosh,” spoke man through the mouth of Noel. -“If you mean to include men friends, let me tell -you that men are afraid of unmarried women over -thirty-five or so. They can’t make them out. -Neither fish, flesh, nor fowl.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy did not pretend to dislike men. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s rather a dreadful thought,” said she. -</p> - -<p> -Tea arrived at this point, and Noel proceeded -to make absurd conversation with Dawson, who -had known the brother and sister from babyhood. -Absurd, at least, on his part, but perfectly serious -on hers. She always asked him how his arm was, -meaning, presumably, the place where they took -it off. -</p> - -<p> -“Splendid, thanks, Dawes,” he replied. -“They’re going to give me a new one soon, I’m -glad to say. They make wonderful artificial -limbs now, that can do most anything.” -</p> - -<p> -“So they tell me, Mr. Noel,” said Dawson, -arranging the tea things. -</p> - -<p> -“For instance,” he went on, “the one I’m going -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_019" id="Page_019">19</a></span> -to have knows all about raising chickens. It’s -trained specially. I’m thinking of going in for -chicken farming, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is that a fact, Mr. Noel?” breathed Dawson. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes,” went on the deceiver of women. -“You see, I don’t know a thing about chickens, -and all I’ll have to do will be just to follow my -arm about, so to speak. It can tell the age of a -pullet to a day, just by pulling its leg. That’s -why they call a young hen a pullet, you know. As -for eggs, it can find ’em anywhere. It doesn’t -matter how cleverly the old hens hide them, this -arm of mine can smell ’em out as quick as winking.” -</p> - -<p> -Dawson gaped with astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“I never would have believed it, would you, -m’lady?” exclaimed the dear old London-bred -soul. ”They do invent wonderful things these -days, don’t they now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that’s nothing,” went on Noel mercilessly. -“A chap I know lost both his legs in the -war. He never was much of a sportsman, but he -made up his mind he’d like to go in for golf. So -they made him a specially trained pair of golf -legs, and hang it all! the poor fellow has to play -all day long now. The worst of it is he doesn’t -care much about it, now that he’s had a taste of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_020" id="Page_020">20</a></span> -it. Bores him, he says. But those blessed legs -of his, they take him off to the golf links rain or -shine, every day of his life; and they won’t let him -off at nine holes, either. Has to play the whole -blooming eighteen.” -</p> - -<p> -At this point, Dawson’s slow mind gave birth -to a faint suspicion. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, Mr. Noel,” she said, her plain old face -red with one of her easy blushes, “I believe you’re -just having me on.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing of the sort,” said he, looking the -picture of earnest candor, “you haven’t heard the -half of it yet. Why, another chap I know had -even worse luck than that. Nice fellow, too—has -a wife and family. He lost his right arm. Well, -they made a mistake with him and sent him an -arm that was specially designed for another chap—a -Colonel in the War Office—devil of a fellow -and all that. Would you believe it, every time my -friend went near a Wraf or a Waac, that arm of -his nearly jumped out of its socket trying to get -round the girl’s waist? Awkward, wasn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -Dawson’s expression was almost too much for -him. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t look so cut up about it, Dawes,” he -said, reaching for a cake. “It all came out right -in the end. He and the Colonel swapped arms, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_021" id="Page_021">21</a></span> -and so he got his own, finally. It was specially -designed for spanking the kids, and as the Colonel -was a bachelor it was no good to him. So -they both lived happy ever after.” -</p> - -<p> -Dawson was on her way to the door. Before -making her exit, she turned her crimson face toward -Madame Claire. -</p> - -<p> -“I do wish, m’lady,” she said, “that you’d tell -Mr. Noel there’s some things that ought to be -sacred. And I’ll say this, Mr. Noel. The arm -you want is one that’ll pinch you when you tell -fibs.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good old Dawes,” commented Noel between -mouthfuls. “She generally manages to get her -own back.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy and Noel were much interested at this -time in Eric’s matrimonial affairs. Noel especially -was convinced that he and Louise were on -the verge of a smash-up. -</p> - -<p> -“Something’s got to happen,” he said. “The -tension in that house is too awful. Dining there -is like sitting over a live bomb and counting the -seconds.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t think how Eric stands it,” said Judy. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -“There won’t be an explosion. Nothing so -dramatic. What I dread most isn’t a smash-up, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_022" id="Page_022">22</a></span> -but a freezing-up. Like the Nortons’, Judy. Do -you remember how they avoided each other’s eyes, -and never laughed, nor even smiled? Their very -faces became frozen. It was terrible.” -</p> - -<p> -“It would take a considerable frost to freeze -Eric,” Judy remarked with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Fortunately,” assented her grandmother. -“What I most admire about him is that he’s always -ready to discuss peace. He’s always hoping -for signs of friendliness from the enemy.” -</p> - -<p> -“She treats him like a red-headed stepson,” -Noel said indignantly. “If he’d only begun by -beating her now and then——“ -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire felt bound to make out a case -for her daughter-in-law. -</p> - -<p> -“She married the wrong man—for her—that’s -all,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -When Noel and Judy had gone, Madame -Claire sat thinking about Eric and his unfortunate -marriage. He was, as she had called him in her -letter, dynamic. He was as impulsive and full -of the love of life as his wife was joyless and cold. -His chief charm lay in his perfectly sincere interest -in everything and everybody. His mind was -as elastic as his muscles, which were famous at -Oxford, and while his wife found most things -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_023" id="Page_023">23</a></span> -rather tedious, to him there was nothing old under -the sun. -</p> - -<p> -He thought he had married a charming girl, -and indeed, for a while, she had charm. During -his impetuous pursuit of her—for some instinct -told her that the more she eluded him, the more -eagerly he would pursue—she assumed a delicate -sparkle that became her well. He could even -remember a day when she threw out an alluring -glow at which a hopeful lover might warm his -hands, but it soon died, and the sparkle with it. -Love may have told her how to spread the net, -but of the cage in which to keep him she knew -less than nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire understood better than any one -else that he felt ties of the spirit far more than -he felt ties of the flesh. That peculiarity he had -inherited from her, for she had often been heard -to say that she loved Eric because he was Eric -and not because she had borne him. She declared -that her affection for Judy and Noel was -entirely due to their own charm and attraction -for her, and had nothing to do with the fact that -they were her grandchildren. -</p> - -<p> -“Though I am very glad they were,” she would -say, “for in that way intimacy has been made -easy for us.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_024" id="Page_024">24</a></span> -With her daughter Millicent she had nothing -in common but the blood tie, and though she -rarely confessed it, there were times when it irked -her. -</p> - -<p> -And so her son found it impossible to be the -conventional husband who takes his wife for -granted. He never took Louise for granted for -a single instant, and it shocked her. He treated -her with the same courtesy and studied her moods -as diligently as if she had been some one else’s -wife. When he made her a present, which he -liked to do, he expected her to show the same -pleasure in the gift that she would have shown -before their marriage. As for her, she would -have asked for nothing better than to settle down -into the take-everything-for-granted matrimonial -jog-trot. When the clergyman pronounced them -man and wife, he said, so far as Louise was concerned, -the last word on the subject. Spiritual -marriage was an undreamt of thing. She expected -her husband to be faithful to her and to -look up to her, because, after all, she came of one -of the oldest families in England. So they were -rapidly growing apart. Threads had become -twisted and lines of communication broken. And -there seemed no good reason for it all. There -was still a spark among the cooling embers, but -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_025" id="Page_025">25</a></span> -some wind that was needed to blow upon it had -shifted and gone elsewhere. -</p> - -<p> -There were no children—which was a greater -sorrow to Eric than to the empty-handed Louise. -</p> - -<p> -“A figurehead of a wife,” Judy called her, and -it was true enough. -</p> - -<p> -They lived in a charming house in Brook Street, -which Louise complained wasn’t big enough to -entertain in, and was too big to say you couldn’t -entertain in. She had left the furnishing of it -to Eric, admitting her own deficiency in the matter -of taste. She bitterly resented his unerring -instinct for the best thing and the right thing; a -gift, she chose to maintain, it was unmanly to -possess. -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t know I was marrying a decorator,” -she was fond of saying. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter03" id="linkChapter03"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_026" id="Page_026">26</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC03" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER III</a></h2> -</div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Stephen de Lisle’s</span> -second letter, eagerly looked -for by Madame Claire, came the following week. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting"> -“Dear Claire, -</p> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“Thank God for your letter. It’s put new -life into me; and I assure you, I needed it. Of -course it’s all tommyrot what you say about old -age. Who wouldn’t want to run and jump about -again, and be able to digest anything, and sit up -late at night? I think this having to be coddled -and looked after is an infernal nuisance. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I was a fool to take your refusal as I -did, but that can’t be helped now. You forgive -me, and besides, I know well enough the loss was -mine. But I couldn’t have endured London all -these years. Too many people, too much noise, -and too much dirt. Still, I may, gout and rheumatism -permitting, come to see you and my godson -and the grandchildren yet. I’m glad you -remembered how fond I was of that child Judy. -Most attractive child I ever saw. Twenty-seven, -you say? It doesn’t seem possible. Don’t let -her get married in a hurry. She is perfectly right -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_027" id="Page_027">27</a></span> -to wait for the real thing. Instinct is the lead -to follow, and hers is a right one. -</p> - -<p> -“That was a wonderful letter of yours, Claire. -I hope there will be many more. They give me -something to look forward to. I haven’t a half -dozen young people about me as you have. I’ve -one niece, Monica de Lisle. Ugly, churchy, uninteresting -female. You may remember her. -</p> - -<p> -“Cannes is delightful, but alas! I am too old -to enjoy more than the sun and the color of the -sky. How do you manage to keep so young in -your mind? Bob used to say you’d die young if -you lived to be a hundred, and he was right. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m reading Shakespeare mostly. I find the -old ones the best, and he’s the best of the old -ones. Omniscient, he was. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, well, write again soon. Don’t tire -yourself, but—write soon. Do you remember old -Jock Wetherby? He’s here at this hotel. Tottering -on the brink, and ten years my junior. -Drink—women—all the cheapening vices. Looks -it, too. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me about Judy and the others. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Yours ever,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> - -<p class="post-script"> -“P.S.—I’ve got the ugliest nurse in Christendom.” -</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_028" id="Page_028">28</a></span> -Madame Claire read extracts from this letter -to Judy, who was immensely pleased at the impression -she must have made. -</p> - -<p> -“Though what he saw in me, I can’t think,” -she said. “My chief points, judging from photographs, -were shoe-button eyes, a fringe, and a -prominent stomach. But there’s no accounting -for these infatuations.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do wish he would come to London,” said -Madame Claire as she folded the letter. “After -all, London is the best place for old people. They -get more consideration here than anywhere else -in the world.” -</p> - -<p> -The Kensington Park Hotel certainly harbored -its share. On those rare occasions when Madame -Claire took a meal in the dining-room she was -always struck by the number of white, gray, or -shining pink heads to be seen. And the faces that -went with them were usually placid and content. -In the lounge at tea-time they fought the war over -again, they made or unmade political reputations, -they discussed the food, the latest play, and most -of all they discussed—the women at least—Royalty -and the nobility. Not even in the drawing-rooms -of the very great were exalted names so -freely and intimately spoken of. One old dame -with an ear trumpet, who later comes into the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_029" id="Page_029">29</a></span> -story, had once or twice, at Judy’s or Noel’s request, -been invited into Madame Claire’s sitting -room. Noel called her the Semaphore. From -her they learned what it was the Royal family -had for breakfast the morning war was declared, -or what Princess Mary said to young Lord B—— -when he trod on her toe at a dance. How these -stray bits of gossip or surmise ever filtered their -way down the old lady’s ear trumpet was a mystery -to every one. She was an old woman of -strange importance. She envied no one under -Heaven. She possessed a small black instrument -that seemed to be the focusing point of every fine -wire of invention. She seemed to be the central -office of the world’s “They Say” bureau. No one -was ever rude to her, and no one, except perhaps -Madame Claire and her grandchildren, ever -really disbelieved her, because hardly any one does -altogether disbelieve rumors, even when they -come from such a source. Her greatness of -course was at its height during the war, when she -was generously supplied with the most astounding -pieces of secret information by obliging young -nephews. However, she bore the flatness of -peace with serenity, contenting herself with the -doings of the great. Of such, with variations, is -the kingdom of Kensington! -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_030" id="Page_030">30</a></span> -A day or two later Eric and Louise came together -to see Madame Claire. It was so long -since they had done this that she felt a little -flutter of hope, believing that it indicated a better -state of things between them. But she found soon -enough that she was wrong. Louise was possessed—in -the sense that people one reads of in -the Bible were possessed—by her own special -demon of jealousy. -</p> - -<p> -She was not jealous of any other woman—it -was far less simple than that. She was jealous -of the ease with which her husband made friends, -of his popularity, of his charm. They had been -guests at a rather political house party, where -Eric was unmistakably the center of attraction. -She was aware that she had been more tolerated -than liked, and the knowledge did not contribute -to her peace of mind. She was determined to -make him feel (on any grounds whatsoever) inferior -to her. She could understand and respect -superiority of birth, but she distrusted and resented -superiority of intellect. -</p> - -<p> -“A most successful week-end,” Eric told his -mother, drawing up a chair beside hers. “Their -house is lovely, and I am very fond of them all. -I should like to think that I am one-half as good -a host as Charles Murray-Carstairs.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_031" id="Page_031">31</a></span> -“I am glad you both enjoyed it,” said Madame -Claire. -</p> - -<p> -“Both?” Her daughter-in-law gave a short -laugh. “Candidly I was bored to tears.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise was meant to be a pretty woman, but -having a regular profile and an English wild rose -complexion, she relied upon them to pull her -through, and wore her clothes as if she despised -them. Her hair was never quite tidy at the nape -of her neck, and her hats of this season were undistinguishable -from those of two seasons ago. -She took a pride in her lack of smartness, and had -a curious and mysterious belief that it was both -unladylike and unpatriotic to dress in the fashion. -Although she was only thirty-four, her girlishness -had gone so completely that it might never have -existed. The thin nostrils and small tight mouth -suggested the woman of fifty. She met Eric’s -eyes with a look of antagonism. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll tell you what the visit was like, Madame -Claire. We couldn’t go out because of the rain, -so Eric and Charles had time to ride all their -hobbies. We had old plate for luncheon, cricket -for tea, and politics for dinner. I don’t know -what we had for breakfast. I was spared that -by not coming down.” -</p> - -<p> -“You see, mother,” said Eric with a gesture -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_032" id="Page_032">32</a></span> -of the hands, “the sufferings of a woman who -is married to a bore. I know of no case more -deserving of pity.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s always the same,” went on his wife, -“whenever we go away together. But there are -always plenty of pretty women to hang upon his -words, Madame Claire, so it really doesn’t -matter.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now there,” interrupted Eric with a smile, -“there you are wrong. Never in my life have -enough pretty women hung upon my words to -satisfy me. I should like to see hundreds of them -so hanging, and the prettier the better. Inaccuracy,” -he added, turning to his mother, “is one of -Louise’s greatest faults.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Louise,” said Madame Claire, putting -a hand in one of Eric’s, “time was when you led -and others followed. You never used to be -shy. If you were bored with politics and old -silver——” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not shy,” her daughter-in-law answered. -“I think subjugated would be nearer the mark.” -</p> - -<p> -Eric took this up humorously. -</p> - -<p> -“I have subjugated Louise,” he said with -mock pride. “I’m willing to wager that no other -man could have done it under fifteen years, and it -has taken me only eight. And I’ve never once -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_033" id="Page_033">33</a></span> -used the whip. Simply and solely the power of -the eye. I subjugate all my wives,” he added. -“I am a terrible fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -He picked up and examined an old spoon that -lay on Madame Claire’s table, and was about to -change the subject, when his wife’s cold voice -interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I don’t claim that you’re any worse than -the general run of husbands.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, my dear. I can only suppose that -you took one to yourself in a moment of weakness.” -Then, throwing off his annoyance: -</p> - -<p> -“What a charming spoon! It’s Charles the -Second. You’ve never shown me this.” -</p> - -<p> -“Judy gave it to me the other day,” said Madame -Claire, her face brightening. “She’s very -clever at picking up these things. But then—who -taught her?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, well, you can’t teach everybody,” he answered, -turning it over in his fingers. -</p> - -<p> -“You can’t, for instance, teach your wife,” -threw in Louise. “But there’s one thing I have -learnt since my marriage, Madame Claire, and -that is my limitations.” -</p> - -<p> -“You underrate yourself, Louise,” said Madame -Claire calmly. “Do tell me about Gordon. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_034" id="Page_034">34</a></span> -Noel and Judy believe he’s really interested in -Helen Dane. Do you think he is?” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s there a great deal,” answered Eric, -“but then that may mean nothing. Ottway, her -father, is a good sort, but pompous.” -</p> - -<p> -“Lord Ottway has dignity, if that’s what you -mean,” said Louise. “I hope Gordon does marry -Helen. It would be very suitable.” -</p> - -<p> -“As for suitable—I don’t know,” said Madame -Claire, musingly. “The girl seems a little hard—self-sufficient. -Still, I don’t dislike her.” -</p> - -<p> -“I only wish Judy would do as well,” Louise -went on. “She’s almost certain to throw herself -away on some nobody.” -</p> - -<p> -“If he were a nice nobody I shouldn’t mind,” -said Madame Claire. -</p> - -<p> -When Louise got up to go, Madame Claire -followed her into the bedroom where her fur coat -was. She longed to say something to her. She -felt that the words existed that might soften that -bitter mood, but she could not find the right ones. -She was sick at heart with anxiety. She knew -that Eric’s patience was at breaking point, and -that he found his wife’s sarcasm hard to bear. -Louise had only lately resorted to sarcasm—that -passing bell of love—and yet, underneath it all, -Madame Claire felt that she loved him, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_035" id="Page_035">35</a></span> -longed to be different, but that something—some -strange twist in her nature—would not let her. -She seemed to her like a woman pushing her frail -boat farther and farther out into a dangerous -current, and all the time crying weakly and piteously -for help. She doubted if that cry reached -any ears but hers. -</p> - -<p> -“I am the only one who can help her,” she -thought, and at the same time sent up a prayer -to the god who understands women—if such -there be. -</p> - -<p> -A few days later she sent Louise a note, asking -her to come and see her. -</p> - -<p> -“If I can only avoid being mother-in-lawish,” -she thought, “I may be able to accomplish something.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise found her sitting in her high-backed -chair beside a wood fire. The room was full of -the scent of freesias, and she wore a few of them -in the front of her gray dress. -</p> - -<p> -When Louise had put aside her wraps, Madame -Claire began to say what she had to say -without any unnecessary preliminaries. -</p> - -<p> -“Louise, I particularly wanted a talk with you -to-day. I hope you’ll be very frank with me, as -I mean to be very frank with you.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_036" id="Page_036">36</a></span> -“I think you’ll always find me quite willing to -be frank,” replied the younger woman. -</p> - -<p> -“Very well then. Perhaps you’ll tell me this. -Is Eric doing everything he possibly can to make -you happy?” -</p> - -<p> -Louise raised her eyebrows. -</p> - -<p> -“What an odd question! Yes, I suppose he -is—as well as he knows how. Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because it isn’t hard to see that you’re not -happy, and it makes me very sad.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose people do notice it,” said Louise. -“I can’t help that. I’m not happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Just what I thought. Well, can you tell me -the cause of it? Eric has succeeded in a good -many things, and I don’t like to see him make a -failure of his marriage.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose not.” -</p> - -<p> -“You two ought to be happy. You have everything; -you married for love, presumably. I’m -sure you’ve done your part. It must be Eric’s -fault in some way.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise began pulling off her gloves, her chin -suddenly trembling like that of a child who is -about to cry. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s nobody’s fault, I suppose. We’re simply -not suited to each other. Eric should have had a -wife who’d be willing to sit at his feet all day -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_037" id="Page_037">37</a></span> -long, and tell him how wonderful he is. A sort -of echo.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you sure that would please him? And -suppose it did—after all——” -</p> - -<p> -“No!” she said with determination. “There -are plenty of other people to tell him what fine -speeches he makes, and how clever he is. I’m not -going to be one of them. He’ll hear the truth -from his wife, whether he likes it or not.” -</p> - -<p> -“So you don’t think he makes good speeches?” -persisted Madame Claire gently. -</p> - -<p> -“I dare say he does, but——” -</p> - -<p> -“I thought you said he would hear the truth -from you. If he does make a good speech, I -should think he’d love to hear you say so. If you -do believe in him and in his ability, Louise, I wish -you would let him know it. I don’t believe you -have any idea how much it would mean to him.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise got up and walked to the window. -</p> - -<p> -“I have his ability and his cleverness thrown -at me by his admirers year in and year out,” she -said. “I’m sick to death of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“And are you the only one who never encourages -or praises him?” asked Madame Claire. “A -man must find that rather bitter.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise turned from the window with an abrupt -movement. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_038" id="Page_038">38</a></span> -“I wish him to know that he can’t have admiration -and flattery from every one. It will be -the ruination of him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! I thought so. So it’s really for his -good?” -</p> - -<p> -”Well, as I promised to be frank, no; I don’t -suppose it is. But I can’t help it. Things have -always been made too easy for him. Why should -he be such a darling of the gods? Life isn’t easy -and pleasant for me. Why should it be for him?” -</p> - -<p> -“I see.” Madame Claire laughed suddenly. -“Forgive me, Louise, but there’s something rather -funny in it.” -</p> - -<p> -“In what?” -</p> - -<p> -“In your wanting to be a sort of hair shirt. -Oh, dear me, I don’t know why I laughed. Only, -my dear, there’s so very little happiness in the -world. I’d forgotten there were good people -going about trampling on it.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment’s silence. -</p> - -<p> -“I think I’d better go away for a while,” said -Louise finally. -</p> - -<p> -“Do!” urged Madame Claire. “It would be -an excellent thing for both of you. Stay away -from Eric long enough to be glad to see him when -you get back.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_039" id="Page_039">39</a></span> -“If I were,” said Louise, “I’d never give him -the satisfaction of knowing it.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire called once more on the deity -who understands women. -</p> - - -<p> -“And yet, Louise,” she said, with all her courage, -“you love him. You love Eric. I know you -do. Some day you may find out how much, and -it may be too late. That will be the tragedy. -You’ll know that you had only to reach out your -hand—you’re like a child, you know. Have you -ever seen a child while playing with other children, -receive some fancied slight, and withdraw, -hurt? I have. The other children don’t even -know what the trouble is, and they go on with -their game. The hurt child stands apart, lonely -and miserable. They call her presently to come -and join them, and she longs to go, but can’t—<em>can’t</em>! -Something won’t let her. Oh, I know, I -know! I must have been that child once. I know -what she feels. She stands there kicking at a -stone, longing, yes, longing to go out into the sunshine -again and play. She knows that game better -than they do. They even call to her to come -and lead them. But she can’t. She sulks. She -doesn’t want to sulk. She suffers. And then the -nurse comes, and the play is over, and she is taken -off to bed. It is too late. It is finished.… -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_040" id="Page_040">40</a></span> -Louise! You stupid child! Isn’t it something -like that? Tell me, isn’t it?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire’s finger had found the spot, -evidently. Louise’s hardness, her bravado, suddenly -left her. Madame Claire had never seen -her cry before, and the sight seemed to her very -pitiful. Her tears made her seem younger. -</p> - -<p> -“It is like that.” Her voice came muffled from -the handkerchief she was pressing to her face. -”But I’m helpless. I can’t be different. I tell you -I can’t. The more Eric tries to be nice to me, the -more I harden toward him. The more I want to -meet him half way, the less I’m able to. I’m not -hard, really; I long to be different. But it’s too -late. It’s grown on me now. I can’t stop it. I -suppose I must go on like this forever. My life -is a misery to me.” -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -It was a prayer of thanksgiving that went up -to the god who understands women that night. -Madame Claire felt that now all things were possible. -Where there had been a blank wall, there -was now an open gate—for her, at least. How -long it would be before the gate would be open to -Eric, she dared not think. -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter04" id="linkChapter04"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_041" id="Page_041">41</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC04" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> -</div> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting epubmaker-bquote-hack3"> -“My Dear Stephen, -</p> -<div class="letter-body"> - -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“I was delighted with your letter, I believe -you are feeling better, for you sounded far more -like your old self. Especially the postscript, -which I thought a most hopeful indication. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I remember old Jock Wetherby. Poor -old thing! How perfectly ghastly to approach -the end of one’s life as a mere elderly libertine. -For I feel there is very little else one could truthfully -carve on his tombstone. And what a commentary -on free will! He once had gifts and -opportunities such as are given to few. -</p> - -<p> -“Last night I went with Judy and Noel to see -that enchanting sprite Karsavina. I shall never -forget it. As a rule one watches people dance, -but last night I danced too. I swear that my -spirit left its rheumatic old body and sprang and -whirled and darted in the midst of all that color -and movement with the music splashing and rippling -about it. For a few hours I bathed in the -Fountain of Youth—that fountain whose waters, -I believe, are made up of music, color, and some -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_042" id="Page_042">42</a></span> -other ingredients that man with his slow mind has -not yet discovered. Certainly I was never less -conscious of flesh and bones. -</p> - -<p> -“And why is it, I ask myself, that only certain -combinations of sound and color can produce this -effect, or give this measure of delight? Suppose, -one day, some one were to hit upon the utmost -perfection in arrangement of sound, color and -form, would it open up a straight path like a shaft -of light for our spirits to glide upon into some -other world than this? For I feel we are very -near that other world when our senses are so -stirred and lifted up by beauty. I wonder! But -perhaps there is already perfect beauty in the -world, and it is only that our spirits lack the necessary -freedom from earthly things—or why should -we not drift into Paradise itself upon the perfume -of a rose? -</p> - -<p> -“At the moment my mind is very full not of -Paradise but of Eric and Louise. She has decided -to go and stay with her people in Norfolk -for a while, where, I fear, she will continue to be -unhappy. Things had come to a dangerous pass -with them, and Eric is as sore and puzzled as a -man can be. Hers is a strange nature. I have -tried hard to find a chink in the armor of her bitterness. -Poor Louise! And yet I believe she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_043" id="Page_043">43</a></span> -would go to the stake vowing she had been a good -wife to him. There are a great many women, I -find, who think that if they neither leave nor deceive -their husbands they are being good wives to -them. I pray that something—God knows what!—will -happen, to make a change of attitude easy -for her. She would have been happy, poor girl, -with a dull fellow to whom she could have condescended. -</p> - -<p> -“I often say to myself, Stephen, that to realize -the imperfection of our relation to God, it is only -necessary to realize the imperfection of our relation -to one another. -</p> - -<p> -“I have made a discovery of late. At least I -think it is a discovery. This is it. I believe that -while the majority of men are content to be merely -themselves, the majority of women are busy playing -some rôle or other that takes their fancy or -that circumstances suggest. I think that most -women are forever conscious of an audience. I -shall never forget a girl I once knew—she would -be a very old woman now—who pretended to have -lost her lover in the Crimean War. I knew—for -she made me her confidante—that it was a quite -imaginary lover, and that she had invented him -to make people think her inconsolable, instead of -unsought, as was actually the case. So for years -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_044" id="Page_044">44</a></span> -she played the rôle of a bereaved woman, and if -she is alive she is playing it yet. Every word, -every action was suited to the part, and eventually -she must of course have come to believe it herself. -When she talked to a girl about to be married or -in love, there was always a trembling smile upon -her lips, and the brightness in her eye (as the -novelists say) of unshed tears. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Ah, my dear, treasure your happiness. I -pray you may be more fortunate than I was.’ -</p> - -<p> -“And youth knew her for a woman with a sad, -romantic story. -</p> - -<p> -“‘A liar, pure and simple,’ you may say. Not -at all. Merely an actress playing her part. -</p> - -<p> -“Take the case of Louise—a weak nature overshadowed -by a stronger one. What does she do? -Creates a rôle for herself—the rôle of a patient, -slighted woman, married to a selfish and exacting -man. Why? Seen under the microscope we -might discover it to be an attempt to attract -notice. -</p> - -<p> -“Take the case of my dear Judy. Most of her -friends are married. She, being very fastidious, -and finding that falling in love is at present quite -beyond her, creates a little rôle for herself—the -rôle of a very modern, independent girl who finds -that sort of love unnecessary to her happiness. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_045" id="Page_045">45</a></span> -“Then there is Millicent. She too is playing -a part, though she would be horrified if I told her -so. Hers is to be as much as possible like her -surroundings, and to imitate as closely as she can -the other women of her set. She has become as -conventional and as harmlessly snobbish as they. -At heart she is a kindly creature, but since marrying -her John she has disguised herself so well as -a Pendleton that if I had not a good memory for -faces I would find it hard to distinguish her from -all the other Pendletons. -</p> - -<p> -“And then there was Connie—poor Connie! -Her rôle was that of a woman of great emotions, -of devastating loves—a sort of Camille. But -underneath it I imagine and hope is still the simple, -credulous woman who looked for happiness -where happiness was not. -</p> - -<p> -“‘And,’ perhaps you’ll ask, ‘don’t men make -rôles for themselves?’ Rarely; and when they -do they are insufferable. -</p> - -<p> -“I am very tired and must stop. Tell me who -else is at Cannes. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Accept my affectionate greetings,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Claire.”</p> - -<p class="post-script"> -“P.S.—You tell me nothing of your life all -these years.” -</p> -</blockquote> - - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_046" id="Page_046">46</a></span> -Time never seemed to Madame Claire to pass -slowly, but it had never passed less slowly than -now. Stephen de Lisle’s letters undoubtedly -added a spice of excitement and anticipation to -her days. She seldom went out (for she disliked -fog, and London seemed just then to have gone -to bed with a thick yellow blanket pulled over it) -and she only asked those people to come to see her -who, she said, touched her at the most points. -She hated polite boredoms, and unless her visitors -pleased or amused her, she preferred to be left -to her own thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -Of late her mind had run much upon her youngest -daughter Connie, the beauty of the family—Connie -who had “thrown her bonnet over the -mill,” as the saying was in those days, and run off -with Petrovitch, who was at that time first capturing -London and Paris with his marvelous -playing. -</p> - -<p> -The blow had nearly broken her father, but -Madame Claire was made of sterner stuff, and -had long observed tendencies in her lovely daughter -which promised to lead to this very -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dénouement</span>. -Connie Gregory had one of those entirely -beautiful faces which seem so at variance with the -tragedies they evoke. She had the prettiest and -weakest mouth, and the most irresistible blue eyes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_047" id="Page_047">47</a></span> -that ever gave delight to a painter of pretty -women. And she was “done” by all the fashionable -artists of the day in every imaginable style -of dress and posture. She had a very small share -of wit, but with women like Connie, a little wit -goes a long way. Her lovely head was forever -turning to look down dark paths, and no one but -her mother ever observed those sidelong glances. -When she was twenty-two, she married a perfectly -suitable young man, and Madame Claire -hoped that the then serious duties of wifehood -and motherhood would fill her shallow little head -to the exclusion of dark romancing. But they had -been married less than a year when Petrovitch -with his leonine head and his matchless playing -became the rage of London, and Connie, in company -with a good many other women of her type, -threw her youth and beauty, like a bouquet of -flowers, at his feet. He was able to resist much, -but the sheer loveliness of Connie made such an -onslaught upon his bored indifference—wherein -was mingled the most astonishing conceit—that -when his contracts in London expired, he returned -to Paris with the emotional and hysterical young -wife clinging to his arm. -</p> - -<p> -It was just at the outbreak of the Boer War, -and Leonard Humphries, her husband, very naturally -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_048" id="Page_048">48</a></span> -seized the opportunity of getting himself -honorably shot. When that event took place, as -it did some months later, people thought that -Connie would at least legalize her irregular attachment -by marriage, but Petrovitch produced -a sturdy German wife, and scotched all such -hopes. So London saw the lovely Connie no -more. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire bore her trouble with all the -philosophy at her disposal. She never tried to -avoid the subject, and was quite as willing to talk -about Connie as about Eric or Millicent, in the -wise belief that wounds exposed to the air now -and then have the best chance of healing. For -years after she sent letters and often money to -Connie through her banker, for she knew well -enough where a lack of funds might lead those -uncertain steps. For a while her letters were answered, -but it was not long before the answers -ceased to come. She had heard nothing from -Connie for many years now, and she no longer -expected to hear. She thought of her as a foolish -and unhappy woman, whose punishment would be, -here or hereafter, self-inflicted, and understanding -human nature as she did, she refrained from -bitterness. -</p> - -<p> -As for Eric, he was of the opinion that the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_049" id="Page_049">49</a></span> -world suffers less on the whole from women who -love not wisely but too well, than from women -who love too little. Weighed in the perhaps -faulty scales of a man’s judgment, therefore, -Connie was a better woman than Louise. Connie -gave all and got nothing, while Louise took all -without a thank you, and gave nothing. But men -are always more inclined to forgive the generous -sins than the ungenerous. -</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter05" id="linkChapter05"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_050" id="Page_050">50</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC05" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER V</a></h2> -</div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">“Old Stephen’s”</span> -letter in answer to Madame -Claire’s second one, contained a great deal that -was of interest to her. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting">“Dear Claire,</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“I didn’t answer your last as promptly as I -wanted to because of the ills of the flesh. However, -I feel freer of them to-day than I have for -some time past. Your letters get better and better. -I wish I could write like you. I’ve no gifts. -I thought once I had a gift for politics. Well, -perhaps I had, but I hadn’t the gift of pleasing—for -long. I offended the Great Cham of my day, -and after that it was like going down a greased -slide. But better men than I have set their feet -upon it. I had my say, and I paid for it, and I’d -say it again if the chance came. -</p> - -<p> -“You want me to tell you something of my life -all these years. Well, here is an outline for you. -After I left England I was in the United States -for five years. A country gloriously endowed by -nature, but somewhat spoilt by man. I like Americans -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_051" id="Page_051">51</a></span> -individually; I number several of them -among my few friends, but I’m not sure I like -them as a race. They’re not a race—that’s the -trouble—but they will be some day. There’s little -racial breeding at present. As for characteristics, -if you find them in the South, you lose them -again in the East or West. You know more or -less how an Englishman or a Frenchman’s going -to act, because, exceptions excluded, they run -pretty true to form. But you can’t guess how an -American’s going to act until you know whether -he’s Irish, German, British or Scandinavian -American. Which complicates matters. -</p> - -<p> -“Then I was five years in South America—three -of them in Peru which I grew to love. -After that—let me see—two in Burmah, one in -Ceylon, and the last five in sunny spots in France -and Italy—a sad spectator of war. I’ve enjoyed -my travels. I have, I hope, learned much. But -I can’t write about it. I’m no good at that. Can’t -think how I used to write speeches once—and -deliver them. I suppose living alone all these -years has made me inarticulate. Miss McPherson’s -afraid of me, I believe. Silly little thing. -That annoys me. -</p> - -<p> -“You ask me who else is in Cannes. I’m not -sure I ought to tell you, but knowing you as I do, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_052" id="Page_052">52</a></span> -I think you’d want to be told. Connie’s here—with -a man of course—and stopping at this hotel. -Miss McPherson wheels me about in a chair on -my goodish days, and I came upon them suddenly -in the grounds this morning. Connie passed by -without speaking, but I’m certain she knew me. -She looks the unhappiest woman on God’s earth. -Later I sent Miss McPherson to make inquiries, -and it seems they call themselves Count and -Countess Chiozzi. They may be for all I know. -At any rate, he looks a dirty little cad. I’ll try -to speak to her, for I think you would like me to. -I will leave this letter open for a day or two, in -case I do. -</p> - -<p> -“Next day. -</p> - -<p> -“I spoke to her to-day in the garden. She was -alone. I said, ‘Connie, don’t you know me?’ -She went a queer color, I thought, and said, ‘Yes, -you’re Mr. de Lisle.’ I said, ‘You knew me yesterday,’ -and she admitted it. I was in my bath-chair -(beastly thing!) and I sent Miss McPherson -away. Then I said, ‘Well, Connie, I see -you’re the Countess Chiozzi now. Are you in -Cannes for the winter?’ She said she supposed -she was; that Cannes did as well as another place. -She asked me if I’d been in England lately, and -when I said, ‘Not in twenty years,’ she exclaimed, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_053" id="Page_053">53</a></span> -‘Then you don’t know whether——’ and stopped. -I knew what she wanted to ask, and said, ‘Yes, -Connie, she’s alive and well, thank God. I heard -from her only five days ago.’ She sat down on a -bench, and we talked for some time. She was -evidently wondering how much I knew, so I put -her at her ease by saying I knew all about it, and -I was afraid she was having a pretty rotten time. -She started to flare up at that, but thought better -of it, and said, ‘I am. Chiozzi is a devil. I must -get away from him somehow. I’m at the end of -my endurance.’ She went on to tell me about her -life, and the gist of it is this. I’ll tell it in as few -words as possible. She has always loved Petrovitch, -she says, and no one else. He was in love -with her for a time, then tired of her, as she interfered -with his work. She wrote to her husband, -asking him to take her back, but before he -could reply a bullet took his life at Spion Kop. -A year or two later she met a French officer who -fell in love with her. They were to have been -married, but he found out about Petrovitch and -left her. Connie said bitterly that his life had -been what many men’s lives are, but she wasn’t -good enough. After that she went to Rome -where she met an American named Freeman. She -married him, and they sailed for New York on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_054" id="Page_054">54</a></span> -the ‘Titanic’. He was drowned, but she reached -New York without so much as a wetting. She -tired of New York, returned to Paris, and there -met Chiozzi. They were married about four -years ago. She says he is evil incarnate; but then -women like Connie haven’t much choice. I asked -her if I might tell you all this, and she said I -might, and also sent you her love, but said she -couldn’t possibly write to you herself at present. -She still loves that poltroon Petrovitch, and would -go around the world to see him, I believe. She -ought to leave Chiozzi, that much is certain. I -can see she fears him as much as she hates him. -</p> - -<p> -“What a lot of people chuck away their lives -in learning that passion’s a boglantern! The -thing that stands chiefly in the way of human -progress is the fact that we’ve each got to find -things out for ourselves. Women found out what -Connie’s finding out (I hope) two thousand years -ago. Does that help Connie forward? Not a -whit. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t write more now. -</p> - - -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“God bless you!</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> - -</blockquote> - -<p> -The next day, Madame Claire read the letter -to Judy, who was keenly interested. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_055" id="Page_055">55</a></span> -“Aunt Connie has always seemed rather a fabulous -creature—a sort of myth—to me,” she said. -“I can’t quite realize her. Would you like me to -go to Cannes and fetch both her and ‘Old Stephen’ -home?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire thought not. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s very odd you should have had three children -so entirely different,” said Judy. “They all -had exactly the same environment and the same -care. How on earth do you account for these -things?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t,” replied her grandmother. “I can -merely suppose that they all require different experiences; -and they’re certainly getting them.” -Her eyes rested on Judy in her brown dress and -furs, and on her face with its challenging dark -eyes and the too wide mouth that she loved. She -wondered what experiences would be hers. Not -Connie’s; and even more surely, not Millicent’s. -So far her life had been even and tranquil—too -tranquil for her own liking. She wanted to live. -She had a great deal to give to life—and so far -she had not lived at all. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose, like every one else,” went on Madame -Claire, “they are working out something—I -don’t know what. After all, my children are -just people. So many mothers think of their own -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_056" id="Page_056">56</a></span> -children as apart from the rest of the world. I -don’t. Connie, Eric, Millicent—just people.” -</p> - -<p> -“Eric isn’t,” protested Judy. “Eric is one of -the gods come to earth again.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“Not Apollo!” she said. “I never liked his profile.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, not Apollo. A youngish sort of Jove, but -without his skittishness, or his thunders.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know what you mean. There is something -simple and Greek about Eric. It’s nice of you to -see it.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a great pity he’s my uncle,” remarked -Judy. “Do you know, your daughter Millicent -has been extremely troublesome lately? I wish -you’d speak to her about it. It isn’t only the -marriage topic. She wants me to pattern myself -after the tiresome daughters of her most tiresome -friends. You know the sort of girls I mean. -They come out in droves each year, and play -tennis in droves, and get married in droves, and -have offspring in droves, and get buried beside -their forefathers in droves. It’s so dull. I hate -doing things in droves.” -</p> - -<p> -This amused Madame Claire. -</p> - -<p> -“Individualists have rather a bad time of it in -your mother’s particular set,” she said. “Of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_057" id="Page_057">57</a></span> -course even I want you to marry, because I think -you’d be happier in the long run; but not until -you find some one you can’t do without.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have a sort of presentiment,” Judy told her, -flushing, “that if I ever do marry it will be some -one undesirable. That is,” she hastened to explain, -“undesirable from mother’s point of view.” -</p> - -<p> -“But not necessarily from mine?” inquired -Madame Claire. -</p> - -<p> -“Not necessarily,” returned Judy. -</p> - -<p> -She walked from the hotel to the house in -Eaton Square where the Pendletons had lived -ever since Noel was born, feeling that the world -was a very blank sort of place at the moment. -Having done vigorous war work for nearly five -years, she was missing it more than she knew. -Millicent could and did respond to the call of -patriotism, and had seen her sons go forth to war -like a Spartan mother; but why her only daughter -should continue to do work long after the coming -of peace, and when she had a comfortable home, -social duties and flowers to arrange, was more -than she could understand. So Judy, weary of -argument, stayed at home, paid calls and arranged -flowers. She felt something of an impostor, -too, telling herself that she had cost her -parents a great deal, and they were not getting -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_058" id="Page_058">58</a></span> -their money’s worth. She had been educated and -given an attractive polish for one purpose—to -attract and wed a suitable man of a like education -and polish. Being honest to the backbone she was -distressed about it. She had not fulfilled her side -of the contract, and her parents had, to the best -of their belief, more than fulfilled theirs. -</p> - -<p> -She avoided the drawing-room where there was -tea and chatter, and hurried to her room, which -Noel called “The Nunnery,” because of its austere -simplicity. The white walls, quaint bits of -furniture, and stiff little bed suggested the sixteenth -century. The rest of the house was Millicent’s -affair, and was “done” every few years in -the prevailing mode by a well-known firm of -decorators. -</p> - -<p> -Noel wandered into her room soon after she -reached it, and while she took off her hat and -coat, he sat on the foot of the bed, which, if any -one else had done it, would have seriously annoyed -her. -</p> - -<p> -“How’s Claire?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Wonderful as ever. She’s got more common -sense, Noel, than the rest of the family put together. -What do you think? She’s heard about -Aunt Connie, through ‘Old Stephen.’ He saw -her in Cannes.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_059" id="Page_059">59</a></span> -“Connie?” He whistled his astonishment. -“The erring aunt! What’s she doing in Cannes?” -</p> - -<p> -“She seems to have married some awful -bounder, fairly recently. A Count Somebody. -And she’s fearfully unhappy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why doesn’t she come home? Afraid of public -opinion, and mother?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well—can you wonder? She has no friends -left, I suppose. It must be pretty awful for her. -Of course you’ll say she’s made her own bed——” -</p> - -<p> -“On the contrary, I wasn’t going to say anything -so trite. What do you take me for? I’d -trot her round like anything if she came here. -It isn’t everybody who’s got a beautiful, notorious -aunt.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m rather curious to see her,” admitted -Judy. “Though I don’t suppose we’d like her -particularly. She must be rather a fool to do -what she did.” -</p> - -<p> -“She couldn’t help it,” Noel defended her. “If -you’re a certain type—well, you just are that type, -and you act accordingly. That’s what she did.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense, Noel,” protested Judy. “That’s a -useless, easy sort of philosophy. According to -that, no one can help anything they do.” -</p> - -<p> -“No more they can, if they’re the sort of people -who do that sort of thing. When they get -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_060" id="Page_060">60</a></span> -over being that sort of people they’ll act differently, -but not before.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s a hair-splitting sort of argument,” said -Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“Any more than you can help being a spinster,” -he explained, developing his theory. “Being the -spinster type, you act accordingly. When you -pull yourself together and make up your mind to -be another type, you’ll cease to be a spinster. But -not before.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy sat down, facing him. It always amused -her to discuss herself with Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I the spinster type?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, aren’t you? It’s fairly obvious. Look -at this room!…” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear boy,” she retorted, “I’d have a room -like this if I had ten husbands—or even lovers, -for that matter. You’ll have to do better than -that. How else am I the spinster type, apart -from my room?” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re a spinster in your mind,” he asserted. -“You think celibately.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, now you’re being too ridiculous!” she -scoffed. -</p> - -<p> -He crossed his long legs and lit a cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear girl, you don’t understand thought. -What you think, you are.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_061" id="Page_061">61</a></span> -“You think you’re a second Solomon,” said his -sister, “but you’re not.” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” He shook his head. “I disagree. I -am entirely modern in my thoughts. I don’t wish -to be anything else. I’m not like Eric. Eric -thinks we have had the best. I think we are -always having the best. But to return to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, do return to me. I didn’t mean to cause -a digression. How can I stop being the spinster -type?” -</p> - -<p> -“By not hemming yourself in so much. You -surround your femininity with barbed-wire entanglements.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really? They don’t seem to have kept Pat -Enderby out, and some others I could mention.” -</p> - -<p> -“They never got in. That’s what I complain -of.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, but my dear Noel—you surely don’t think -I’m going to turn myself into a sort of vampire -just to please you? Not that I couldn’t—I’m -almost certain I could.…” -</p> - -<p> -“I never meant that. You willfully misunderstand -me. Vampires are all very well on the -screen, or on some paving stone in Leicester -Square, but they don’t go in our sort of life. No -man would willingly marry one.” -</p> - -<p> -“They don’t on the screen,” she said. “They -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_062" id="Page_062">62</a></span> -always marry the little thing with curls and the -baby smile. Is that what you’d like me to be? -Because I honestly don’t think that’s my type -either.” -</p> - -<p> -“I find arguing with women very trying,” observed -Noel. “They always drag in unessentials, -and dangle them before your eyes as if they -were main issues. Even you do it. As for -mother——” -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind. Let’s get back to the main issues. -I am the main issue—or my spinsterhood. -What do you want me to do, exactly?” -</p> - -<p> -“Simply this. I want you to cut the barbed-wire -entanglements and come out into the open -now and then. Men aren’t wild animals, after -all. They’re only human beings.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy suddenly decided to drop nonsense. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know why I keep inside the barbed -wire?” -</p> - -<p> -“No. Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because any man that I meet in this house has -been asked here in the hope that I’ll find him -marriageable. And so the fairest—the only decent -thing I can do is to let him know as soon as -possible that I’m not in the market, so to speak. -If he’s a fairly good sort and seems to find me -at all interesting, I—well, I put up more barbed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_063" id="Page_063">63</a></span> -wire. Of course I oughtn’t to mind, but it’s all -so obvious. I hate it. It was different with Pat. -I liked him, and besides, he was your friend … -but even then …” -</p> - -<p> -“I think girls do have a rotten time of it,” -agreed Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s made me self-conscious,” she went on. -“This business of matrimony always in the air. -As it is, I wouldn’t raise a finger to attract any -man.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not even the right one?” -</p> - -<p> -“Least of all the right one.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel got up and stretched himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, old dear,” he said, “I’ll make a prophecy. -When you meet the right man—hateful -phrase—you’ll cut the entanglements, climb the -barricades, and give yourself up to the enemy. -That is, if I know anything of my sister Judy.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t. But you’re an old darling just the -same. Are you in or out?” -</p> - -<p> -“Out. Dining at the club with Gordon. His -show! But I’m coming home early. Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, nothing. Only I’m dining with the Bennetts, -and they usually send me home in the Heavenly -Chariot, so I think I may as well pick you up -at the club.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_064" id="Page_064">64</a></span> -“Do. I’ll amuse myself somehow till you -come.” -</p> - -<p> -“About ten-thirty or eleven,” she told him. -“And be on the look-out.” -</p> - -<p> -“Right-o.” He walked to the door and then -turned. “And think over what I’ve said, old -girl.” -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter06" id="linkChapter06"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_065" id="Page_065">65</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC06" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> -</div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">The</span> -“Heavenly Chariot” was Judy’s name for -the Bennetts’ shining gray car. The Pendletons -had one of their own, an elderly and dignified -Daimler, but for some reason unfathomable by -the younger members of the family, it was never -allowed out at night, when it was most wanted. -Millicent thought that Forbes, the old chauffeur -and ex-coachman, required his evenings to himself, -and as Forbes had never been known to object -to this arrangement, it stood, and the family -relied on taxis, or the underground. -</p> - -<p> -So that Judy was feeling uncommonly luxurious -close on eleven that night, when the beautiful -gray nose of the Heavenly Chariot thrust its way -through the fog that had shut London from the -sky for three days past. She loved the movement, -the mystery of the dark streets, the soft -menace of the fog. -</p> - -<p> -“This is the very essence of London,” she -thought. -</p> - -<p> -They turned into Pall Mall, and she was sorry -to think that the perfect motion would cease in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_066" id="Page_066">66</a></span> -a moment. What happened next, happened with -such amazing suddenness that in three seconds it -became a problem already to be reckoned with, a -situation to be met as best one could. -</p> - -<p> -They had knocked some one down in the fog. -An instant before she had been reveling in that -smooth slipping along—almost the annihilation -of friction—and now, between the ticks of a clock, -some one, because of this inconsequential little -journey of theirs, was robbed of health perhaps, -or life. While her mind was struggling to accept -a fact so hateful, her feet had taken her to the -front of the car almost before the chauffeur had -brought it to a standstill. Their victim had clung -to that long gray nose—clung for an instant and -then gone down. Another man was bending over -him, drawing him gently into the pool of radiance -their lights made. -</p> - -<p> -“Chip!” the other man was saying. “Chip, old -man, are you badly hurt?” -</p> - -<p> -There was no answer. Judy put her arm under -the limp man’s shoulder, and they raised him up. -He stood swaying between them. -</p> - -<p> -“Take him to the car,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -A constable (who seemed nebulous all but his -buttons, which the light caught) loomed up out -of the blackness, and demanded names and addresses. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_067" id="Page_067">67</a></span> -Mills, the chauffeur, seemed unable to -cope with the disaster, which he considered had -come upon them ready-made, out of the night. -</p> - -<p> -“It was my friend’s fault entirely,” said the -other man. “He started to cross without looking.” -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t be too careful a night like this,” remarked -the constable, making entries in his notebook. -</p> - -<p> -The victim suddenly straightened himself and -said in a thick voice, “I’m perfectly all right.” -Then he became limp again. -</p> - -<p> -It was at this moment that Noel arrived, having -been keeping a look-out, as instructed by Judy. -The wail of metal-studded tires being brought to -a sudden stop had attracted his notice, and he -came out to see what was up. The constable, -observing his empty sleeve, addressed him as -Captain, and things began to progress. Like -many another policeman who has to do with street -crossings, this one considered women biological -absurdities. Mills and the victim’s friend got -“Chip” into the car and made him as comfortable -as possible. Noel sat outside with Mills, and -Judy sat beside the injured man, overcoming an -almost uncontrollable impulse to draw that bending -head down to her shoulder. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_068" id="Page_068">68</a></span> -For the belief had come to her, at the moment -when she saw Chip’s white face in the glare from -their lamps, that they had chosen the nicest man -in all London to knock down. -</p> - -<p> -His friend, who sat sideways in one of the small -seats, introduced himself as Major Stroud, and -the victim, on whom he kept an anxious eye, as -Major Crosby. -</p> - -<p> -“He’ll be all right as soon as we get him home -and to bed,” he assured Judy. “It’s too bad, but -you’re not in any way to blame. Saw the whole -thing, so I know. Crosby’s always walking into -things. He’s everlastingly thinking about that -book of his. I tried to grab his arm, but it was -too late.” -</p> - -<p> -“How badly do you think he’s hurt?” She -could hear the injured man’s laborious breathing, -and was heartsick. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, just a knock on the head, I expect, against -that curb. Thank Heaven it was no worse. Your -chauffeur did splendidly. Can’t think how he -avoided running over him.” -</p> - -<p> -“But a knock on the head may mean——” -</p> - -<p> -“Now don’t you worry about it, Miss——” -</p> - -<p> -“Pendleton,” Judy said. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss Pendleton. I’ll ring up the doctor as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_069" id="Page_069">69</a></span> -soon as we get to his rooms. He’s pretty tough—aren’t -you, Chip old man?” -</p> - -<p> -He put an affectionate hand on his friend’s -knee. At that moment Chip swayed suddenly -toward Judy’s fur-wrapped shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“Better let me sit there, Miss Pendleton,” suggested -Major Stroud. “He’s no light weight.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s all right,” said Judy. “I was a -<dfn title="Voluntary Aid Detachment">V.A.D.</dfn> -for years.” She slipped her hand down to his -wrist and felt his pulse. “Why do you say he’s -always thinking about his book? What book?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Chip’s a writer, you see. He’s always -writing something. Just now it’s a book on religions. -Queer hobby for a fighting chap, isn’t -it?” -</p> - -<p> -The car sang its way up Campden Hill while -Judy listened to what Major Stroud had to say -about his friend. He was evidently devoted to -him. When they stopped at last, purring softly -before a narrow house in a narrow turning off -Church Street, she felt she knew more about the -two of them than she did about many people she -had known far longer. -</p> - -<p> -“Make short work of things now,” said the -Major in his brisk way as he got out. “Come -along, Chip old man.” -</p> - -<p> -Very gently he and Mills lifted him out, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_070" id="Page_070">70</a></span> -carried him into the house and up three flights of -excessively dark and narrow stairs, while Judy -and Noel followed behind. They had to pause -once or twice as the weight and length of their -burden made getting round corners very difficult. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m going to wait till the doctor comes,” said -Noel. “Hadn’t you better go home in the car -now, Judy?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should I?” she demanded. “Can’t I -wait too? I dare say I can help. Noel, isn’t -it ghastly?” -</p> - -<p> -“I like Chip,” said Noel. “It’s funny, but I -did the moment I saw him. Didn’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -Judy nodded, unable to say much. Her throat -ached, and she knew she was not very far from -tears. It was so grotesque and unreal, that they -should have caused this unnecessary suffering. -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud telephoned to the doctor, and -Mills went to fetch him, as being the quickest -way. Meanwhile Noel and the Major got Chip -into bed. -</p> - -<p> -Judy, left to herself, explored the little flat. -She lit a gas-ring in the tiny kitchenette and put -a kettle on. Then she found a small store of -brandy which she brought out in case it was -wanted. As she busied herself getting ready -things the doctor might ask for she made herself -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_071" id="Page_071">71</a></span> -well acquainted with Chip’s home. The sitting -room possessed two solidly comfortable chairs -and a sofa, all covered in brown linen. There was -a gate-legged table, two etchings by Rops, and a -vast number of books on religious subjects. Except -for the books and the etchings it was as -impersonal a room as a man could have. It -touched her, it was so—she searched for a word—so -starved. -</p> - -<p> -“Man cannot live by books alone, my poor -Chip,” she thought. She seemed to see again the -kindly, tired lines about his mouth and eyes. She -imagined a lonely life for him, with Major Stroud -as the only close human tie. They had been -through two campaigns together, the latter had -told her. Fancy calling the Great War a campaign! -She smiled at the thought. A hard-bitten -man, the Major. She supposed the two -were about of an age—say, forty-three. Bachelors? -Oh, undoubtedly. -</p> - -<p> -Then the doctor arrived—a cheerful, bustling -man with a short gray beard. He seemed to have -known the two of them for years. -</p> - -<p> -“I helped to bring this young man into the -world,” he told Judy, clapping an affectionate -hand on the Major’s solid shoulder. That gentleman, -who didn’t look as though he could possibly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_072" id="Page_072">72</a></span> -have needed help on that or any other -occasion, smiled a little sheepishly, and then the -bedroom door closed upon them. Noel and Judy, -left in unhappy suspense in the sitting room looked -at one another. -</p> - -<p> -“Why couldn’t you have knocked down some -drunken rotter?” asked Noel, walking about the -room with his hand in his pocket. “Why pick -out Chip?” -</p> - -<p> -Strange how the name had made itself at home -with both of them! -</p> - -<p> -“Why? Oh, Noel, I can’t bear it to be true! -Haven’t we dreamt it all? If anything happens -to him——” -</p> - -<p> -“If only there are no beastly consequences,” -said Noel, frowning, ”you may have done everybody -a good turn in the end. I mean—he seems -such a decent sort—I like him. And I think he -might like us.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“But I’m afraid it’s concussion, Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be only very slight. Well, we’ll know -in a few minutes. There was a terrible bump on -his forehead, but we couldn’t find any other -marks.” -</p> - -<p> -“Suppose we’d killed him!” It wasn’t like -Judy to suppose ghastly possibilities. “If I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_073" id="Page_073">73</a></span> -hadn’t gone to the club to pick you up,” she -mused, “if I’d gone straight home, it wouldn’t -have happened.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, hush, Judy! What’s the good of all -that? Look here”—he paused in front of her—“Chip -evidently isn’t well off. I intend to arrange -with the doctor, about bills. So you back me -up, won’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. I’d thought of that too. And -Noel——” -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s keep this to ourselves. I’d much rather -not tell the family anything about it. Wouldn’t -you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Much. It’s our affair.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve hardly spent any of my allowance lately. -We’ll go halves about the bills.… Don’t even -tell Gordon, will you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Gordon? He’s about the last person I’d tell.” -</p> - -<p> -Here the doctor returned, followed by Major -Stroud. They closed the bedroom door softly. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor told -them cheerfully, in that hearty voice common to -the medical profession. “A man might come -off worse in the hunting field any day, and no -one make a fuss about it. Slight concussion and -bruises, and that’s all, young lady.” -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_074" id="Page_074">74</a></span> -“Well, it’s quite enough,” said she. “I hate -concussions. And there really are no bones -broken? You’re not trying to spare our feelings?” -</p> - -<p> -“Word of honor as a father of seven. You -can come and see your victim with your own eyes -in a day or two. Major Stroud will spend the -night here on the sofa, and the nurse will be on -hand in the morning, if she’s wanted. So now, -Miss Juggernaut, you may roll home with a peaceful -mind.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve cheered us up a lot, sir,” said Noel, -shaking hands with him. -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud took them to the door, after -writing down their telephone number on a pad -that the methodical Chip had hanging over his -desk. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll tell him, when he comes to, how sorry -we are, and how … how anxious?” -</p> - -<p> -But the Major shook his head at her. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll leave that to you,” he said as they parted. -“He’ll get the devil of a talking to from me—careless -beggar.” -</p> - -<p> -They gave the news to the waiting Mills, and -drove home with little talk. When Judy reached -the door of her room, she kissed Noel good -night. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_075" id="Page_075">75</a></span> -“I’m glad we decided not to tell any one,” she -whispered. “Mother would look him up in -<cite>Who’s Who</cite>. It would be horrible.” -</p> - -<p> -“What about Claire?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, we can tell her, of course.” -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter07" id="linkChapter07"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_076" id="Page_076">76</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC07" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> -</div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Madame Claire</span> -was glad she was not included -in the ban of silence. She was much interested -in the affair. She was also—though she took -care not to let Judy see it—a little excited. It -was not, she felt, one of those incidents that seem -to have no consequences, nor leave any mark. -Something new, she believed, had been set in -motion, and that something new meant to poke a -disturbing finger into Judy’s life. But she forbore -to ask too many questions. -</p> - -<p> -She heard about it the next day, and Judy -told her that Noel had already talked to Major -Stroud over the telephone, and had learned that -Major Crosby was still unconscious. -</p> - -<p> -“He told Noel we were not to worry—the -doctor’s orders I believe—and then he went on -to say that he’d once been unconscious for twenty-eight -hours himself, and had come to at the end -of it as lively as a cricket. But then he’s a hopeless -optimist, and you never can believe optimists.” -</p> - -<p> -“You and Noel seem to have taken him to -your hearts from the first,” commented Madame -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_077" id="Page_077">77</a></span> -Claire. “Chip, I mean. Well, I’d back your -judgments against anybody’s.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you would have felt like that too. -But he isn’t going to be easy to know,” said her -granddaughter. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t he? Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s very shy,” answered Judy. “He had -the shyest rooms I ever saw. Not a photograph -to be seen, nor an ornament, nor even a novel. -You know, you can guess at such a lot if there -are things like that about to help you. No, there -wasn’t a single clue. But the greatest clue, in a -way, was the lack of clues. As though, because -of his shyness, he had tried to cover up his tracks. -I don’t think he wants to be known.” -</p> - -<p> -“If he had to be knocked down by a motor,” -said Madame Claire, “I consider it a fortunate -thing that you were in it. After all, it might have -been any Tom or Dick—or Miss Tom or Dick.” -</p> - -<p> -“I only wish he might take that view of it,” -answered Judy. “What news of Louise?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire hoped to hear more about -Chip, but she was always quick to feel when a -change of subject was wanted. -</p> - -<p> -“She’s with her people in Norfolk. She wrote -Eric that she was enjoying the change, but that -she felt it was her duty to come back at the end -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_078" id="Page_078">78</a></span> -of the week. Of course Eric wrote to her that -she wasn’t to think of him, but that she must -stay as long as she felt inclined.” -</p> - -<p> -“How that must have annoyed her! For what -she wanted was to come home as a martyr before -she was ready. What a woman! Don’t you -think it a miracle that Eric doesn’t fall in love -with some one else?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -“I doubt if he ever will. He finds consolation -in his friends, and in his books, and in his work -of course. Eric isn’t a man who falls in love -easily. And besides, I can’t help thinking that -he still has hopes of Louise.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think he still loves her?” -</p> - -<p> -“Louise is his wife,” answered Madame Claire, -“and I believe that it hurts Eric intolerably to -feel that the one person in the world who should -be nearest to him, and who should understand him -the best, deliberately keeps aloof. He feels he -has failed—and Eric hates failure.” -</p> - -<p> -“If he has failed, it isn’t his fault,” said Judy. -“It isn’t for lack of trying. If he’d been just a -nonentity she’d have enjoyed condescending to -him. As long as he is what he is—sought-after -and charming—she’ll be what she is—jealous and -bitter. I don’t see how he stands it.” -</p> - - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_079" id="Page_079">79</a></span> -“Like Eric,” Madame Claire said gently, “I -can’t help hoping.” -</p> - -<p> -A day or two later, Judy found her reading a -letter from Old Stephen. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s a good deal about Connie,” she told -her. “Isn’t it odd the way she seems to be coming -into our lives again? Here’s what he says: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“‘And now a few words about Connie and her -Count. I’ve talked to him several times, and -he’s like some poisonous thing in a stagnant pond. -I do wish you could persuade her to leave him, -for he insults and humiliates her at every turn. -She confessed to me yesterday what I already -suspected—that he had gambled away most of -his money and much of hers at Monte Carlo, and -that he is constantly demanding more. I think -it would be advisable for Eric to come here if -he possibly can. She is frightened, and her nerves -are on edge. I suppose he threatens her, poor -woman. What do you think ought to be done?’” -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -“He stopped there,” said Madame Claire, -“and finished the letter next day. I’ll read you -the rest. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“‘I was interrupted yesterday by Miss McPherson, -who wouldn’t let me write more. So I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_080" id="Page_080">80</a></span> -left the letter open, and I’m glad I did, for there’s -a sequel. Connie left here this morning for Paris, -without a word to anybody. I thought she would -have written me a letter to say good-bye, but she -hasn’t. I don’t know what brought matters to -this head, but I suspect it had something to do -with Mademoiselle Pauline, the dancer, with -whom the Count has been spending much of his -time, and more, I imagine, of his money. Miss -McPherson, who has her human side, has taken -a considerable interest in Connie’s affairs, and -tells me she is sure there was a scene of some -sort last night. However that may be, Connie -has gone. They told me at the office that she -went to Paris, but left no forwarding address. -Well, my dear Claire, I fear all this will distress -you, but you have a brave heart, and would wish -to know. If you have any idea where Connie -would be likely to have gone, to what friends or -to what hotel, I cannot help thinking it would -be wise to send Eric to look for her. I say this -because she seemed to me a desperately unhappy -woman.’ -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -“That’s all about that,” said Madame Claire, -putting the letter away. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think ought to be done?” Judy -asked her. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_081" id="Page_081">81</a></span> -“Eric is coming here to-night, and I’ll talk it -over with him. If he can spare the time to go -to Paris, I think it would be a good thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if he doesn’t know where she is?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think I can guess,” answered her grandmother. -“Years ago, before the children were -grown up, we used to go and stay at a little -private hotel off the -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Avenue de la Grande Armée</span>. -In the autumn I recommended it to a friend of -your mother’s, and she was delighted with it. -Judging from her description, I don’t think it -can have changed much. She told me that the -granddaughter of the old Madame Peritôt remembered -me perfectly and said that Connie, -whom she described as ‘la belle Madame,’ often -went there when she wished to be quiet. I feel -sure she would wish to be quiet now, and I believe -that if Eric goes there he will find her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you want him to bring her to London?” -inquired Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“I think I had better leave that to him,” -answered Madame Claire. -</p> - - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - - -<p> -Eric went to Paris the day following. He had -no idea, when he left, whether he would try to -persuade Connie to come back to London or not. -He would decide that when he had seen her. Nor -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_082" id="Page_082">82</a></span> -did he explain matters to Louise, to whom the -very name of his once beautiful sister was anathema. -He sent her a wire, however, which said -merely, “Called out of town for few days. Probably -back Monday.” -</p> - -<p> -He had been working very hard, and welcomed -a change of scene. He had not been out of England -since serving with his regiment in France, -and later in Italy, from which campaign he was -invalided home shortly before the Armistice. He -was now member for a London borough, having -given up soldiering for politics. His rather disconcerting -honesty and policy of no compromise -won him more friends in the former calling than -in the latter, and though he had enthusiastic -friends he had equally whole-hearted enemies, -among whom he began to fear he must number -his wife. -</p> - -<p> -The thought of a lifelong companionship with -a woman who disliked, or seemed to dislike his -every attribute, appalled him. He had a way -of reducing problems to their simplest form, and -being a clear thinker, saw facts in all their nakedness. -Louise was his wife. He had tried to make -her happy. She either liked him or she did not. -If she did not like him, why live with him? And -if she did like him, why not show that she did? -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_083" id="Page_083">83</a></span> -It came to that. Other women liked him. Why -could not his wife? He had never tried to please -any other woman as he had tried to please her. -The thing was an enigma. They could have had -such delightful times together, for they had everything—health, -youth, money, friends. Her coldness -was inexplicable. She was not only cold to -him, but to all men, and to most women. If she -had cared for any one else he would have found a -way to release her. He tried to put it out of his -mind on the journey to Paris, and thought instead -of Connie. He had been so proud of her beauty -in the old days. He remembered her at dances, -surrounded by respectfully admiring young men. -How she had queened it for a while! And then—Petrovitch! -</p> - -<p> -From Calais he shared a compartment with a -rather charming woman with whom he fell easily -into talk. He had a gift of nonsense which, when -he cared to use it, most people—his wife of -course excepted—found irresistible. So they -sparred pleasantly till the train neared Paris. But -in the end she struck a too personal note, talking -about herself and her affairs with an astonishing -lack of reserve, whereupon he liked her less. -When they separated she gave him her address, -but he forgot both it and her. She never forgot -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_084" id="Page_084">84</a></span> -him. If he had liked her more they would have -parted friends, or on the way to friendship, which -would have annoyed Louise, who only made -friends with people she had known or known of -for years. But her candor was without simplicity, -and her impulsiveness not without calculation, so -she passed out of his life, for he was fastidious -about women. -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter08" id="linkChapter08"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_085" id="Page_085">85</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC08" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> - </div> - - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Eric</span> -drove at once to the little hotel off the -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Avenue de la Grande -Armée</span>, and made himself -known. He had wired for a room at the -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Crillon</span>, -preferring not to stay too near Connie lest he -should find her surrounded by sympathetic friends. -He dreaded her friends. -</p> - -<p> -The granddaughter of old Madame Peritôt, a -pleasant-faced woman named Le Blanc, gave him -a cordial welcome, asked immediately after Madame -Claire and then told him in answer to his -question that Madame la Comtesse was resting, -but would undoubtedly see her brother. Who -indeed, she thought, would not be glad to see such -a brother—a brother with such delightful manners, -whose blue eyes—<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ciel</span>! -Madame Le Blanc -was enchanted by the blueness of his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Eric waited in the little salon, remembering -incidents of their extremely happy childhood. -Madame Claire had so often brought the three -of them there, during vacations. They had nearly -always come to Paris en route for the coast of -Brittany or Normandy when the Roman summers -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_086" id="Page_086">86</a></span> -became unbearable. He remembered how he and -Connie, an exquisite, long-legged child of fifteen, -had knocked over and broken a Dresden group -during a scrimmage. They had secretly substituted -for it another almost exactly like the first, -except that the dress of the shepherdess which -had been blue with pink flowers, was now pink -with blue flowers. There it stood, just where -their guilty hands had placed it, so many years -ago, and he could not resist taking it off the -mantelpiece and examining it. It was one of old -Madame Peritôt’s most prized possessions, and -how they laughed when they realized that she -had never noticed the difference! It might easily -have met the fate just then of its unlucky predecessor, -for he nearly dropped it, so suddenly and -quietly did Connie enter—and such a Connie! -</p> - -<p> -It was characteristic of Eric that he never said -anything suitable to occasions. He kissed her -cheek, and then said, holding her at arm’s length -and looking at her: -</p> - -<p> -“You must come and dine with me. What do -you say to a sole and a broiled chicken somewhere?” -</p> - -<p> -But Connie felt that something more was due -to the situation, so she clung to his arm and found—or -seemed to find—speech difficult. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_087" id="Page_087">87</a></span> -“Eric! Is it really you? My God! After -all these years! Oh, Eric!” -</p> - -<p> -“Nearly twenty, isn’t it? And thirty or more -since we broke the Dresden group there. Go -and put your hat on. What a pretty dress!” -</p> - -<p> -“You like it?” She turned about with something -of her old grace and coquetry. “You were -always quick to notice nice things. But how did -you know where to find me, and why did you -come? This seems like a dream to me. And -you’re still so good-looking!” -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, my dear. No one has ever told -me that. It is charming of you. I came to see -you. Mother guessed you would be here. And -now go and put on your hat, for I’m very -hungry.” -</p> - -<p> -“In a moment. I want to look at you.… -I’d almost forgotten I had a brother. But how -did you know I was in Paris at all? That meddlesome -old Stephen de Lisle, I suppose, bless him!” -Then her beautiful voice deepened. “Eric, I’ve -got very old, haven’t I? Tell me the truth.” -</p> - -<p> -Eric told it in his own way. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m afraid I never think about age,” he said, -“so it’s no good asking me. I think you look -worried. Come, we’ll dine early. There’s a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_088" id="Page_088">88</a></span> -great deal to talk about. And don’t change. I -like you in that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t be long.” She went to the door and -then turned. “I’m being taken out to dinner by -my own brother,” she said softly. “You make -me feel quite—respectable, Eric.” -</p> - -<p> -Her last words hurt him. If there had been -any one with him he would have said as she left -the room: -</p> - -<p> -“Good God! The pity of it!” -</p> - -<p> -It wasn’t age he meant. He cared as little for -that as most intelligent men. Connie had lost -her youth. That was to be expected. But she -had never gained its far more interesting successor, -character. It was that he missed. She -was spiritually, mentally and morally down at the -heel. Her face was a weary mask, her yellow -hair had known the uses of peroxide as well as -of adversity, and her blue eyes, paler than her -brother’s, looked out, without expression, from a -rim of carelessly darkened lashes. The frank -vulgarity of her scarlet lips revolted him. -</p> - -<p> -“All that,” he said to himself, “to win a—Chiozzi!” -He had hurried her off to get her hat -because he couldn’t bear to talk to her in that -room of childish memories. It brought back to -him too clearly the girl of fifteen, with her exquisite, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_089" id="Page_089">89</a></span> -sparkling face, her laughter, and that mane -of fine golden hair that people in the streets too -often turned to stare at.… He meant to help -her, he had come to help her—but how to go -about it? That he must leave to the inspiration -of the moment. -</p> - -<p> -When she returned, handsomely furred and too -youthfully hatted, he gave her another kindly -kiss to encourage her—for he could see that she -was really moved—and took her arm as they went -to the door. An old woman in another salon -across the hall had observed their movements -with the keenest interest. She carried an ear -trumpet, but thanked Heaven that her eyes were -as good as ever. Good enough to distinguish the -paint on that woman’s cheeks—which had not -prevented Mr. Gregory from kissing her. Lady -Gregory’s only son! She knew he had married -the youngest daughter of old Admiral Broughton, -a great friend of the late King’s. He had -once been heard to say to him at a garden party—it -must have been in 1907—There, they are -getting into a cab together. He has taken her -hand—off they go! Dear, dear! How very distressing! -Poor Lady Gregory, and poor neglected -wife! It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it with her -own eyes. And she hadn’t lived in this wicked -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_090" id="Page_090">90</a></span> -old world for sixty-nine years—even though most -of them had been spent in Kensington—without -knowing a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">demi-mondaine</i> -when she saw one. -Odd she was to see Miss Thomkinson, a cousin -of the Broughtons, the very next day. No, -shocked as she was at the presence of such a -woman in that house, she preferred not to speak to -Madame le Blanc about it. It didn’t go to enter -into arguments with these French people, and besides, -her vocabulary wasn’t equal to it. -</p> - -<p> -In the cab, Eric said gently: -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Connie, my dear, I’ve come to help you -in any way that I can, and to take you back to -England with me if you wish to go. I gather -that your marriage is anything but happy. Tell -me about it.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie tried to speak but her efforts ended in -a sudden burst of tears. She sobbed openly and -unbecomingly. Eric, his eyes full of pain and -concern, held her hand and looked out of the window -at the once familiar streets. She had lived -on her emotions for so long that self-control, -he supposed, was utterly beyond her now. It was -true that she had cried whenever she had felt -inclined, during the whole of her unhappy, stormy -life. But she usually cried for a purpose. This -was different. Something, probably the amazing -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_091" id="Page_091">91</a></span> -matter-of-factness of her brother, had touched -the springs of her self-pity. At one step he had -spanned all that had happened in the last twenty -years. He was so entirely unchanged, while she—his -eyes were as clear as ever, his fitness obvious -at a glance, and his face scarcely lined. He represented -all that she had lost, all that was sane and -clean and wholesome. He reminded her of childish -cricket, and nursery teas, and days on the -river, and May Week, and clean young men in -flannels. She had not met a man of his type since -she had left her husband. She loved the faint -scent of lavender that lingered in the fresh folds -of the handkerchief he presently offered her. She -wondered if it would be possible for her to go -back with him, into the well-ordered life that he -and his kind led, away from the shoddy women -who had been her companions for years and the -men who were rotten to the core. -</p> - -<p> -“It has been a shock to you,” Eric said. “I -should have warned you.” -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head. It wasn’t that. What it -was she didn’t feel capable of telling him now. -</p> - -<p> -She wiped her eyes and cheeks recklessly with -his handkerchief. Her make-up was ruined, and -for the moment she didn’t care, but presently at -the sight of the well-filled restaurant she pulled -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_092" id="Page_092">92</a></span> -herself together, and while Eric ordered dinner -she busied herself repairing her haggard mask. -No matter how badly Connie was looking, people -always observed that she was a woman who had -once been very beautiful. She joined him at the -table in a few minutes, looking as though tears -were as foreign to her nature as to a statue’s. -</p> - -<p> -It is characteristic of Connie’s sort that they -forget they have made a scene two minutes after -it is over, and imagine that others forget as easily. -She glanced about the crowded room as she sat -down, hoping that she might be seen in the company -of such a man. She was proud of him, and, -to do her justice, proud of the fact that they were -brother and sister, forgetting that in twenty years -a resemblance that had once been remarkable had -nearly vanished. -</p> - -<p> -Before dinner was over, she had given him an -outline of her life down to the present with commendable -honesty. She had no wish, apparently, -to gild the ugly sordidness of some of it, though -she made it appear that her misfortunes had -come to her more through the faithlessness and -selfishness of men than through her own weakness. -And yet men, it was obvious, were still her -chief interest in life. As she talked to Eric her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_093" id="Page_093">93</a></span> -glance often wandered, and she made much play -with her still beautiful hands. -</p> - -<p> -Her dread of Chiozzi and his treatment of her -seemed to Eric the most important part of her -story. It was that he had to deal with now. She -said he had threatened her life more than once in -order to extort money from her. Her income -had dwindled to barely seven hundred a year, all -that remained of the considerable fortune left her -by Morton Freeman. That much she had managed -to keep intact, in spite of the efforts of her -greedy Count. -</p> - -<p> -“If I go back to him,” she said with a shudder, -“he’ll have it all.” -</p> - -<p> -Eric dreaded the idea of a divorce. Her affairs -had already had so much unsavory publicity. -</p> - -<p> -“You must not think of going back to him at -present,” he told her. “Later we will see what -can be done. You can write to him from London, -if you wish.” -</p> - -<p> -“I dread London.” -</p> - -<p> -“You will be safest there. And you will find -that people have forgotten. You must try to -begin again, my dear, and be content with contentment, -and simple things. You will not find -life exciting, but you may find it pleasant. I will -do what I can, and you will have mother, who is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_094" id="Page_094">94</a></span> -a marvel of marvels. I would suggest a little -house in the country, or a small flat in town.” -</p> - -<p> -She considered this, smoking a faintly perfumed -cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -“What are Millicent’s children like?” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re delightful. You’ll love Judy and -Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -“But Millie won’t let them know me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I doubt if Millie will have very much to say -in the matter. If they choose to know you, they -will.” -</p> - -<p> -“And your wife—Louise?” -</p> - -<p> -He hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“You may find her difficult.” -</p> - -<p> -“How difficult? One of those … those -good women, I suppose.” This with a sneer that -made Eric wince. -</p> - -<p> -“Louise is very … indifferent. Frankly, she -doesn’t care a straw for me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not care for you? She must be a fool.” -</p> - -<p> -He inclined his head in the slightest of bows. -</p> - -<p> -“You are my sister, and prejudiced.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know a man when I see one, whether he’s -my brother or not.” She gave a short laugh. -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">“Mon Dieu!</span> -I ought to, by this time.” -</p> - -<p> -“My wife,” said Eric, “considers me a tiresome -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_095" id="Page_095">95</a></span> -and conceited fellow. She dislikes a great many -things about me; no doubt with reason.” -</p> - -<p> -“Jealous,” commented his sister, who could see -through other women. -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -“So some of my friends say. I cannot understand -it. But you needn’t see much of each -other.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think I know her sort,” said Connie, watching -the smoke from her cigarette. “Well, we both -seem to have made a mess of things.” -</p> - -<p> -This struck Eric as humorous, but not a sign -of his amusement appeared in his face. -</p> - -<p> -“Where is Petrovitch now?” he asked her. -</p> - -<p> -She smiled to a passing acquaintance before she -answered. -</p> - -<p> -“In America, I believe. Still lionized and applauded. -It seems to me, Eric, that men have -nine lives to a woman’s one. Look at me … -a worn-out wreck, while he——” -</p> - -<p> -“A bad fellow, Connie,” said Eric; at which -she bit her lip. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t let you say that. I love him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Still?” -</p> - -<p> -She nodded. -</p> - -<p> -Eric looked at her as though he would like to -see into her mind. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_096" id="Page_096">96</a></span> -“Tell me this. I ask you as I might ask any -woman in your place. Has it been worth it?” -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes fell, and she seemed to be groping -for words. Then she rose from the table, gathering -up her long gloves and beaded bag. -</p> - -<p> -“I would tell you, if I knew,” she said at last. -“But I don’t know. I suppose I have lost all -sense of values.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is answer enough,” he replied. -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - - -<p> -As they drove back to the hotel she turned to -him and said: -</p> - -<p> -“When do you want me to be ready?” -</p> - -<p> -“I ought to go back to-morrow,” he told her. -“Would that be possible for you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” Then, a little dramatically, “I place -myself in your hands, Eric. Do with me what -you will.“ -</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter09" id="linkChapter09"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_097" id="Page_097">97</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC09" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> - </div> - - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">It</span> -was just a week after the accident that Judy -and Noel went to Campden Hill to see Major -Crosby. A message had come at last from Dr. -Ferguson to the effect that if Miss Juggernaut -and her brother cared to see their victim, they -might do so between three and five that afternoon. -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud had rung them up almost daily, -and Noel had found it difficult to account to the -family for the sudden interest taken in him by -some one they had never heard of before. For it -was a household in which reticence was frowned -upon and discouraged. Only Gordon, being the -eldest son, was permitted to go and come without -explanations. He was naturally secretive, and on -the few occasions when he was pleased to give an -account of his doings, his mother listened to him -with something very like reverence. So Major -Stroud became “a fellow at my club,” which, as -it chanced, he was, and Millicent gave up the -attempt to penetrate further. -</p> - -<p> -Judy had never felt as shy as on that Wednesday -afternoon in the middle of January. She and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_098" id="Page_098">98</a></span> -Noel rode up Campden Hill on a bus, and walked -briskly, for it was a bitter day, from Church -Street to Chip’s rooms. -</p> - -<p> -On the way up the stairs she said: -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t leave me to do all the talking, Noel. -I feel idiotically nervous. I don’t know what to -talk about.” -</p> - -<p> -“Chuck maidenly modesty to the winds for -once,” he advised, “and talk about the weather.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re not very helpful.” -</p> - -<p> -“And when you’ve done with the weather, -there’s always the climate.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you.” -</p> - -<p> -“What I mean is, why not just be natural? I -expect he’s safely unmarriageable, from the -money point of view. So you can let the barbed -wire alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Anyhow,” she said thankfully, “Major Stroud -will be there, and he’s always noisy and cheerful.” -</p> - -<p> -He was there, and at their knock admitted -them, looking very large and out of place in the -narrow hall. He was one of those men who -seem to belong astride a high, bony horse, or in -the solid armchair of a spacious London club. -He shook hands with great heartiness, and led -the way to the sitting room with a loud and -reassuring tread. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_099" id="Page_099">99</a></span> -“Visitors, Chip, old man,” he announced, and -flung open the door. -</p> - -<p> -Chip was lying stretched out on the sofa, pillows -behind his head and a striped rug across -his knees. His quiet manner of welcoming them -seemed to Judy to contrast almost humorously -with his friend’s bluff cheeriness. -</p> - -<p> -He had a nervous little speech all ready for -them. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m ashamed,” he said, “to be the cause of -all this bother. It’s most awfully good of you to -come. You’ll forgive my not getting up, won’t -you? I’m not allowed to, for some reason.” -</p> - -<p> -“I should hope not,” said Noel, as they shook -hands. -</p> - -<p> -“As for being a bother,” Judy told him, “that’s -the sort of thing invalids say when they know -they’re not strong enough to be shaken. Major -Crosby, I can’t—I can’t tell you how sorry we -are.” She hurried on, fearful of showing emotion. -“Let’s not say any more about that part -of it. You know what we feel.…” -</p> - -<p> -“And after all,” put in Major Stroud, after -the manner of Major Strouds, “accidents will -happen, ye know, and as I tell Chip, he simply -barged into you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” said Judy, “it’s silly, both sides -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> -saying it’s their fault. But there are two good -things about it. The doctor says you’ll soon be -all right again, and—well, if it hadn’t been for -what happened that night, we’d never have met, -would we?” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s a good effort, Judy,” Noel encouraged -her. “I second everything you’ve said. But let’s -cut out speeches now.” -</p> - -<p> -They all laughed, and after that it was easier -to talk. -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud monopolized Noel, to whom he -seemed to have taken a great fancy, and Judy -found herself cut off from the other two, in a -chair beside the sofa. For there is no room so -small that a party of four cannot quite easily -split up into twos. -</p> - -<p> -Major Crosby looked much as Judy had expected -him to look. That first sight of his face -in the light from the car’s lamps was, she knew, -one of those mind pictures that refuse to fade. -She was uncertain about the color of his eyes, -which now proved to be gray, and though they -smiled and had a habit of smiling as the lines -about them showed, there were other lines about -the forehead that spoke of anxiety. His hair -was of that fine and unreliable quality that abandons -its owner early in life, and Chip was already -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> -a little thin about the top. His long legs under -the rug displayed pointed knees, and he moved -his thin, well-shaped hands nervously. -</p> - -<p> -“If I can only put him at his ease with me!” -thought Judy. -</p> - -<p> -They talked commonplaces at first, and then, -stretching out her hand, she said: -</p> - -<p> -“May I see what you were reading?” -</p> - -<p> -He picked up a finely bound book that lay beside -him on the rug, and gave it to her. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know why it is,” he said, smiling, “but -one always feels slightly apologetic when discovered -reading poetry.” -</p> - -<p> -It was <cite>The Spirit of Man</cite>, and Judy was -conscious of a feeling of satisfaction. They liked -the same books, then. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a dear friend,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Really? I’m glad of that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t see this,” she went on, “when I was -prowling about the room the other night. For I -did prowl, I admit it, and I found nothing but -books on religion. You see I had to do something -while I was waiting for the verdict.” -</p> - -<p> -“I expect it was in my room,” he explained. -“When the book I’m working on gets the better -of me, or when I’m tired of it, I turn to that.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re very wise.” She put the book on a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> -table. “Now tell me about your own book. -Major Stroud spoke of it the other night, and -seemed to think it was to blame for the accident.” -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“He thinks it’s to blame for everything. It’s -very dull, I’m afraid. It’s about religions. -They’re my hobby. Not religion; religions. -There’s a difference, you see. I’ve tried to write -a book that … well, how shall I explain -it? … pulls them all together. Brings out their -similarities. Fuses them, so to speak. It’s tremendously -interesting work and means a lot of -research, and I like that.” -</p> - -<p> -“How long have you been working on it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh … not very long. Let me see.… I -started it in 1910. Twelve years. Well, I suppose -that is a fairly long time. But you see the -war interrupted things.” -</p> - -<p> -“There were four years when I suppose you -did no work on it at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“I managed to get in a lot of reading. I was -studying Druidism when I was in the trenches—most -absorbing study. That was when things -were fairly peaceful, of course. And when they -weren’t peaceful, one was … well, testing various -beliefs, if you know what I mean. When -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> -there was heavy shelling, for instance, and you -had to sit tight.” -</p> - -<p> -She smiled at him. -</p> - -<p> -“Is it nearly done?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, the bulk of it’s done, but I’m always -adding things to it. You see I want it to be a -sort of book of reference. If you want to find -out where Mohammedanism resembles Buddhism -you turn to where the two things are compared, -belief by belief. But all this is very boring for -you.” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t. I like it. Don’t you think it’s -extraordinary, with all the guidance that it has, -that mankind goes so frightfully astray?” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose it is. But I always think that we -expect too much of our fellow man. He’s all -right. Only give him time. He’s got such a lot -to unlearn.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean he has all his brutal beginnings to -forget?” -</p> - -<p> -He nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“I imagine I see him evoluting all the way -from brute to angel, or something like it. He’s -about at Half Way House now, I think. Wars, -of course, give him a bit of a setback.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose they do.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, rather! I’m sure they do. Not necessarily -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> -for every individual, you understand, but -for the mass. I hate guns and noise and warfare -like the majority of my kind. I always have -and I always shall. But at the same time, when -there’s a fight on I’ve got to be there, and if -there’s going to be a top dog, I want my fellows -to be it. Half Way House, you see!” -</p> - -<p> -“And you think we’ll get beyond it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t doubt it for a moment. Do you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. I always think that mankind -looks its best under the microscope, so to speak, -and that it’s rather horrible when you see it in -the mass.” -</p> - -<p> -“Like mold?” he suggested. “Ferns and flowers -and lovely shapes when you magnify it, but -very nasty indeed when you look at it on a damp -wall.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Just like that.” -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes smiled back at his eyes. It was at -this moment that something greater than interest -awoke in her. She knew it was there; she was -aware of the very instant of its coming, and she -meant, later, to examine it at her leisure. -</p> - -<p> -Noel and Major Stroud were engaged in -studying a map of the Somme, and were oblivious -to them. -</p> - -<p> -“You really must meet my grandmother, Lady -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> -Gregory—or Madame Claire, as Noel and I call -her. She’s the most wonderful person. When -you’re better you must come and have tea with -us at her hotel.” -</p> - -<p> -“I should like that very much,” he said. “I -get on quite well with old ladies. I find young -ones rather alarming nowadays, but perhaps it’s -because I don’t see much of them.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy laughed at this. -</p> - -<p> -“Do I alarm you?” she challenged him. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” he admitted. “It’s very odd, but you -don’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“What a blessing! Shy people—and I am one—usually -have the most devastating effect on -other shy people. But you’ll love Madame -Claire. She looks on the world from a kind of -Olympus.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yet most of us dread growing old,” he remarked. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Isn’t it ridiculous? But I don’t. There -are times when I envy her her age, and her … -imperviousness. What a word!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s temperamental, that sort of thing. It’s -the people who are always seeking gayety that -dread old age most. Being Scotch I like grayness, -and austere hills, and quiet and mystery. All -old things.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> -Chip was surprised at the ease with which he -could talk about himself. He felt half apologetic -and looked at Judy as if to say, “Forgive me, -but it must be some spell that you have cast upon -me.…” A look passed between them then -that was to both of them an unforgettable thing. -</p> - -<p> -Their words had meant nothing, but they were -mutually aware of a bond—a thing as fine as -gossamer, and as strong as London Bridge. Judy -was conscious of a queer little electric thrill that -she felt to the very tips of her fingers. Their -look had so plainly said: -</p> - -<p> -“You and I.… We are going to be something -to each other. What will that something -be?” -</p> - -<p> -To cover the nakedness of that question that -each was aware of in the mind of the other, Judy -turned away her head. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel,” she said, raising her voice, “Major -Crosby and Major Stroud must come to tea at -Madame Claire’s one day. Can’t we decide on -an afternoon now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Being one of the unemployed,” Noel answered -cheerfully, “all afternoons are alike to me. When -will they let you up again, Major Crosby?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh,” he said, “in three or four days I expect -to be carrying on as usual.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> -They decided on the following Thursday, provided -Madame Claire had no other engagement, -and soon Noel and Judy, for fear of tiring their -victim, got up to go. -</p> - -<p> -“But you’ll come and see me again, won’t -you?” asked Chip, then added, “but dash it all, I -forgot! I’ll be up soon.” -</p> - -<p> -They laughed, and his regret that they might -not come again was so real that Judy said as they -shook hands: -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t forget; Madame Claire’s on Thursday, -at four.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud went out with them, leaving -Chip looking after them rather wistfully. -</p> - -<p> -Talking to her had been strangely easy as he -lay there. It might never be the same again. -He had looked at her to his heart’s content, a -thing he wouldn’t have dared to do had they been -talking in the ordinary way. His recollections of -the accident were very confused. He had been -conscious of some one at intervals—a sort of -delightful presence. Major Stroud had filled in -the rest for him—badly enough. The Major did -not excel in word pictures. -</p> - -<p> -Was she pretty … beautiful? He searched -for the right word. She was lovely, that was -it … lovely. She had taken off her gloves and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> -her long ringless hands had lain in her lap as -she talked. She was tall, but not too tall. He -liked a woman to have height. He liked the paleness -of her oval face, and the wide mouth with -its satisfactory curves. Her dark brown eyes -had a sparkle far at the back of them, like … -like the reflection of a single star in a deep -pool.… -</p> - -<p> -He had been damned dull, as he always was. -</p> - -<p> -“If she were only sitting there again,” he -thought, “I would say everything differently. I -would say things that she might remember afterwards. -I’m not such a dull fellow as all that.” -</p> - -<p> -Was he not? At least no woman would ever -find out that he was not. He thought of his poverty -and his book, that, in all probability, he -alone believed in. He realized that his head had -begun to ache again, and he closed his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Major Stroud went with Noel and Judy as far -as the street door. -</p> - -<p> -“He’ll be all right,” he assured them, indicating -Chip upstairs. “Nothing to worry about -now. Rest’s doin’ him good. Awfully good of -you to come, Miss Pendleton, cheer him up. Terrible -fellow for bein’ alone, Chip is. Neglects -his friends.” -</p> - -<p> -“Hasn’t he any relations?” Noel asked. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> -Major Stroud shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“Orphan … only child, too. He doesn’t see -enough people. Not like me; I like to keep -goin’ … gaddin’ about.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy was amused at this. Solid, heavy Major -Stroud, picturing himself as a sort of social -butterfly! -</p> - -<p> -“But you two see a good deal of each other, -don’t you?” Judy wanted to feel sure that Chip -was not altogether alone. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Lord, yes! Good old Chip! Been -through two campaigns together.” Then as Judy -held out her hand, “’By, Miss Pendleton. I’ll -let you know how he gets on. Ought to be out -to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -They walked briskly down Church Street, Judy -with an arm through Noel’s, and her chin buried -in her furs. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” said Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” she echoed. -</p> - -<p> -“I said it first,” remarked her brother. -</p> - -<p> -“Translated, I take it to mean, how do I like -Chip? Is that it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Couldn’t have put it better.” -</p> - -<p> -“I like him immensely,” said Judy obligingly. -“Now it’s your turn.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> -“Same here.” Then after a pause, “Feeling -less spinsterish?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t feel in the least spinsterish, thank -you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” he said, “I never saw you looking less -so. Chip, poor devil, lay there and gazed with -his soul in his eyes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really, Noel!” -</p> - -<p> -“Fact. But you’ll have to change your methods. -You’ll have to cut that ‘he’ll have to come -all the way to me’ business. Because he won’t; -he’s too shy.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy would have been in a cold fury had any -one else dared to speak so to her, but she took -it from Noel with perfect good humor. -</p> - -<p> -“I gather you’d like me to see more of him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, why not? If ever a man needed some -woman to take an interest in him, that man is -Chip.” -</p> - -<p> -“He may need it, but from the little I’ve seen -of him I don’t think he wants it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course he wants it. He’s human. I -wouldn’t mind having him in the family.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy had to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you think it’s rather soon to make up -your mind? After all, you hardly know him.” -</p> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> -“That’s nothing. I liked him the first minute -I saw him.” -</p> - -<p> -“You have the impulsiveness of extreme -youth.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so trite,” he remarked, “to throw my -youth at me. You only say that when you can’t -think of anything else to say. You must cultivate -originality of thought.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do,” she retorted, “but it’s good manners -to adjust one’s conversation to suit one’s hearers. -Now let’s continue about Chip.” -</p> - -<p> -“He has no money,” he went on, quite unruffled, -“and that’s a pity, because you won’t get -much from the family. Gordon will get it all. -But you’d make a better poor man’s wife than -most girls. What about the simple life for a -change?” -</p> - -<p> -“You go too fast, my friend. I’ve nothing -against the simple life—though why they call it -that I can’t think; there’s nothing less simple -than trying to live on nothing a year. But what I -wish to point out to you is that Major Crosby, to -begin with, is not a marrying man.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Lord!” groaned Noel, “what a -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cliché</span>! -How can a man be a marrying man until he marries?” -</p> - -<p> -“To put it into words of one syllable, Major -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> -Crosby is not the sort of man who contemplates -marriage. He is wedded to his bachelorhood and -his book.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s tosh.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” she went on, “I very much hope he will -let us be his friends.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he’ll let us right enough; if that’s what -you want. By the way, we mustn’t let the Bennetts -know about the accident.” -</p> - -<p> -“Didn’t Mills tell them?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not he. I fixed it up with old Mills. Mrs. -Bennett is a nice old thing, but she’d fuss, and -Chip would hate that. I’m glad we let him think -it was our car. We can explain to him some day. -You see, it really was his fault. He didn’t look -where he was going—didn’t even stop to listen, -Mills says. But I don’t want him to think we -think that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll leave it to you, Noel. It’s getting too -complicated for me.” Then she remembered -something. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you know Eric had gone to Paris to -fetch Aunt Connie home?” -</p> - -<p> -He whistled. -</p> - -<p> -“No. Nobody told me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Claire only told me this morning. Eric has -wired for rooms for her in some small hotel, in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> -Half Moon Street, I think. They’ll be back to-morrow. -Won’t it be queer to have an aunt -we’ve never seen since we were children?” -</p> - -<p> -He agreed that it would. -</p> - -<p> -“I think I shall rather like having a dissipated -aunt,” he remarked. “It’s out of the common.” -</p> - -<p> -“I expect people have exaggerated things,” -Judy said. “And besides, she’s getting on, you -know. She’s only a year or two younger than -mother.” -</p> - -<p> -“Her sort never change,” said the sage. “What -about that rotten little Count?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know what Eric means to do about -him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I know two people at least who will -raise a row about her coming home. Mother and -Louise.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nobody’s told them yet,” said Judy. -</p> - -<p> -He whistled again. -</p> - -<p> -“I see trouble ahead.” -</p> - -<p> -As they reached the house in Eaton Square -the front door opened, and the figure of an -immaculately dressed young man was sharply -silhouetted against the yellow light. -</p> - -<p> -“Hello, you two!” said he. -</p> - -<p> -Gordon was extremely good-looking in his fair -and rather wooden way. His beautiful evening -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> -clothes looked resplendent, and the coat he carried -over one arm was there as a concession to his -mother, for he was never cold. -</p> - -<p> -“Hello, Gordon!” echoed the other two. -</p> - -<p> -“Where’ve you been?” demanded the elder -brother. -</p> - -<p> -“Been to see a sick friend,” said Noel. -</p> - -<p> -Gordon looked at his sister. -</p> - -<p> -“Are you coming to Lady Ottway’s dance to-night? -You were asked.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know. But I’m not coming. I can’t stand -her dances. I may be slow, but they’re slower -still.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t say you can’t stand her,” advised Gordon, -bending his handsome head to light a cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -“Why not? If I feel like it?” -</p> - -<p> -He threw away the match and puffed experimentally -on the cigarette. Then, satisfied of a -light, he said casually: -</p> - -<p> -“Because she’s going to be my mother-in-law. -That’s why.” -</p> - -<p> -“Gordon!” they exclaimed together. -</p> - -<p> -“Fact. All arranged yesterday. Helen and -I hope to be married early in June. So congratulate -me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Gordon!” cried Judy again, “what a queer -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> -boy you are! I hadn’t an inkling it had happened.” -She raised her face to kiss him, but he -drew back. -</p> - -<p> -“Not on the front steps. Keep that for later.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so like you,” she protested. “No one -can see us. Anyway, Gordon, consider yourself -kissed, and I do congratulate you, my dear, and -I’m happy if you are. Does mother know?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes. She’s delighted, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m awfully glad, Gordon old man.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thanks.” He went down the steps and hailed -a taxi that was crawling toward them. “I’d have -told you before,” he said over his shoulder, “only -we don’t keep the same hours. Never sure of -seeing you. Well, so long!” -</p> - -<p> -The taxi door shut with a bang that echoed -loudly in the quiet square, and he was off. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t that Gordon all over?” asked Noel. -</p> - -<p> -As Judy entered the hall she gave a little laugh -that was almost a sob, and said: -</p> - -<p> -“Thank God for you, Noel!” -</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter10" id="linkChapter10"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC10" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER X</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Madame Claire</span> -was at her desk, writing. She -was writing to Stephen, and when she did that -she gave her whole attention to it. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“I am so sorry you are feeling less well. How -is the phlebitis? No one ought to suffer from -anything with such a pretty name. Did you ever -stop to think that the names of diseases and the -names of flowers are very similar? For instance, -I might say, ‘Do come and see my garden. It -is at its best now, and the double pneumonias are -really wonderful. I suppose the mild winter had -something to do with that. I’m very proud of my -trailing phlebitis, too, and the laryngitises and -deep purple quinsies that I put in last year are a -joy to behold. The bed of asthmas and malarias -that you used to admire is finer than ever this -summer, and the dear little dropsies are all in -bloom down by the lake, and make such a pretty -showing with the blue of the anthrax border -behind them!’ -</p> - -<p> -“Enough of nonsense. There is a great deal -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> -to tell you. I wrote you that Eric was on his way -to Paris to fetch Connie. He found her, where -I thought he would, and they returned to London -together. He took rooms for her in a quiet little -hotel, which I fear was a mistake, for Connie -loathes quiet little hotels, and only goes to them -when she must. However, we shall see. She -came to see me the other day—poor Connie! -She is, to use her own words, a wreck of a woman, -but she trails the ghost of her beauty about with -her, and Eric tells me people still turn to stare -after her in the streets. She tried to talk to me -as if we had parted only yesterday, and was as -unemotional as one could wish, for which I was -thankful, for emotions are only permissible when -they are genuine, and not always then. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose I am a very odd old woman, -Stephen, but I only felt for her what I would -have felt for any other woman in her position. -I had to keep reminding myself that this once -beautiful, made-up woman was my daughter. I -have never known that feverish mother-love that -so many women experience. My children interested, -amused and disappointed me—when I was -stupid enough to be disappointed. I know better -now. I would die for any of my children, but I -cannot sentimentalize over them. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> -“How I digress! Connie is going to give London -a try, and I hope to Heaven she will find -something to interest her. She has no friends, -so she will have to fall back, I suppose, on shops -and theaters, and of course clothes, which she still -loves. But she is not a woman to ‘take up’ things. -I wish she were. -</p> - -<p> -“But you will be most interested in Judy. I -wrote you about the near-accident, and the man -who was knocked down in the fog. He appears -to have captivated both Judy and Noel, and they -are bringing him here to tea this afternoon. I -am most anxious to meet him, for something tells -me that Judy is more interested in him than she -has ever been in any man. But more of that in -my next letter. -</p> - -<p> -“Louise returns of her own free will—which -must annoy her—to-morrow. I think she deferred -her homecoming in the hope that Eric -would send for her, but instead of that he begged -her to stay as long as she wished. She has never -met Connie, and of course they will dislike each -other. At present neither she nor Millie know -of Connie’s return. I thought it better to let her -take root a little first, for I think any unpleasantness -during the first week or two would easily -dislodge her. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> -“I do hope to see you here, Stephen. Do you -plan and hope for it too? -</p> -<p> -“I will write again very soon. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="closing-signature">“Claire.”</p> - -</blockquote> - -<p> -She always sent Dawson out to post her letters -to Stephen the moment they were written. She -knew he had not her vitality nor her interests. -There was little to hold him to life except her -letters, and the hope he had of seeing her and -those about her again. -</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter11" id="linkChapter11"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC11" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Louise</span> -returned to London in a strange state of -mind. In the first place, her family, who liked -Eric, had not been disposed to listen sympathetically -to her rather vague complaints. She had -found her sister, an enthusiastic gardener, preoccupied -and full of plans for altering the gardens -of Mistley; her mother too engrossed with -Theosophy to listen to earthly troubles, and her -father too much upset over the budget. So she -had been left to herself more than she had liked. -She had made up her mind to stay until Eric expressed -a desire for her return, but as he did no -such thing, and she felt she couldn’t stand another -hour of boredom, she returned to town. -</p> - -<p> -And there was something else. The day before -she left, a humble cousin of her mother’s -came to tea. She had been to Paris for the first -time in her life, and was not to be denied the -greater joy of relating her impressions. The rest -of the family, murmuring appropriate excuses, -drifted away after tea, and Louise was left alone -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> -with the caller. It was then that Louise received -a shock. -</p> - -<p> -She heard that her husband had been seen in -Paris. It came out quite naturally during the -conversation. It also appeared that he had been -seen at some private hotel with a lady. “I dare -say—a relation?” The cousin’s voice had an inquiring -note. “I dare say you’ll know who it was -if I describe her. A tall lady, my friend said, not -very young. Fair.” And Louise said, with her -brain whirling, “Oh, yes, a cousin.“ The visitor -nodded. “So odd, wasn’t it, my friend having -seen your husband? One never expects to see -any one one knows in Paris. It’s not like dear -London.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise was so amazed that she forgot to feel -angry and outraged. She thought of it most of -the night, and in the train next morning, and she -thought of it—and it seemed stranger than ever -then—when she was once more in her own home, -among the familiar things she had lived with for -eight years. -</p> - -<p> -Eric was at the House. She couldn’t remember -whether it was Divorce Reform or the Plumage -Bill. Anyway, he wasn’t expected back till late. -She longed for some one to talk to. She had no -intimate woman friend with whom she could discuss -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> -her husband; in fact, she could think of no -better ear in which to pour her troubled amazement -than that of her husband’s mother. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Gregory was in, Dawson said over the -telephone, and was not expecting visitors. She -would be delighted to see Mrs. Eric. -</p> - -<p> -If Louise had been accustomed to self-examination, -she would have realized that she was less -unhappy than she had been for some years. She -was indeed conscious of an odd satisfaction. Eric, -then, was less perfect than his friends and family -believed. There was a chink in that shining armor, -his light had suddenly become dimmed. -That woman in Paris—she was not young—it had -evidently been going on for years. Or was it the -renewal of some old affair? Her informant had -managed to convey to her that her husband’s—“cousin -did you say?”—had not looked—well—quite -of their world. She was thankful for that. -When Eric admired Lady Norah Thorpe-Taylor, -or Mrs. Dennison, or that hideous, clever Madame -Fonteyn, she resented it bitterly, for she -knew they had what she had not—charm. So -she scoffed at charm, and prided herself on having -none, nor wishing to have. -</p> - -<p> -But here was something different; here was a -blemish in the fabric, a rotten spot brought for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> -the first time to light. It put her on a new footing -with him, a slightly elevated footing. Let -him point, if he could, to anything unworthy in -her life. She had always believed him to be fastidious. -Well, he was not. But she was—perhaps -she was too fastidious; but then she had the -defects of her qualities. Let others touch pitch -and be soiled. She could almost pity Eric for -lacking what she had. After all, he was merely -common clay, and she had been expected to prostrate -herself before an idol. Ridiculous! She -would try to forgive him. Perhaps he had found -her difficult to live up to. -</p> - -<p> -She grew greatly in her own eyes. She no -longer felt herself dwarfed by him. He must -understand that. Then she would forgive and -forget—except at such times as it might suit her -to remember. -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -“My dear, how much better you look!” cried -Madame Claire, as Louise came into the room. -“You’re a different creature. Come and tell me -all about it.” -</p> - -<p> -As Dawson took her hat and coat, Louise made -a mental note that it was time she had new ones. -Later on, she might perhaps run over to Paris -for a few days, and buy clothes there. Why not? -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> -“Do I really look better? I feel it. It’s been -a delightful change, and of course one’s family -do appreciate one. It’s like renewing one’s girlhood.” -</p> - -<p> -“What an affected speech!” thought Madame -Claire. “Louise has something on her mind.” -She then said aloud: -</p> - -<p> -“It amuses me to hear you talk about renewing -your girlhood. How old are you? I’ve a -dreadful memory for these things. Thirty-five? -Ridiculously young. I always feel you don’t make -the most of your youth and good looks.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise gave a few touches to her hair before -a mirror, and took a chair on the other side of -the fireplace. There was something very restful -about this room of Madame Claire’s. And her -mother-in-law was a woman without prejudices, -even where her own children were concerned. She -felt she had done the right thing in coming to her. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you be surprised to hear that I am -going to turn over a new leaf? I feel I’ve been -very much to blame. I’ve allowed myself to play -third fiddle long enough.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good!” said Madame Claire. “And what -else?” -</p> - -<p> -“And,” went on the younger woman, with a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> -hint of defiance in her voice, “I’m not going to -stand in awe of Eric any longer.” -</p> - -<p> -“In awe—of Eric?” Madame Claire laughed. -“My dear Louise, that you’ve certainly never -done.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it’s what I was always expected to do. -I’ve thought a good deal about what you said -the last time I was here. You were partly right. -I suppose I have sulked. Well, I’m not going to -sulk any more. Eric isn’t a demi-god. I know -now there’s no earthly reason why I should look -up to him, and admire him. He’s just like any -other man.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I could have told you that any time these -last eight years!” cried Madame Claire, more -puzzled than amused. “And besides, you yourself -seem to have been well acquainted with his -failings. I have sometimes thought you saw -nothing else.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s because I was annoyed by his perfections.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perfections! My dear, I could swear Eric -has never been a prig!” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, he never seemed to make mistakes like -other people. And he always seemed to expect -things of me that I wasn’t capable of. It got on -my nerves.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> -“Naturally.” -</p> - -<p> -“He always made me feel I was disappointing -him. And that isn’t very pleasant. But now,” -said Louise, coming to the crux of the matter, -“he has disappointed me. So we are quits at -last.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah,” said Madame Claire, still in the dark. -“That must be a relief.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oddly enough, it is a relief. Horrible as the -whole thing is, I—I could almost be glad of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was wrong,” thought Madame Claire, remembering -a conversation she had had with Judy. -“Eric is interested in some other woman, at last.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what is this horrible thing?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -“You may as well hear it,” said Louise recklessly. -“If I can bear it, I should think you -could too. While I was away, Eric wired me he -was going out of town for a few days. He didn’t -say where. I know now. He was seen at a small -hotel in Paris with a—a questionable-looking -woman. So our idol has feet of clay.” -</p> - -<p> -There was both bitterness and triumph in her -voice. Madame Claire gripped the arms of her -chair and tried not to laugh. What should she -do? Good had been known to come out of evil. -Should she and Eric let Louise think—what she -thought? Her crying need was evidently to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> -find Eric in the wrong. Should they let her? -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t say it wasn’t a shock to me,” Louise -went on. “It was. I heard it while I was at -Mistley. I know that it is true.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire was thinking: -</p> - -<p> -“She is bound to know the facts sooner or -later, and then she’ll feel she has been made a -fool of—a thing only saints can forgive. And -yet, it’s an opportunity of a sort. But what a -paltry business!” -</p> - -<p> -“Suppose this were really true, Louise,” she -said. “At the moment I am neither denying the -possibility of it, nor affirming it. But suppose -it were true. How would it affect your feeling -for Eric?” -</p> - -<p> -“As a good woman—and I hope I am that—it -revolts me. But … perhaps I’ve been hard -… perhaps he’s found a lack in me.… I -dare say he has.… Oh!” she cried suddenly -with real emotion, “I want to forgive him! I -would forgive him.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire felt she was hearing something -she had no right to hear. She must leave this -to Eric. Stupid mistake as it was, it might be -the means of clearing the air. She would have -nothing to do with it. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear,” she said, “I am going to forget -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> -you have told me this. Later you’ll understand -why. I think the whole thing can be explained, -but for your explanation I prefer you should go -to Eric. It concerns him the most.” -</p> - -<p> -She would hear no more of it. There was -something indecent in Louise’s willingness to forgive. -While they talked of other things her indignation -grew. Eric’s wife wanted to believe the -worst of him. By the time her visitor was ready -to go, she found it difficult to be polite. -</p> - -<p> -“I am delighted to see you looking so much -better, and so much more cheerful,” she told her, -as she said good-by. “And should there prove -to be nothing in this story, don’t be disheartened. -You mustn’t let one disappointment discourage -you.” -</p> - -<p> -Louise, wondering what she meant, kissed her -mechanically. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-by. I’ll come and see you again in a -few days if I may.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do. I shall expect really good news from -you then.” -</p> - -<p> -When the door had closed on her, Madame -Claire sat looking into the fire with a flush on her -cheeks. Presently she took from a bowl on the -table beside her a few violets, and after wiping -their stems, tucked them into her dress. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> -“You deserve a bouquet,” she said to herself, -“for not having been ruder. I expect they’re -writing in their book up aloft, ‘January 30, Madame -Claire rather less pleasant to-day to her -irritating daughter-in-law.’ Well, let them.” -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -Louise went home and dressed for dinner feeling -like a warrior on the eve of battle. There -had been many coldnesses in that house, but, as -far back as she could remember, not a single -contretemps. Dinner was at half-past eight, and -there was a possibility that Eric would be late. -They usually dined at eight, but the Plumage Bill—or -was it the Divorce Reform Bill?—would -keep him. She did her hair in a way that he had -once admired, and put on a blue tea-gown that he -had called charming. In fact, she took far greater -pains over her rôle as injured wife than she had -ever taken before. And saw no humor in it either. -</p> - -<p> -Eric thought he had never seen her look so well. -Take away her coldness and her pettiness, he said -to himself, and she would be lovely. Perhaps if -she had married some one else she would have -been neither cold nor petty. He often felt very -sorry for her, for though he had made the mistake, -she, no doubt, suffered the most. They -talked commonplaces during dinner, but once they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> -were alone in the library, Louise confronted him -with heightened color and a voice she could barely -control. -</p> - -<p> -It was a pitiful little comedy. Her triumph -was so short lived, and the bubble of her advantage -over him so soon pricked. At the end of it -she found refuge from her humiliation in tears. -Eric had never seen her cry like that before, and -it moved him. He felt like confessing to things -he had never done, or abasing himself in some -way. He understood her for the first time, and -though there was something ignoble in it all, and -he felt the prickings of anger, he nevertheless -thought her very human, at least, in wanting to -find some weakness to forgive him for. -</p> - -<p> -He put his arm about her, half laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Louise, don’t be so cast down. -There’s always the stage door—or I could forge -a check to oblige, or elope with your maid. What -would you like me to do?” -</p> - -<p> -She made no answer, but buried her wet face -in a cushion. -</p> - -<p> -“Or why not just forgive me on general principles -for being a stupid fellow, and not understanding -you? I expect I often hurt you when I -am least aware of it. We humans are like that—we -understand each other’s sensibilities so little. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> -Why not forgive me for that? Forgive me for -not having known how to make you happier?” -</p> - -<p> -“You are making fun of me,” she sobbed. -“You are only sneering at me.” -</p> - -<p> -Something told him that she was softening, that -soon she would be talking with him like a reasonable -being. Was it possible that from to-night he -might feel he had a friend for a wife instead of -an enemy? He knew he must not let pride stand -in the way of it—nor justice even. There was -nothing to be gained and much to be lost by telling -her that during the whole of their married life -she had persistently played the fool. -</p> - -<p> -“On my honor I am not,” he said. “Louise, -listen to me. I am a blundering fellow. Somehow -or other I have always failed to give you -what you wanted. That being so, I ask your help. -Help me to be what you wish me to be. We are -young, and there is still time. I will do anything. -I beg you to help me.” -</p> - -<p> -He made her raise her head, and looked her -full in the face with all the intensity those blazing -blue eyes of his were capable of. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you help me?” -</p> - -<p> -It was undoubtedly the great moment of -Louise’s life. She knew it. Eric had made it possible -for her to be magnanimous. But the gods -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> -were not kind. What she was going to say to him -they alone knew, for at that instant the maid came -to the door, to say that Countess Chiozzi was on -the telephone and would like to speak to Mr. -Gregory. For Louise the interruption was maddening. -Eric was about to send word that he -would ring her up in the morning, and so return -as quickly as possible to the business in hand, when -Louise said in a stifled voice: -</p> - -<p> -“I want it clearly understood that that woman -is not to come into this house.” -</p> - -<p> -It was hopeless, then. Eric turned to the maid. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll speak to her,” he said, and left the room. -They would have to separate. There was nothing -else for it. -</p> - -<p> -Louise sat with bent head, smoothing out a -handkerchief on her knee. She had not meant -to say that. The words had come through sheer -force of habit. She knew her moment was gone -now, and she believed that it would never come -again. If Eric had really loved her, he would -have seen that she longed to be different, and that -under her coldness and bitterness there was only -unhappiness and longing! He ought to have -<em>seen</em>! She folded the handkerchief and pressed -it to her eyes again. She was more miserable than -ever. -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter12" id="linkChapter12"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC12" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Major Stroud</span> -had also been invited to tea at -Madame Claire’s, but was to be out of town, and -as Noel had to see a man about a job, the party -had dwindled to three, and Chip found his way -to the hotel alone. He was prompt to the minute -and feeling extremely nervous. He had so looked -forward to seeing Judy again that he felt sure -everything—except Judy herself—would be disappointing. -Madame Claire would find him uninteresting, -and Judy would be kind but bored. He -would very likely upset his tea. He had been a -fool to accept. He had far better have stayed -away and allowed himself to return to the comfortable -oblivion from which the accident had dislodged -him. Better be a kindly memory than a -dull actuality. -</p> - -<p> -But there was something reassuring about the -way the homely Dawson opened the door to him -and took his hat and coat. She received him like -an old friend and smiled as though she shared -some secret with him. The sight of Judy and his -hostess bending over plans for a -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pisé de Terre</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> -cottage to be built for Judy on Madame Claire’s -little place in Sussex, also gave him courage. He -loved plans, and was soon making suggestions and -alterations in a way that, Judy said, was as domineering -as an architect’s. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s entirely furnished and decorated inside,” -she said. “I’ve thought about it so much that I -wouldn’t be surprised to find it had materialized. -You must look next time you go down, Madame -Claire. It might look rather odd without its outsides -of course.” -</p> - -<p> -It had long been a dream of Judy’s to have her -own cottage—shared, needless to say, with Noel—and -if they could only get it built cheaply -enough, there was a chance that it might be fulfilled. -At any rate, they enjoyed planning it, and -if it served no other purpose it put Chip at his -ease with them—a thing she had prayed for. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire guessed easily enough that he -was on the way to falling in love with Judy, and -that Judy herself was on the same road. She -thought there was something very lovable about -Chip, and felt sure that he was as gallant a soldier -as he was a modest one. Major Stroud had more -than hinted to Judy that his -<dfn title="Distinguished Service Order">D.S.O.</dfn> should have -been a -<dfn title="Victoria Cross">V.C.</dfn> -Madame Claire loved a good soldier, -for she had a theory that to be a good soldier -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> -a man must be a great gentleman. And, like Judy, -she felt the charm of the man of forty—the age -that lies like a savory filling between what is callow -in the young generation and outworn in the -old. -</p> - -<p> -His poverty had kept him out of touch with -things. She guessed that if he danced at all, it -would be in the stiff, uncompromising manner of -the late nineties. He should learn the new ways. -He wasn’t nearly old enough to think of himself -as on the shelf. -</p> - -<p> -Judy inquired about his injuries. Had the stiffness -nearly gone? No, it was no good his saying -that it had entirely gone, because she had noticed -that he was limping slightly when he came in. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s old age,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Very well. Only don’t forget to limp the next -time we meet. And what about your head?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, quite recovered, thanks! That is, it aches -a bit, of course, if I do much writing, but the -doctor says that’s bound to be so for a while. -Really,” he said, turning to Madame Claire, “I -feel I owe my life to Miss Pendleton and her -chauffeur. Any one else would have run gayly -over me and gone on. I think it was such amazingly -good luck that it happened to be that particular -car.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> -“I’m rather inclined to agree with you,” -laughed Madame Claire. “Some day I’d like to -hear something about your book. It sounds tremendously -interesting. But what I’d like to know -now is this. Are all your eggs in one basket? I -mean, does this book occupy your whole time, or -do you work on it when other occupations permit?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m afraid that … well, that not only are -all my eggs in one basket, but that there’s only -one egg. You see,” he explained, “I chucked the -army in order to give all my time to it. It meant -as much to me as that. To my mind, no one’s -ever written scientifically enough about religions.” -</p> - -<p> -“That may be, but I feel you need diversions. -When people become so obsessed by one idea that -they walk under omnibuses and into motor cars, -it’s time for an antidote.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s just what I did,” he admitted. -</p> - -<p> -“Very well then, I suggest diversions.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what sort? I play golf now and then, but -it doesn’t take my mind off the book. Why, I -remember perfectly solving a problem once—it -had something to do, I think, with levitation—while -I was trying to get my ball out of a bunker.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire laughed heartily. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> -“You’re a most unusual man then. What else -can we think of, Judy?” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s always dancing,” said Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“Dancing! Of course! He must learn to -dance. You can’t dance and think about religions. -I defy you to do it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I couldn’t dance. I’m too old and stiff. -Besides, no one would dance with me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Three excuses, and none of them any good.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll teach you,” Judy said. “I might even -dance with you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Would you really? That’s awfully kind. But -I ought to tell you that I really don’t think I’m -teachable.” -</p> - -<p> -“You must let me judge of that. We might -begin at Eaton Square one night, in a small way. -Gordon and Noel and I often ask a few friends -in for dancing, and there’s a little anteroom reserved -for practicing. There will only be a few, -and it won’t be at all alarming even for hermits.” -</p> - -<p> -Chip looked pleased and dubious at the same -time. -</p> - -<p> -“There won’t be any flappers, will there? I’m -terrified of flappers.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing more flapperish than myself,” -laughed Judy. “Was I ever a flapper, Madame -Claire?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> -“Never. Millie kept you out of sight until you -were able to fly. I didn’t altogether approve. -After all, we must all try our wings some time. -You see, I like the present day, Major Crosby. -I like it far better than what people call my own -day, though why this one isn’t just as much mine -as it is anybody’s, I really don’t know.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re very greedy,” Judy told her. “You -had Disraeli and Gladstone and Jenny Lind, and -now you want Lloyd George and Charlie Chaplin. -All the same, I don’t wonder you like our age -best. That one was so full of hypocrisy and sentiment.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire agreed with this. -</p> - -<p> -“We were always pretending things. Men were -always gentlemen or monsters. Young girls were -always innocent as flowers. We even tried to believe -that wars and poverty were picturesque and -romantic.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you talked too much about love,” said -Judy. “That sort of golden, sticky, picture-book -love that even we were taught to expect. And a -gigantic hoax it is!” -</p> - -<p> -“A hoax?” Chip looked at her to see if she -were joking. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course it is. Oh, I believed in it too, once. -It’s like Santa Claus. I never could see that the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> -pleasure of believing in him was worth the awfulness -of finding out that he’s only a myth.” -</p> - -<p> -Chip wondered if she were making fun of love, -or whether she was merely holding the schoolgirl’s -idea of it up to scorn. He didn’t know. -He had never expected to find a love that would -transform the world, and he had found it. What -he had yet to discover was that women, after all, -are the terrible realists. Men manage to preserve -their illusions better. Few of them love -with their eyes open, and women only really love -when their eyes are open. For women are meant -to see faults, being the mothers of children, and -their critical faculties are more on the alert. -</p> - -<p> -Judy had looked for a miracle. She had been -searching for a fairy castle, and now found herself -becoming interested in an imperfect modern -dwelling. Chip had not asked for a miracle, and -lo! it had come to pass. He listened to Judy -making fun of romantic love—which she did with -great satisfaction to herself until interrupted by -tea—and refused to believe that she meant what -she said. For romantic love does undoubtedly -come to very simple people, and Chip was very -simple. -</p> - -<p> -He didn’t trouble to disagree with her. He -was happy to be hearing from her own lips that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> -she had never been in love. Not that it made any -difference, beyond the pleasure that it gave him, -for to love Judy was not the same thing where he -was concerned as to make love to her. That was -unthinkable. -</p> - -<p> -They left Madame Claire’s together at six, and -Chip, happily reckless as well as recklessly happy, -walked with Judy all the way to Eaton Square. -It was settled that he was to dine there and begin -his rejuvenation the following Wednesday night. -For Judy told herself that she couldn’t keep Chip -a secret from the family forever, and they might -as well meet him and get done with it. -</p> - -<p> -“I hope you won’t be frightened of mother,” -she said. “I don’t know why it is, but she does -frighten people. I don’t think she wants to, -really. She and father are very keen on what -Noel calls the ‘kin game.’ You know the sort of -thing I mean—who’s related to who and how.” -</p> - -<p> -“I see,” said Chip. -</p> - -<p> -“So perhaps you’d better tell me some of your -family history. Then I could tell them, and you -won’t be bothered. Because they’re sure to want -to know.” -</p> - -<p> -She colored as she said it, and Chip guessed -that there were mortifying experiences behind her -warning. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> -“With all the pleasure in the world,” he said. -“Only there isn’t much to tell.” -</p> - -<p> -He made short work of what there was. His -father, Graham Crosby, an explorer well known -to geographical societies, had lost his life from -fever in a South American jungle at the age of -thirty-seven. His mother, faced with the prospect -of almost unendurable poverty, tried her -hand at novel writing. “The sentimental kind -that you would have hated,” he said with a smile. -However, they had an enormous success, and enabled -her to send her only son to Sandhurst. She -died at the close of the Boer War. They were -not related to any Crosbys that he knew of, except -some excessively dull ones who lived somewhere -near Aberdeen. -</p> - -<p> -“Very poor pickings for your mother, I’m -afraid,” he said with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -Chip left her at the door with his rather old-fashioned -bow, and she watched him until he -reached the corner. There he turned, as she had -guessed he would, and looked back, and as the -maid opened the door, she waved her hand to him -gayly. He walked stiffly, thanks to the accident, -and leaned a little on his stick. Dear old -Chip!… -</p> - -<p> -So this was love! With her it took the form -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> -of a passionate tenderness. She wanted him to -have success, and happiness. She wanted to help -him to get them. -</p> - -<p> -For Chip, the impossible thing that had happened -was too dazzling, as yet, to be more than -blinked at. It was as though an old dried stick -had burst into blossom and leaf. As though water -had been turned into wine. That Judy might be -persuaded to care for him in return never entered -his head. To love her was wonderful enough. -Let a man of her own world, a man of wealth and -standing, try to win her. Some day such a man -would succeed, and he would have to bear that as -he had borne lesser things. If his book received -recognition, he might continue to enjoy this delightful -friendship. If not, he must quietly drop -out of Judy’s life. For he believed that a man -had no right to accept a charming woman’s friendship -unless he could lay appropriate and frequent -sacrifices upon her altar. Which shows that the -world had been rolling along under Chip’s very -nose without his having observed the manner of -its rolling. -</p> - -<p> -One pleasure he permitted himself that day. -He went into a little flower shop in Church Street -and bought two dozen pink roses. It was one of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> -his happiest moments; he had been so denied the -joy of giving. On his card he wrote: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“I hope you will forgive me if I am doing a -presumptuous thing in sending you these few -flowers. But if they give you a little pleasure, I -shall be well content.” -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -He felt bold, because he had nothing to lose. -It was early February, too, with the softness of -coming spring in the air, and hope dies hard in -the spring, even at forty. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter13" id="linkChapter13"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC13" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Stephen’s</span> -letter in reply to Madame Claire’s last -was brief. She guessed that he was still suffering, -and was not up to writing at any length. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“Bronchitis and phlebitis,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">he wrote,</span> -“are not -as pretty as they sound, although your garden -amused me very much. Miss McPherson would -be happy in it, that’s certain. When I’m feeling -better I see her casting longing glances at old -Jock Wetherby, who’s got more ailments than the -doctors can put names to. But when I’m at my -worst she clucks over me like a proud hen. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie’s Count seems to suspect collusion. -He tried to pump me about her yesterday. I was -out in the sun for five minutes, and he appeared -so promptly I think he’d been waiting for me. As -soon as he began asking questions I had a coughing -fit, so he went away. From what I hear—for -I listen to gossip when it suits me to do so—Connie -could get a divorce ten times over. I expect -he misses her in a way. He found he could make -her suffer—an occupation his sort delights in. -</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> -“Well, Claire, my dear, I cannot write more -to-night. You are wonderful, and your letters are -my great joy. They soothe me. I find myself -growing less short-tempered, less out of love with -my fellow man. -</p> - -<p> -“There is a little poem that comes to my mind -now and speaks of you. -</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p class="left15">“‘The world is young to-day:</p> -<p class="left30">Forget the gods are old,</p> -<p class="left30">Forget the years of gold</p> -<p class="left20">When all the months were May.</p> - - -<p class="left20">A little flower of Love</p> -<p class="left30">Is ours, without a root,</p> -<p class="left30">Without the end of fruit,</p> -<p class="left20">Yet—take the scent thereof.</p> - -<p class="left20">There may be hope above,</p> -<p class="left30">There may be rest beneath;</p> -<p class="left30">We see them not, but Death</p> -<p class="left20">Is palpable—and Love.’</p> -</div> - -<p> -“It is a charming thing, and applies to old -friends who love one another and whose days are -transient, as well as to young lovers, whose love -is perhaps transient. -</p> - -<p> -“Write soon. Tell me more about Judy. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -Madame Claire answered almost at once: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting">“Dear Stephen, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> -</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“I have your little poem by heart. Thank -you for it. The older I grow, the more I value -the poets. They are the bravest people I know, -for they sing in defiance of a world out of joint. -Think of touching the high peaks of rapture with -coal at its present price, in the midst of strikes, -and a much advertised crime wave! It is difficult -to see that the world has improved since the war, -but at least one can see that it has changed, and -I like to think that it <em>can</em> only change for the -better. So I cling to that thought and read the -poets, not being one of those who can help to -make it better. I feel about the world as I might -feel about an Inn where I have supped and been -kindly served. I hope it may flourish and not fall -into evil hands. Not that I expect to return. It -was, after all, only a night’s stopping place. But -I should like other travelers to find it as I found -it, or somewhat better. -</p> - -<p> -“Judy came here to tea a day or two ago, and -there came also the victim of the accident in the -fog. He is, or soon will be, in love with her, and -something of the sort is happening to Judy. If -anything should come of it—and I feel that it -may, things would not be easy for them. Millie -would give the clothes off her back, and so would -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> -John, for the eldest son, but they expect their -daughter to marry for a living. I would do what -I could, but that would be little. My income -since the war has dwindled surprisingly, and I -have some of Robert’s poor relations to help. Of -course, from Millie’s point of view, the man is -utterly unsuitable, but he is a gallant fellow, and -life has been none too kind to him. I fear, somehow, -that he is one of life’s inexplicable failures, -but I like him none the less for that. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie has conceived an extravagant admiration -for Noel. I think I said that she was not a -woman to take up things, but I was wrong, for -she has ‘taken up’ Noel. And really, it is amazing -the change he has already wrought in her. -She takes his frankness and frequent scoldings in -a way I never dreamed she would. He is kindness -itself to her, takes her to theaters and concerts, -and seems to find her an amusing companion. He -thinks she has had a pretty bad time of it—though -he admits it’s her own fault—and is bent -on cheering her up. She adores his brutal honesty -and his entire lack of respect for age, position, -or human frailties. The first time they -lunched together, they met at the Ritz, and Connie, -it appears, was ablaze with paint. Noel refused -to set foot in the dining room until she had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> -washed her face, and in the end she meekly sat -down with nothing more in the way of make-up -than a dusting of powder on her nose. Of course -he is a godsend to her. Millie is very angry with -me, and Louise will have none of her. Judy gets -on with her well enough, but she doesn’t amuse -Judy as she does Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“Did I tell you Louise heard Eric was in Paris -with a ‘questionable looking woman’? She was -nobly prepared to forgive him, but when she -learned that it was only Connie, her humiliation -knew no bounds. I fear she is colder to him than -ever now. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, well, they must all go through with it -as we did. I thank Heaven every day that Time -has given me the right to sit quietly on my hilltop. -I can still hear the sounds of the conflict -below, and the cries of the wounded, but though -they are my nearest and dearest I am too conscious -of the transience of things, too aware of -yesterdays and to-morrows—especially to-morrows—to -concern myself greatly. I want them -to be happy, but I know they won’t be, and I am -not God to confer or withhold. I can do nothing -but laugh at or comfort them a little. Do you -think me hard? No, you know that I am not. -The happiest of them all is Noel, for he, like me, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> -is a looker-on. I don’t know how he has managed -to exchange the arena for the spectators’ gallery, -but he has. I think it is because he wants nothing -for himself. -</p> - -<p> -“As for Gordon, he is too ambitious to be -happy. He is marrying partly to suit his mother, -and partly to gratify his passion for being among -the big-wigs, where of course, as Lord Ottway’s -son-in-law, he will be. But he doesn’t know his -Helen—yet. I think I do. Her chin is too long -and her nose too high. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, the joy of wanting nothing! The joy of -being eighty and immune! But I, even I, have -one wish. And that is to see you, my old friend, -again. But it is a pleasant want, like a hunger -that is soon to be satisfied. For I feel I cannot -lose you. Here, or there—what does it matter? -I imagine you wince at that, foolish old Stephen! -</p> - -<p> -“Write to me soon. I do hope you are better.</p> -</div> -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Yours,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Claire.”</p> -</blockquote> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter14" id="linkChapter14"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC14" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">It</span> -was February and it was sunny, and Noel had -persuaded Connie to take a little gentle exercise -in the Park. -</p> - -<p> -She was finding London bearable, thanks to her -nephew, and although she had, she said, nothing -to look forward to, she was content with the present -as long as the present remained as it was now. -</p> - -<p> -They were discussing men in general, a topic -that never lost its interest for Connie. -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t think why you’re so keen on foreigners,” -Noel remarked; then said in his merciless -way, “the only Englishman you ever had much to -do with you ran away from.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie was quite soberly dressed in a dark blue -coat and skirt, relieved by furs, hat, shoes and -gloves of her favorite gray. She was no more -made up than most of the other women who -passed them. It was her forty-eighth birthday, -and to celebrate it they were going to lunch at -Claridge’s later. -</p> - -<p> -“Foreigners interest me so much more,” she -replied. “They understand women.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> -“Too damn well,” agreed Noel. “Besides, the -sort of men you mean only understand one sort -of woman. They wouldn’t understand Judy, for -instance.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie smiled deprecatingly and put her head -on one side. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, as to that, I’m not sure I understand -her myself. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed -in Judy.” -</p> - -<p> -“You can’t appreciate her, Connie. That’s -why.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps.” No one ever took offense at Noel. -“To my mind she isn’t feminine enough. She’s -handsome, but she has no magnetism, no allure.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nice English girls don’t go in for allure,” -Noel said. -</p> - -<p> -“Pooh!” She laughed rather scornfully. “Because -they don’t know how.” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly,” agreed her nephew. “And a good -thing too. Look where it landed you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now you’re being rude and British, but I forgive -you. And at any rate, I have lived.” -</p> - -<p> -It was Noel’s turn to laugh scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -“Lived! You surely don’t call that living? -Junketing around Europe with a lot of bounders! -Why, Connie, you little innocent, you’d have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> -lived a whole lot more if you’d stuck to Humphries -and brought up a family.” -</p> - -<p> -She threw him an appealing look. -</p> - -<p> -“You might remember that it’s my birthday,” -she protested. -</p> - -<p> -“Jove, that’s so. And I’m hungry. Let’s start -walking toward Claridge’s.” -</p> - -<p> -“Walk? It’s too far. We must have a taxi.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, we mustn’t. Great Scott, Connie, we’ve -only walked half a mile or so. What’ll you do -in the next war?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, be nice to me then.” She gave in as -she usually did. “You know I’m horribly worried. -I may have to go back to Chiozzi almost -any day. If he finds out where I am——” -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense. He can’t make you go. You -ought to divorce the little beast. I don’t call that -a marriage. And anyway, one more scandal -won’t matter much.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m afraid of him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Has he any money of his own, or are you -supporting him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he has money of his own, but he’s gambled -away most of it. He gambled away most of -mine, too. I didn’t know how to stop it. Morton -Freeman ought to have tied it up in some way, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> -but you see he died so suddenly … that awful -<i>Titanic</i>.…” -</p> - -<p> -“What sort of a fellow was Freeman?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, very nice, and very fond of me. But you -don’t like foreigners.” -</p> - -<p> -“I never said so. And besides, I don’t call -Americans foreigners.” -</p> - -<p> -“He stayed on the ship,” Connie went on. “He -made me go. It was so brave of him. I wasn’t -really in love with him. I’ve never really loved -anybody but Petrovitch. But I was sorry.” -</p> - -<p> -“Where is Petrovitch now?” -</p> - -<p> -“In America, I think, but I’m not sure. He -never writes to me.” She sighed. -</p> - -<p> -“How are you getting on with Louise?” Noel -asked, thinking it was time to change the subject. -“I’d love to see you two together!” -</p> - -<p> -“You never will,” Connie said with feeling. -“Eric needn’t try to bring us together, either. -I’ve seen her, and that’s enough. How I hate -those thin-lipped, straw-colored women! How -Eric could have married her when he might have -married any one, I cannot imagine.” -</p> - -<p> -“People have these sudden fancies,” said -Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“What about Gordon? Is it true he’s really -engaged to Helen Dane? Not that I care much, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> -as he’s never had the politeness to come and see -me.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s engaged right enough. I suppose he’s -happy. Gordon closes up like an oyster if you -touch on anything personal. We’ve never discussed -anything in our lives. Mother’s frightfully -pleased about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“What’s the girl like?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she’s all right, but she’s cut to pattern.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pretty?” -</p> - -<p> -“So so. Too bony, I think. But she suits Gordon. -Related to everybody, rich, correct, hasn’t -got an original thought in her head. Thinks she’s -literary because young Shawn Bridlington the poet -goes and reads his verses in her mother’s drawing-room. -Affects the Bloomsbury people. Opens -bazaars and things. Jove! I’d rather marry a -factory girl with a harelip.” -</p> - -<p> -Much of this was Greek to his aunt, who had -the misfortune never to have heard of the Bloomsbury -people. -</p> - -<p> -“And what about Judy and that man she nearly -ran over?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” Noel asked innocently, not wishing to -discuss Judy and her affairs with Connie. “What -about them?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there anything in it? I hope not, because -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> -the thing’s ridiculous. Who is he? What is he?” -</p> - -<p> -Noel gave an amused chuckle. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie, you really are a joy. <em>You</em> to ask -‘Who is he? What is he?’ Don’t you try to take -a leaf out of mother’s book. It isn’t your rôle.” -</p> - -<p> -“Judy’s my niece, after all,” protested Connie. -“Isn’t it natural that I should be interested?” -</p> - -<p> -“Natural enough,” said Noel. “I hope you -are. Ask me if he’s a good fellow, and if I think -he could make her happy, and I’ll be delighted -to answer you. But ‘who is he?’ … that sort -of tosh.… I should think you’d earned the -right to be human, if anybody had.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well,” answered his chastened aunt. “Is -he good enough?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think he’s as near being good enough as -any fellow I’ve met. If he had any money at all, -I should call it a match. But he hasn’t, and I -don’t know how Judy would like being downright -poor.” -</p> - -<p> -“All the same,” Connie insisted, “I can’t help -wishing that my only niece would make a good -match.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel raised his eyes heavenward, despairingly. -</p> - -<p> -“For a woman who deemed the world well lost -for love.…” -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> -“I know,” interrupted Connie. “But you see -Judy hasn’t my temperament.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll refrain from saying ‘Thank God!’ because -it’s your birthday,” returned Noel. “Here we -are, and I bet I do justice to the lunch.” -</p> - -<p> -They both did, and Connie had occasion to congratulate -the head waiter on a very perfect -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Petite -Marmite</span>. She was always at her best in restaurants. -She loved the crowds and the chatter and -the music, and the feeling that she was being -looked at, and was still worth looking at. There -was even a secret hope in her heart that people -would take Noel for her son. She liked to imagine -them saying, “There’s a son who enjoys going -about with his mother.” And Noel, who really -liked Connie and pitied her, had hopes of knocking -some sense into her foolish head in time. It -touched him, too, that she depended on him so. -</p> - -<p> -Two men came in and sat at a table at Connie’s -left, and somewhat behind her. One was fat and -old, with a round, coarse face. The other was -at least impressive, and Noel found himself watching -him. He had a dome-shaped head, rather flat -at the back, and his hair, which began high up at -the very summit of his temples was long and carefully -brushed so as to fall slightly over the collar -behind. A pair of level, frowning eyes looked -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> -out scornfully from under projecting brows, and -the wide, thin lips protruded in a fierce pout. -Presently, when something annoyed him, he spoke -with great brusqueness to the waiter, scarcely -moving his lips as he did so. -</p> - -<p> -Connie heard his voice and turned, and their -eyes met. Noel heard her draw in her breath -sharply, and for a moment she sat staring, motionless. -There was not the slightest change in the -man’s expression, as he stared back at Connie. -There was an empty seat at his table, and suddenly -he raised a large hand with spade-shaped -fingers, and beckoned. -</p> - -<p> -Connie started up from her chair like an automaton, -and would have gone to him, but Noel’s -muscular hand closed on her wrist and fastened -it to the table. -</p> - -<p> -“Keep your seat!” he commanded. “Are you -a dog to obey that man’s whistle? If he wants to -talk to you, let him come here.” -</p> - -<p> -Then as if ashamed of taking part in such an -intense little drama, he dropped her hand and -said lightly: -</p> - -<p> -“Who’s your friend, Connie? I don’t care for -his manners.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie strove to reach the normal again. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> -“It’s Petrovitch,” she said, scarcely above a -whisper. -</p> - -<p> -“Thought so. Do you realize he beckoned to -you as though you were his slave? I’d like to -wring his beastly neck.” -</p> - -<p> -“Noel! It’s Petrovitch! What does he care -about our silly little conventions? He wants me. -I must talk to him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then he can damn well come here. And for -Heaven’s sake don’t make a scene, Connie. Eat -your lunch.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t eat. I haven’t seen him for fifteen -years. Oh, Noel, I’ve never loved any one as I’ve -loved him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I don’t see that it’s anything to have -hysterics about. What of it? He’ll come and -talk to you, I expect, when he’s finished that enormous -lunch he’s ordered. That is, if you’re foolish -enough to wait.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must. Oh, Noel, have pity on me!” -</p> - -<p> -Her lips trembled. -</p> - -<p> -“Cheer up!” he said. “I’ll sit here all day, if -you’ll order another -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Entre Côte</span>. Have you ever -noticed what queerly shaped heads some of these -fellows have? If I were a woman, I’d study -phrenology a bit. That’s where you have the best -of us. You women may—and I expect often do—possess -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> -heads a congenital idiot would be proud -of, but we never find it out. Don’t even show -your ears, now. It isn’t fair. But your friend -over there—I could tell you a whole lot about him -just by looking at the back of his head.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he’s a devil if you like,” said the unhappy -Connie, “but I love him. And he loved me, once. -I’d die for him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Neurotic,” Noel told her. -</p> - -<p> -“Call it what you like. I’d rather spend five -minutes with him than a lifetime with any one -else.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’d like to spend five minutes with him myself,” -said Noel. “Alone. Oh,” remembering his -empty sleeve, “I expect he’d wipe up the floor -with me, but I’d tell him a few simple, home -truths first.” -</p> - -<p> -“I tell you, Noel, ordinary rules of conduct -don’t apply to men like Petrovitch. He’s a genius, -a heaven-born genius. You’ve never even heard -him play. There’s nothing like it—there never -has been anything like it. Oh, yes, he’s made me -suffer, but I forgive him for it, because he’s a king -among men.” -</p> - -<p> -“A king! My good aunt, pull yourself together -and observe the way he eats asparagus. -There! I knew it … he’s dribbled some of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> -melted butter down his chin and on to his waist-coat. -How would you like the job of spot-remover -to His Highness? I suppose some -wretched woman—but has he a wife? I forget.” -</p> - -<p> -“He has had two,” murmured Connie. -</p> - -<p> -“How any woman——” began Noel, and gave -it up. -</p> - -<p> -“There are men like that. They are unattractive -to other men perhaps, but they have an irresistible -fascination for some women. They command—we -obey.” -</p> - -<p> -“Cut it, Connie!” exclaimed Noel. “Do you -mean to tell me that if that bounder, to satisfy -his filthy vanity, said ‘Come,’ you’d go? Like a -wretched poodle on a string. Good Lord! Where -is your pride?” -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -“I only know that I must talk to him again.” -</p> - -<p> -They finished lunch with little conversation. -Noel was angry and uncomfortable. As they -drank their coffee, and he saw that Petrovitch -too was nearing the end, he made another effort. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie, let’s get out before he’s finished. Will -you? You’ll be glad of it all your life. I promise -you you will. It means a lot to me.” -</p> - -<p> -His earnestness had no effect. He went on: -</p> - -<p> -“You’ve always followed the line of least resistance—that’s -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> -why you’re what you are now. -You’ve chucked away your life. Don’t do it -again, Connie. You know what that man’s opinion -of you is. He showed it pretty clearly when -he beckoned to you just now. There’s just one -way you can hurt him—and one way you can -prove to him, and to yourself, that you’ve got the -right stuff in you. Leave here with me, without -speaking to him. Please, Connie. Will you?” -</p> - -<p> -She wavered. Then she seized upon some -words of his, and he knew that he had lost. -</p> - -<p> -“Hurt him? I wouldn’t hurt him for anything -in the world. I want to show him that one woman -at least is faithful to him, to the end.” -</p> - -<p> -This was too much for Noel. He remembered -the French officer, Freeman, Chiozzi, and felt -sick. His impulse was to get up and leave her -then and there, but he stayed with a set jaw and -angry eyes. His hair seemed to bristle with antagonism -when Petrovitch pushed back his chair -at last and said to his companion: -</p> - -<p> -“Pardon—a moment. I go to speak to a lady.” -And in a second he was at their table. -</p> - -<p> -Connie gave him both hands without speaking, -and he bent over them with a smile that was a -mere widening of those protruding lips. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie! As beautiful as ever! My dear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> -lady, the sight of you takes ten—fifteen years -from my age. I feel young again, and happy. -You come to my concert next week, eh? I play -for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Same old stuff!” thought Noel. -</p> - -<p> -Connie released her hands, and when she spoke -her voice was breathless and unnatural, as if she -had been running. -</p> - -<p> -“I … I didn’t know you were here.… I -hadn’t seen any notices. I thought you were still -in America. This is a great surprise to me, -Illiodor.” Then, turning to Noel, “I want you -to meet Monsieur Petrovitch, Noel. My -nephew …” -</p> - -<p> -Noel, standing behind his chair and feeling -younger and more intolerant than he had ever -felt in his life, inclined his head. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? Your nephew? Charmed.” The great -man bowed, impressively. “Are you too a lover -of music?” He bent his frowning gaze upon the -young man. “But no, you are English. So, you -will say, is the adorable aunt. But she is different. -She is of the world, eh? She loves beauty, -art, genius.” He moved his large hands. “Ah, -Connie, you and I had much in common. They -told me you had married again. Is it true?” -</p> - -<p> -“I married Count Chiozzi, four years ago,” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> -she told him. “My husband is in the south of -France.” -</p> - -<p> -“Always the good cosmopolitan!” he approved. -Then turning once more to Noel: -</p> - -<p> -“You also will come to my concert.” -</p> - -<p> -“Expects me to say, ‘Yes, master!’” thought -Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“No, thanks,” he answered evenly and casually. -“I don’t care for concerts.” -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch looked at Connie, working his prominent -brows. -</p> - -<p> -“Philistine, eh? No matter, you are one of us. -I am staying here. You will do me the honor to -dine with me to-morrow night. Good! We have -much to say to one another. Perhaps also my -friend Silberstein, eh? He is gourmet. He will -eat, you will talk to me.” He could frown and -smile at the same time, Noel observed. “At -eight.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll come,” said the fascinated Connie. -</p> - -<p> -He bent once more over her hands. -</p> - -<p> -“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</span>, -my dear friend,” he said, in his -strangely harsh voice. “To-morrow night.” -Then with an indifferent nod of the head in Noel’s -direction, he returned to his table. -</p> - -<p> -Connie paid the bill—she always insisted on -that—in a sort of trance, with a little excited smile -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> -on her lips. As they got up to go out she threw -a glance at Petrovitch, and left the room, still -with that trancelike smile. It irritated Noel beyond -expression. It plainly said: -</p> - -<p> -“He is not indifferent to me. He has forgotten -nothing. I shall live again.” -</p> - -<p> -Very little was said on the way to Connie’s -hotel. She was beyond speech for the present—she -was reliving the days when the world was -at Petrovitch’s feet, and he, the master, was at -hers. For she believed now that it was the depth -and tumult of his passion for her that had carried -her away. She had forgotten her notes, her flowers, -the interviews she had prayed for—forgotten -all that. She won him by deliberate assault, but -once won, she became his slave, and it was as his -adoring slave in those first, brief, happy months, -that she liked to remember herself. -</p> - -<p> -Noel was disgusted and annoyed. Also, he was -extremely disappointed. Was all his scolding, his -chaffing, his affection for her, the influence he had -gained, to go for nothing now? Simply because -that … brute … had turned up again? Was -there nothing he could say or do to save her? -What would Claire say? And then he asked himself, -well, what <em>would</em> Claire say? Why not find -out? That was an idea. He would find out. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> -“You’ll come upstairs, won’t you?” she asked -when they were in the hall of the hotel. Noel -thought her invitation somewhat perfunctory. -He suspected she wanted to be alone with her -thoughts. Nevertheless, he meant to come, -presently. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I’ll be up in a minute,” he said. “You -go on. I’ve got to ring up somebody.” -</p> - -<p> -The lift carried her up out of his sight and he -went into the telephone booth and rang up Madame -Claire. Her telephone stood on a table -close beside her chair, and he had hardly a second -to wait before she answered. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes? Oh, it’s you, Noel. Where are you?” -</p> - -<p> -He told her. Then he described briefly the -luncheon at Claridge’s and what befell there. -</p> - -<p> -“I saw the announcement of his concert in last -Sunday’s paper,” she said. “Connie never reads -the papers, or she would have seen it herself. -What is he like now?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t want to use offensive language over -the telephone,” he answered. -</p> - -<p> -He heard Madame Claire’s laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Noel, I think the whole thing is in your -hands. You are the only one who can do anything -with her. If I say anything she will only -tell me I am -<ins title="Correct tryng to trying">trying</ins> -to rob her of her happiness. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> -You know how she talks—such sentimental nonsense!” -</p> - -<p> -“But I don’t see that I can do anything either. -What can I do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course you can do something. She knows -well enough that Petrovitch is here to-day and -gone to-morrow, while you’re her nephew for life. -Make her choose, Noel. It will appeal to her -sense of the dramatic. You’ll see. Make her -choose.” -</p> - -<p> -“Him or me, you mean? I believe she’d choose -him.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not so sure. But try it, anyway. You’re -so good about managing Connie.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right,” he said. “I’ll try.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, and Noel, if she chooses you, you might -be magnanimous and offer to take her to his concert -next week. I think you could safely do that. -Good-by. I can’t talk any more. Millie is just -coming up to see me, and she mustn’t hear this. -Good-by and good luck!” -</p> - -<p> -Noel remained for a thoughtful moment in the -booth, and then went upstairs. Claire was quite -right. It was the only chance. -</p> - -<p> -He found his troublesome aunt waiting for him -in her sitting room. She was humming softly and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> -looking out of the window. His indignation grew -as he looked at her. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie,” he said quietly. “About this Petrovitch -business. I’m pretty angry about it, as you -know perfectly well. I’ve made up my mind that -you’ll have to choose between me and that fellow, -and choose here and now. You can’t have us both. -If you go out to dinner with Petrovitch to-morrow -night or any other night, or have anything further -to do with him, that’s the end as far as I’m -concerned. You won’t see me again.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie came swiftly back from dreams of -Petrovitch and seized Noel’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel! You can’t mean that! You can’t mean -that you’d drop me—have nothing more to do -with me? Oh, Noel!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve said it and I mean it. It’s up to you. -If you have anything more to do with that -bounder, I’ll have nothing more to do with you. -And that’s flat.” -</p> - -<p> -She pleaded with him. He didn’t understand -Petrovitch. He didn’t understand her. Ordinary -rules didn’t apply to him because he was a -genius, nor to her because she loved him. If Noel -were older—— -</p> - -<p> -That was more than he could bear. -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do, Connie. I’m not a fool. I’ve been -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> -sorry for you because you were down on your -luck; and anyway, I’m always sorry for people -like you. And I’m fond of you, too. But if -you’re going to be so damn weak, and slop over -with disgusting sentiment—well, I’m off.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie looked out of the window again. -</p> - -<p> -“If you’ll pull up and try to make something of -your life, I’m with you. If not, I’m through.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t give him up,” moaned Connie. “I -want to talk over old times with him, and hear -him say that he loved me once. It means everything -to me. I must talk to him, Noel!” -</p> - -<p> -“All right. Then that’s that. Well, I’m walking -home. I feel I need a little air after all this. -It’s good-by then, Connie?” -</p> - -<p> -He held out his hand. She turned and looked -at him wildly. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel, I never thought you could be so hard! -You don’t know how miserable you’re making -me!” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s Eric, too,” he reminded her. “Don’t -forget he’s got no love for Petrovitch. Don’t -forget Humphries was his friend. Eric’s -been pretty decent to you. As for … as for -Claire!…” -</p> - -<p> -Tears welled into her eyes. Noel, who, like -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> -many another man, found them undermining the -foundations of his wrath, softened a little. -</p> - -<p> -“Sleep on it, Connie,” he said more kindly. -“I’ll give you until to-morrow to make up your -mind. Ring me up in the morning and let me -know what you’ve decided to do. So long!” -</p> - -<p> -And he turned and left her. -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter15" id="linkChapter15"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC15" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> - </div> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack2"> -“Bless you, Claire,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">began Stephen’s next letter,</span> -“you make even my life worth living. Your -letters are my one delight. All the same, we are -poles apart in some things. You say, ‘Oh, the joy -of wanting nothing!’ I would say, ‘Oh, the misery -of wanting nothing!’ But fortunately there is -one great want that keeps my old bones above -ground, and that is the longing I have to see you -and Judy and Eric again. Of course I was a fool -not to marry. It may be fun to be a bachelor -when you’re young, but it’s hell when you’re old. -I marvel at the number of women who face a life -of single cussedness voluntarily. With me, there -has been only one woman, and she holds this letter -in her hands, as she has always held the -writer’s heart in her hands. But I’ve known -plenty of women who would have made good -wives, and perhaps given me Judys and Erics. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, you are right; I took defeat badly. My -advice, now, would always be to marry—as best -one can. There is nearly always a compromise -to be made. There would have been no compromise, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> -on my part, had I married you. Therefore -it was not to be, for the perfect thing is -always out of reach. Don’t tell me your marriage -with Robert was perfect. Robert was my best -friend and I knew his faults. But he made you -happy, and that is the great thing. It ought to -be carven on a man’s tombstone, ‘He made a -woman happy.’ Well, at least, they can carve on -mine, ‘He made no woman unhappy.’ -</p> - -<p> -“I am feeling much better to-day, so Miss -McPherson is correspondingly gloomy. But she -is a good, devoted soul, and has borne with me -wonderfully, and I have settled something on her. -Which brings me to your last letter. If Judy and -that fellow want to marry, I will gladly settle -something on Judy. Don’t tell her, of course. -People who really care for each other ought to be -endowed if they can’t afford to marry. I don’t -see the good of waiting till I’m dead. I will do -what I should do if Judy were my daughter. You -must let me know how things go. There’s only -my niece Monica to think of. She’ll give what I -leave her to the Church. I don’t mind that, for -though the Church has never done much for me—admittedly -through my own fault—it has for -other people. -</p> - -<p> -“And that brings me to a subject I approach -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> -with diffidence. Don’t think me in my dotage, -Claire, if I tell you that I have become interested -in Spiritualism. I’ve been reading a great deal, -and I have come to the unalterable conclusion -that men like Crooks, Myers, Lodge and Doyle -know what they are talking about. Some of us -take our religion on trust. Others of us want to -find out. Having floundered in a sea of agnosticism -all my life long, I now begin to feel the -ground beneath my feet. I got more out of the -‘Vital Message’ in an hour than I’ve got out of -parsons in seventy years. I believe that if Spiritualism -were rightly understood, it would fuse all -religions and all sects. I need hardly tell you that -the Spiritualism I mean does not depend on knockings -and rappings, and the horrible fake-s?ces -of the mercenary minded. Some day I must talk -to you about this. I have said enough here, perhaps -too much; but I wanted to tell you of the -thing that has meant so much to me. -</p> - -<p> -“If I continue as well as this I may come to -London next month. London! Shall I know it, -I wonder? It will not know me. But you will, -and that is all I ask. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -To this, Madame Claire made immediate -reply: -</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> -“My dear Stephen,</p> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“Your long letter was all too short for my -liking. I feel you are really better, and I can’t -tell you how happy that makes me. About your -coming I hardly dare to think. How good, how -good it will be! There is a brass band of sorts -playing under my window, and I wish it would -stay and play all day. That shows how happy -I am. And to that end, I am wondering whether -it would be better to pay or to refrain from paying. -I am uncritical enough at the moment to feel -that any music is good music. -</p> - -<p> -“How pleasant it would be if we could have -appropriate music at all crucial, or difficult, or -delightful moments in our lives! When one is -first introduced to one’s husband’s relations, for -instance. I think Chopin would help to tide us -over that. In a bloodless battle with one’s dressmaker -over a bill, I would recommend Tchaikowsky, -or Rimsky-Korsakov. For moments of deep -feeling, for love, we would each, I imagine, choose -something different. I think I would choose Bach, -for Bach is too great for sentiment. As for dying—every -one should die to music. I should think -young people, for instance, would choose to drift -into eternity upon the strains of the loveliest and -latest waltz. At least I have often heard them -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> -say they could die waltzing. There are bits of -Wagner that I wouldn’t mind dying to. You’ll -say dying is too serious a subject for jest. But I -can’t see that it’s any more serious than living, -which so many people are entirely frivolous about. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, no, Stephen, I don’t think you are in your -dotage. I too have read a good deal about Spiritualism, -and I believe that what these men say is -true. But I suppose I am one of those fortunate -people who have faith, and that being so I had no -need of proof. I don’t know how my faith came -to me. I have always had it, and so don’t deserve -any credit for it. The credit goes to people like -you, who have had to struggle all their lives -against unbelief. I believe, too, that so long as -there is a diversity of creatures on this globe, so -long will there be a diversity of religions. There -is only one God, but the roads to the understanding -of God are many. -</p> - -<p> -“And so for you, and thousands like you, there -is Crooks, with his laboratories and his cameras -and his proofs. And for others there is Beauty. -Hear what Tagore says: -</p> - -<div class="hanging-indent"> -<p style="text-indent: -1.5em;"> -“‘Thou art the sky and Thou art also the nest. -</p> - -<p> -O Thou Beautiful! How in the nest Thy love embraceth -the soul with sweet sounds and color and fragrant -odors! -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> -Morning cometh there, bearing in her golden basket the -wreath of beauty, silently to crown the earth. -</p> - -<p> -And there cometh Evening, o’er lonely meadows deserted -of the herds, by trackless ways, carrying in her golden -pitcher cool draughts of peace from the ocean-calms -of the west. -</p> - -<p> -But where Thine infinite sky spreadeth for the soul to take -her flight, a stainless white radiance reigneth; wherein -is neither day nor night, nor form nor color, nor ever -any word.’ -</p> -</div> - -<p> -“And for others again, there is simply— -</p> - -<p> -“‘I am the Resurrection and the Life.…’ -</p> - -<p> -“Write again soon. I long to know how you -are progressing. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Yours as ever,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Claire.”</p> -</blockquote> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter16" id="linkChapter16"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC16" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">When</span> -Noel woke, the morning after his ultimatum -to Connie, he was at once aware that -something was to make that day different from -other days, but for a moment he couldn’t remember -what that something was. Then, as the happenings -of the previous day came back to him, he -said to himself, "Connie and Petrovitch," and -sprang out of bed. He dressed quickly—for he -had reduced the business of dressing himself with -one hand to an exact science—and knocked on -Judy’s door. He heard her call, "Come in if it’s -Noel," and obeyed. Judy was standing before -her mirror, brushing her brown hair. Her bright -red silk dressing gown made a lovely splash of -color in the restrained little room. -</p> - -<p> -“What are you up so early for?” she asked. -“Something on your conscience, old boy?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not on mine,” he assured her. “Mind if I -smoke? I bet you often do before breakfast.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never. You may though. You’ve evidently -got something to tell me. Even if I am the spinster -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> -type, I understand the workings of the male -mind. What’s up?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s about Connie,” he began; then broke off -to say, “One of these days I’ll buy you a comfortable -chair. This one’s got a back like a pew in a -Quaker meetinghouse. However—you know yesterday -was Connie’s birthday?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course I know. Didn’t I send her a bunch -of lilies-of-the-valley? Lilies for purity. Well, -what about it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps you are also aware that she asked me -to lunch at Claridge’s. Before we’d been there -ten minutes, who do you suppose came in and sat -at a table almost next to ours?” -</p> - -<p> -“Chiozzi?” -</p> - -<p> -“Guess again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Noel, you know I hate these guessing games. -Freeman? Oh, no, he’s dead. It was some one -to do with Connie, I suppose. Petrovitch, then?” -</p> - -<p> -“No other. The dirty dog!” -</p> - -<p> -“The plot thickens!” exclaimed Judy. “What -happened then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Connie saw him, and nearly swooned for joy. -And then if you please, the great brute saw her -and beckoned. Beckoned, do you hear? And -she’d have gone to him if I’d let her.” -</p> - -<p> -“How beastly!” -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> -“I talked to her gently but firmly, but she was -up in the air. We got through lunch somehow, -and then I tried to persuade her to get out before -he could speak to her. But she wouldn’t budge. -He didn’t move either until he’d almost finished -feeding. Then he came to our table. I wish you -could have seen Connie registering soulfulness. I -can tell you, a close-up of both of them would -have been pleasing to a screen audience. After -twenty years the villain sees the heroine again. -Tableau!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Well, go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“We exchanged a pleasantry or two, and then -he commanded Connie to dine with him to-night. -Connie of course was writhing on the mat for pure -joy, and barking short, happy barks. She licked -his hand and meekly indicated that his lightest -wish was her law. Then we went. I wasn’t feeling -full of love for human nature by that time, I -can tell you. I didn’t know what to do, so I rang -up Claire and she advised me to issue an ultimatum. -Which I did. I said that if she spoke to -Petrovitch again, all was over between us. Sob -stuff from Connie. I really was sorry for her. In -the end I told her to sleep on it, and to ring me -up in the morning. Then I left her. Do you -think I did right?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> -Judy considered. -</p> - -<p> -“It would half kill her not to see you again. -She adores you, you know. But I think Claire -was right. If that won’t pull her up, nothing will. -What do you think she’ll do?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she’ll dine with Petrovitch, all right,” -prophesied Noel gloomily. “Hang it all! I -thought she’d learned something. I didn’t expect -her to change her nature all at once, but I did -think she’d begun to see the silliness of that sort -of behavior.” -</p> - -<p> -“The way of the reformer is hard,” said his -sister. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I’m not trying to reform her. I only -wanted to show her that she’d get more out of -life if she tried another tack. And I believe she -was beginning to see it, too. If only that—swine -hadn’t come along!——” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, stick to your guns,” advised Judy. “I -have a feeling that she’ll come round. But, Noel, -if she doesn’t come round?——” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly. If she doesn’t, ought I to keep my -threat? After all, perhaps I’ve no right … -I suppose it’s difficult … if I thought it would -cure her to see him a few times, I’d let her. But -he’s her hero for life, spots and all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Spots?” Judy paused with upraised arms. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> -“Any number of ’em. On his clothes. A dirty -feeder. As for his hair!…” -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t it queer, Noel? That sort of thing? I -can’t understand it, can you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t want to,” he said shortly. “I’ve -thought of kidnapping Connie and shutting her -up somewhere till he goes. He’ll only be here a -week or so. I saw it in the paper last night.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy laughed as she pinned her hair into place. -</p> - -<p> -“Poor old Connie! She’s sure to do the wrong -thing, I suppose. She always has. But there’s -just a chance. She’s so fond of you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m rather fond of her. She’s a good sort, -really, under all this Camille business. She -doesn’t understand you though.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can bear that,” replied his sister. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a funny thing,” remarked Noel, remembering -her comments on the subject of Judy and -Chip, “but I believe that if Connie hadn’t been -… what she is … she’d have been a terribly -conventional woman. I think she’s a sort of -Millie-gone-wrong.” -</p> - -<p> -This amused Judy greatly. -</p> - -<p> -“If only mother could hear you say that!” she -said. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s on to-night?” he asked. “Anything -doing here?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> -“Have you forgotten? Major Crosby’s coming -to dinner, and we promised to give him a dancing -lesson.” -</p> - -<p> -“Chip! So he is! This bother about Connie -put it out of my head for the moment. What -shall I do if she asks me to take her out to dinner? -As she may do, if she decides not to see -Petrovitch.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then I suppose you must take her.” -</p> - -<p> -“We might dine early and come here after,” -he suggested. “Would mother object, do you -think?” -</p> - -<p> -“You’d better ask her,” she said. “Mother -has only seen her once since she came back, and -then she went to her hotel heavily veiled.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel nodded appreciatively. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I’ll ask her. There’s no harm in Connie, -poor old thing. Will Gordon be home?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Helen’s dining here too. I didn’t want -her a bit to-night. She’s so—patronizing. Not -to me, but to strangers. And Chip will be shyer -than ever.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, remember,” Noel cautioned her, “Chip’s -<em>my</em> friend. We met at the Club. It was only -a few yards away, so that isn’t much of a fib. -That’s what I’ve given out.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well,” said Judy. “I’m rather dreading -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> -to-night, really. I’d like to have kept Chip -to ourselves, if we could. But I suppose it -wouldn’t have done.” -</p> - -<p> -The gong boomed loudly, and Judy flew to get -a dress out of her wardrobe. -</p> - -<p> -When they met at breakfast a few minutes -later, they said good morning as though they -hadn’t seen each other before. In the midst of -their family, the brother and sister had from -childhood maintained a sort of Secret Society. -Their two minds, critical and inquiring from the -first, had early found themselves in tune with -each other and out of tune with the rest. When -Judy looked back on her childhood and girlhood, -it always seemed to her to be streaked with light -and dark spots. The light spots were Noel’s -vacations, and the times when they were together, -and the dark spots were the long school terms, -and—darkest spot of all—his absence at the war. -But even as a child the joy of having him with -her was always faintly shadowed by the fear of -some day not having him. For years she had -said to herself: -</p> - -<p> -“If I could only love some one else as much -as I do Noel, then fate would have a choice of -two marks.” -</p> - -<p> -And if the other members of the family objected -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> -to the brother and sister’s marked preference -for each other’s society, they kept it to themselves -remarkably well. -</p> - -<p> -The Pendletons always had family prayers. -Mrs. Pendleton insisted on them less from conviction -than for the reason that all the other -Pendletons had them, and she believed they had -a good effect on the servants. So the entire household -assembled in the dining room at a quarter -to nine, and if any one was late, he or she was -waited for. This morning Gordon was late, but -when he was the offender, nothing was said. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton officiated. He was a little man, -with what the Pendletons chose to call a handsome -nose. Most people thought it merely large. -His face barely escaped being intellectual, but -something narrow about the forehead and peevish -about the mouth, spoiled the effect. Noel looked -the most like him, but Noel’s forehead and mouth -had what his father’s lacked. Fortunately he -took after his mother in the matter of height, -for Millie was a good five inches taller than her -husband. In her large, charmless way she was -handsome, and had regular and uninteresting -features. It was difficult to see in Judy the least -trace of likeness to either of her parents, while -Gordon, on the contrary, was the image of his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> -mother, and she idolized him. She was prepared, -too, to find in Helen, when she became his wife, -all that she found lacking in Judy. -</p> - -<p> -Prayers over, breakfast immediately followed. -It was usually a quiet meal, enlivened only by -excursions after food, and the rustle of newspapers. -But this morning there was an uncommon -amount of talk. It went as follows: -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “Gordon, I hope you haven’t -forgotten you are lunching with Sir William to-day -at his club.” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “No, father. I hadn’t forgotten. -Won’t you be there too?” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “Unfortunately, it is not possible. -I have a very trying day ahead of me.” -(Mr. Pendleton was a barrister, but his large -income made work less a necessity than a hobby.) -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “I shall be glad when the summer -comes, John, and you can take a holiday. By -the way, I wish you’d all make up your minds -where you want to go this year.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “Must we decide six months ahead?” -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “We always have done so. I like to -know in good time what I’m going to do. We -could go abroad, I suppose, but your father thinks -we ought to go to Scotland as usual.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> -Judy: “Why can’t we all go where we like? -Must we have a holiday -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en masse</span>?” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “You can hardly speak of a -small party of five as going -‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en masse</span>.’” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “I won’t be one of the party, so it’s -only four. You know, Mother, Helen and I will -be at Ottway Castle for July and August.” -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “Of course, dear. I know you are provided -for. It’s Judy and Noel I was thinking of.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy: “But why don’t you and father go to -Scotland, and let Noel and me go somewhere else—Devon -or Cornwall for a change. It’s so dull -doing the same thing every year.” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “I think we will all go together -as usual.” -</p> - -<p> -(Silence.) -</p> - -<p> -Judy: “Then why ask us to make up our minds -where we want to go?” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “Your mother asked. Personally, -I am convinced that Scotland is the most -bracing.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy: “I really don’t feel I want to be braced. -Do you, Noel?” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “I loathe bracing places.” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “Then let us all go to Cornwall.” -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “I find Cornwall so relaxing.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> -Judy: “I think I’d like just to stay in Sussex -with Claire.” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton: “You know, Judy, I dislike -very much hearing you speak of your grandmother -as Claire.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy: “Sorry, father. I forgot.” -</p> - -<p> -(Silence.) -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “By the way, mother, I’ve got rather -a good idea. I may be taking Con—Aunt Connie -out to dinner to-night. Suppose I bring her here -afterwards? It would cheer her up a lot. I know -she likes seeing people dance. You wouldn’t mind, -would you?” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “Noel, you really are a bit of an ass -sometimes! You know Helen’s coming here to-night. -How could I possibly ask her to meet -Aunt Connie?” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “Why not?” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “If you don’t know why not, you -ought to.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “Chuck it, Gordon! Don’t be such a -prig. What about Helen’s friend, Oriana Temple? -If Connie can teach her anything!——” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “Please leave Helen and her friends -out of the discussion.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “Right. But you brought her in. Anyhow, -I asked mother. Mother, you don’t mind -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> -if Connie comes here to-night, do you? After -all, she’s your sister, and it would be doing her -a kindness.” -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “Gordon is quite right, Noel. There -is no reason why we should inflict our family -skeleton on Helen. If Connie is an unhappy -woman, it’s entirely her own fault. She has forfeited -the right to be with decent people. Don’t -you agree with me, John?” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Pendleton (unexpectedly): “I think, my -dear, that if we can help Connie, we ought to -do so. I feel she has a claim upon us, and as -Christian people we have no right to ignore it. -<ins title="Change Is to It">It</ins> -isn’t as though the children were growing up; -and after all, Gordon, Helen is marrying into -our family.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel: “Good for you, dad!” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “Let her come by all means. Helen -and I will dine here another night.” -</p> - -<p> -Millie: “It’s very tiresome of you, Noel, to -upset everything like this. And while we’re on -the subject of Aunt Connie, I want to say that -I don’t mind your being polite to her, but I do -not like your going about with her so much. If -you had to ask her here, some other night would -have done as well. I’m certain your friend Major -Crosby won’t want to meet her.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> -Noel: “He won’t mind. Besides, he doesn’t -know anything about her. And I had a particular -reason for wanting to bring her to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon: “That’s settled, then. Helen and I -will dine here to-morrow night, mother.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy and Noel were amazed at the stand their -father had taken. -</p> - -<p> -“I never thought dad had it in him,” Noel -said later. -</p> - -<p> -“Influence of morning prayers,” answered Judy. -“Father’s always nicest just after prayers.” -</p> - -<p> -At ten o’clock the maid sought out Noel with -the message that Countess Chiozzi was on the -telephone and would like to speak to him. -</p> - -<p> -“I lose, I’ll bet,” said Noel to Judy as he left -the room. -</p> - -<p> -“Hello, Connie!” he began cheerfully. “How’s -my aunt this morning? Feeling better? Good! -I was rather a beast yesterday, wasn’t I?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, you were,” a rather dejected voice replied. -“I hardly slept a wink all night. Noel, -it’s … it’s breaking my heart, but I know I -can’t give <em>you</em> up. There’s no use.… I can’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“Right you are! You don’t have to. Tell you -what—we’ll go for a bean-o to-night. I’ll dine -you at a new place I wot of, and then I’ll bring -you back here. There’ll be just the family, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> -Major Crosby, and perhaps one or two others. -Oh, and I’ll teach you to dance. What do you -say? Nothing like dancing to keep you young.” -</p> - -<p> -Connie hesitated, then said rather dubiously: -</p> - -<p> -“But nobody wants me there. Does Millie——” -</p> - -<p> -“Just you come along and see. I’ll call for you -at seven. Make yourself beautiful. The gray -chiffon, with pearls—what?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that? Very well. Noel, I shall be dreadfully -nervous.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nervous! Nonsense, Countess! Pull up your -socks. And, by the way, Connie, a light hand -with the make-up. I’ll inspect you at seven. And—oh, -one thing more. How would you like me -to take you to What’s-His-Name’s concert next -Friday? You can feast your eyes and ears on him -then.” -</p> - -<p> -“You <em>are</em> generous, Noel! It would mean -everything to me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll get seats, then. You’re a sport, Connie. -So long!” -</p> - -<p> -He left the telephone, whistling jubilantly, and -went to tell Judy the news. Then he told his -mother, who was less pleased. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a piece of impertinence, her coming to -London at all. I don’t know what your grandmother -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> -could have been thinking of. I won’t -object to her coming this once, but it mustn’t -happen again. We owe it to Gordon to keep her -in the background.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel left it at that. He never argued with his -mother. -</p> - -<p> -Gordon had reckoned without his Helen, who -prided herself on being modern. When he told -her he would rather she dined there the following -night, she wanted to know the reason. -</p> - -<p> -“Not that beautiful Mrs. Humphries who ran -off with Petrovitch? I’d quite forgotten she was -your aunt. What nonsense, Gordon! Of course -I shall come. As if her past made the slightest -difference to me! I hear she’s still quite lovely.” -</p> - -<p> -Gordon reported this new development to his -mother in his own way. -</p> - -<p> -“Helen’s been awfully nice about it,” Millie -told her husband later. “She told Gordon she -didn’t mind meeting Connie at all, and that as -she was marrying into the family she intended -taking the rough with the smooth. She’s such a -sensible girl!” -</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter17" id="linkChapter17"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC17" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Judy</span> -had neither seen nor heard from Major -Crosby since the day they had tea together at -Madame Claire’s. She had written him a note -to thank him for his flowers, the sending of which -had both pleased and touched her. Knowing his -poverty and his reserve, she read into his gift, -more, perhaps, than he had intended she should. -Chip looked upon the sending of flowers as the -natural tribute to be paid to any charming woman, -and imagined in his simplicity, that she must -receive very many such gifts. She guessed this, -but at the same time she also guessed that never -before in his life, probably, had he sent flowers -to a woman. Pink roses, too.… -</p> - -<p> -She wondered about him a good deal—wondered -what he did with himself evenings, and -where and how he spent his Sundays. Like Madame -Claire, she felt that Chip was a man not -marked for success, but at least she was determined -that, whatever happened, his life should be -less empty and colorless because of that accident -in the fog. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> -On the whole, however, she dreaded the evening -for him. She felt that he would be neither -amused nor benefited by it. She knew she would -get little help from her mother, and as for Gordon -and Helen, they never bothered with people unless -they mattered. -</p> - -<p> -Once more, Helen had not been reckoned with. -She sat next to Chip at table, and soon saw that -he had eyes only for her future sister-in-law—and -a tongue only for her too, it seemed. Helen -decided to be bored at first, but as she was slightly -annoyed with Gordon, who sat on her left, she -presently turned her batteries full on the surprised -Chip, who had no idea he was neglecting his neighbor. -Helen could be very charming when the -spirit moved her. After inviting him to her house -to meet a writer whose work he admired, she went -on to what she had learned was his chief interest. -That she lowered her voice to discuss. -</p> - -<p> -“A tremendously important subject … we -moderns want to know … made rather a study -of these things myself … esoteric beliefs …” -were scraps that Judy’s ears couldn’t ignore. And -later, “I do wish we’d met before. Why is it -that people who do things that are worth while -are always so hard to get at? One has to hunt -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> -them out of their holes, as,” she laughed, “I -mean to hunt you.” -</p> - -<p> -Chip made some appropriate answer to this, -and Helen was about to continue her attack when -Millie cut in with: -</p> - -<p> -“Is it the Crosbys of Crosby Steynes, or the -Crosbys of Middle Regis you’re related to, -Major Crosby? They’re both such delightful -people.” -</p> - -<p> -And Chip was lost to the rest of the table for -a good ten minutes while he and Millie dived -together into a sea of relationships. At the end -of it, Millie came to the surface with nothing -better in the way of a catch than some entirely -unclassified Crosbys who lived somewhere near -Aberdeen. The ladies then departed to the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -Left alone with Mr. Pendleton, Gordon and -a friend of his, a Captain Stevens from the Foreign -Office, Chip did some classifying on his own -account. Gordon, he decided, was a young man -who had much to learn, but the chances were that -he would never learn it. He liked Mr. Pendleton, -who was determined to be a pleasant host. -As for Captain Stevens, he thought him a nice -fellow, in spite of his admission that he spent his -nights dancing. He wondered at first if perhaps -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> -Judy—but five minutes’ conversation with the -young man convinced him that he wasn’t Judy’s -sort. He missed Noel, with his easy manners, -and his human touch. -</p> - -<p> -When they went up to the drawing-room, which -was cleared for dancing, he went straight to Judy, -and sat beside her on a settee, thus defeating Captain -Stevens, who had intended doing the same -thing. -</p> - -<p> -“Is this where I begin?” asked Chip, looking -fearfully at the satiny floor. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” said Judy. “I’m wondering -that myself. Suppose we let the young people -dance to-night?” She laughed. “Somehow I -haven’t the heart to make you. I’m afraid you’ll -hate it, after all, and I’m not a bit in the mood for -it myself.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t want you to think me a coward,” Chip -told her, “but I’d be ever so much happier if I -could stay just where I am. Perhaps I could -learn something by watching Captain Stevens. I -expect he dances like a wave of the sea.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s marvelous,” agreed Judy. “Hundreds -of maidens have tried to marry him for his -dancing, but I understand he’s never yet met his -equal and won’t wed until he does.” -</p> - -<p> -Chip shook his head. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> -“I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I believe several -generations have gone by without my noticing it. -But I’ve made up my mind to learn something -about this one. When do your brother and Miss -Dane expect to be married?” -</p> - -<p> -“In June. How do you like Helen?” -</p> - -<p> -“She was very kind. I shouldn’t say it, perhaps, -but wasn’t there something of the Lady -Bountiful about it all?” -</p> - -<p> -Judy laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“Helen likes patronizing the arts. The arts -are very fashionable just now in her set. I like -Helen, really. If only she and her friends weren’t -so fond of posing—and they find new poses every -year—one would like them better. But it -isn’t as if Noel were marrying her. Gordon has -always seemed to belong to other people’s families -more than to his own, and now of course he’ll -be entirely absorbed by Lord Ottway’s, and their -friends and relations.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s not a bit like your brother Noel. I think -Noel is one of the most attractive young men I -ever met. He has such a way of making one feel -his friend at once.“ -</p> - -<p> -“Of course there’s no one like him,” said Judy, -delighted at this praise, “but Gordon’s the one -who’ll succeed.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> -“Ah, very likely. Success.… I wonder -which is worse; to ignore it, or to bow down to -it? I’ve ignored it all my life. I’ve never thought -about it. And now I’ve suddenly discovered that -I want it. Yes, I want it badly. And I’m wondering -if it’s too late … if it won’t, perhaps, -ignore me, now?” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes met hers, frankly. What he meant -was that without success he felt he could not -enjoy her friendship. At least he thought he -meant that. Judy thought he meant something -quite different. -</p> - -<p> -Then Noel came in with Connie, and that ended -their talk for the present. Connie was looking -wonderfully young and extremely handsome, and -was no more made up than was permissible. Her -lovely gray gown and her triple row of pearls—Morton -Freeman’s gift—became her to perfection. -She looked a different woman from the -painted, haggard creature Eric had first seen in -Paris. Millie’s greeting was formal, while Mr. -Pendleton’s—he had expected something so very -much worse—was almost effusive. A look from -Millie, however, soon put him in his place, which, -for the rest of the evening, was the smoking room. -Chip was talking to Noel, and Judy was just -beginning to feel that the evening might not be a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> -fiasco after all, when Helen, assured and smiling, -bore down upon Chip. -</p> - -<p> -“Here’s good dancing material, unless I’m much -mistaken,” she said. “Any one who appreciates -poetry must have a sense of rhythm, and if you -have that, you can dance.” So she led him protesting -helplessly, to the floor. -</p> - -<p> -“Bother Helen,” said Judy under her breath. -“If he ever did learn to dance, I intended teaching -him myself.” She felt a little ruffled, although -she realized perfectly that Helen’s attentions to -Chip were probably occasioned by some little tiff -with Gordon. -</p> - -<p> -As she danced with Captain Stevens, she -watched Chip, and saw that he was acquitting -himself creditably. But it seemed to her all -wrong that he should be dancing at all. It didn’t -suit him. He wasn’t a dancing man and never -would be. She was glad of it. There were plenty -of Captain Stevens’ sort about. She suddenly -felt a distaste for that form of amusement. In -the midst of the moving couples, and the raucous -voice of the gramophone, a wave of distaste and -boredom came over her. What was she doing -with her life? Nothing. It was empty, useless, -senseless. She wasn’t wanted anywhere. And -now she was trying to drag Chip into that emptiness. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> -To what end? To be told by Helen how -to point his toes? Better have left him with his -books. He was too good for that sort of thing. -</p> - -<p> -If Chip wanted her, she would marry him. -She liked everything about him—even his oddly -cut evening clothes, that reminded her of Du -Maurier’s drawings. She caught his eyes just -then, and there was a rather pleading look in -them. He evidently wasn’t enjoying his lesson. -Well, the gramophone would run down in a minute, -and then they could all stop. She hadn’t -spoken a word to Captain Stevens, who, fortunately, -thought she was so thrilled by the perfection -of his dancing that she didn’t want to spoil -a perfect moment by speaking. -</p> - -<p> -She tried to picture herself married to Chip. -It would mean managing on nothing a year in -that tiny flat, or one like it. To-night she was -sure she wouldn’t mind. It would take them -months—years perhaps, to know each other well. -It would be such fun finding out. And being -modern and willing to face facts, she tried to picture -herself wheeling a perambulator about Campden -Hill on the nurse’s day out. By that time -Chip would have had a great success with his book -on religions or some other book, and they would -have a house. Yes, poverty and all, if Chip -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> -wanted her, she would marry him. Only Noel -was right. She would have to be bold.… -</p> - -<p> -The gramophone ran down and the dancing -stopped. Captain Stevens, full of enthusiasm, -exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -“That was glorious! We must have another -fox-trot.” And went to put on another record. -</p> - -<p> -Judy made her way to where Connie was sitting, -and on hearing her say she had not yet met -Helen, she introduced them. Helen, who had -already decided she wouldn’t be above asking -Connie’s advice about her trousseau, sat beside -her and talked about Cannes and Monte Carlo, -while Gordon, who had greeted his aunt with -extreme coldness, stood a few feet away and -impersonated a young man in the sulks. Judy was -about to go to him, when the maid appeared in -the doorway, and Judy, seeing that she had something -to say to her, crossed the room. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re wanted on the telephone, Miss Judy,” -said the maid. “It’s Dawson, and she wants to -speak to you most particularly, Miss.” -</p> - -<p> -“Dawson!” exclaimed Judy. “I hope it doesn’t -mean …” but without finishing her sentence she -ran to the telephone, which was downstairs. -</p> - -<p> -“Is that you, Miss Judy?” asked Dawson. -“We’re a little upset here to-night. A telegram -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> -came from Miss McPherson about Mr. de Lisle, -and it seems the poor gentleman’s quite ill, and -wants to see you or Mr. Eric. We’ve rung up -Mr. Eric, and he says he can’t possibly get away -this week. So we wondered if you could go, Miss. -It would mean leaving at once, Miss Judy.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy didn’t hesitate. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course I’ll go. Tell Madame Claire I’ll -go to-morrow. Is she in bed?” -</p> - -<p> -“She is, Miss. The telegram should have come -two hours ago, but it was sent to the wrong room. -We do think, Miss, that it would be better in a -way for Mr. Eric to go, but we don’t like to take -any risks, in case the old gentleman’s very ill -indeed. And it’s out of the question for us to go -ourselves, Miss.” -</p> - -<p> -“But of course I’ll go!” Judy repeated. “Dawson, -tell Madame Claire not to worry, and that -I’ll be off the very minute I can get a passport. -I’m so sorry for poor old Mr. de Lisle. Is Madame -Claire very much upset?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, not what you’d call upset,” Dawson replied. -“We do keep calm, Miss, whatever happens. -But it is sad, the time being so near when -he hoped to come to England.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’ll come yet, I feel sure. I’ll send a wire -to-morrow to say I’m leaving. I’ll probably come -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> -in the morning for a minute to say good-by. Give -Madame Claire my love, and tell her the trip will -be a godsend to me.” -</p> - -<p> -She went straight to her mother with the news. -Millie was thoroughly annoyed. -</p> - -<p> -“I think your grandmother has taken leave of -her senses,” she said. “First Connie and now -this. You can’t possibly go to Cannes alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Mother!” Judy exclaimed. “Please don’t -treat me as though I were a child or an imbecile. -You know perfectly well I can go—and must go. -If you and father won’t help me, Claire will pay -my expenses. I know she’ll offer to, anyway.” -</p> - -<p> -“You had better speak to your father,” said -Millie with chilling disapproval. -</p> - -<p> -It was undoubtedly one of Mr. Pendleton’s best -days. He looked almost indulgently at his handsome, -excited daughter, and said: -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Judith, I can see you’re bent on going. -I suppose you’ll find friends there. You might -arrange to come back with some of them. My -only fear is that the old man will die, and that -would be very awkward for you. They make a -considerable to-do in France, when people die. -Still, I suppose if your grandmother wants -it …” -</p> - -<p> -Considerably later, she found herself alone -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> -with Chip again. He had been danced with twice -by Helen, and felt that he had earned a respite. -</p> - -<p> -“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he -asked, on hearing the news. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose that depends on Mr. de Lisle.” -</p> - -<p> -“Is he Stephen de Lisle? The man who -was … what was it? … Home Secretary, I -think. A good many years ago. And I seem to -remember some tremendous quarrel, with the then -Prime Minister. A man with a very fine head. I -remember his pictures quite well.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s Old Stephen. He was a great, great -friend of mine when I was seven, and I haven’t -seen him since. But he’s always been in love -with Madame Claire—since before she married -my grandfather. People of their generation did -that sort of thing—loved for a lifetime. I wonder -why nobody does now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you sure they don’t?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Certain of it. The thing to do nowadays is -to console oneself as quickly as possible. And -I think there is a good deal of prejudice against -wasting lives, and wasted lives. And rightly, too, -I suppose.” Then, changing the subject: “I’ll be -away for several weeks, and I wish you’d write -to me and let me know if the headaches have -stopped, and how you’re getting on, generally. I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> -shall be at the Riviera Hotel, in Cannes, where -Old Stephen is.” -</p> - -<p> -“May I write? But I’m afraid you’ll find my -letters very dull. I see so few people. I suppose,” -he added, “I ought to have had more to -do with people. Only, when a man has nothing -whatever to offer, he is apt to retire into his shell. -I did, and I should have remained there, if it -hadn’t been for you.…” -</p> - -<p> -“Promise me, then,” she said, looking at him -seriously, “that you won’t slip back into it again -the moment my back is turned. I’d like you to see -something of Madame Claire, and of Noel. They -both like you, you know, and will want to see -you. Will you promise me that?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll do anything you think is good for me,” -he answered, smiling. Then he too looked serious. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss Pendleton, you don’t know what it means -to a man to feel himself tied by the lack of money. -I suppose another man in my place would have -found some way of making it. No doubt I should -have chucked writing long ago, or tried to write -something more lucrative than a book on religion. -But, on the other hand, should I? If I have written -something of any value, if the book is well -received, I shall feel justified in having spent so -many years on it. If it isn’t? Well, I don’t know. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> -I don’t think I’d have the heart to launch out into -business, at forty-four. But I hardly expect you -to understand that. You’re young and happy. -You have everything in front of you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Happy?” asked Judy. “Did you say happy?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked quickly at her. -</p> - -<p> -“Aren’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -She met his eyes squarely. -</p> - -<p> -“If a rat in a trap or a squirrel in a cage is -happy, then perhaps I am. I hate the life I’m -living. Yes, I do, I hate it. If it weren’t for -Noel and Madame Claire, I’d—I don’t know -what I’d do. Something pretty desperate, just -to get away from it.” -</p> - -<p> -He sat looking at her as if he couldn’t trust his -own senses. She couldn’t be serious. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re a sentimentalist,” she went on. “You -believe what you like to believe. I suppose you’ve -imagined all sorts of pretty things about me. I -assure you, that rather than go on living as I’ve -been living, I’d change places with the between-maid -in our kitchen. It wasn’t so bad during the -war. I did nursing then. But now, because I’m -the only daughter, mother and father won’t -hear of my taking up any sort of work. I go once -a week to Bermondsy to teach a class of girls -hat-trimming, and even that’s frowned upon because -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> -I once got measles there. No, I’m expected -to sit with folded hands until some young man -comes along and marries me. Isn’t it extraordinary, -in this day and age?” -</p> - -<p> -Chip was still speechless. -</p> - -<p> -“And I’ll go on like this till I die, I suppose, -or marry somebody out of sheer boredom. And -I keep asking myself what I ought to do. What -would some one else do in my place? Should I -simply walk out of the house, and try to live my -own life? But where would I go, and what would -I do? I’ve no training except nursing, and I -should hate ordinary, peace-time nursing. And -would it be fair to my family, who after all have -spent a great deal of money on me? And each -year I think, ‘Next year is sure to be different,’ -but it isn’t. It’s exactly the same, or worse, and -I’m a year older and have accomplished nothing. -If it had been my lot to live in the country, I -expect I would have hunted, or perhaps kept a -lot of dogs, or looked after a garden. But as -it is …” -</p> - -<p> -She broke off. Captain Stevens descended on -them to ask her to dance again, but she shook -her head. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not a bit in the mood for it to-night. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> -Look, the Winslow girls have just come. They’re -heavenly dancers.” -</p> - -<p> -Captain Stevens went, after a curious glance -at Chip. Who was the fellow in the antiquated -evening clothes, who was so quiet at dinner? A -“oner” with the ladies, at any rate. -</p> - -<p> -Judy turned once more to Chip. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been perfectly beastly,” she said. “But -I feel better for it. And if I’ve destroyed a lot -of your illusions, I’m sorry, but at least you know -more of Judy Pendleton than you did.” -</p> - -<p> -“What you have told me,” he said slowly, -“has made me feel very sad, for your sake. I -was so sure you were happy. But for my own -sake … I don’t know … I think it has made -you seem less terribly remote. I felt before that -we were in different hemispheres. Now … -well, we at least inhabit the same imperfect planet. -And it’s a wonderful thing for me to know any -one like you. To-night has been …” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m so glad if you haven’t minded it. I was -afraid you’d hate it, or at least be bored.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bored?” He smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose I must have made friends when I -was young,” he went on. “I remember imagining -myself in love once or twice, and I was exactly -like any other young man, no doubt. Then I -went out to South Africa, and after the war I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> -came home to find my mother dead. I was very -ill for a long time, and I got out of the habit of -seeing people. Then, when my health improved, -I began to write. Articles; all sorts of things. -Then I was sent out to India to join my regiment, -and while I was there I began the book on religions, -but for some years I hardly did more than -make a beginning. But at last I got so interested -in it that when I returned from India I left the -army and went to live in a lonely cottage in Cornwall -that belonged to my mother. I suppose I -allowed the book to become an obsession, as Lady -Gregory said, for I spent weeks—months sometimes—without -seeing a soul except the village -people, and Major Stroud now and then. Then -the war came, and until 1919 I was in France. -When I came home, I took the flat in Campden -Hill. The night … the night of the accident, -Major Stroud had dragged me out to dine at his -club. I remember he had been lecturing me for -being such a hermit.” -</p> - -<p> -“And rightly,” said Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“Still, I should have gone on being a hermit, -if you hadn’t come just when you did.” He -paused. “And yet there are people who deny -that there’s a benevolent Deity who orders our -lives.” -</p> - -<p> -Captain Stevens might have said that and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> -meant nothing by it, and if he had said it, Judy -would have had a retort ready. But coming from -Chip, it could not be treated so lightly. How -much, she wondered, did he mean? Oh, he meant -what he said, of course, but how much did he -mean her to understand by it? And then she -realized that had he meant to express more than -an appreciation of her friendship, he could never -have said it so easily. -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s hope your Deity will take an interest -in the book,” she said, and then was suddenly -aware that she had spent the greater part of the -evening talking to Chip. She looked about her. -Helen and Gordon were dancing. Connie had -boldly taken the floor with Noel a few minutes -previously, but was now watching him dance with -one of the Winslow girls, and Captain Stevens -was dancing with the other. Millie was nowhere -to be seen. Not for a moment must Connie be -allowed to regret that she hadn’t dined with -Petrovitch. -</p> - -<p> -“Come and help me amuse my aunt,” said Judy. -Then, with a sparkle in her eyes, “And if you -can think of any pretty speeches to make her -such as you have just made me, so much the -better.” -</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter18" id="linkChapter18"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC18" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">“It</span> -won’t be wildly gay,” said Noel as he saw -Judy off at Victoria Station two days later, “but -you’ll have sun and a change of scene. Anyhow, -I have a pretty good hunch that the old boy’s -going to get better.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy was talking to him through the window, -feeling like anybody in the world but Judy Pendleton. -She, of all people, to be going to Cannes; -and alone! Well, nothing ever happened but -the unexpected, and this was the unexpected in -one of its pleasantest forms. And if only Noel -should prove to be right about his “hunch”!… -</p> - -<p> -“He must get better! I should so love to see -him and Claire hobnobbing together. Write to -me at least every other day, won’t you? And -tell me all about Connie and Petrovitch—only I -hope there won’t be much to tell—and Eric and -Louise, and——” -</p> - -<p> -“Anything else?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she said. “Find out what the family -thought of Chip. I’m longing to know.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> -As the train moved off, he walked beside it for -a few feet. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, by the way, I think I’ve got a job.” -</p> - -<p> -“Noel! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What -is it? Quick!” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll write,” he called out. “Not positive yet. -Good-by!” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s something that means going away,” -thought Judy, as she arranged herself and her -belongings. “That’s why he wouldn’t tell me -sooner.” -</p> - -<p> -The thought of it sent her spirits down considerably, -but she made up her mind not to borrow -trouble. If he hadn’t spoken of it before, -it was because he wasn’t sure. Life without Noel -would be … no, it didn’t bear thinking of. Time -enough to worry when she heard from him. -Wasn’t she on her way to the Riviera, for the -first time? The word had always been a magical -one, to her. It meant color, warmth, life. She -would see the Mediterranean. And it was her -first adventure. Mr. Pendleton had most unexpectedly -presented her with fifty pounds, telling -her to buy herself some dresses in Cannes. It was -very nearly a fortune. Madame Claire herself -was paying for the trip, and had given her a little -money to gamble with. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> -“For of course you must play,” she had said. -“You’re sure to find friends there; and even if -Stephen dies—which Heaven forbid!—I don’t -see why you shouldn’t stay on for a little and -enjoy yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -The next day the sight of Marseilles, golden -in the sunshine, made her forget every trouble, -past and to come. She had an impression of old -houses with greeny-blue shutters, and bare plane -trees, the twisted limbs of which looked white -and strange in the sunlight. And beyond, the -incredibly blue water. She could hardly keep her -delight to herself as the train wound its leisurely -way along the lovely, broken coast. She gloried -in the greeny-gray of the olive trees, in the rich, -red earth, in the burning blue of sea and sky. -</p> - -<p> -“I should like to live here,” she thought, as -they passed some blue-shuttered house behind its -vines and its fig trees. Or, “no, here!” as another -even more alluring showed itself among its terraced -olive groves. She thought, with commiseration, -of her parents who might have been there -too had they cared to make the effort, stuffily -going their rounds—“It isn’t as though they -couldn’t afford it,” she said to herself. “I believe -it’s because they want to save for Gordon.” -</p> - -<p> -Miss McPherson, a little, calm, thin-lipped -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> -Scotch woman, met her at the station in Cannes. -She seemed glad, in her quiet, professional way, -to see Judy, and as they drove to the hotel in the -omnibus, she told her about Stephen. -</p> - -<p> -“It was a slight stroke,” she explained, “but -we won’t be calling it that because Mr. de Lisle -doesn’t know, or doesn’t want to know. He will -have it that it was an attack of some sort. But -he’s much better to-day, and in a fortnight or so, -he’ll be as well as he was before. Of course that -isn’t saying that he’ll be enjoying robust health.” -</p> - -<p> -“Does that mean that he can never come to -London?” Judy asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, dear me, no, I wouldn’t say that. You’ll -do him good. And I think he’s been here long -enough.” Then she added with a twinkle in her -little gray eyes: -</p> - -<p> -“He was just determined to see you or Colonel -Gregory. Between you and me, Miss Pendleton, -my poor old patient’s very bored here.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“I see,” she said. “I’m more than ever glad -that I came. I’m thankful to hear he’s no worse; -I was afraid of—something really desperate. -We must amuse him somehow. Doesn’t he ever -go motoring?” -</p> - -<p> -The little nurse shook her head. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> -“He says it’s so dull with just him and me. -The poor old gentleman should have had a family. -It’s dreadful for him being alone. It just takes -all the heart out of him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I’ve come to be the family,” said Judy. -“Oh, what wonderful palms!” -</p> - -<p> -They turned into a driveway lined with them, -and up to the hotel. It was an imposing building, -dazzling in fresh white paint; and glossy orange -trees, heavy with ripe fruit, stood on either side -of the entrance. -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. de Lisle’s still in bed, of course,” Miss -McPherson told her, “but you may see him after -lunch. And I’ve promised him he may go out -with you in a day or two. In a bath-chair, at -first.” -</p> - -<p> -She left Judy to unpack, and have her lunch, -and hurried back to her patient. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall get on with her,” Judy said to herself, -“she’s human.” -</p> - -<p> -At about half-past two she knocked at Stephen’s -door. -</p> - -<p> -Miss McPherson had told her that he still -complained of numbness in his legs, so she was -prepared for the sight of the long, gaunt figure -stretched out so inertly on a bed near the window. -His head was turned her way, and as he held out -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> -a long arm, a pair of searching, sunken eyes met -hers. -</p> - -<p> -“Judy! Good girl, good girl!” he cried. “I -meant to turn my face to the wall if you didn’t -come. Miss McPherson, place her chair a little -nearer. That’s it. Judy, Judy!” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re exactly the same ‘Old Stephen’ I remember,” -said Judy, unexpectedly moved at this -meeting, “only gray instead of iron-gray.” It -was silly to feel tearful. “Do—do I look a bit -as you thought I’d look?” -</p> - -<p> -He answered in a lower voice, still holding her -hand in a grip of surprising strength: -</p> - -<p> -“You’re like your grandmother, thank God! -I prayed that you might be. It’s the eyes, I think—yes, -it’s the eyes and expression. I can build -her up, around your eyes. You always promised -to be a little like her. Ah, my dear, my dear, it -was good of you to come!” -</p> - -<p> -“Good of me! You little know what you saved -me from!” -</p> - -<p> -“Saved you from?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. You—I was simply desperate. I’d -begun to hate myself and every one else, except -Madame Claire and Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -“Madame Claire,” he repeated. “Yes, I like -that. And what then?” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> -“I was longing to get away. You see I haven’t -been out of England since I was sixteen. Except -to Scotland, and I don’t count that. And I felt—stale. -You’ve saved my life, I think, and now -you say I’m going to save yours.… We’ll have -a wonderful time, won’t we, Miss McPherson?” -</p> - -<p> -“It will be very nice,” said she. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss McPherson tells me you’ll be out in a -day or two,” Judy went on. “I’m looking forward -to the day when we can go motoring. There -must be glorious trips to be taken.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned his eyes toward his nurse. -</p> - -<p> -“What else did you tell her?” he demanded. -</p> - -<p> -“Everything I thought necessary.” She pressed -her lips together but her eyes smiled. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought you were Scotch enough to keep a -secret.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can keep them when I choose.” -</p> - -<p> -“Judy,” Stephen said, “I’m not as bad as I -pretended I was. I had a stroke. Yes, you -needn’t jump, you over there. Thought I didn’t -know, I suppose. Pish! Of course I knew. It -wasn’t a bad one, Judy, but I knew it meant no -London for me for weeks, perhaps months. So -I made up my mind I was going to have you or -Eric. You, preferably. Something Claire said -made me think you might welcome a change just -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> -now, so I made Miss McPherson wire. And now -you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are even nicer than I thought you were,” -laughed Judy. “And what about Madame Claire? -Does she know too, that you’re not—seriously -ill?” -</p> - -<p> -He moved his head slightly. -</p> - -<p> -“She knows.” He smiled, and Judy noticed -how his smile lightened his face with its rather -tragic lines and hollows. “She said nothing but -sudden death or an earthquake would get you -away from your family. But I’ve been pretty bad. -Even Miss McPherson admits that. Very bad. -And,” he said, glowering into the corner where -Miss McPherson sat, “I may be worse.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you won’t be while Miss Pendleton’s -here,” said she, “so I’ll just be taking a little air. -With your permission.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bless you, run along! Poor child, she’s -hardly left me for a minute.” -</p> - -<p> -As Miss McPherson went out, he watched her -upright little figure affectionately, from under his -strikingly white eyebrows. -</p> - -<p> -“A plucky little soul,” he said, “and she has -borne with me wonderfully. Now, Judy, tell me -about your trip. Tell me about Claire, everything -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> -you can think of, and about Noel and Eric. Good -Lord, how good this is!” -</p> - -<p> -Judy sat and talked till the sky turned from -blue to deep orange, and the sun, long after it -had dropped behind the sea, sent beams like yellow -fingers raying up into the clear color its own -going had made; till the lovely Esterel Mountains -had grown warmly, richly purple—a purple -that seemed mixed with gold dust, and the palms, -untamed things that they are, made wild and -ragged silhouettes against the sunset. -</p> - -<p> -At half-past four a waiter brought in tea, and -Miss McPherson, with color in her cheeks, came -in to officiate. Judy had talked herself out for -the present, so left the conversation to the other -two, who sparred in what appeared to be their -customary way. She watched the sky deepen to -the larkspur blue of night, and saw the lights -come pricking out in the harbor, and heard the -yacht bells and far-off voices, and knew that she -was very content. -</p> - -<p> -As for Stephen, he took her hand for an instant -as she was about to go to her room to rest before -dressing for dinner, and said: -</p> - -<p> -“Bless you, Judy! I haven’t been as happy as -this for over twenty years!” -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> -“Could anything be lovelier?” thought Judy as -she stood at her window the next morning. The -wailing pipe of some street peddler had waked -her earlier—a weird, Oriental sound, pleasant to -open one’s eyes to. She looked out over crooked -red roofs and beyond them to gray-green hills, -while below, to her left, the white yachts rode in -the harbor—the calm blue surface of which was -unmoved by a single ripple—beside less aristocratic -but more picturesque craft with pointed, -dark red sails. -</p> - -<p> -The waiter had brought her her breakfast in -bed, but she had carried it to a table by the -window, and was having it there. A few moments -later the postman walked in—the casual -way people walked in and out of her room she -thought novel and charming—and handed her a -letter from Madame Claire, which was dated the -same day she left London. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting"> -“Dearest Judy,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">wrote Madame Claire,</span> -</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“This is just to reassure you, and explain -a little. Stephen isn’t dangerously ill, thank -Heaven! I expect you’ve discovered that by now. -But he had a slight stroke, and was lonely and -bored, poor old dear, and as I couldn’t go to -him, he wanted you. I’ve been trying to persuade -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> -Millie for some time to let you go away somewhere, -but she wouldn’t hear of it. Your health -was quite satisfactory, etc., etc. So I saw my -chance and took it. I know Stephen will take a -new lease of life with you there. Have the very -happiest time possible, and don’t worry about -anything. I will be thinking of you in the sun. -I imagine almost that I can feel the warmth of -it myself; but perhaps it’s only my hot water -bottle. I am writing this in bed, my rheumatism -being still a little troublesome. However, I am -reading some delightful books. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Best love, dear Judy, from</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Claire.”</p> - -</blockquote> - - -<p> -That wonderful old woman! Judy knew that -she, from her two rooms at the Kensington Park -Hotel, had more influence on her life than any -one else in it. More even than Noel. -</p> - -<p class="tb hide">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -Stephen was getting better slowly and with -patient determination, but although she could see -an improvement in him from day to day, it was -not until the fifth day of her stay that he was -considered well enough to go out in a bath-chair—a -vehicle he despised. His detestation of it -was somewhat mitigated by the fact that Judy -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> -was walking beside it, and he was persuaded, before -they had been out very long, to admit that -he was enjoying it. They went past the Casino -as far as the harbor, which seemed to Judy more -Italian than French, and they walked under the -weird maze made by the tortured gray branches -of the plane trees, that reminded her of something -in Dante’s Inferno; then to the market place -where she bought persimmons bursting with over-ripeness, -and ate them then and there, ruining her -handkerchief. Stephen bought flowers, and chatted -in his excellent French with the brown-faced -peasant women who sold them. They walked -along the front again as far as La Reserve, where -he promised to take her for lobsters as soon as he -was well enough. Handsome cars flashed past -them and Judy had just said, “I didn’t know the -Rolls-Royce was a hibernating bird,” when a particularly -fine one went slowly by. She saw a man’s -face looking back at them through the little window -at the rear, and in another second the car -stopped and began backing. -</p> - -<p> -“Who’s that?” asked Stephen gruffly. He disliked -bothering with people he knew only slightly, -and it annoyed him to have people continually -asking him how he was. -</p> - -<p> -A man got out of the car and walked toward -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> -them—a strange figure in the sunlight. He gave -the impression of heaviness and at the same time -of agility. His movements were quick and forceful. -He wore a shapeless black overcoat—a hideous -enough garment at any time—but there, in -the gold light of the southern sun, it seemed to -cast a Philistine gloom all about it. He would -have passed unnoticed in Wall Street or the City, -but on the Riviera in his bowler hat and his dark -clothes, Judy thought he insulted the day. -</p> - -<p> -He went straight to Stephen, and the moment -he spoke, Judy knew he was an American. -</p> - -<p> -“May I recall myself to your memory, sir?” -he inquired, aware that he was not immediately -recognized. “I am Whitman Colebridge, whom -you last knew out in the Argentine.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whitman Colebridge! Of course, of course!” -exclaimed Stephen with some geniality. “Well, -well! That’s more years ago than I like to remember.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a good spell,” agreed the other. “But I -never forget a face or a name, once I’ve known -them both pretty well. I’m glad of an opportunity -of renewing our acquaintance. You were -very good to the young man I was then, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“Was I? Was I indeed? That seems to have -slipped my memory. But I am delighted to hear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> -it. Judy, my dear, allow me to introduce quite -an old friend, Mr. Whitman Colebridge, of … -of … wait!” He held up a thin hand, smiling. -“Of Cincinnati.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now that’s pretty smart of you, sir, to remember -that,” exclaimed the younger man, who had -shaken hands strongly with Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know why it is,” Stephen remarked to -Judy, “but in America it’s always ‘Mr. Jones of -St. Louis,’ or ‘Mr. Smith of Council Bluffs,’ or -<ins title="Add left quote before Mr. Robinson">‘Mr. Robinson of Denver.’</ins> -One learns to associate -the name with the place.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which shows,” suggested Judy, “that a love -of titles still lingers in the Republican breast.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so, I expect,” smiled Mr. Colebridge, -in whose eyes Judy, it seemed, had immediately -found favor. “But what about this old-fashioned -vehicle of yours? This doesn’t signify that you’re -an invalid, I trust?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been a miserable, good-for-nothing old -man for some time,” Stephen answered, “with -most of Job’s ailments, but without his virtues. -Now, however, since Miss Pendleton of London -has come to lighten my darkness, I mean to get -well. Yes, distinctly I mean to get well.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s fine!” approved Mr. Colebridge. -“This one-man Victoria that you’ve got here -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> -doesn’t look good to me. I haven’t forgotten -our trip over the Andes together, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” agreed Stephen, nodding. “That was -a trip! Pleasant to look back upon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Never mind,” said Judy, “we’ll take a trip -over the Esterel Mountains in a day or two. Mr. -de Lisle hasn’t been out of Cannes since he first -came here,” she told Mr. Colebridge, “but we’re -planning some trips for next week.” -</p> - -<p> -“You have your own automobile here?” inquired -Mr. Colebridge. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,” Stephen said. “We mean to hire -one.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why do that, sir? Here is mine”—he -waved his hand toward his property—“at your -disposal. The chauffeur is a native of these parts, -and I needn’t brag about the machine because -you are well acquainted with its virtues. So why -not make use of it, with or without its owner?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that’s very kind,” said Stephen, “but -really … no, no, we couldn’t think of it. I -don’t see why you should burden yourself with -an irascible invalid. Do you, Judy?” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps Mr. Colebridge will take us out some -day, and see how he likes us,” said Judy, who -wasn’t at all sure that she liked Mr. Colebridge. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> -“But we certainly couldn’t commandeer your car, -as you so kindly suggest.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m here alone,” said Mr. Colebridge, “the -machine holds seven, and I don’t talk French. -So you’d be doing me a real kindness. I’m staying -at the Hotel Beaulieu. May I ask where -you——?” -</p> - -<p> -“We’re stopping at the Riviera,” Stephen told -him. “Come and see us.” -</p> - -<p> -“I shall avail myself of your kind invitation. -I presume you play, Miss Pendleton?” -</p> - -<p> -“Play? Oh, the Casino? I haven’t been yet, -but I mean to go, when Mr. de Lisle is better. -I’ve never gambled and I’m longing to.” -</p> - -<p> -“I go there every night,” said the heavy one. -“I flatter myself I know the game, sir. When -I’m ahead I quit. And I generally quit ahead.” -He clapped his hand to his pocket, and then felt -inside his coat. Judy expected bank notes to -appear, but instead he produced a gold cigar case. -</p> - -<p> -“Will you smoke, sir? I reckon these are -superior to what you can obtain hereabouts.” -</p> - -<p> -The old man waved them away. -</p> - -<p> -“If they were made on Olympus for Jove himself, -I couldn’t smoke one,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Too bad!” commiserated the other, taking -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> -one himself. “You used to be fond of a good -cigar in the old days, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“Fond!” exclaimed Stephen. “Do you call -that fond! I’d sell my immortal soul for one now, -if it weren’t for my doctor.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” said Mr. Colebridge, turning to Judy, -“I mustn’t detain you. It’s been a real pleasure -to meet you, Miss Pendleton, and to see you again, -sir. Suppose I come around Monday, and take -you both to Grasse? That’s just a pleasant, easy -little run. Say about two-thirty. I hope you will -do me the honor, Miss Pendleton.” -</p> - -<p> -There seemed no reason to refuse. -</p> - -<p> -“If Mr. de Lisle’s well enough—and I feel sure -he will be,” she said, shaking Mr. Colebridge’s -proffered hand. “It’s very kind of you.” -</p> - -<p> -“On Monday, then. I shall look forward to -that with real pleasure.” -</p> - -<p> -They watched him, his long black cigar in his -mouth, get into his beautiful car again and go -smoothly off. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, well!” said Stephen. “That’s an odd -thing! I haven’t thought of that fellow for over -ten years.” -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me about him. What is he? One of -the ‘Captains of Industry’?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> -“Something of that sort, I expect. We met -in the Argentine.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t tell me he was there on a holiday! -That man never took a holiday in his life. Did -you ever see such clothes? He looked as though -he was on his way to a directors’ meeting.” -</p> - -<p> -“He was just a younger edition in those days -of what he is now. He told me, I remember, -that he was the forerunner of ‘big business.’ -Connected with some great exporting house, I -think. Details have left my mind. But he impressed -me. Kind, full of bluff, pushing, selfish, -likable. No real humor. Oh, he can see a joke, -but that doesn’t always mean humor. No philosophy -of life—yet. No sense of <em>values</em>. Values, -yes! It’s an interesting type. Egotistic. But -powerful. I knew he’d get on. We had some -long talks, I remember. He liked me for some -reason. I was able to do him a good turn, I -think, but I forget what it was.” -</p> - -<p> -“His æsthetic or beauty-loving side is utterly -undeveloped,” laughed Judy. “Hence those -clothes. He’s rather terrible in a way, and yet -I dare say I might like him if I knew him better.” -</p> - -<p> -“You might,” mused Stephen, “you might.” -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter19" id="linkChapter19"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC19" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> - </div> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting epubmaker-bquote-hack3"> -“Dearest Claire,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">wrote Judy.</span> -</p> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“Every moment that I spend here in this -lovely place, I say to myself, ‘You have Claire -to thank for this.’ I know now how cleverly -you managed it all. A hint here, a word there. -And I know that you never intended to let Eric -come, even if he could have arranged it. That -was merely to satisfy the family. Oh, I know -your little ways! -</p> - -<p> -“As for your old Stephen, I adore him. And -he’s really making a wonderful recovery. I’ll -bring him back to you, Claire. My one object in -life now is to help to bring you and him together -again. -</p> - -<p> -“I wonder if you’ve seen Major Crosby again? -I do hope you have, for I feel you’d be so good -for him, and it’s absurd for him to be so out of -touch with things. I know you like him and I’m -very glad, for I like him, and I know Noel does -too. I don’t suppose for a moment that he’ll -ever be anything but poor. Even if his book -should prove to be a classic, it would never bring -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> -him in much money. All the same I feel sure -that it’s a remarkable book. -</p> - -<p> -“There is a man here who is the very opposite -of Major Crosby. I feel they can hardly be made -of the same stuff. This man is an American whom -Stephen knew years ago in the Argentine. He’s -very rich, and not afflicted with modesty. He has -no moods, no reserves, and no curiosity. I never -realized before what an agreeable quality curiosity -was until I met him. Europe is a playground -for him. Not that he knows how to play—he -doesn’t. He merely does what other people do, -and spends prodigious sums of money, and when -he tries to be gay or facetious it’s like watching a -steam engine playing with its tail. We spar a -good deal, but he seems to like it. He makes me -ponderous compliments—oh, so ponderous! I -tell him I’m not used to compliments, and that in -England the more we approve of people the less -we trouble to let them know it, and that the only -person who sometimes tells me I’m rather nice is -my brother Noel. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Say,’ remarks Mr. Colebridge, ‘that brother -of yours must be kinder human!’ -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. and Mrs. Assheton are here and they -chaperon me at the Casino evenings after Stephen -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> -has gone to bed. We usually make a foursome, -for Mr. Colebridge nearly always joins -<ins title="remove right double quote after us.">us.</ins> -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t know how much I’m enjoying it -all, Claire. I think I must have died and gone -to Heaven. Certainly the Channel wasn’t unlike -the Styx. I feel all the time though that it’s you -who ought to be here with Stephen instead of me. -But he’s going to get well, and you’re going to -see him again. Miss McPherson is a dear. I -gathered that she was from Stephen’s letters. -</p> - -<p> -“How are Eric and Louise getting on? But -I expect Noel will tell me all the news. You have -all you can do to keep Stephen supplied with -letters. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-by, Madame Claire. Remember me to -your daughter Millie when you see her. Really, -mother took my coming here as a personal affront. -She thinks that no one but Gordon should have -any advantages. Aren’t some parents odd, sometimes? -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Your very loving,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Judy.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -Very satisfactory, thought Madame Claire, as -she finished reading the letter. All sorts of ends -were furthered by this visit. Stephen would take -a new lease on life with Judy there. It was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> -just the tonic that he needed. He would be certain -to want to settle something on her. If he -had wished to before he knew her, how much -more would he now! She would, more or less -unconsciously, present her own image to him, as -she was to-day. Heaven alone knew how he had -been picturing her all these years! And, too, -Judy would meet—was meeting—new people. -She already had an admirer. Madame Claire -was no matchmaker; she abhorred matchmaking; -but she knew that Judy was interested in Major -Crosby and it would help her to know how deeply -she was interested if she could compare him with -other men. This Mr. Colebridge—he wasn’t at -all Judy’s sort, perhaps—and yet he might attract -her by his very differences. Or, if he failed to -attract her, he might help her to define her feelings -for the other more clearly. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire was no advocate of marriage -as the only career for women, but Judy’s gifts -seemed all to be in that direction. She had charm, -tact, good sense. Her other qualities would -emerge once she was away from the suffocating -atmosphere of Eaton Square and Millie. She had -never had a chance. Not that marriage with -Major Crosby, for instance, would offer much -scope for her talents … and yet, on the other -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> -hand, it might … it might. Well, well, Madame -Claire told herself, she wouldn’t raise a -finger to bring it about. But she meant the girl -to have a breathing space … time to think, and -a new environment to think in. If she herself -had had that at a certain period of her own -life.… -</p> - -<p> -She was expecting Eric this afternoon between -five and six. Eric and Louise … there was -a problem for her untangling! Two charming -people—for Louise could be charming—who were -at heart fond of each other, and yet were utterly -at cross purposes. Madame Claire held the remarkable -belief that no problem existed without -its solution—however difficult that solution might -be to come by—just as she believed that every -poison had its antidote, and every evil its complementary -good. Why, then, couldn’t she think -of a way to bring those two together? Louise’s -mind wanted prying open. It had closed on its -jealousies as a pitcher plant closes on its food. -Nothing that was in could get out, and nothing -that was out could get in. An unfortunate state -of affairs! -</p> - -<p> -Eric came in bringing with him something -fresh and vital that always seemed to accompany -him. Judy called it his aura. He was quick in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> -all his movements—the sort of man who gets -through a great deal in a day and without fuss -or bustle. -</p> - -<p> -He advanced on Madame Claire and kissed -her. -</p> - -<p> -“You look wonderful! I’ve half an hour to -spend with you to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -He drew up a chair beside hers. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you get very tired of being always -busy?” she asked him, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. I do. But I must either be in the thick -of things or out of them altogether. And just -now things are very thick indeed, and getting -thicker.” -</p> - -<p> -“I really enjoy being outside,” she said. “One -sees so much better.” -</p> - -<p> -“But are you outside?” He looked narrowly -at her with humorous, quizzical eyes. “Are you? -I never knew you to be, puller of many threads!” -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I give a feeble jerk now and then. It’s -all I can do. Tell me about Louise. I haven’t -seen her for a week or more.” -</p> - -<p> -“About Louise? But, my dear mother, if I -once start talking about Louise …” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes? Well, why not? What am I here for? -Is there any … improvement, do you think?” -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> -“Improvement? Let me tell you, then. -You’ve brought it on yourself. I warned you.” -He laughed. “I’ll tell you about last night. Last -night we had Sir Henry Boyle-Stevens to dinner, -and Mr. Stedman. About halfway through dinner -Sir Henry said to Louise, but looking at me -and smiling, ‘It’s a great comfort to me to be -working with your husband. He is untiring and -dependable.’ Old Sir Henry does like me, and -we’ve always got on together like anything. -Would you like to hear what Louise said in reply? -Would you? Very well. She said—I will give -you her exact words and their emphasis—‘I suppose -Eric <em>is</em> dependable, <em>politically</em>.’ ‘I suppose,’ -you observe, and then the accent on ‘politically.’ -Sir Henry looked quickly at her, and then at me, -and changed the subject. She meant me to hear. -Then the next thing. After dinner the Lewis -Pringles came in. We were still in the dining -room—the men, I mean—and when we joined the -rest in the drawing-room Louise greeted me with -these words—for my ears alone—‘You needn’t -have hurried, Eric. I was just enjoying hearing -my own voice for a change.’ You ask me if -there’s any improvement! What am I to do? -We can’t go on like this much longer.” -</p> - -<p> -“No. And I don’t think you ought to.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> -He flung himself back into his chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Why does she live in my house if she dislikes -me as much as that?” -</p> - -<p> -“She doesn’t dislike you, my dear. It’s an -extraordinary nature. Do you remember the unfortunate -girl in the fairy tale? Every time she -opened her mouth toads and snails and other -horrid things came out of it. Well, that’s Louise. -That old hag jealousy has bewitched her. She’s -not happy, poor thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t suppose she is happy. I don’t see how -she can be. But I can’t make her happy, and she -can’t help making me miserable. I can’t even -ignore her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Try living apart for six months.” -</p> - -<p> -“She suggested that herself. Of course she -expects me to go down on my knees and beg her -to stay.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you do it! Let her go. Make her go. -Give it out to your friends that the doctor says -she must live in the country for a while. Insist -on her going.” -</p> - -<p> -“And who would look after the house? I could -shut it up I suppose and go to a hotel.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no. Don’t do that. I’ll find some one,” -said Madame Claire. “You leave that to me.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean a housekeeper?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> -“I don’t know, at the moment. I’ll think of -somebody.” -</p> - -<p> -“Louise may not come back,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course she’ll come back. She has no intention -of letting any other woman have you. -You’ll see … only you must see that she stays -away six months this time. That last visit to -Mistley wasn’t long enough.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you understand her better than I do.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I do understand her. That’s the curious -thing about it. But it always seems to me that -odd people are much easier to understand than -simple people. Once you give people credit for -being odd, nothing that they do surprises you. -What’s so difficult is to give people credit for -being simple. Now if Louise would only understand -that you are very simple——” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I?” -</p> - -<p> -“Very. You’re one of the least complex people -I’ve ever known. None of my children are complex. -Not even Connie, who thinks she is. By -the way, have you seen her lately?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not for several days. I called at her hotel -just before coming here, but she was out.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, didn’t you know? This is the afternoon -of Petrovitch’s concert. She’s there, with Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! Feasting her eyes and ears.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> -“You’d better stay and hear Noel’s account of -it.” She looked at her watch. “He promised -he’d come in afterwards. I’m glad he took her. -It will be an outlet for her emotions. The papers -just hint that Petrovitch is on the downward -grade, Eric. Not the master that he was. He’s -not very young, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose not. He wasn’t a young man when -she first knew him. But if the world were to reject -and despise him, Connie would cling to him -all the more. So there’s no hope in that direction.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes,” agreed Madame Claire. “She’d -pride herself on it.” -</p> - -<p> -They talked for nearly half an hour, and Eric -was about to go when Dawson opened the door -to announce “Master Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -“Hello!” exclaimed Noel. “Two birds with -one stone. That’s splendid. Greetings, Claire. -I’m bursting with talk. How are you, Eric?” -</p> - -<p> -“We’re bursting to hear you talk,” Madame -Claire told him. “Sit down and tell us all -about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whew!” Noel stretched himself out in a -chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “I -feel a bit of a rag. Concerts always make me -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> -feel like that, but this one was rather more exhausting -than usual.” -</p> - -<p> -“Was it a good concert?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, of course I’m no musician, but it seemed -all right to me. Several thousand people had -come to hear the lion roar, and they all seemed -pleased with his roaring. But first of all, I wish -you could have seen Connie, complete with dark -shadows under her eyes, large black hat and a -bunch of gardenias. Petrovitch saw her at once—we -had seats almost under the piano—and they -exchanged soul to soul looks. And then he sat -down to play. Gosh, the fellow can play! He -even had me spellbound. As for Connie—but I -leave that to your imagination. I’ll bet Petrovitch -played as never before. Sees nephew sitting -beside beautiful aunt. Tries to charm aunt -away from nephew. Does so—or jolly near it. -Connie sat there with her soul in her eyes. I’m -sorry to have to mention souls so often, but the -narrative seems to require it. Well, I wish you -could have heard the applause. People stood up -and clapped and clapped and clapped. The gallery -yelled and shouted. Illiodor—that’s his unChristian -name—tore off two or three encores -and bowed and bowed, and then gazed at Connie -and bowed some more, and then finally came back -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> -and played something very tender—you know the -sort of thing—a fragment, a thought, a tear—and -then gazed some more at Connie and that was -the end of it. I sat there feeling proud all the -time. Proprietary, I suppose you’d call it. Something -like this: ‘You like it? Good. Oh, yes, in -a way he’s one of the family. Fellow my aunt -ran off with. Quite one of the family.’” -</p> - -<p> -“How absurd you are, Noel!” laughed Madame -Claire. -</p> - -<p> -“And then what happened?” asked Eric. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we got out finally and headed for home. -Connie hung on my arm like a wilted flower, and -I can tell you, she’s no light weight. I couldn’t -possibly put her in a ’bus in the state she was in—I -have some sense of the fitness of things—so we -took a taxi and she sat in it with her hands clasped -and her eyes fixed before her, murmuring, -‘Wasn’t he divine, divine!’ I felt that the situation -was becoming a bit too tense, so I said, ‘Yes, -he’s all right, but I think Grock’s more amusing.’ -But it didn’t annoy her a bit. She just kept on -rocking herself and murmuring, ‘Divine, divine!’” -</p> - -<p> -“Did you leave her in that state?” Eric inquired. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she won’t recover for several days. When -we got back to the hotel she thanked me as if I’d -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> -saved her from drowning—I didn’t tell her it was -all your idea, Claire—and said she’d carry the -memory of that afternoon in her heart forever. -I wonder? I’m pretty sure she will see him, or -write to him. But there’s one thing about Connie—she’s -honest. She won’t see him and not tell -me. I can trust her for that.” -</p> - -<p> -Later on the conversation turned on Major -Crosby. Madame Claire asked Noel if he had -seen him. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, about that,” said Noel. “I went to see -his doctor … the nice old fellow who came -in that night; and I asked him to please send the -bill to me. ‘Bill?’ he said. ‘What bill?’ When -I said ‘Major Crosby’s,’ he clapped me on the -back and said, ‘I don’t send bills to the man who -risked his life to get my son out of a shell-hole, -under fire.’ So now we know. He seems to -think the world of Chip.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah,” said Madame Claire. “Yes, gallant.… -I knew that. I hope he comes to see me.” -</p> - -<p> -“He said he meant to when I saw him last.” -</p> - -<p> -“I seem to be the only one of the family who -hasn’t met him,” said Eric. “What do the others -think of him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” Noel told him, “Gordon didn’t think -anything—or anyhow, didn’t say. Helen liked -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> -him—she’s a good sort when she wants to be, and -talks about having him meet influential people—publishers, -I suppose she means. Mother said -he wasn’t connected with any Crosbys she ever -heard of, and dad looked him up in -<cite><ins title="remove question mark after Who's Who">Who’s -Who</ins></cite> and not finding him asked me how long -I’d known him and what clubs he belonged to. -Connie thinks he’s quite charming, but doesn’t -understand women! Yes, I thought you’d smile. -But what I want to know is, what does Judy think -of him?” -</p> - -<p> -“She’s rather interested,” said Madame Claire. -“What do you think of him yourself, Noel?” -</p> - -<p> -“One of the decentest fellows I ever knew.” -</p> - -<p> -“But hasn’t a bob, I understand,” remarked -Eric. “Judy’s a brave girl if she doesn’t funk it. -If only she had something of her own.…” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, that would make all the difference. However, -I’m certain nothing’s been said, and I rather -think nothing will be said, unless …” But she -changed her mind about finishing her sentence. -</p> - -<p> -“And what’s your own news, Noel?” asked -Eric. “Have you settled everything with Teal, -about going to Germany?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, thanks to you. Reparations Committee. -And I haven’t spoken a word of German, except -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> -to Hun prisoners during the war, since I was at -school. I don’t think it’s my line, but the screw’s -fair, and it ought to be interesting, and besides, -there aren’t too many things going for a -<ins title="change pore to poor">poor</ins> -cripple. I like Cecil Teal, in spite of his name.” -</p> - -<p> -“When do you go?” Madame Claire asked. -</p> - -<p> -“In three weeks. Do you think Judy’ll be -back?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m certain she’ll come back.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s all right, then. Well, I must be off. -Coming my way, Eric? I’m going to the club.” -</p> - -<p> -As they were leaving, Madame Claire called -Noel back. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel, tell Connie that I want to see her to-morrow -or the next day. As soon as she’s recovered. -And, Eric, you’ll let me know about -Louise, won’t you? She’s not to go without saying -good-by to me … if she does go.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she’s going,” he said. “My wife,” he -explained, turning to Noel, “finds life with me intolerable.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, there’s divorce, thank Heaven!” Noel -said. “I always feel about marriage and divorce -the way I feel about those illuminated signs in -theaters—the exits, you know, in case of fire. One -simply wouldn’t go into a theater unless they -were there.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> -“In this case, however,” said Madame Claire, -“there isn’t going to be a fire, and Eric’s only -seen the first act of the play. Good night, my -dears.” -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter20" id="linkChapter20"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC20" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Judy’s</span> -letter was followed by one from Stephen. -Madame Claire felt that it was from some one -very close at hand. He seemed to be coming -nearer to her daily, and she no longer visualized -him as separated from her by so many miles of -land and water. He was accessible now. They -were more readily accessible to each other by -thoughts. She felt more confidence in his health, -too, and in his determination to come to England -again. She had been wise in sending Judy to him! -</p> - - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“It’s amazing,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">Stephen wrote,</span> “how much -there is of you in Judy. She has your way of -understanding what one wants to say almost before -one has said it. She doesn’t make me feel -an old man. We talk as equals. She is very -human and is gifted with real humor, which means -that she enjoys the humorous side of mankind. I -think that her not very happy youth—for it’s -obvious that she has been far from happy at home—has -given her a certain depth and insight. -</p> - -<p> -“She is much amused by an old friend of mine, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> -an American named Colebridge. We met years -ago in the Argentine, and he considers that he has -reason to be grateful for something in the past. -Together, the two are a source of great entertainment -to me. Judy becomes every moment -more British, and he—well, he couldn’t become -more American. He admires Judy enormously, -and I think he is ready to lay a not inconsiderable -fortune at her feet. I wish I could remember -their talk. Yesterday we motored to Grasse, and -coming home we passed peasants returning from -their work in the fields. Simple, contented -people, with clothes colored like the earth. -</p> - -<p> -“‘In America,’ says Mr. Colebridge, ‘all these -folks would own Fords.’ -</p> - -<p> -“‘Then thank God for Europe!’ says Judy; -and so they go on, until at last Mr. Colebridge -turns to me and says, ‘Say, I guess I’m ready to -agree to anything Miss Pendleton says. She’s -got more sense than any woman I ever met.’ -Which takes the wind out of Judy’s sails. They -make me feel years younger. Colebridge wears -the most Philistine clothes, and never looks at -the scenery. He sees nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“Judy often goes to the Casino, and she tells -me she saw Chiozzi there last night. He was -with Mlle. Pauline, whom Judy describes as a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> -most exquisite creature. She was struck with the -contrast between them—Chiozzi so dark and -hideous, and the woman so fair and pretty—and -she asked some one who they were. She says -Chiozzi is extremely jealous and was constantly -watching his companion. She also says that he -was losing a great deal of money—Connie’s -money, perhaps?—at the tables. He has left -this hotel, so I never see him now. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss McPherson seems to think I will be able -to travel in less than a month. A month, Claire! -Only thirty days. It’s nothing. And yet, it’s an -eternity. I might have another stroke—no, no! -I feel sure I won’t. Not with Judy here. I think -it was sheer boredom that brought it on before. -That, and a hopeless feeling that I should never -quite reach you. Now I seem to have accomplished -half the journey. -</p> - -<p> -“I have said nothing to Judy as yet about a -settlement. It is a difficult subject, and I feel I -must tread lightly. All the same, I mean to have -my way. If the young deny us these pleasures, -what is left for us? Of course, if she were to -marry Colebridge she wouldn’t want it, but that -I feel almost certain she will not do. They are -poles apart. It’s not because of their nationality. -It’s because of their outlook on life. It wouldn’t -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> -do. If Judy were less sensitive, less feeling, less -intelligent, it might. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I am aweary of this eternal sunshine. -And when the sun does not shine, it all seems very -drab. One is constantly reminded here of too -much that is rich—and gross. And yet it is lovely, -I suppose, very lovely. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s you I want, Claire, and London. For -the first time in my life I’m unspeakably, unutterably -homesick. I long to see the rain on London -streets, the lamps’ yellow eyes through the deep -blue haze and smoke. I want crocuses and primroses -instead of mimosa. I want little, homely, -decorous shops, and people who put on their -clothes merely to cover them and to keep warm. -I want your fireside and you and Dawson, and -crumpets for tea. What an old fool I am! I -would like to hear the old talk of the London -that I knew; these memoirs, that play, such and -such a speech; what So and So said to Blank when -he met him in the lobby of the House; who is -talked of as the next Speaker. I hardly dare look -at the papers, Claire, for then I know how many -years there are between the old talk and the talk -of to-day. The jingle of hansom bells seem to -run through it all, and faint, forgotten old tunes. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> -“But it will all be preserved, summed up, epitomized -in you. I will find it all again in you. -</p> - -<p> -“It is Judy who has brought back this love of -London. It is she who has made it fresh again. -</p> - -<p> -“She says your hair is perfectly white. How -pretty it must be! -</p> - -<p> -“Good-by! I grow verbose, lachrymose, and -comatose. -</p> -</div> - - -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -Well, he would find London changed, though -it had changed less than most Western cities. -But he would find that it had retained its old -character even though it had assumed new manners. -And after all, why pretend that it had not -improved? It had improved. It was easier to -get about now than it had been in Stephen’s day. -There was more to do. There was less misery -among the poor. One needn’t feel so suicidal -on Sundays. There were better shops, better -libraries, and—yes—more and better books. Better -preachers in the pulpits, too, better food, -better music, better teachers in the schools. And -if one regretted the hansom bells and the old -tunes, that was because one regretted one’s youth, -and the friends of one’s youth. But the present -couldn’t be blamed for that. The present was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> -full of promise, let the old fogies say what they -pleased. The sea was rougher, perhaps, but the -port was nearer … and after all, seasickness -wasn’t often fatal, and was very often beneficial. -Not that there weren’t alarming symptoms—there -were.… -</p> - -<p> -Stephen and she could still go to the Temple -and see the old, unchanged gray stones, and the -vivid grass making a carpet for the delicate feet -of spring when she visited London; and she loved -to visit London, that beloved guest, as though -she delighted in contrasting her fleeting and perennial -loveliness with what was gray and immutable. -The old, slow river, too, and the towers of Westminster—they -could look at them and see little -change there. -</p> - -<p> -And after all, they hadn’t stood still themselves. -They had gone on. If they hadn’t, she wouldn’t -have fitted into the picture to-day, as she knew -she did, nor would Stephen have found so much -in common with Judy. No, she had long ago said -good-by to the hansom bells and the bustles and -the bad doctors and the inferior plumbing—let’s -be honest—and the extremely uncomfortable -traveling, and she had said good-by without -regret. -</p> - -<p> -She was writing to him the following afternoon, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> -putting these thoughts on paper while they were -still fresh in her mind, when Major Crosby called. -She had hoped he would come. Certainly he -wouldn’t go to Eaton Square for news of Judy. -He would come to her. She wondered how far -he would commit himself. Here was another -simple man, but simple in a different way from -Eric’s way. Major Crosby’s was the simplicity -of the hermit, Eric’s of the clear thinking man of -action who had no use for subtleties. She hoped -he would feel that he could unburden himself to -a woman of her age. -</p> - -<p> -That, evidently, was one of the things he had -come for. Madame Claire wanted to be able to -make up her mind about him to-day. She had -liked him before, but to-day she hoped to be able -to say, “Yes, that’s the man for Judy.” -</p> - -<p> -He very soon asked for news of her. -</p> - -<p> -“She’s being extraordinarily good for my old -friend Stephen de Lisle,” she told him. “It’s -well, Major Crosby, to keep one’s hold on the -present generation. Mr. de Lisle had almost lost -his, and he was slipping back. That’s why I sent -Judy to him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Will she be back in time to see her brother -before he goes?” he asked. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> -“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. She’ll be very lonely -without Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -What nice eyes the man had! Blue-gray eyes, -rather misty, like the eyes of a kitten or a baby. -The face was serious—a little too serious, she -thought. She liked it though. It was a good -face. She liked the thin, rather aquiline nose, -the close-cut, brown mustache, the mouth with its -expression of peculiar sweetness. She could picture -him performing acts of curious bravery, unconscious -of any heroism. A man who could -study Druidism in the trenches!… But life -was passing him by, as it would pass Judy by, unless -she made up her mind to grasp it. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me,” she said, “how nearly finished is -that prodigious book of yours?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s practically done. I’m still polishing it -up though. It won’t be a popular book, Lady -Gregory. In fact I think it will be very unpopular.” -</p> - -<p> -“With whom will it be unpopular?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, with people who lay much stress upon -ritual and creed. I think they will dislike knowing -how much of the pagan ritual has come down -to us, and how closely our own beliefs are bound -up with those of savage peoples. And there are -others who don’t like hearing that Christianity -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> -is, comparatively speaking, modern, and that there -are other vastly more ancient revelations. And -there are people who won’t like what I’ve said -about the belief in reincarnation, nor be willing -to accede an important place to the so-called modern -religions, such as Christian Science, New -Thought, and Spiritualism. The book will be -banned, undoubtedly, by one great church, and -public libraries will think twice before circulating -it. And yet I had to write it, and I’m glad I’ve -written it. I only wish it were fuller and more -convincing. It lacks what print must always lack—the -power to persuade.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you wish to persuade us … of what?” -</p> - -<p> -“The need for tolerance.” -</p> - -<p> -“You think we are still intolerant? And yet -there are plenty of people who say we have grown -too tolerant.” -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -“There is only one tolerance that I deplore.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that is?” -</p> - -<p> -“Tolerance toward the man who believes in -nothing at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why have you singled out that unfortunate?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because we have much to fear from him.” -He got up and stood with his back to the fire. -“When men believe in nothing, they rot. If history -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> -teaches us anything, it teaches us that. The -world has had its greatest moments at the times -of its greatest faith. Then when belief goes, the -decline begins. But first these people who believe -in nothing set up idols of their own making. -They call them by fine names—liberty, perhaps, -or communism, or the freedom of the proletariat, -or the gospel of anarchy, or mob rule. But they -very soon tire of worshiping even them. Then -fear enters their hearts. They believe in no hereafter -and no god. They see that life here is short -and uncertain. They see that there are good -things in the world—fine food, fine clothes, money, -power. They want the cash. The credit can go. -The people who lay up treasures in heaven are -fools. Well then, let them lay up their treasures -in heaven—and let them go after them. They -themselves mean to have what they can see, feel, -touch, smell. They begin trampling, stampeding, -cursing. Get, get, get, they cry. What do they -attack first? The churches. Away with restraint, -away with rules, away with sickly faith. They -want more concrete things and they mean to get -them. Then blood incites them further. They -kill and kill and kill. Killing and grabbing—they -are occupied with nothing else. Some for the sake -of appearances or because they like the sound of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> -words go about shouting their phrases. But -sooner or later they turn on each other; or their -followers, sick of blood, turn upon them. And -then, when there is a little peace, faith creeps -back into people’s hearts again, and a belief in -God. And they wonder how the madness came, -and they try to wipe out the blood stains and live -sanely again. And they go back to work in the -fields and stop hating each other. Perhaps they -have learned something. Not always. But they -have got tolerance again, and a belief. And with -those two things they can begin once more. To -believe in something beyond this world, to have -faith in the destiny of the soul … that’s everything.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her, suddenly abashed. -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve been talking to you,” he said, “as if I -were addressing a meeting. I’m so sorry.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ve liked it. Go on. So your book -shows——” -</p> - -<p> -“Shows that any faith is good. Shows that all -beliefs are so intermingled that they are almost -inextricable. It shows that what matters is their -common foundation—the belief in a Divine -Creator. Without these various revelations that -are the foundations of religion, the world would -have been chaos. Destroy them, and the world -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> -will be chaos. Christianity is the light on the -path of the Western world. Other worlds, other -lights. But to say that we can walk without light, -or to shut our eyes and say there is no light—that -is the great insanity, the great evil.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I think that’s true,” she agreed. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not a religious fellow, in the ordinary -sense of the word,” he explained, “and yet I’m -more interested in religion than in any other subject. -I do go to church, but more as a student -than a worshiper. I like to think about the -psychology of a congregation, and the possible—the -probable benefits of worshiping all together -in a building with four walls and a roof.” -</p> - -<p> -It wasn’t so difficult, after all, to draw him -out. She liked making him talk. And when she -thought she had drawn him out enough she rang -for tea. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course this work of yours is tremendously -interesting, but at the same time I feel more -than ever that you need diversions. The dancing -wasn’t altogether a success, I gathered.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” he agreed, smiling, ”I’m afraid it wasn’t. -But when we were discussing hobbies the other -day, I forgot to tell you that I had another, besides -religions. And that’s the stage.” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire laughed. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> -“You extraordinary man! What aspect of the -stage?” -</p> - -<p> -“I like writing plays. I’ve written several, but -I don’t think they’re any good and I’ve never -tried to do anything with them. I don’t think -my people would be real—especially the women. -I wonder—I’d like—would you read them some -time? You’re critical, but you’re very kind, too.” -</p> - -<p> -“I long to read them! Bring them. The -sooner the better. I love plays and I love the -theater, and though my criticisms may not be valuable, -you shall have them. I often wish Judy had -gone on the stage. She has the looks and she has -talent, too. But of course it would have killed -her parents.” -</p> - -<p> -It was then that he took the plunge. She had -felt for some time that he was preparing to -take it. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss Pendleton,” he said, “is the only -woman I have ever met who has made me wish -I were a rich man—or a successful man. Not -that she would consider me if I were.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m beginning to think you’re human!” cried -Madame Claire. “The stage; and now you’re in -love with Judy. I’m delighted, Major Crosby! -Delighted. Now we have two excellent diversions -for you. Plays, and love.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> -Her old eyes twinkled. -</p> - -<p> -“But I’ve no talent for either.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, let some one else judge of that! Let -Judy judge.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked somewhat confused. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said what I did.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why not? I sha’n’t give you away.” -</p> - -<p> -“If I had any prospects at all …” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s amazing,” she interrupted, “how strong -and how weak men can be! There’s my son Eric, -for instance. A born fighter. In war, in politics, -no compromise. But in love—in love he has the -courage of a … of a schoolgirl. If he had -only <em>managed</em> his wife! What he needs is a -course in nettle-grasping. And so do you, Major -Crosby.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I don’t think for a minute that Miss Pendleton——” -</p> - -<p> -He paused, hoping, she saw, that she would -help him out. -</p> - -<p> -“That Miss Pendleton is interested?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, interested … she might be, just a little, -out of the kindness of her heart.” -</p> - -<p> -“Major Crosby, let me tell you that women are -only kind when it gives them pleasure to be kind. -A woman will rarely put herself out, I’m afraid, -for a man who bores her.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> -“But even if she were—interested—even if she -did think twice about me, which I find it very -difficult to believe, I’ve nothing whatever to offer -her.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean you can’t offer her money.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s only one of the things I haven’t got.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood in front of the fire again, as if to give -himself the advantage of higher ground. He -wanted to be convincing even while he hoped to -be convinced. -</p> - -<p> -“All I ask you to do,” said Madame Claire, -“is, for your own sake, to give yourself a chance. -There are obstacles, admittedly, but don’t begin -by throwing up earthworks as well. Don’t <em>make</em> -obstacles. Mind you, I’m not encouraging you. -I only know that Judy likes you more than she -likes most people. Beyond that I’m completely -in the dark. Yes, Dawson?” -</p> - -<p> -“Please, m’lady,” said Dawson from the doorway, -“can you see Miss Connie?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. Ask her to come in. No, don’t go, -Major Crosby. You’ve met my daughter, -Countess Chiozzi.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must go,” he said, holding out his hand. -“But I’d like to come again soon, if I may.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you don’t,” she said, smiling up at him, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> -“I shall think I have lectured you too much. And -the plays—don’t forget them!” -</p> - -<p> -He exchanged a few words with Connie as he -passed her in the hall, and she was graciously -polite to him. She never forgot for an instant, -in the presence of a man, that she was a charming -woman. After she had kissed her mother, however, -she felt that a remonstrance was justifiable. -</p> - -<p> -“Mother, you’re not encouraging that man, I -hope?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, Connie, my dear, I assure you I’m not. -I think that the difference in our ages is really -too great.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, mother! I meant for Judy, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! But before I answer that, let me tell -you of something Eric and I thought of a few -days ago. Something to do with you.” -</p> - -<p> -Before Connie had left her, an hour later, she -had agreed to give up her rooms at the hotel as -soon as Noel went to Germany, and go and keep -house for Eric. -</p> - -<p> -She had been wondering how she was going to -bear her life after Noel left, she said. -</p> - -<p> -“If Eric really wants me, of course I’ll go. -I’m not a very good housekeeper, I’m afraid. -I’m so out of practice.” -</p> - -<p> -“It will be a change for him,” Madame Claire -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> -told her. “Louise is rather too good. She fusses. -And besides, Eric won’t be difficult. He has very -simple tastes.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think,” said Connie, “that from what I’ve -heard, I shall be a better hostess than his wife -has been.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m convinced of it,” answered Madame -Claire. -</p> - -<p> -When Connie had gone, she telephoned at once -to Eric, to tell him what she had done. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s so obviously the best thing all round,” -he agreed, “that I simply never thought of it. If -it suits Connie, it suits me.” -</p> - -<p> -“It suits Connie very well. But of course you’ll -say nothing to Louise. It will be time enough for -her to know when she’s settled comfortably at -Mistley.” -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter21" id="linkChapter21"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC21" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Two</span> -weeks later the following letter came from -Judy: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting">“Dearest Claire, -</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“This is the last letter I’ll write to you from -here, as I’m coming home so soon now. I wish -I could bring Stephen with me, but Miss McPherson -says he won’t be ready to travel for another -week or so, and of course I want to be back in -time to spend a few days with Noel before he -goes. But Stephen is wonderfully better and -quite light-hearted, and, at the prospect of seeing -you, light-headed. -</p> - -<p> -“Things have been happening here. Many -things. -</p> - -<p> -“In the first place we heard this morning that -a Count Somebody—our informant, Mr. Colebridge, -couldn’t remember the name—had been -found murdered on the Upper Corniche Road. -He says it was an Italian name, and he is going -to find out all he can about it. I’m almost certain -it will prove to be Chiozzi. He was so fearfully -jealous of that little dancer Mlle. Pauline. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> -I can quite imagine that he might have tried to -kill her and that she might have stabbed him in -self-defense. The body, they say—or Mr. Colebridge -says—was dropped from a motor. They -have a great way of hushing things up here, but -we will try to find out all about it. Won’t Connie -adore being a widow again? Of course you won’t -say anything to anybody yet, as it would be so -awfully disappointing if it should turn out to be -some one else. How callous I am! But if you -could have seen him——! -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Stephen and I have been seeing life, and -rolling about in Mr. Colebridge’s car. The man -won’t take no for an answer when it comes to -going out with him. Yesterday we went to the -most wonderful little town—Gourdon, its name -was—perched on top of a mountain, like an eagle, -and looking over the Mediterranean for endless -miles. I saw Italy, and I’m not at all sure I didn’t -see Africa. It was really the place of my dreams; -the town fifteenth century, I imagine. I was in -heaven there. I ran away from Mr. Colebridge -and looked over the edge alone—down into the -olive orchards. Not a sound but the cooing of -pigeons and the far away tinkle of mule bells. -And then Mr. C. came, with his cigar in his mouth -and his black coat on, and talked about running a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> -funicular up the mountain and having a first-class -hotel on the top. I couldn’t speak. Coming to -earth with such a bump as that was too much for -me. He mistook my silence for something else, -and when I saw him take off his hat and remove -his cigar from his mouth, I knew what was coming. -I’m afraid I was rather ruthless. If he hadn’t -called me ‘little girl’ I might have been kinder. -At any rate I fled back to Stephen who couldn’t -climb the hill leading to the town; and left Mr. -Colebridge gazing into space. Probably planning -where the funicular should go. No, that’s unfair. -Anyhow, I left him, and when he joined us -he was silent for once. I do like him, but marry -him—oh, no, no! He has made me fall in love -with all modest, shy men. With all poor, unlucky -men. With any one, in fact, who is sensitive and -perceptive. -</p> - -<p> -“Success isn’t attractive in itself. It has to be -offset by other attributes. It can’t be good for -any one to own as many things as Mr. Colebridge -owns. A railroad, endless shares in companies, -factories, businesses, even theaters—no, he isn’t -a Jew. He’s terrific. I should be just a thing to -hang clothes on. He doesn’t know anything -about me. I don’t believe he knows what color -my eyes are. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> -“He has helped me to make up my mind about -Major Crosby, who has written me several charming -letters. I’ve written him very nice ones in -return; as nice as I dared to write. And, oh, -Claire! What do you think Stephen means to -do? He means to settle something on me! I -don’t know exactly how much. But think of it! -So that I can marry a poor man or no one at all, -just as I like. I can be independent. I can’t -believe it yet. I think I shall marry Chip with -it, if what he tries not to say in his letters is true. -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. Colebridge is coming to London, about -the same time that I am. Business, he says. I -only hope he doesn’t take the same train. I’ve -been very definite, but his epidermis is thick. He -says he is anxious to meet you. One of the nice -things about him is that he admires Stephen. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-by, Claire. I will see you soon. Thanks -to you and to Stephen, I feel that life is just beginning -for <ins title="Remove double right quote after me">me.</ins> -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Devotedly,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Judy.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -Very satisfactory, thought Madame Claire. -No one wants gratitude—no one, except, perhaps, -a bully—but when one does get it, how it warms -the heart! -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> -Callous or not, she couldn’t help hoping, like -Judy, that the murdered Italian might prove to -be Connie’s entirely superfluous husband. No -other man, she felt, could so thoroughly deserve -to die such a death, if half the things Connie had -told of him were true. And Connie was not an -untruthful woman. He was too evil to live … -too evil to die, perhaps, but his fate in the next -world concerned her less than his activities in this. -</p> - -<p> -Then one more letter from Stephen—the last, -he said, from Cannes. “D.V.,” murmured Madame -Claire as she read the words. -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“You don’t know what you did for me when -you lent me Judy,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">he wrote.</span> -“She has grown -very dear to me, and I have persuaded her, I -think, to let me settle something on her. As I -pointed out to her, if you had married me, as -she often says you ought to have done, she would -have been, to all practical purposes, my granddaughter. -My wants are simple, and I have only -my niece Monica and Miss McPherson to think -of, and they are already arranged for. Judy has -given me an added interest in life, and as I tell -her, I feel I’m buying shares in the coming generation. -I have every faith in the company and -mean to be godfather to all the dividends. You -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> -see I am taking it for granted that she will marry -the fellow she ran over. If she doesn’t marry -him she will need some money of her own all the -more. The child says I have poured every good -gift into her lap! -</p> - -<p> -“Well, well, I wish I could come back with -her, but that tyrant McPherson says no. It will -not be long though, Claire, I promise you. I am -living on anticipation—unsatisfying fare. You -don’t suppose, do you, that I shall have to go -on living on it? You don’t suppose that anything -could happen to prevent it? What a worrying -old fool I am! Of course it can’t and won’t. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie is a widow! Perhaps this is not breaking -it gently, but personally I think it is excellent -news. Chiozzi died from a stab over the heart. -He was motoring from Cannes to Monte Carlo -at night along the Upper Corniche Road in Mlle. -Pauline’s car. That is all that is known. The -lady, her maid, her car and her chauffeur have -vanished. I think Judy prepared you for this. -Will you tell Connie? Perhaps she has already -heard through her solicitors in Paris. I don’t -think she will grieve. -</p> - -<p> -“I hope that a telegram to say I am leaving -will be the next word you receive from me. Pray -that it may. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“Yours,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> -</blockquote> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter22" id="linkChapter22"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC22" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Judy</span> -reached London at ten o’clock one night, -tired but in the best of spirits. She felt that she -was returning, thanks to Stephen, to a new life. -Eaton Square no longer seemed to her a prison. -Money had opened the doors of that solemn -house. Millie’s powers of suppression and repression -had been lessened. Noel’s departure for -Germany no longer hung over her like a tragedy. -What was there to prevent her going to see him -half way through that interminable year? -</p> - -<p> -She felt that she had never appreciated money -before. It cut binding ropes like a knife. It gave -one seven league boots. A pair of wings, too. -People who belittled its powers were either hypocrites -or fools. Why did old people prefer to -make young people glad when they were dead -instead of glad while they were alive? -</p> - -<p> -After helping to disentangle her luggage, Noel -took her back to the dark house in Eaton Square. -A light had been left burning half way up the -stairs, but Millie, as a protest against this trip -that she had never approved of—“It isn’t as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> -though Mr. de Lisle were a relation,” she had -frequently said—had gone early to bed, followed -by her obedient John. -</p> - -<p> -The two crept up to Judy’s room and talked -until nearly two. Noel heard all about Cannes -and about the people she had met there, including -Mr. Colebridge, whom he at once decided he -wanted to know. -</p> - -<p> -“He’s coming to London in a few days,” said -Judy, “so your wish may be granted.” -</p> - -<p> -Finally he consented to talk about himself. -He had heard that afternoon that their departure -had been postponed and that they were not leaving -for a week—he and his chief with the ridiculous -name. He thought he was going to like the -job, and it was wonderful how his German was -beginning to come back to him at the very thought -of the journey. -</p> - -<p> -“The only drawback to the whole thing,” he -said, “is the feeling that I’m leaving you to fight -your battles alone.” -</p> - -<p> -That was the moment she had waited for. She -told him why she was not utterly dashed to earth -by his going. His delight was equal to her own. -</p> - -<p> -“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Stephen’s an old -sportsman! I wish there were more like him. -I can hardly wait to tell him what I think of him. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> -Judy, with an income of her own! What will you -do with it besides coming to see me?” -</p> - -<p> -She hesitated, and then said flushing but meeting -his eyes courageously: -</p> - -<p> -“I’m thinking of marrying Chip with it, -Noel.” -</p> - -<p> -He wasn’t altogether astonished, nor did he -pretend to be; but although he had discussed that -possibility with her more or less seriously before, -he felt he ought now point out its very obvious -drawbacks. It would mean an arduous life, with -few pleasures. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m almost afraid to encourage you to do it, -old girl,” he said. “Only I like him so much. -He may be a dreamer, and he may be unpractical, -and that book of his may not be worth the paper -it’s written on, for all I know. But I do know -that he’s one of the very best fellows I ever met. -One of the very best. And he’s hard hit.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s awful—this deciding,” said Judy. “That’s -where Claire and Stephen have the advantage of -us. They can just live from day to day and take -what the gods bring. And if they don’t bring -anything—well, they’ve lived. But this not knowing -what to do with your life—this trying to -make the most of it and not knowing how—it’s -hell, sometimes.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> -“Poor old Judy! ‘Standing with reluctant -feet——’ Is that it? But I know what you -mean.” -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me,” she said, “are you sure, are you -absolutely sure that Chip——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is hard hit? Good Lord! A baby could have -seen it. All the same you’ll have your work cut -out for you. He’s so terribly modest. He doesn’t -seem to think that you or any other woman would -give him a thought.” -</p> - -<p> -Later she remembered that she had news for -him, and wondered how she could have forgotten -it. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel, I meant to have told you before. About -Chiozzi. You haven’t heard, have you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Chiozzi? No. What about him?” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s dead. He was stabbed—by that pretty -dancer, Mlle. Pauline, they think.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel looked concerned. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s the worst news I’ve heard in a long -time.” -</p> - -<p> -“The worst? What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s most upsetting, in fact. Connie told me -the other day that Petrovitch’s second wife, an -American, had just divorced him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well? I’m not surprised at that.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> -“Well, don’t you see? She’ll marry Petrovitch -now, and be miserable forever after.” -</p> - -<p> -“Marry him?” Judy was incredulous. “She -wouldn’t be such a fool.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ho! Wouldn’t she? You don’t know your -Aunt Constance as well as I do. And I won’t -be here to prevent it. Hang it all! I wish -Chiozzi hadn’t got himself done in just now.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s not tell her,” suggested Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s no good. She’s probably heard from -her solicitors in Paris already. I haven’t seen -her for two or three days. She’s at Eastbourne -and won’t be back till the day after to-morrow. -What’s to be done now, I wonder? I never -guessed that a fallen aunt would be such a responsibility.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” said Judy, “suppose she does marry -Petrovitch. Wouldn’t that be a solution, in a -way?” -</p> - -<p> -Noel’s jaw looked uncompromisingly firm at -that moment. -</p> - -<p> -“Not in the way I would like. Connie’s a fool, -but she’s not bad. Petrovitch is a brute. If she -marries him she’s done for, for good.” -</p> - -<p> -“Leave it to Claire. She’ll find a way to stop -it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, she won’t. She can’t. I’ve got more -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> -influence with Connie than anybody, but if she -sees a chance of marrying Petrovitch she won’t -listen to me, even.” -</p> - -<p> -He sat for a moment lost in thought, then -looked at his watch. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, this wants thinking out. Get to bed, -Judy. You’re dead tired. I hope they’re pleasant -to you at breakfast. They seemed to think -you had no right to go away and enjoy yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -“What will they say when they hear I’ve accepted -this settlement from Stephen?” -</p> - -<p> -“You leave them to me,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -Judy kissed him. -</p> - -<p> -“Good night, you wonderfullest of brothers!” -</p> - -<p class="tb hide">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -Three days later, Judy was at Madame Claire’s -when Mr. Colebridge was announced. -</p> - -<p> -“I knew he’d come,” she whispered. -</p> - -<p> -He came, looking exactly as he had looked at -Cannes. His heavy and rather expressionless -face never lost its look of solemn imperturbability. -No smile disturbed his features at sight -of Judy, though he could not have known he -would meet her there. Madame Claire extended -a hand with lace at the wrist. -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. Colebridge! How nice of you to come -and see an old lady! I’ve heard so much about -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> -you from Mr. de Lisle and my granddaughter -that I feel I know you quite well.” -</p> - -<p> -He took her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s real kind of you to welcome me like this.” -He turned to Judy. “Well, Miss Pendleton, I’m -glad to see you got here safe and sound. Cannes -seemed sorter dead after you left it, so I made -up my mind to pull up stakes and quit.” -</p> - -<p> -“But you had to come on business,” she reminded -him. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s so. There’s a lot of different kinds -of business. Seems as if I kinder knew you too, -Lady Gregory. Say, I’m just cracked about that -old Mr. de Lisle. He sure is a fine old gentleman.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think he’s rather nice,” agreed Madame -Claire. “You saw him the most recently. Tell -us how he was?” -</p> - -<p> -“Just living for the day when he can get back -here. But improving right along. I said to him, -‘Mr. de Lisle,’ I said, ‘I guess you’ll pine away if -you don’t get to London soon.’ And that’s just -what he’d do. He’d pine away. Mind if I smoke -a cigar, Lady Gregory?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no. Do smoke. You were very kind to -him and to Judy there. She’s told me about the -delightful trips you took.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> -“Well, say, it was a pleasure. I don’t take -much stock in scenery. I like to have folks to -talk to. Maybe we can take some rides around -London later on, Miss Pendleton.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy was surprised. Surely she had made herself -clear. Or was it that he merely wished -to continue friendly relations? She replied evasively, -and Madame Claire changed the subject -for her. -</p> - -<p> -“How long will you be in London?” she asked. -</p> - -<p> -“A matter of six months or so, I shouldn’t -wonder. I’m not figuring on going back just yet. -We’ve got some factories over here that I want -to look into, and I may run over to Paris later -on.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know London at all?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, but my chauffeur does, so I don’t worry. -I picked up an English chauffeur in Cannes, Miss -Pendleton. The French fellow I had wouldn’t -leave his wife and family, and anyway, he didn’t -speak any language that I could understand. But -with this English chauffeur, if I listen real carefully, -I can pick up a word now and then.” -</p> - -<p> -They laughed at this. Madame Claire felt -that she was going to enjoy Mr. Colebridge. -</p> - -<p> -“You seem to be interested in a great many -things,” she remarked presently. “Didn’t I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> -understand Judy to say that the theater was one -of <ins title="Change single right quote to double right quote after them?">them?”</ins> -</p> - -<p> -“Only from a business point of view,” he explained. -“I don’t claim to know anything about -the stage. But when I see that a certain theater -is about to go smash because it’s been managed -by a lot of bone-heads, why, I don’t mind lending -a hand. I practically own one in New York, and -one in Cincinnati. There’s another one in New -York that looks like getting into difficulties pretty -soon.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! And then you step in. But does that -mean that you can put on certain plays, and have -an actual voice in the production of them?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I don’t concern myself much with that -side of it. I don’t know a good play from a bad -one. I like a good lively show now and then. -But if I wanted a certain play put on, I’d get it -put on, all right.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy wondered why it was that financial weight -and an understanding of the arts so seldom went -hand in hand. Madame Claire pursued a line of -thought of her own for a moment or two while -Mr. Colebridge enlarged upon his powers. -</p> - -<p> -And then, most unexpectedly, Dawson opened -the door and announced Major Crosby. -</p> - -<p> -How strange that those two men should meet, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> -thought Judy! She remembered telling Claire -in one of her letters that it was impossible to -imagine two men less alike. And now that she -saw them together she knew that what she had -said was true. -</p> - -<p> -Major Crosby was introduced to Mr. Colebridge, -who was pleased to make his acquaintance, -and Madame Claire ordered tea. -</p> - -<p> -“This is a wonderful afternoon for me,” she -said. “I don’t often have so many visitors. It’s -very exciting.” -</p> - -<p> -It didn’t take Chip more than a second or two -to place the other caller. Judy had mentioned -an American she had met in Cannes, and lo! -Here he was. She had only been home two or -three days. He hadn’t waited very long before -following after. Judy tried to talk to him, but -Mr. Colebridge had the floor and meant to keep -it. Chip retired into his shell—that haven of -refuge from which he seldom advanced very far -in company—and contented himself with looking -and listening. He looked chiefly at Judy. She -was looking very lovely, he thought. No wonder -that people followed her from Cannes to London. -Powerful, authoritative-looking people, who -booked large outside cabins on ocean liners as a -matter of course, and always gravitated to the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> -most expensive hotels. What a fool he had been! -This man could give her everything. Why not, as -he seemed to own it? What was he saying? -</p> - -<p> -“So I told them I wasn’t having any. I told -them I had all the irons in the fire I wanted. It -was a good thing all right, but say, what’s the -good of any more money to me? I’ve got all I -want right now. And if I ever do make any more, -it will be just to turn it over to my wife if I’ve -got one”—he looked straight at Judy as he said -it—“and say, ‘There you are. It’s yours to do as -you like with. Throw it away, spend it, it’s all -the same to me. So long as you have a good -time with it, and it makes you happy.’” -</p> - -<p> -“And of course it will,” said Judy with faint -sarcasm. -</p> - -<p> -“Sure it will,” he agreed, taking her words -at their face value. “I guess it’s what every -woman wants. Isn’t that so, Lady Gregory?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire regarded him seriously. -</p> - -<p> -“You never can tell, Mr. Colebridge,” she said. -“Women are the most unaccountable creatures. -Sometimes it takes more than money to make -them happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, well,” Mr. Colebridge defended the sex, -“when it comes to unreasonableness, I guess men -aren’t all reasonable either.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> -Judy glanced at Chip, hoping to catch a twinkle -of amusement in his eye, but he was looking at -Mr. Colebridge. -</p> - -<p> -Chip stayed for an hour or more, saying very -little, seeming to prefer listening to talking. -</p> - -<p> -“You make me such very short visits,” complained -Madame Claire when he got up to go. -“I hardly have time to say five words to you before -you’re off again. But perhaps you’ll pay me -another visit soon.” -</p> - -<p> -“My plans are rather unsettled just now,” said -Chip vaguely. “May I ring you up one day?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, do.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned to Judy. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me,” she asked as she took his hand, -“are you <ins title="Change prefectly to perfectly">perfectly</ins> -well again? No more of -those headaches?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, yes, I’m as well as ever, thank you. I’ve -almost forgotten that it ever happened—I mean -as far as the injuries are concerned.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy smiled at him, sorry because she knew he -felt he had said something stupid. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel wants to see you, too. We must meet -again soon.” -</p> - -<p> -“I want to see him. I’ll write. It’s just possible -that I may go away soon, but I’ll let you -know.” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> -He said good-by to Mr. Colebridge, who shook -him by the hand, and in a moment he was gone. -</p> - -<p> -“Could anything,” Judy asked herself, “be -more unsatisfactory?” -</p> - -<p> -She stayed half an hour longer, hoping for a -few words alone with Madame Claire, but as Mr. -Colebridge made no move she presently got up -to go. -</p> - -<p> -“Good-by, Claire, dear. Let me know the -moment you get a wire from Stephen.” -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Colebridge also rose. -</p> - -<p> -“My car’s outside,” he said. “I trust you’ll -allow me to drop you at your home, Miss Pendleton.” -</p> - -<p> -She was about to refuse on the grounds that -she wanted a walk, but thought better of it. It -would be a good opportunity for a few words -with him. She kissed Madame Claire, and Mr. -Colebridge, after announcing his intention of -coming again soon, followed her out. -</p> - -<p> -The same car, a different chauffeur, and very -different surroundings. Mr. Colebridge, however, -was as unchanged as his car. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s a lovely old lady,” he remarked as -they left the hotel. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t she wonderful?” -</p> - -<p> -“I hope,” he said, “that we can sorter meet -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> -there often. I don’t mind telling you, Miss Pendleton, -that when I say I’m here on business, that -business is partly you. I don’t get easily cast -down. I kinder bob up again. Now,” he went -on as she tried to interrupt, “I hope, little girl, -that you’re going to reconsider. I’m here to try -to persuade you to reconsider.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s quite out of the question, Mr. Colebridge. -I told you so before. Do, please, believe me this -time.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s that voice of yours that gets me,” he -replied. “You’d make a hit in America, all -right.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re hopeless!” she exclaimed. “I simply -don’t understand American men. But perhaps -they’re not all like you. You won’t <em>learn</em> anything! -It’s like … it’s like trying to teach an -elephant to dance.” -</p> - -<p> -“Go ahead. Don’t mind me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very well, I will. The trouble with you is, -you’ve no diffidence. You’ve never tried to see -yourself as others see you. You’re just Mr. -Whitman Colebridge of Cincinnati—wherever -that is—and you’re worth I don’t know and don’t -care how much, and as far as you’re concerned, -that’s enough. You’ve never asked yourself if -you lack anything. You’re perfectly satisfied with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> -yourself as you are. Perfectly. Isn’t that true?” -</p> - -<p> -He considered this, studying the end of a fresh -cigar. -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t see,” he said, “that I’m any worse -than the general run.” -</p> - -<p> -“No. You don’t see. You don’t see anything -that isn’t business. You’ve gone through life like -a rocket, with a good deal of noise and a lot of -speed, and that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, there’s no harm in a rocket,” he said -easily. “It gives people something to look at, -and it’s real pretty when it bursts.” -</p> - -<p> -Judy laughed helplessly. -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps if you’d do the same I might like -you better. But at present you’re so swollen with -success that you’re intolerable.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bully for you! That was straight from the -shoulder.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what’s the good of it? It goes in one -ear and out the other. Well, here’s something -that will stick, perhaps. You met a Major Crosby -at my grandmother’s this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“That his name? Quiet sorter fellow.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. I’m going to marry him.” -</p> - -<p> -She watched his face and saw that not a muscle -of it changed. -</p> - -<p> -“That so? I guessed there must be some one. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> -Well, you won’t hear me squeal. You’ve been -fair and square with me, and I guess I can take -my medicine.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now I’m beginning to like you better. I’ve -liked some things about you all the time, even -when you irritated me most. I’m sorry we can’t -be friends, but I see that’s out of the question -too.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not so sure. I’ll just stick around for -a while and see what happens, anyhow. You’re -the first woman who’s ever taken enough interest -in me to criticize me, and I think it’s a hopeful -sign. You engaged to that fellow?” -</p> - -<p> -They had reached the house in Eaton Square. -</p> - -<p> -“That,” she said, shaking hands with him, “I -prefer not to say.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, well,” he answered, returning to the car, -“I just kinder thought I’d ask.” -</p> - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter23" id="linkChapter23"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC23" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Judy</span> -knocked on Noel’s bedroom door before -dinner the following evening, and was invited to -enter. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s up?” asked Noel, who was sorting -ties and socks. -</p> - -<p> -“This,” she answered, displaying a letter. -“The most disgusting thing’s happened.” -</p> - -<p> -“What is it? It looks like Chip’s writing.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is. I told you he called on Claire yesterday -when I was there, and met Mr. Colebridge.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, he seems to have jumped to conclusions. -Listen to this. I’ll read it to you. -</p> - - -<blockquote> -<p class="greeting">“‘Dear Miss Pendleton,</p> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p class="epubmaker-bquote-hack1"> -“‘I think I told you about a cottage my -mother owned in Cornwall. It’s a very remote, -quiet little place, and I’ve found it very useful at -different times. I think it will exactly suit my -present mood, and I’m going down there by an -early train to-morrow. I hope to be able to finish -the book there. I don’t seem to have been able to -get on with it lately. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> -“‘I want to thank you again for all your kindness -to me, kindness that few people would have -shown to a careless individual who got in the -way of their car. I shall never forget it. There -was a time——’ -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -“Then,” she broke off, “he goes on to say -something about having been foolish enough to -hope something or other—I’ll skip that. Then: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“‘I think that your days of freedom and happiness -are just beginning, and I hope with all my -heart that you may find in your marriage all that -you have so far missed in life. You will be marrying -a man who can give you everything—all the -good things that are so obviously yours by right. -</p> - -<p> -“‘Will you say good-by to your brother for -me? He has given me his address in Germany, -and I mean to write to him there. -</p> - -<p> -“‘This is a stupid, stilted letter, but I feel confident -that you will understand the much that it -fails to say, and forgive it its shortcomings. -</p> -</div> - -<p class="complimentary-closing">“‘Always yours sincerely,</p> -<p class="closing-signature">“‘Andrew Crosby.<ins -title="change closing right double quote to a single quote">’</ins></p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -“Dated yesterday,” she added. She put the -letter back into its envelope. “He must have -left for Cornwall early this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel whistled. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> -“Mr. Colebridge must have been a bit forthcoming -yesterday.” -</p> - -<p> -“Forthcoming isn’t the word for it. He talked -about the money he would give his wife, and -looked straight at me—oh, isn’t it maddening! -I wouldn’t have had this happen for anything!” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you told Claire?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. I took the letter there as soon as it -came.” -</p> - -<p> -“What did she say?” -</p> - -<p> -“A good deal, but I don’t see how I can possibly -act on her advice. She says that if I don’t -go to Cornwall and straighten things out with -him, I’m a fool. She has a horror of misunderstandings. -She begged me to go.” -</p> - -<p> -“But, hang it all! You can’t go alone. If it -weren’t for this German trip, I——” He broke -off, frowning. “So she thinks you ought to go -down there?“ -</p> - -<p> -“She was most emphatic about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let’s see—what day is to-day? By Jove, -Judy! There’s time if we go to-morrow. What -do you say? Shall we?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Noel! I don’t know what to say. I do -want to talk to him. I couldn’t write anything—that -would mean anything. I’d have to see -him. What do you think?” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> -“I think old Claire’s pretty generally right.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then—shall we go?” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m ready if you are,” he replied. “I’d like -to see old Chip again myself. It means the ten-thirty -from Paddington, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“What will the family say?” Judy asked him. -“Oh, well, let them say it! I knew I could count -on you, Noel!” -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -Once in the swift and inexorable train, Judy -was assailed with doubts. What was she doing? -Should she have let things take their own course? -Would it have been wiser to have stayed at home, -and to have written Chip a letter? -</p> - -<p> -Noel, observing her restlessness and guessing -the cause, told her he had won five pounds at -bridge the day before, and that if she wanted to -pull the emergency cord and get out, he’d pay. -But when she asked him point blank, “Tell me, -do you think I’m acting like a fool?” he replied, -“No, like a human being,” and she felt calmer -then and read her magazine. -</p> - -<p> -But panic overwhelmed her once more in the -jolting Ford with flapping side curtains that took -them from the inn in West Perranpool to Cliff -Cottage, where Chip lived. -</p> - -<p> -“Why did we come?” she cried. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> -“Because,” said Noel, the comforter, “I wanted -to see Chip again before I went to Germany, -and I brought you with me. And besides, I saw -his doctor again the other day, and he said that -what Chip needed more than anything was cheering -up. He said he’d been rather depressed since -the accident. So stop agonizing about it.” -</p> - -<p> -She stopped agonizing after that, and watched -the thin rain of early spring that slanted steadily -down from a darkening sky. The bleak landscape -had a peculiar charm. So, too, had the lonely, -white cottages they passed, their undrawn curtains -showing fiery painted walls, for dusk was -upon them. They climbed a little hill and pulled -up sharply at the door of a low house that looked -at the sea from its dormer windows. Lights -burned there, too. The driver of the Ford had -assured them that Major Crosby would be in, -because, he said, there was never anything to go -out for. They told him to wait, and knocked -at the door. -</p> - -<p> -Chip opened it himself. It was just dark -enough to make it difficult for him to recognize -them, but when he did he was almost overcome -with surprise and pleasure. He stammered. He -shook hands twice over. He shut the door too -quickly behind them—as though, Judy thought, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> -he were afraid they might go out again—and -caught her skirt in it, at which they all laughed. -He pushed every chair in the room toward the -fire, as if they were capable of sitting in more -than one apiece. -</p> - -<p> -“This is glorious!” he cried. “I can hardly -believe it! I never dreamed of it. You must -stay to supper. No, I’m not my own cook; I’d -starve if I were. There’s a Cornish char here -somewhere. I’ll tell her.” -</p> - -<p> -He rushed off, and they heard him giving excited -and confused directions in the kitchen. Then -he rushed back. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m going to send the car away. It’s only a -mile to the inn. I’ll walk back with you after -supper. You’re angels from heaven, both of you. -There’s only fish and eggs and cheese. Can you -bear that?” -</p> - -<p> -Judy saw a new Chip—a happy, hopeful one. -Excitement and wholly unexpected pleasure gave -him confidence. He asked a hundred questions. -He made Judy take off her hat and coat and carried -them away into his room. He replenished -the fire and hurled into it some papers that had -been lying on the table. -</p> - -<p> -“I was trying to write a letter,” he explained. -Judy thought she saw her name on a blackening -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> -sheet before it puffed into flame. Another letter, -to her? Was he dissatisfied, perhaps, with the -letter he had written her before leaving London? -How little he had guessed, while writing it, that -he would be interrupted half way through it, and -by her. His eyes shone, and his undisciplined -hair stood up at the back like a schoolboy’s. He -didn’t know or care. He was happy. -</p> - -<p> -There in that cottage room, Judy felt the influence -of the woman who had furnished it. She -had put into it all the little personal odds and -ends that she had loved. There was her work -table, there her favorite chair. There was the -writing table where she had sat penning the novels -that had educated her son. Novels, Chip had -said, that she would have hated. But he was -wrong. There, on the mantelpiece with its -tasseled, red velvet draping, were pictures of Chip -as a baby, as a schoolboy, as a youth at Sandhurst, -where he had acquired that absurd nickname -of his, and as a First Lieutenant about to -take his part in the South African war, from -which campaign he had returned to find her gone. -He had left everything as she had left it, and -Judy was disposed to love him for it. Books -were scattered about the room, and it had the air -of being much lived in and much worked in. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> -It was easy enough for him to talk to-day. His -reserve seemed to have melted away from him. -Had he heard anything more from Helen about -meeting influential people, Judy asked? No, he -hadn’t. She had forgotten all about it, no doubt. -He was rather relieved that she had. -</p> - -<p> -“People have no time for failures,” Chip said, -“and quite right too. A man who has reached -the age of forty-four without accomplishing anything -is a failure.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s tosh!” said Noel. “Every one’s a -failure at some time of their lives. The thing -is to see that it isn’t chronic.” -</p> - -<p> -The old Cornish woman came in and laid the -table for supper, bringing with her an extra lamp. -She seemed very pleased that the Major had -company, and looked approvingly at Judy. They -sat down presently to a savory meal, and she -waited on them with enthusiasm, putting in a -word now and then. -</p> - -<p> -Chip talked of the country round about. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s beautiful,” he said, “if you happen to -like these rather bleak and open places. I do, -myself.” -</p> - -<p> -“So do I,” agreed Judy. “But I love trees, -too; although I think treeless places are better -for one. I always imagine I can think better -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> -where there aren’t many trees. Perhaps they have -thoughts of their own, and they get mixed up with -our thoughts.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, one can think here,” Chip said. “There -are some fine walks, too. I’ll take you for a walk -over the cliffs to-morrow, if it’s not too cold and -windy.” -</p> - -<p> -“We’ll come over after breakfast,” said Noel. -“You might walk half way and meet us, Chip.” -</p> - -<p> -“Right!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm. “I’ll -start out at about half-past nine.” -</p> - -<p> -After supper they sat by the fire and talked -until Judy grew so sleepy that she said she’d -never be able to get to the inn if they didn’t start -at once. -</p> - -<p> -When they went out they found it had stopped -raining, but there was a high wind blowing. It -roared high up over their heads most of the time, -every now and then swooping down upon them -and shaking their clothes, then going crazily off -to roar above their heads again. The moon -looked out occasionally through gaps in the flying -clouds. A wild night that made the blood go -faster. The road was rough and stony and in -order to be guided better, Judy passed one arm -through Chip’s and the other through Noel’s, and -they walked abreast. She felt Chip straighten -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> -suddenly when she put her arm through his, and -for some moments he walked without speaking, -holding her arm rigidly as though he were abnormally -conscious of her touch. -</p> - -<p> -He said good night to them at the door of the -inn—a mere whitewashed cottage, much added -on to—and Judy marveled at the change in his -face when the light fell on it from the open door—the -change wrought in it by a few hours of -happiness. It seemed to her that it was a different -being who had stared out at them from his -own door earlier that evening. -</p> - -<p> -“Good night,” he said for the third time. “I -won’t try to thank you for coming. I can’t.” -</p> - -<p> -And he vanished abruptly into the darkness. -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - -<p> -“The question before the house,” said Noel -the next morning at breakfast, “is this: how am -I going to lose myself to-day?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, no!” cried Judy in a panic at the thought. -“You’re not to, Noel. Please don’t leave me. -I’ve quite changed my mind. I think it’s much -better to let things take their own course.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right, let them,” he agreed. “All I mean -to do is to clear the course a bit. It’s going to be -rather difficult. I think I’d better leave it to the -inspiration of the moment.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> -He said no more about it, and promptly at -half-past nine they left the inn together and made -their way toward Cliff Cottage. They had gone -less than half way, however, when they met Chip -walking toward them with long strides. -</p> - -<p> -“Good morning!” he called out. “Did you -sleep well?” -</p> - -<p> -“We never slept better,” answered Judy, “and -I feel as if I could walk twenty miles.” -</p> - -<p> -“So do I,” said Noel, “but all the walking I -shall do this morning will be to the post office -and back.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” exclaimed the other two. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s my own fault. I never sent the Chief -word that I wouldn’t be in town to-day. Clean -forgot it. I’ll send him a wire to say what time -I’ll be back to-morrow. Then I must write one -or two letters I won’t have another chance to -write before I go off on Thursday. Anyhow, I’ll -meet you at the inn at one. You’re lunching -with us to-day, Chip. Well,” as he turned to -leave them, “have a good walk. So long!” -</p> - -<p> -They stood watching his thin, upright figure. -That empty sleeve of his, tucked into the pocket -of his coat, did not affect his easy, swinging walk. -He ignored it himself so utterly that he made -other people ignore it too. They waited until he -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> -looked back and waved at them, and then they -started on their way. -</p> - -<p> -“I almost believed him myself,” thought Judy, -admiring the ease with which he had taken himself -off. -</p> - -<p> -“Your brother Noel,” said Chip, “is the best -fellow I’ve ever known.” -</p> - -<p> -Appreciation of Noel always touched Judy to -the quick. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t know how that pleases me!” she -cried. “I’m so glad you feel that. There’s no -one like him.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are like him,” said Chip quietly. -</p> - -<p> -“I wish I were more like him.” -</p> - -<p> -For a while they walked on without speaking. -</p> - -<p> -“Chip,” said Judy at last, “I’m going to call -you that. I have for a long time in my own -mind and to Noel. Please treat me like an old -friend and tell me about yourself and your plans. -Don’t let’s be reserved with each other. There’s -so much I want to know about you. I promise -you there’s nothing I would hesitate to tell you -about myself, and I wish you would feel that -you could discuss anything with me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will,” he replied. “I do.” -</p> - -<p> -They still had with them the high wind of the -night before. It was fresh and bracing, but not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> -cold, and it carried with it a smell of the sea and -of the turf, wet with yesterday’s rain. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me, then. What do you mean to do -now?” -</p> - -<p> -“Finish the book, first of all. Beyond that -I’ve no plans at all. The worst of it is, I’ve -rather lost faith in it lately. I suppose one is -apt to feel like that, after working on a thing -for twelve years. Now that it’s nearly done, I -want to chuck the whole blessed thing into the -fire. It would give me a queer sort of satisfaction -to see it burn. Remorse and despair would follow, -of course.” -</p> - -<p> -“Kindly resist any such impulse,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I shan’t give in to it, I promise you.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s all wrong for you to live alone as you -do,” Judy told him. “Only people who are very -socially inclined ought to live alone, for they’d -take good care not to be alone any more than -they could help. I think loneliness is paralyzing.” -</p> - -<p> -“I believe it is,” he agreed. -</p> - -<p> -“Very well then. You must stop living this -hermit’s life.” -</p> - -<p> -“That,” he said smiling, “isn’t as easy as it -sounds.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s fairly easy, I think. You must marry.” -</p> - -<p> -Chip had no reply to make to that for some -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> -time. They walked on, along a path that bordered -the turfy cliff. The sea, its grayness -whipped by the wind into lines of white foam -that advanced and retreated, was worrying the -rocks below them. Gulls flashed silver white -against a low and frowning sky. The day suited -her mood. She felt bold, braced by the wind and -the sea. The high cliffs gave her courage. The -space gave her freedom. -</p> - -<p> -“For that,” Chip said at last, “two things are -necessary. The first is love; the second is the -means to keep that love from perishing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Once you possess the first,” said Judy, “you -have more power to gain the second.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I don’t possess it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you mean that you have never loved any -one?” -</p> - -<p> -“I mean that no one does or could care for me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish you hadn’t said that,” she told him, -turning her head to meet his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“Why? It’s the truth.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it isn’t the truth. Besides, no man ought -to be as humble as that. It’s all wrong. You -have never tried to make any one love you. Have -you?” -</p> - -<p> -“No.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then how can you possibly know?” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> -“I have no right to try.” -</p> - -<p> -“As much right as any other man. More than -most.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no! You don’t understand. You’re forgetting -that——” -</p> - -<p> -“I wonder,” interrupted Judy, “how many -other men and women have had this same argument? -The woman putting love first, the man -money. Or vice versa. You, evidently, put money -first.” -</p> - -<p> -This was more than he could bear. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t say that!” he broke out. “Say that -I put love first, every time, and that I would -sacrifice everything for it and to it, rather than -do it less than justice. A man has no right to -snatch at love, regardless of the consequences. -To put it first is sometimes the supremest selfishness. -It’s putting oneself first, one’s own gain -and good first.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’re perfectly right, Chip,” she answered. -“I know you’re right. Only, if by putting it first -you were adding to some one else’s happiness … -instead of taking away from it …” -</p> - -<p> -She saw his lips tighten. -</p> - -<p> -“I am only hurting him,” she thought. “It -would be better to speak out.” -</p> - -<p> -“Chip,” she said at last, “I want to talk to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> -you about your letter. The one you wrote before -coming down here. You evidently took it for -granted I was going to marry Mr. Colebridge, -and that soon. Don’t you think you rather jumped -to conclusions? Because I’ve no intention of marrying -Mr. Colebridge, now or later. What made -you think I had?” -</p> - -<p> -“He did.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, there he was—rich, successful, influential. -A man of standing and power … and in -love with you … as any one could see. He -had followed you from the South of France … -you were together at Lady Gregory’s … it all -seemed so perfectly natural … and suitable …” -</p> - -<p> -“You think it would have been suitable?” -</p> - -<p> -“From a worldly point of view, yes. Though -I prefer not to say what was going on in my -mind.…” -</p> - -<p> -“And you think my point of view is a wholly -worldly one?” -</p> - -<p> -“I never said that!” -</p> - -<p> -“You practically did. You must have thought -it. I thought you knew me better than that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I saw no reason to suppose that you would -have chosen him merely from worldly motives. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> -I judged him to be kind, generous, honest—a -man a woman might be very fond of——” -</p> - -<p> -“What sort of a woman? My sort?” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t argue about it. I accepted it. There -it was. I believed you had decided to marry him. -I knew that if you had done so, you must have -had good reasons for it. I was prepared to believe -you were acting for … for the best.” -</p> - -<p> -“What else was going on in your mind as you -sat there? You were very quiet.” -</p> - -<p> -“I would rather not say.” -</p> - -<p> -“You understand that I am not going to marry -him?” -</p> - -<p> -“I do, and I—selfishly and unreasonably—I -can’t help being thankful. That’s only human, I -suppose. But even if I had known it that day, -I think I would have made up my mind to come -here just the same.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you must know why.” -</p> - -<p> -Very gently and quietly said. One might speak -so to a child who asks foolish and tactless questions. -Oh, Claire! It’s all very well, thought -Judy, to say, have it out with him, but what would -you do yourself, if you were gently put aside like -that, and chidden a little? “I think you must -know why.” As if to say, “And now let’s hear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> -no more about it.” Claire had spoken as if it -were going to be the easiest thing in the world -to have it out with him!… -</p> - -<p> -They rounded a curve in the path then and -Judy cried out at the beauty of the view. Far -below them the sea pounded and foamed. The -cliffs fell away with a sheer drop that gave her -an uneasy sensation of falling, for an instant, and -the wind buffeted them with such violence that -Chip took her by the arm and drew her back from -the path that ran dangerously close to the edge. -For a moment, speech was impossible. -</p> - -<p> -“Can’t we sit somewhere,” she cried, when -she could get her breath, “out of the wind?” -</p> - -<p> -He pointed to a great bowlder that overhung -the path a dozen yards ahead, and they struggled -toward it and crept into its shelter. There the -wind rushed by them but did not disturb them. -</p> - -<p> -“That’s better,” she said. “I can talk now -without shouting.” -</p> - -<p> -“And I can smoke,” said Chip, filling a pipe, -“which is a great help.” -</p> - -<p> -“I said a few minutes ago,” she told him -quietly, “that there was nothing I would hesitate -to tell you about myself. I mean to prove, now, -that I’m as good as my word. I can’t see that -we gain anything by … not speaking out to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> -each other. We’re both very inclined to be reserved, -and to-day … to-day that sort of thing -seems to me very petty and artificial.” -</p> - -<p> -He turned and looked at her, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“You could never be either petty or artificial.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I could. I have been. But I don’t mean -to be so with you. What will you think of me, -Chip, if I tell you that I know … yes, I know … -that you need me … badly, and that I believe -… I know … that I need you.” -</p> - -<p> -Her voice was unsteady, in spite of her courage. -</p> - -<p> -“I think,” he answered in a low voice, “that -it is your divine kindness that makes you say that -to me. I think you say it because you know well -enough that there’s nothing on earth I would -rather hear.” -</p> - -<p> -But he did not dare to look at her, and stared -out at the sea with his pipe between his teeth. -</p> - -<p> -Judy laughed. A rather helpless laugh, with -something of exasperation in it. -</p> - -<p> -“Kindness! Oh, no. It’s not that at all. I’ll -tell you what it is. I’m telling you this because -I’m one of those women who are possessed of an -insatiable vanity. I’m trying to make you say -things of the same sort to me. I exact it from -every man. I like being made love to, on general -principles. I took the trouble to come down to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> -Cornwall to see you because I hoped to sit with -you under this rock and be made love to. Do -you believe me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not in the least.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it’s quite as true as that I said what I -did just now out of kindness. Kindness! I … -I could shake you!” -</p> - -<p> -His face was very troubled. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you see that I cannot—I dare not—put -any other interpretation on it? You still feel -an interest in the man who nearly fell under -your wheels that night. You want to know that -he is not … not too unhappy. You want to -leave him feeling that he can count on your friendship—and -he does, and will. And that is all. It -is a great deal.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you are the most annoying, insulting, -irritating of men! I don’t know why I came all -this way to see you and talk to you … except -that I had to, Chip. Do you hear me? I had to!” -</p> - -<p> -“Judy,” he said, looking at her with eyes that -seemed not to see her, “I am perfectly certain -of one thing. And that is, that if by some miracle -you could, that you must not … you must not … -care for me. But you cannot, you cannot!” -</p> - -<p> -He put out his hand toward her, gropingly, -and she took it. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> -“And I am equally certain of one thing, and -that is that you care for me. And I tell you, -Chip, I don’t care twopence for your self-respect, -or whatever you call it, that you think so much of. -And I care even less for my own, at the moment. -And I am tired of your loneliness—your awful -loneliness—and I am tired to death of my own -loneliness. And I am tired of hearing you call -yourself a failure, and I am frightened of being -a failure myself—and only you can save me from -it. Only you! And if you talk any more nonsense -about my kindness now …” -</p> - -<p> -“Judy!” he cried, in a voice that was like a -warning. “Judy!” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. I’ve done a dreadful thing. I know I -have. And I don’t care. I want you to tell me -all the things you haven’t dared to tell me yet. -I want to hear them all … now. Are you going -to tell me, Chip? Are you?” -</p> - -<p> -She was half frightened when she saw the look -of exaltation on his face. It was his great—his -supreme moment. The moment that comes once -to nearly every man, of awe and ecstasy. -</p> - -<p> -“God forgive me!” he cried. “I will!” -</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter24" id="linkChapter24"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC24" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Connie,</span> -of late, had been giving much thought -to Petrovitch. -</p> - -<p> -That gentleman was well aware that she -avoided seeing him because her nephew had persuaded -her to do so, and he was not pleased. -There were other things that did not please him. -His concerts had been less successful than they -should have been—was it possible that his popularity -was on the wane?—and his wealthy American -wife, who, up till now, had been very prodigal -with her money, had just obtained a divorce from -him. He had believed all along that she would -relent. However, the thing that most seriously -disquieted him was the unsatisfactory condition of -the box office returns. He accused his manager -of failing to advertise. He said unkind things of -the British public. He said there wasn’t a decent -hall in London, from the point of view of acoustics, -and lastly he claimed that the food offered -to him at the many houses where he was entertained, -was abominable, and was ruining his digestion. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> -He began writing letters to Connie, accusing -her, tenderly and regretfully, of faithlessness. He -wrote in French, as that language enabled him -to use the endearing “tu” that Connie, he knew -of old, found irresistible. As she had made no -promises concerning letters, she felt free to exchange -them with him as frequently as she desired. -</p> - - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“I am now,” <span class="narration-of-letter">he -wrote her one day,</span> “a free -man. My wife has seen fit to divorce me, and I -do not regret it. Like most American and English -women (to this rule, you, my beautiful Connie, -are a notable exception) she must have her -husband tied to her apron string. He must have -no existence of his own. I—I with my talents, -my work that is my life, I, if you please, must -remain in America at her side! She could not -share me with the world. It is not enough for her -that she is the wife of Illiodor Petrovitch. He -must be a tame bear to perform tricks for her. -Ah, Connie, you understood! You, and only you, -are a fit companion for a man like myself, a man -who cannot, who must not, even when he would, -be put in chains. Yet even you chained me once, -but only with your love. And I worshiped those -chains. I would have bound them round me the -more closely, but my work was a cruel master -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> -and bade me leave you, and though my heart -broke, I obeyed. Yet, knowing this, knowing -that all my life I have regretted those sweet -chains and longed for them again, knowing this, -you keep aloof. You refuse to see me. You -permit me to suffer at your hands. Why? Tell -me why, my beautiful Connie? You are not indifferent -to me. You were moved that first day. -I saw all that. Well then, why?” -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -He wrote many such letters, and she answered -them, and told him of promises made to her relations, -of obligations. She never mentioned Noel. -She said that life was very cruel, and that she -did not want to hurt him. He would never know, -she said, what it cost her to refuse to see him. -</p> - -<p> -When she wrote him of Chiozzi’s sudden end, -he at once saw the finger of fate. They were both -free. Here was the advertising he needed. In -these days of vulgar competition such means were -not to be despised. He would marry Connie. -That old affair of theirs would be resurrected. -So much the better. A romance if you like. Connie -was now a Countess, and that also was to the -good. The papers would seize upon it with joy. -The news would travel before him to America -and pave the way for his next concert tour there. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> -His late wife would be chagrined at this -speedy remarriage. Everything was for the best. -</p> - -<p> -He wrote Connie an impassioned letter. He -said that he lived but to make her his wife. That -he longed to make up to her for any injustice his -duty might have forced him to do her in the past. -The way was clear now. It was written. He laid -his name, his fame, the devotion of a lifetime, at -her feet. -</p> - -<p> -Connie was not of the stuff that could resist -such an appeal. She was dazzled. Like many -women who have once dispensed with the formality -of marriage, she had an almost superstitious -respect for it. It would reinstate her in -the eyes of the world. It would prove that old -affair to have been indeed a great love. Illiodor -would never leave her again. They would grow -old together. Not even Noel could raise the faintest -objection to anything so peculiarly respectable. -</p> - -<p> -Judy and Noel returned from Cornwall on the -night train, and on Wednesday morning—they -had been gone since Monday—Noel, fearing the -worst, went straight to Connie and found that -events had shaped themselves exactly as he had -anticipated. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie,” he told Judy later, “looked like a -cat who has eaten the canary.” -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> -When Noel was very angry he was very concise, -and he was now in a very fine anger indeed. -</p> - -<p> -“It is quite true,” he said, “that you made no -promises about letters. What you promised me -was to have nothing further to do with him. -When you gave me your word to give him up, it -meant just that. You did not give him up. You -corresponded with him secretly. I thought you -still had a spark of loyalty in you. I counted on -that. It was my mistake. If you want to go to -the devil, you may.” -</p> - -<p> -He picked up his hat. Connie, who had subsided -into a chair, gave a wail of dismay, and -running to the door put her back against it. -</p> - -<p> -“Noel! What do you mean? You can’t go -away and leave me like this. I thought—I -thought you would be—well, if not exactly -pleased, at least reconciled. He is going to marry -me. We are both free now. It was wrong of -me to write to him. I didn’t realize it at the -time, but I do now. I am sorry!” -</p> - -<p> -Noel stood looking at her as she leaned against -the door. Was she worth making further efforts -for? Poor old Connie! She would go to the -devil now and no mistake! Those pretty, pale -blue eyes and that weak mouth had defeated -him. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> -“There’s nothing more to be said,” he replied -more gently. “You’ve made your choice. I’m -leaving for Germany to-morrow, as you know. -So, good-by, Connie.” -</p> - -<p> -Tears again. She wouldn’t take his hand but -clung instead to his arm, sobbing. There was a -knock at the door. Noel opened it, expecting to -see Petrovitch. But it was Madame Claire. -</p> - -<p> -She stood there smiling, observing Connie’s -tears and Noel’s anger. She leaned with one -hand upon her ebony stick. With the other hand -she held about her the folds of a long, fur-trimmed -cape. -</p> - -<p> -“Claire!” exclaimed Noel. “You out, and at -this time of day? This is marvelous!” -</p> - -<p> -”I wanted to see Connie,” said Madame Claire, -kissing her daughter on the cheek. “Good morning, -my dear. I hope you are properly flattered -at such a visit. I don’t often get out as early as -this. In fact I don’t often get out at all, these -days. Were you going, Noel?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” he answered. “Connie has just informed -me of her approaching nuptials. I’ll -leave the congratulations to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t bear him to leave me like this!” cried -Connie. “He won’t listen to me. I don’t believe -he wants me to be happy!” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> -“Just a moment, Noel,” said Madame Claire. -“May I have a word in your private ear? You -won’t mind, will you, Connie?” -</p> - -<p> -They went a few paces down the hall, away -from the sitting room door. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie wrote me about it last night,” said -Madame Claire. “I received her note this morning. -I had an idea you would be here, and I -meant to kill two birds with one stone if possible. -I suppose she’s serious about this … this marriage?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, she means to marry him right enough,” -said Noel, “and I don’t see any way of preventing -it. Short of fighting a duel. Hang it all——!” -</p> - -<p> -“I wonder,” interrupted Madame Claire -speaking very slowly and thoughtfully, “I wonder -whatever became of that little German wife -of his?” -</p> - -<p> -“The one he had when he ran off with Connie? -Dead, I suppose. Or divorced.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think neither,” she replied. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -“I had some correspondence with her at the -time,” said Madame Claire, tracing a pattern on -the carpet with her stick. “It was after Leonard -Humphries was killed in South Africa. I wrote -to her—by an odd coincidence I found out where -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> -she lived—and asked her if she would divorce -Petrovitch. I have her answer here.” She -touched the bag she carried. “She lived in an -obscure village in South Germany, was an ardent -Roman Catholic, and of course had no intention -of divorcing him. She went on to say that it was -also extremely unlikely that she would die, as -she came of a long-lived family and enjoyed -excellent health. It was really quite an amusing -letter. I think the woman had character. And -I think she still has.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked up at him as she leaned on her stick. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you think?” -</p> - -<p> -“Great Scott!” exclaimed Noel. “A bigamist, -eh? Claire, you’re a double-eyed sorceress. I -believe there’s something in it. Will you give -me the letter?” -</p> - -<p> -“I will.” She took it out of her bag and gave -it to him. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t say anything to Connie yet. I’m going -to try a bit of bluff on old What’s-His-Name. -Of course she may be dead as mutton, but on the -other hand she may not, as you say. Claire, you -are——” Words failed him. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s very interesting,” remarked Madame -Claire. “Be careful of Petrovitch, and don’t say -anything libelous. See what you can find out. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> -But I can trust you to manage the affair. By the -way, is Judy——?” -</p> - -<p> -Noel nodded, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -“Bless her! That’s really delightful! Stephen -will be so pleased. I dare say I shall see her this -afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -She returned to Connie, and Noel, much excited, -made his way with all speed to Claridge’s, -reading the letter as he went. At the hotel he -wrote on his card: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“I would like to see you on a matter that concerns -you and your immediate plans.” -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - - -<p> -In a few moments he was shown upstairs to -Petrovitch’s rooms. -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch was standing frowning at the card -in the middle of a large and beautifully furnished -sitting room. He threw up his head as an animal -does when Noel entered, and his protruding lips -widened in an unpleasant smile. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! It is the nephew! The charming aunt’s -charming nephew. I guessed as much. Well? -You have come to say, ‘Hands off!’ eh? Am I -right?” -</p> - -<p> -“Perfectly correct,” said Noel. “That saves -me a lot of trouble. I merely dropped in to let -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> -you know that the marriage will not take place.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah!” cried Petrovitch, rubbing his hands. -“That is good. That is excellent. You are—what -do they say—the heavy father, eh? The -Countess, you will say, is not of age. She does -not know her mind.” He laughed mirthlessly. -“Well, I will risk all that, venerable sir!” -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll be risking more than that,” said Noel -evenly. “By the way, may I sit down? I think -if we both sit down—thank you. As I said -before, I simply came in to tell you that the -marriage will not take place. I expect you to -give me your word of honor before I leave this -room that you will not attempt to see Countess -Chiozzi again on any pretext whatsoever.” -</p> - -<p> -“My good young man,” said Petrovitch, too -much amused to be angry, “I will see your aunt, -Countess Chiozzi, where and when I please, and -I will marry her by special license the day after -to-morrow. What have you to say to that?” -</p> - -<p> -“Only that it will have to be a very special -license.” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not know what you mean by that. But -one thing I do know very well, and that is that -even if I did not wish to marry your aunt before, -I would do so now simply because you do not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> -wish it. I do not speak English well, but I think -I have made my meaning clear, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“Quite clear. I hope you are as well acquainted -with the English law as you are with the English -language.” -</p> - -<p> -“And why should I know English law?” -</p> - -<p> -Was he looking the least bit uncomfortable? -Noel prayed that no sign, no clue might escape -him. -</p> - -<p> -“It might come in useful. We’re a funny -people. To run off with some one else’s wife is -not, of course, a criminal offense. But there is -one thing that the law absolutely draws the line -at. I wonder if you know what that one thing is?” -</p> - -<p> -“I do not know,” said Petrovitch looking at -his watch, “and neither do I care. I am to meet -your delightful aunt at her hotel at one o’clock, -and it is now a quarter to that hour. If you will -excuse me——” -</p> - -<p> -“In connection with that thing that I have not -yet named,” went on Noel, “I want you to know -that I am going to Germany at nine o’clock to-morrow -morning. Here are my passports.” -</p> - -<p> -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Touché!</span> -There was not the slightest doubt -about it now. Petrovitch was on his feet, his -heavy head down like that of a charging buffalo, -his brows drawn together, his lips thrust out. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> -“What do you mean, you——” -</p> - -<p> -His hands gripped the chair back. Noel went -on in that casual, calm way of his. -</p> - -<p> -“Look here, Petrovitch, I’m not going to make -a row if I can help it. I hate the whole business. -You leave Connie alone, and you’ll never hear -of this again. Only—I know what I know, and -if you force me to do it, I’ll be obliged to produce -all the necessary proofs, and you’ll be—dished. -It’s an ugly affair, and it would mean I don’t -know how many years for you. Candidly now, -is it worth it?” -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch went a queer color and sat down -suddenly. He had evidently changed his mind -about throwing anything. Noel felt drunk with -the wine of complete and unexpected success. He -wondered what he would have done in Petrovitch’s -place, and decided that he would have -brazened it out to the very end. Not so Petrovitch, -evidently. His rage had gone as quickly -as it had come. But what Noel saw in his face -was not fear. No, it was certainly not fear. -What was it? -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch stared at him for some moments, -and then said quite simply: -</p> - -<p> -“She is alive, then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Great snakes!” Noel said to himself. “Perhaps -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> -I’ve brought her to life!” But his brain -worked quickly. He touched his pocket. -</p> - -<p> -“I have a letter from her here,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch did not even ask to see it. -</p> - -<p> -“Where is she?” -</p> - -<p> -“In the same old place. She has never been out -of it all these years. Why don’t you go there -and look her up the next chance you get? Do you -know”—he drew his chair forward an inch or -two—“I believe she’s still fond of you?” -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch straightened himself and passed a -hand over his forehead. -</p> - -<p> -“I wrote her many letters. She has never -replied. I thought she—I believed she was dead. -During the war I could not go to Germany. I -have not heard from her in twelve years.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you see,” said Noel, “she hadn’t every -reason to be pleased with you, had she? You -know what wives are.” -</p> - -<p> -The man was almost himself again. He -shrugged his shoulders and thrust out his hands. -</p> - -<p> -“I know what all women are.” -</p> - -<p> -Noel nodded. -</p> - -<p> -“True. Perfectly true. Well … she’s been -a good wife to you, Petrovitch. She’s let you go -your own way, she’s never bothered you. If you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> -were to go back to her, I believe she’d welcome -you with open arms.” -</p> - -<p> -“My poor Freda.… I believe she would. -She was a good woman, a good wife. Little -Freda! Some day, who knows?” -</p> - -<p> -“Who knows?” echoed Noel. “You might do -worse, Petrovitch. Think it over.” -</p> - -<p> -“Freda alive! Freda alive!” Petrovitch kept -repeating. “My little Freda!” He turned to -Noel. “You have saved me from crime. From -crime against the law, and against that good -woman who still loves me. I thank you.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s all right,” said Noel, almost overcome -by a variety of emotions. To himself he said: -</p> - -<p> -“I’m beginning to like this fellow!” -</p> - -<p> -He got up and held out his hand. Petrovitch -also rose. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I’m afraid I must leave you now. -Er … about Connie … she’ll feel this, of -course, but I think I can make all the necessary -explanations. Will you trust me to break it to -her as gently as possible? Naturally, I’ve said -nothing to her about … Freda. I didn’t feel -I could until I’d seen you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you. I will leave everything to you. -Connie has a great heart, and I think she will -not grieve too much if she knows that I but -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> -return to an old and faithful love. Soon I go -to America to fulfill my engagements, and -then——!” -</p> - -<p> -“I understand,” said Noel. “Well, good-by!” -</p> - -<p> -“May I ask,” inquired Petrovitch, retaining -his hand, “how you came to hear that -Freda——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly,” Noel answered promptly. “You -see, years ago, when you and Connie—well—just -at that time, my grandmother ran across some -one who knew her—knew Freda. Naturally, my -grandmother was unhappy about Connie, her -daughter, and thought that possibly a divorce—you -understand——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Perfectly.” -</p> - -<p> -“So she wrote to her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah! But my wife——” -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly! She wasn’t having any. Well, she -kept my grandmother’s address, and the other -day, being anxious and unhappy about you, she -naturally thought we might be able to tell her -something, and so——” -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch made a gesture of the hands that -showed a perfect comprehension, gratitude, sympathy, -a yielding to fate, and a consciousness of -his own power over women, wives and others. -Noel envied him that gesture. -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> -“My poor little Freda!” -</p> - -<p> -“And that’s how it was,” Noel concluded. -They shook hands again, strongly. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, good luck!” said Noel. -</p> - -<p> -Petrovitch bowed. -</p> - -<p> -They never saw each other again. -</p> - -<p> -In the cab, driving back to Connie’s quiet little -hotel, Noel wanted to put his head out of the -window and shout to the passers-by. He could -hardly contain himself. -</p> - -<p> -“Freda,” he said aloud, “when I get to Berlin, -whether you’re alive or dead I’m going to send -you the biggest box of chocolates I can buy!” -</p> - - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter25" id="linkChapter25"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC25" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXV</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">At</span> -last a day came when Madame Claire received -a wire from Paris: -</p> - -<blockquote> -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“Arriving London to-night. Feeling very fit. -Have engaged rooms McPherson and self Langham -Hotel. Will see you to-morrow afternoon -about four. -</p> -</div> -<p class="closing-signature">“Stephen.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p> -She thought it was one of the most perfect -moments of her life. She could taste to the full, -in one mouthful, so to speak, the different yet -blending flavors of anticipation and realization. -Dawson had never seen her so happily excited, -nor so difficult to please in the matter of flowers -for her room. Judy had wrought this miracle—had -so revived Stephen’s flagging spirits that he -felt at last able to make the journey. Had they -left him alone there in Cannes, he would have -waited dully and hopelessly for another stroke. -He would probably have ended his days there, -without ever returning to England. And now, -anything was possible. She longed to share Noel -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span> -with him, too, Eric, all of them. He might find -something to like in Gordon. He might continue -to find Connie and Connie’s vagaries interesting. -They could see each other every day—or nearly -every day. And when spring came, he could -stay with her in Sussex—he would love her little -house and her garden—and they could talk. -There was so much to talk about! -</p> - -<p> -She hoped he had made an honest effort to -picture her as she now was. Men were so apt not -to face the facts of change and decay in the -women they loved. Was he still picturing her -as she looked when he last saw her, nearly twenty -years ago? Or—as is so often the way with age—was -he seeing her as she was when he first -knew her, before she married Robert? But she -felt she could trust to his common sense about -that. At any rate, he would see her as he had -always seen her, with the eyes of the heart. And -what would he be like? She believed that his -personality—that indefinable emanation that -makes each one of us different from any other -one—would be unchanged. To her, nothing else -mattered. -</p> - -<p class="tb">* * * * * *</p> - - -<p> -To-morrow came. She pictured Stephen looking -out of his windows at London, and getting -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> -used to the smell of it again. Madame Claire -was always dressed by eleven except on her bad -days, and to-day, thank Heaven! was not one of -them. From eleven till four—five hours, five long -hours! Miss McPherson had telephoned that -she would have her patient there by four o’clock. -She would leave him at the door, the tactful -creature had said, and go for a walk in the park. -Madame Claire agreed to this, on the condition -that when she came for him again at six, she stay -for half an hour. Miss McPherson would be very -pleased indeed to do so. -</p> - -<p> -At four, Madame Claire was dressed in a wine-colored -silk that spread about her stiffly and -richly as she sat in her straight-backed chair. Her -white hair was dressed high, and secured with a -comb of carved shell. She had given much thought -to her appearance. She kept beside her an old -ebony stick of Robert’s, for her rheumatism made -it a little difficult for her to rise. On the other -side of the wood fire was another chair, carefully -placed so that the light would fall on the face of -the occupant, but not too strongly for his comfort. -The room was full of flowers; early tulips, -richly dyed anemones, and here and there her -beloved freesias. On a small table at her right -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span> -hand lay an inlaid box, and the key to it hung on -a bracelet she wore on her wrist. -</p> - -<p> -A bell rang, and she sat motionless, hardly -moving her eyelids. Stephen … Stephen was at -her door … fate was kind … this was her -moment of moments, her day of days. -</p> - -<p> -The door opened, and Dawson said in a strange -voice: -</p> - -<p> -“Mr. de Lisle, m’lady,” and vanished. -</p> - -<p> -And Stephen came to her.… -</p> - -<p> -They brushed each other’s cheeks lightly, for -the first time in their long lives. They moved -the two chairs nearer together and sat with -clasped hands. Words for a time were beyond -them, but at last Stephen spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“You are wonderful,” he said, “wonderful, -wonderful!” -</p> - -<p> -“But you——!” cried Madame Claire. “I -was prepared for some one much older, some one -bent and feeble … you are so straight!” -</p> - -<p> -“As long as the Lord lets me walk at all,” -he told her, “I hope He’ll let me walk upright. -And I’m better … much better.” -</p> - -<p> -“How I have longed for this!” Her voice -rang out clearly. “My dear, stubborn, too proud -old Stephen!” -</p> - -<p> -“Less stubborn now, but still proud. Claire, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> -you always had delightful ways. It’s your ways -that have always held me—and your wits. But -how have you managed to become beautiful?” -</p> - -<p> -“Beautiful? My poor old Stephen—your -eyes——!” -</p> - -<p> -“As good as they ever were, except for reading. -No, you’ve got something new … what -is it? Dignity, that’s it. You were always too -gentle, too shy, to be properly dignified.” -</p> - -<p> -“I was always shy,” she agreed, “until lately.” -</p> - -<p> -“I adored your shyness. A gentle, soft-voiced -thing you were. Clever … devilish clever! How -you managed Robert! And me. And all the -chattering, brilliant, stupid, charming people of -our day. You managed ’em all. And nobody -knew it, but me. I used to tell Robert he’d have -been a government clerk somewhere, but for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“That,” she said, “was untrue, for Robert had -wit and a good brain. His fault was that he -didn’t understand people. He wasn’t human -enough. I could help him there.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you did help him. You made him; say -what you will. You would have made any man.” -</p> - -<p> -They talked—how they talked! Never taking -their eyes off each other’s faces. Remembering -things that they had half forgotten, things that -it took the two of them together to remember -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> -completely. Stopping in their talk every now and -then to smile at each other, to realize that this -longed-for thing had come to pass. To savor -these moments, these perfect, winged moments, -that would never be less than perfect; moments -that Time had brought to a fine flowering—“Without -the end of fruit”—without the end of -disillusion, too, and what scent that flowering -had! No, there could be no falling off, no dimming -of that brightness. They could trust to -Death for that. Their curtain would be rung -down on a fine gesture, on a perfect note. -</p> - -<p> -And then back to Robert again, and his qualities -that Stephen so much admired. They could -even talk of him, frankly and simply. Twenty -years ago he had been too near, his claim to be -regarded as an absent friend, merely, had been -too great. But now—— -</p> - -<p> -“I think he appreciated you, Claire.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“If he had not—but he did. I have always -remembered that. And he made you happy.” -</p> - -<p> -She lifted her head and looked squarely at him, -holding his eyes with hers, steadily. -</p> - -<p> -“I made myself happy,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -There was not much time left to them. Let it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span> -be a completely happy time, free of all pretense, -of all misunderstanding. She wanted no secrets -from Stephen now. Even if she did Robert the -least injustice, his spirit must have reached heights -of magnanimity very far beyond the reach of -such truths as were mere earthly truths. She -owed something to the living, and to her own -spirit. She had kept her secret well. She meant -to permit herself the inestimable luxury of sharing -it now with Stephen. -</p> - -<p> -“I mean—I made myself as happy as a woman -can be who is not married to the man she loves.” -</p> - -<p> -He had felt, when she looked at him so -strangely, that he was on the brink of some new -knowledge. He almost dreaded what that knowledge -might be—dreaded the pain it might bring. -He had hardly grasped her meaning yet. -</p> - -<p> -“Claire! Then why—why——? Good -God——!” -</p> - -<p> -She released the hand that he had clung to, -and unfastened the little gold key that hung from -her wrist. She took the inlaid box on her knees -and opened it, Stephen watching her every movement. -The box was lined with red velvet and -contained a single letter, yellow with age. She -took it out, delicately, and turned it over in her -fingers so that he saw both sides of it. It was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span> -unopened. The heavy seal on the flap of the -envelope was unbroken. She gave him the letter -without a word. -</p> - -<p> -He studied it for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -“My writing!” he exclaimed. “Claire, what -is this? What letter is this?” -</p> - -<p> -“That letter,” she said gently, putting a hand -on his arm, “is a proposal from the man I loved.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her, uncomprehending. -</p> - -<p> -“I will tell you about it,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -“Fifty-six years ago, Stephen, when that letter -was written, I had two admirers. Oh, more, perhaps -but only two that counted. They were you -and Robert. Robert was serious and clever, and -very much in love with himself, and you were—everything -that the heart of a girl like me could -desire. You were friends, you two; you were -rivals, but friends for all that. You were the -better lover, Robert the more ingenious wooer. -Robert out-maneuvered you. It was he who got -most of my dances at balls, but it was always you -I longed to give them to. It was Robert who -won the approval of my mother and father; it -was you who won mine. He was said to be a -coming young man. They told me that you lacked -ambition and force—even in those days people -talked about force—but it was you I loved. You -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span> -told my father that you wanted to marry me, and -he said you were too young for me. You were -only twenty-two, and I was twenty-three. He persuaded -you to make the Grand Tour before settling -anything. You told him you would not go -without speaking to me. And you tried to speak -to me—how often you tried!—but we were never -left alone in those days. My mother was fearful, -for Robert, and Robert was fearful for himself. -So there were always interruptions. You were -almost maddened by them, and I—I was eating -my heart out. If you could only have passed me -on the stairs and whispered, ‘Marry me!’ I would -have said ‘Yes.’ But the chance never came. -And I—little fool—was too shy to make it. And -then, on the very eve of your Grand Tour, you -wrote me this letter. -</p> - -<p> -“I had almost despaired of your ever speaking. -I was hurt and miserable. Robert redoubled his -efforts. And then one day he came to the house—it -was the day he meant to propose, and I knew -that my mother meant to receive him with me and -then excuse herself, leaving us together. It was -the day before you were to go away, and I longed -for any word or sign from you. -</p> - -<p> -“You sent this letter, by hand. It reached the -house at the same moment that Robert did. He -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span> -saw that it was from you, and he guessed, and -was jealous and afraid. He told the maid that -he would give it to me upstairs, and that as I -was expecting him she needn’t announce him. -Stephen—he put the letter in his pocket.” -</p> - -<p> -Stephen made a sudden movement and leaned -nearer to her. -</p> - -<p> -“Go on,” he said in a voice that was hardly -more than a whisper. -</p> - -<p> -“He kept it in his pocket. Yes, Robert did -that. I, hearing nothing, thought you indifferent, -and my heart seemed to break. He proposed to -me that afternoon, and the next evening, knowing -that you had indeed gone without a word, I gave -him the answer he wanted.” -</p> - -<p> -She paused a moment, looking into the fire. -</p> - -<p> -“I wrote to you to tell you of my engagement. -You must have considered that the letter I wrote -to you then was in answer to the one you had -sent me. You thought that Robert had won -fairly, and blamed yourself. When you came -back, Robert and I were already married, and -you resumed your friendship with him and with -me. And I pretended—how well I pretended you -know—that you were no more to me than my -husband’s friend. And you were the soul of -honor, Stephen, for although I knew you still -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span> -loved me—I knew it the moment I saw you again—never -by one word or look did you try to show -me that you did. -</p> - -<p> -“As I look back now, it seems to me that I saw -almost as much of you as I did of Robert. We -were always together, we three. I used to try to -marry you to my friends, but although you were -always charming to them, you were never more -than that. -</p> - -<p> -“And then, years later, Robert was made -ambassador to Italy. It was a tremendous step -up, and you rejoiced with us, as you always did -at our good fortune. The first year we were in -Rome, Robert was very ill with fever. He -thought he was going to die. He was always apt -to exaggerate his illnesses. He told me he had -something on his mind, and he gave me your letter, -and told me what he had done. I forgave him, -I had to forgive him, and we never spoke of it -again. But I never dared to read it, Stephen. -I put it away in this box. I didn’t dare to open -that wound.” -</p> - -<p> -There was silence again. Stephen felt he could -say nothing. Robert had been his closest friend—they -had been like brothers—and he had done -this! What was there for him to say? -</p> - -<p> -“I am telling you this now,” Madame Claire -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span> -went on, “because I want the time that remains -to us to be as perfect as possible. I want you to -know that while I was a good and faithful wife -to Robert, and made him, I believe, very happy, -I loved you. I bear him no ill will. He acted -according to his lights, believing, then, that all -was fair in love. That doesn’t make his act less -detestable, but I must weigh in the scales against -that, the fact that he was the best of husbands -and fathers. And I forgave him absolutely. But, -oh, Stephen——! All those years … all those -years were one long struggle against my love for -you!” -</p> - -<p> -There are moments too great or too poignant -for speech. He did not know, then, whether the -pain or the happiness of this new knowledge was -the stronger. For a moment the pain had the -upper hand. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a tragedy!” he said at last. “A tragedy!” -</p> - -<p> -Presently he turned to her again. -</p> - -<p> -“But when he died?” he asked. “When I -came to you again? Why did you say no?” -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire hesitated before she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“My reasons,” she said, “may have seemed to -you to be poor ones. I pleaded my age, I remember, -and the fact—or what I believed was a fact—that -it would have been an elderly folly for us -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span> -to have married then. But there was another -reason, and a better one. Stephen … I dreaded -an anti-climax. And it would have been that. -After loving you all my life, all my youth, to have -married you at sixty … it seemed to me a desecration. -I hoped for a dear friendship with you. -It was that I longed for. But you were angry and -hurt. You left me. I thought you would be -gone six months, or possibly a year. You were -away nearly twenty years!… Oh, Stephen!…” -</p> - -<p> -His eyes begged her forgiveness. -</p> - -<p> -“I always tried to think that you were right, -Claire,” he said softly. “Right or wrong, it all -belongs to the past now. So does my loneliness. -I have been lonely, but I can bear that too, now -that I know I have been loved. That sheds a -glory on my life … a glory.” -</p> - -<p> -His voice sank. She watched him turning the -letter over in his hands, remembering … remembering. -Then, with a gesture full of courtliness -and charm, he held it out to her. -</p> - -<p> -“Read it, my dear, now,” he said. -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">“Veux -tu, toi?”</span> -</p> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter26" id="linkChapter26"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC26" title="Link to the table of contents.">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h2> - </div> - -<p> -<span class="firstWord">Late</span> -September had come, with its sad, too-mellow -beauty. It had ripened all the fruit, -burnishing the apples to look like little suns, and -the sun to look like a ripe, burnished apple. It -had woven its web of blue over all the still countryside, -so that the elms standing so nobly in the -Sussex meadows seemed draped in it, like tapestry -trees; the far hills had wrapped themselves in its -hazy folds and gone to sleep until some cold and -later wind should strip them of it. -</p> - -<p> -In Madame Claire’s garden a few roses -bloomed somewhat blowsily, and asters and -Michaelmas daisies, dahlias and a brave company -of late-staying perennials made welcome color -notes among the greens and rust browns. -</p> - -<p> -She sat in her library, writing. Every now and -then she looked out of her French window at -Stephen who was sitting on the lawn in one of the -garden chairs, reading, his long legs resting on -another. Robins visited him, perching on a chair -or table, and he thought as his sunken blue eyes -regarded them humorously, that the robin was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span> -more like a confiding little animal than a bird, -with its friendly ways, and its power—shared -with no other small bird—of meeting the human -eye. -</p> - -<p> -He had lived in some of the beauty spots of the -world, but he said to himself that no beauty crept -into the heart as this beauty of Sussex did. -Mingled with it was some of the charm of what -was lovable in human nature—the charm of gentleness -and quiet and homeliness. Every wind was -tempered, the sun shone through a protecting -haze, the verdure harbored nothing more treacherous -than a fluttering moth. To an eye accustomed -to the white and blue glare of the South, -every tint, every color seemed happily blended. -And even the robins, he thought, returning to his -book, seemed to know and like him. -</p> - -<p> -Madame Claire was writing to Noel. -</p> - -<blockquote> - -<div class="letter-body"> -<p> -“I have often pointed out to you,” -<span class="narration-of-letter">she wrote,</span> -“the enormous advantages of old age over youth, -but I have never felt them more keenly myself -than now. The world is at present in a state of -flux, and that state, while it may be beneficial, is -rarely comfortable. There are movements afoot -that I am sure cause young mothers to wonder -fearfully what precarious and troubled lives are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span> -in store for their little ones. I am not one of -those who believe blindly that all new movements -are good ones. The world has seen many that -seemed great, happily defeat their own ends, -leaving the generations to come a legacy of knowledge -that they seem, often enough, to ignore. I -believe that the struggle will be fierce, but the -world, in order to attend to the enormously important -businesses of increasing, eating and sleeping, -requires in the long run certain conventions -and conformities, and to preserve these has a way -of weakening the ground under the feet of the -shouting and bloodthirsty reformer—even, alas! -of the true spiritual leader. The world has dedicated -itself, I think, to the great law of average—such -an eternal warring of good and bad would -seem to bring that about naturally—and compromise -would be the inevitable end of every struggle. -</p> - -<p> -“You, and all those I love, will either be participators -in or spectators of that struggle. Not -so Stephen and myself. We are privileged by old -age to ignore it if we can. Age has a right to -forget the evils that it can do nothing to lessen. -</p> - -<p> -“I still read my paper, but I get no pleasure -from it. Who does? One sees that the Empire -for which one would cheerfully die, is accused of -making mistakes in every quarter of the globe. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span> -One hears of millions of helpless people in another -country brought to starvation through a fiendish -conspiracy of greed unexampled in the world’s -cruel history. It is one long tale of dissatisfaction -and dissent, and it were better not to have -turned a single page. -</p> - -<p> -“But let us leave all that and talk of people. -</p> - -<p> -“When you came back for Judy’s wedding in -June, Eric and Louise were still living apart, -though they came together of necessity on that -occasion; and things looked hopeless. But Eric, -as I suppose you must have heard by now, had -a breakdown brought on from overwork. He -had made, I think, a hundred and forty speeches in -eight months, and traveled I forget how many -thousand miles. His fight with the -<dfn title="Independent Labor Party">I.L.P.</dfn> over -the Moorgate Division was a great fight and he -defeated them all along the line. But the strain -was too much for him. Louise was at Mistley -when he was taken ill, and Connie was still keeping -house for him. She hurried him off to a nursing -home, and wrote Louise a scathing letter which -brought that lady hot-foot to London. The two -met for the first time over the sickbed, and oddly -enough, neither dislikes the other as much as they -had expected to. Connie had given such a bad -account of Eric that I believe Louise came to get -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span> -a deathbed forgiveness. At any rate, she completely -broke down and sobbed out her remorse -on his pillow, while Connie and the nurse stood -in the hall and tried not to hear. Eric accepted -her repentance and forgave her on the sole condition -that she maintain that same friendly attitude -when he was well again. That, and that -alone he insisted upon, that she treat him like a -friend instead of an enemy. This she gave him -to understand she would do, and they are now -convalescing together—for in a sense Louise must -be convalescing too—in Chip’s cottage in Cornwall, -looked after by an old Cornish woman. I -had a letter from her yesterday, and she says she -has never been so happy in her life. That is because -she has him entirely to herself, and there is -no one there who could possibly interest him more -than she does. So far so good. What will happen -when he is at work again, surrounded by -people who make claims upon him, I do not know. -But I do feel certain that things can never be as -bad again. -</p> - -<p> -“Connie of course is merely marking time till -your return. She has lately made a number of -perfectly desirable acquaintances, however, and -is not in the least unhappy. I think her thankfulness -at her narrow escape from a bigamous -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span> -(?) marriage keeps her from cavilling at her fate, -or from dwelling on her inexplicable infatuation -for Petrovitch, who is in America. For she is -not cured of that, nor will she ever be. He is, -as you once said, her hero for life, spots and all. -That is the rôle she has chosen for herself, and -she will play it to the end. I am longing to know -whether or not you have been able to find any -traces of Freda. I sometimes feel that you and -I played a not altogether worthy part in that -affair, but it was worth it! -</p> - -<p> -“You ask me for minute particulars concerning -Judy. Is she happy, you ask? What am I to -say to that? If she is not happy, she will always -be too loyal to say so. I think she is clever enough -to make her own happiness, or at least to attain -to an average of contentment—an average that -leans at moments toward the peaks of happiness -on one side and toward the abyss of unhappiness -on the other. And I think it is good for us to -look both ways. Her love for Chip—and a very -real love it is—has much in it of the maternal, a -quality I think every woman’s love is the better -for. As for him—dear, simple Chip!—he worships -her, and is unutterably happy. He may disappoint -her in some ways. He lacks and will -always lack—in spite of the miracle of her love—self-confidence. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span> -He is never quite comfortable -with strangers, and never expects to be liked, -though when he finds that he is, he glows like a -nice child that is justly praised. If fame ever -comes to Chip it will come in spite of him. -</p> - -<p> -“Judy has made their small flat a really delightful -place, but entertaining, except in the most -informal way, is of course impossible. No one -thinks less of human pomps than I do, but given -different opportunities, Judy might have been -something of a Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. Her -charm is extraordinary. She has ‘come out’ wonderfully -since her marriage, and it is easy to see -that she will develop into an uncommon woman. -If Chip will only develop with her—but I pray -that he will. -</p> - -<p> -“That little cottage in Cornwall that played -such an important part in their lives was the right -setting for their honeymoon, for they had much -to learn about each other. You say that however -it turns out, you are bound to feel partly responsible. -Possibly; but that lovable and gentle face -of Chip’s with the lights shining through the fog -upon it, was far more responsible. Judy was -bound to love him. And whether she be happy -or not, she will be all the better for loving him. -We make too much of happiness, Noel. It doesn’t -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span> -much matter what our lives are; but it does matter -whether or not we live them finely. And that is -possible to any of us. A certain style is necessary -for this; a certain gallant attitude. One finds this -style, this gallantry, in the most unlooked-for -places sometimes—— -</p> - -<p> -“And just now, I think, is the right moment for -me to speak of Mr. Colebridge. In spite of his -undeniable limitations he loved Judy sincerely, -and he has proved it in a most agreeable way. -You remember I wrote you some time ago that I -had been reading Chip’s plays. There were three, -and two of them are charming—really charming. -I imagine Chip’s knowledge of women to have -been extremely slight, but the ladies who existed -in his imagination are really the most delightful -creatures! Delightful! These two plays that I -like so much are fanciful, but at the same time -they are wonderfully sympathetic and human, and -I feel absolutely certain that given half a chance -they are bound to succeed. I at once gave them -to Mr. Colebridge to read—he owns theaters, -you know—and although he says he knows nothing -about plays, I mistrust him, for he knew -enough to appreciate these. He is taking them -to New York with him soon, and launched and -extensively advertised by him, I feel sure they will -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span> -flourish. He seems to know the very actors and -actresses for the leading parts. Isn’t it lucky? -Mr. Colebridge seems almost as pleased about it -as I am myself. Judy says he is doing it for me, -but of course that’s nonsense. He says he has -no doubt that the plays will put Judy and Chip -‘on Easy Street.’ -</p> - -<p> -“Now that I call gallant. To make your rival’s -fortune is not the end and aim of most disappointed -lovers. There is style about that. I like -Mr. Colebridge. He comes here quite often to -see Stephen and me, and while I admit that I like -him and—yes—even admire him, I do not, I confess, -like him best when he is sitting in my garden, -oblivious to its beauties and to the cajoleries of a -most divine autumn, talking about sugar stocks. -I like him better when he has gone, and I think -how good-natured it was of him to have come, -and how nice he really is. -</p> - -<p> -“Chip’s book on religions is in the hands of -the publishers at last. I haven’t read it. Neither -has Judy. He is extraordinarily shy and sensitive -about it, and Judy says she has twice saved it -from destruction at his hands. I feel it must be -good. It may even be great! Well, we shall -know some day. -</p> - -<p> -“There’s very little about Gordon that I can -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span> -find to say. I know that he had set his heart on -a house in Mayfair, and that Helen had decided -on one in Bloomsbury, near certain friends of -hers; Bloomsbury, as you know, having become -the fashion with a set of people whom Helen -considers very desirable. I guessed what that -high nose and long, unbeautiful chin indicated. -Millie and John tactfully sided with both, for -they feel that while Gordon is of course perfect, -Helen can do no wrong. The little comedy has -amused me considerably, and——” -</p> -</div> -</blockquote> - -<p> -Stephen was calling to her. She put down her -pen and stepped out of the French window. She -crossed the lawn with a pleasant rustle of long -gray skirts, and he got out of his chair as she -came toward him. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you been doing all this long -time?” -</p> - -<p> -“Writing to Noel,” she answered. “Have I -neglected you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was beginning to think so. Come and take -a walk round the garden with me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Where is Miss McPherson?” -</p> - -<p> -“She’s perpetrating one of her atrocious and -painstaking water colors in the lane.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you tell her they are beautiful!” -</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span> -“It’s the only way I can make her blush.” -</p> - -<p> -They walked between herbaceous borders -where dying colors burned with the deep, concentrated -brilliance of embers. -</p> - -<p> -“I have never loved an autumn as I have loved -this one,” Stephen said. -</p> - -<p> -“Nor I. Do you know why that is, Stephen? -It’s because we are untroubled by thoughts of -other autumns.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps. I don’t mind your saying those -things as I once did.” -</p> - -<p> -“All the fever,” she went on, “has gone out of -life. Each day is a little book of hours. The -opening and closing of each flower is an event of -prime and beautiful importance. The shape and -movement of clouds, the flight of birds, the -shadows of the leaves on the grass—all those -things and a thousand other lovely things are -beginning to assume a right proportion in our -lives. We are beginning to be happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s the wonderful peace of it all,” said -Stephen. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes. The peace of old age is something I -have looked forward to all my life. That, and -the dignity of it.” She looked up at him, smiling. -“For old age, Stephen, my dear, is almost as -dignified as death.” -</p> - - -<div class="endnote"> -<p class="vol"> -THE END -</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - - - -<div id="ComingAttractions"> - - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkChapter27" id="linkChapter27"></a> - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOC27" title="Link to the table of contents.">NOVELS OF SUPREME LITERARY ART</a></h2> - </div> - - - -<h3>THE GLIMPSES OF THE MOON</h3> - -<p>By EDITH WHARTON</p> - -<p> -“I can think of no American novel, written within -the last few years, and dealing with contemporary life, -to compare with it. And not only does Mrs. Wharton -write better than anyone else, but she knows how to -unfold a more exciting tale.”—Katherine Fullerton -Gerould in the <cite>New York Times</cite>. -</p> - -<h3>THE MIRACLE</h3> - -<p>By E. TEMPLE THURSTON</p> - -<p> -A keen, human story of the west coast of Ireland, -with peculiar fascination in the rich background of -Irish folk lore. -</p> - -<h3>THE VAN ROON</h3> - -<p>By J. C. SNAITH</p> - -<p> -An unusual and totally absorbing plot, delightfully -told, and a remarkable set of characters, unmatched -since Dickens. -</p> - -<h3>THE MOUNTAIN SCHOOL TEACHER</h3> - -<p>By MELVILLE DAVISSON POST</p> - -<p> -How would Christ act if He appeared in the world -today? Through Mr. Post’s story of the Kentucky -mountains runs an impressive allegory. -</p> - -<h3>ABBÉ PIERRE</h3> - -<p>By JAY WILLIAM HUDSON</p> - -<p> -This charming novel of life in quaint Gascony has -proved that a novel that is a work of true literary art -may be a best seller of the widest popularity. -</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="publisher"> - <p class="pub-name">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.</p> - <p class="city1">New York</p> - <p class="city2">London</p> - </div> - -</div> - - - - - - -<hr /> - - -<div id="TranscriberNotes"> -<div class="chapter"> - <p><a name="linkTNote" id="linkTNote"></a> - </p> - <h2><a href="#linkTOCTNOTE" title="Link to the table of contents.">Transcriber’s Note.</a></h2> - </div> - -<h3>Introduction.</h3> -<p> -Welcome to Project Gutenberg’s edition of <cite>Madame -Claire</cite>, a novel by Susan Ertz. -</p> -<h4>About the Author.</h4> -<p>Susan Ertz published over twenty works in a -career spanning six decades. She was born -February 13, 1887 and died on April 11, 1985. -<cite>Madame Claire</cite> was her first novel. -</p> -<h4>This Project Gutenberg version.</h4> -<p> -This production of the book is based on the -first American edition of the novel, -published in 1923, by D. Appleton and Company. -The source is the scanned copy of the Library of -Congress from the Internet Archives. -</p> - -<h3>Detailed Notes.</h3> -<p>One major issue in the transcription of this -book is the rendering of words hyphenated and -split between two lines for spacing. For most -cases, words were silently rejoined based on other -uses of the word in this novel. Cases where -there are few or no other uses of the word -are detailed in the Hyphenated Words section -of these Detailed Notes. I used Google’s -Ngram viewer -when the book had no template. There were a few -cases where I’d love to check the author’s other -novels for templates but her other works are not -digitized. Any other issues in rejoining these words -may also be found in the Hyphenated Words -section. -</p> -<p> -Other issues that have come up in transcribing -the book are listed in the Emendations and -Issues section of these Detailed Notes. -</p> - -<h4>Emendations and Issues.</h4> -<ul> -<li>On <a href="#Page_089">Page 89</a> and <a href="#Page_211">Page 211</a>, -there is a space between an em-dash and the beginning of the -next sentence on the printed page. These spaces were removed.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_002">Page 2</a> The novel uses <b>sitting-room</b> -here but four other times uses <b>sitting room.</b> The novel also uses -dining-room on <a href="#Page_028">Page 28</a>, but later has three -uses of dining room. In both cases, the spelling as the -novel had it was retained. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_058">Page 58</a> and <a href="#Page_141">Page 141</a> -use <b>well-known</b> and <b>well known,</b> respectively, but the usage in both cases follows -current styling guidelines. The Chicago Manual of Style cites the following grammatical -rule: use a hyphen to join two or more words serving as a single adjective before a noun, -but not when those two words come after a noun. The AP Style Guide has a more complex -rule that hyphenates the words after the noun if the adjectives appear after a form of -<b>to be</b>. In the first sentence, <b>by a well-known firm of decorators,</b> well-known is a -single adjective before a noun. In the second sentence, <b>His father, Graham Crosby, -an explorer well known to geographical societies,</b> well known is a single adjective after -the noun explorer, not followed by a verb form of to be. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_iii">Page iii</a> On the original -title page, the city of Publication and the year of -Publication were on the same line. Because of a technical issue -associated with maintaining that structure, the city and year are -displayed on separate lines and the text centered, much like the -presentation of this publisher information on the title page of -many of our other books. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_v">Page v</a> Added Table of Contents. This -table of contents page replaces a simple page with the title -of the novel printed on it.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_027">Page 27</a>, <a href="#Page_149">Page 149</a>. -As the complimentary closing of all other letters was italicized, -the complimentary closings for these two letters were italicized too. -These were Stephen’s second letter in Chapter 3 and Claire’s reply -to another of Stephen’s letters in Chapter 13. -</li> -<li>On <a href="#Page_172">Page 172</a>, the closing signatures of Stephen’s -letter was printed on the last line of the letter in the book and right -justified. On <a href="#Page_265">Page 265</a>, the complimentary closing and -closing signature were printed on the last line of the letter and right justified. -Both presentations were standardized. -</li> -<li><a href="#Page_053">Page 53</a> Titanic in Stephen’s letter is -in quotes, while <i>Titanic</i> on <a href="#Page_153">Page 153</a> -is italicized.</li> -<li><cite>Who’s Who</cite> is a reference work on contemporary prominent -people in Britain published annually since 1849. I removed the -question mark after <cite>Who’s Who?</cite> in the citation on -<a href="#Page_240">Page 240</a>. No change was made to the citation -on <a href="#Page_075">Page 75</a>. -</li> -<li><a href="#Page_165">Page 165</a> Correct spelling of trying in this -sentence: <b>If I say anything she will only -tell me I am tryng to rob her of her happiness.</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_187">Page 187</a> Change Is to It in the sentence: <b>Is -isn’t as though the children were growing up;</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_222">Page 222</a> Add a left quote before <b>Mr. -Robinson of Denver.’</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_229">Page 229</a> Remove right double quote after <b>Mr. -Colebridge nearly always joins us.”</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_241">Page 241</a> Change pore to poor in the sentence: -<b>there aren’t too many things going for a pore cripple.</b></li> -<li>On <a href="#Page_256">Page 256</a> Madame Claire says <b>sha’n’t</b> -while on <a href="#Page_294">Page 294</a> Chip says <b>shan’t</b>. -</li> -<li><a href="#Page_263">Page 263</a> Remove the double right quote after me -in the following sentence: <b>I feel that life is just beginning -for me.</b> The standard in this book for letters with a closing address -is to defer the trailing right quote until after the closing signature.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_274">Page 274</a> Change single right quote to a double right -quote in the following sentence: <b>"Didn’t I understand Judy to say that the -theater was one of them?’</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_277">Page 277</a> Change prefectly to perfectly in the -sentence: <b>"are you prefectly well again?</b></li> -<li><a href="#Page_283">Page 283</a> Change the double right closing quote -after Andrew Crobsy’s signature to a closing single right quote. -Judy’s narration continues after the end of the letter.</li> -<li>In the <a href="#linkChapter27">Novels promotional page</a>, the -book’s practice of putting both publishing cities on -the same line were retained.</li> -<li>The cover image was created by the transcriber and -it is placed in the public domain.</li> -</ul> - -<h4>Hyphenated Words.</h4> -<ul> -<li><a href="#Page_003">Page 3</a> lifelong, -see <a href="#Page_082">Page 82.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_010">Page 10</a> self-restraint.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_011">Page 11</a> eye-witness. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_028">Page 28</a> photograph, -see <a href="#Page_077">Page 77.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_044">Page 44</a> overshadowed. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_053">Page 53</a> bath-chair, -see <a href="#Page_213">Page 213</a> and <a href="#Page_219">Page 219.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_062">Page 62</a> barbed-wire entanglements, -see <a href="#Page_061">Page 61.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_067">Page 67</a> notebook. Another word with -the same suffix, picture-book on <a href="#Page_138">Page 138</a>, -was unsuitable as a template for notebook. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_071">Page 71</a> hard-bitten. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_076">Page 76</a> forbore. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_082">Page 82</a> nakedness, -see <a href="#Page_106">Page 106.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_087">Page 87</a> meddlesome.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_104">Page 104</a> warfare. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_135">Page 135</a> stiffness.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_139">Page 139</a> schoolgirl, -see <a href="#Page_256">Page 256.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_148">Page 148</a> hilltop, -see <a href="#Page_007">Page 7.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_160">Page 160</a> waist-coat.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_173">Page 173</a> dressmaker.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_183">Page 183</a> household, -see <a href="#Page_097">Page 097.</a></li> -<li><a href="#Page_204">Page 204</a> between-maid.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_220">Page 220</a> over-ripeness. </li> -<li><a href="#Page_237">Page 237</a> unChristian.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_246">Page 246</a> primroses.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_252">Page 252</a> hereafter, -see <a href="#Page_048">Page 48</a>.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_257">Page 257</a> doorway, -see <a href="#Page_199">Page 199</a>.</li> -<li><a href="#Page_288">Page 288</a> nickname.</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADAME CLAIRE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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