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diff --git a/old/66907-0.txt b/old/66907-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0a06117..0000000 --- a/old/66907-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13688 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Broken Barriers, by Meredith Nicholson - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: Broken Barriers - -Author: Meredith Nicholson - -Release Date: December 8, 2021 [eBook #66907] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN BARRIERS *** - - - - - -_BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON_ - - BROKEN BARRIERS - BEST LAID SCHEMES - THE MAN IN THE STREET - BLACKSHEEP! BLACKSHEEP! - LADY LARKSPUR - THE MADNESS OF MAY - THE VALLEY OF DEMOCRACY - -_CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS_ - - - - -BROKEN BARRIERS - - - - - BROKEN BARRIERS - - BY - MEREDITH NICHOLSON - - NEW YORK - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - 1922 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE CO. - - Printed in the United States of America - - Published September, 1922 - - [Illustration] - - - - - TO - - RAY LONG - - WITH AFFECTIONATE REGARD - AND IN TOKEN OF - THE OLD HOOSIER FELLOWSHIP - OF MONTGOMERY AND BOONE - - - - -BROKEN BARRIERS - - - - -BROKEN BARRIERS - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - - -I - -As the train sped through the night Grace Durland decided that after -all it didn’t matter so much! - -She had parted tearfully from the girls at the sorority house and -equally poignant had been the goodbyes to her friends among the -faculty; but now that it was all over she was surprised and a little -mystified that she had so quickly recovered from her disappointment. -Bitterness had welled in her heart at the first reading of her mother’s -letter calling her home. Her brother Roy, always the favored one, was -to remain at the University to finish the law course, for which he had -shown neither aptitude nor zeal, and this hurt a little. And they might -have warned her of the impending crisis in the family fortunes before -she left home to begin the fall term, only a month earlier. - -But her resentment had passed. The spirit of adventure beat in her -breast with strong insistent wing. With the fatalism of imaginative -youth she was already assuring herself that some force beyond her -control had caught her up and was bearing her on irresistibly. - -She lay back at ease in her seat in the day coach, grateful that there -were no acquaintances on the train to interrupt her reveries. She was -twenty-one, tall, slightly above medium height and bore every mark -of sound health and wholesome living--a fair representative of the -self-reliant American girls visible on the campus of all Mid-Western -colleges. The excitement of her hasty packing and leave-taking had -left a glow in her olive cheeks. Her hair, where it showed under her -sport hat, was lustrous black; her eyes were brown, though in shadow -they changed to jade,--variable, interesting eyes they were, that -arrested attention by their quick play of emotion. They expressed her -alert intelligence, her frank curiosity, her sympathetic and responsive -nature. - -When the train reached Indianapolis she left her trunk check with the -transfer agent and boarded a street-car. At Washington street, she -transferred to the trolley line that ran down New York street, where -the Durland home faced Military Park. New York street between the old -canal and the western end of the park had once been a fashionable -quarter of the town, and the old houses still stood though their -glory of the Civil War time and the years immediately succeeding had -departed. The Durlands lived in a big square brick house, set well back -in a yard that rose a little above the street. The native forest trees -in the lots all along the block added to the impression of age imparted -by the houses themselves. Under the branches of the big walnut in the -Durland front yard the neighborhood children of Grace’s generation -had gathered to play. The tree was identified with her earliest -recollections; it had symbolized the stability of the home itself. - -She pushed open the iron gate and hurried up the brick walk. Her ring -brought her mother to the door, clutching a newspaper. - -“Why, _Grace_! I had no _idea_----” - -She caught the girl in her arms, then held her away, looked into her -eyes and kissed her. - -“I’m so sorry, dear! I know what it means to you. It’s a terrible -disappointment to all of us.” - -“Oh, I understand everything, mother.” - -“But I didn’t expect you so soon. I don’t see how you managed it. I -thought you’d probably wait till Saturday.” - -“Oh, I couldn’t have done that, mother.” - -“How’s Roy? He didn’t write at all last week.” - -“He’s flourishing and sent his love to everybody. He promises to work -harder than ever now.” - -“I’m sure he will. I know he was sorry to see you leave; he’d know what -a wrench it would be for you.” - -They had been talking in the hall, with Grace’s suitcase and tennis -racket lying on the floor where she had dropped them. She pushed them -out of the way at the foot of the old-fashioned stair that rose steeply -just inside the door. - -“Don’t bother about your things now, Grace. Your father’s in the -sitting room and Ethel’s up in the spare room sewing. Have you had your -supper? There’s some cold baked chicken in the ice-box and I can make -you some hot tea.” - -“Oh, I had supper before I left, mother.” - -Mrs. Durland lifted her head and called her older daughter’s name -and from some remote place Ethel answered. Mrs. Durland was as dark -as Grace, but cast in a larger mold, and while there were points of -resemblance in their faces there was a masculine vigor in the mother -that the girl lacked. Mrs. Durland’s iron-gray hair was brushed back -smoothly from her low broad forehead. She wore an authoritative air, -suggesting at once managerial capacity; a woman, one would say, -strongly independent in her thinking; self-assertive and obstinate, but -of kind and generous impulses. - -Grace was already in the sitting room, where she tip-toed up behind her -father, who was absorbed in a book that he read as it lay on the table -before him. His bent shoulders suggested that this was his habitual -manner of managing a book. Grace passed her hands over his thick shock -of disordered hair and patted his cheek; then bent and laid her face -against his. - -“Well, here I am, daddy!” - -“Not home, Grace!” he exclaimed looking up at her bewilderedly. “They -didn’t tell me you were coming.” - -“I’m a surprise! Nobody knew I was coming tonight!” - -“Well, well; I didn’t know there was a train at this hour. It’s nice to -see you, Grace.” - -He turned to the open volume with an absent confused air, as though -uncertain whether anything further was expected of him, then pushed his -chair back from the table. Mrs. Durland had come in, followed quickly -by Ethel carrying a work-basket and a blouse that she had been at work -on when interrupted by the announcement of her sister’s arrival. - -Ethel was twenty-seven, an indefinite blonde, and not so tall as Grace. -Her mother said that she was a Durland, specifically like one of her -husband’s sisters in Ohio, a person for whom Mrs. Durland had never -evinced any great liking. Mrs. Durland was a Morley and the Morleys -were a different stock, with the Kentucky background so precious in -the eyes of many Indianians. Mrs. Durland’s father had been a lawyer -of small attainments in a southern Indiana county, but it was in -her grandfather Josiah B. Morley, who sat in the Constitutional -Convention of 1851, and was later a speaker of the Indiana house of -representatives, that her pride concentrated. She had married Durland -in Rangerton, where as a young man he had begun with Isaac Cummings -the manufacture of a few mechanical specialties, removing shortly to -Indianapolis with a number of Durland’s inventions and Cummings’s small -capital as the foundation of their fortune. - -“Things have changed some since you left, Grace. And I’m sorry you had -to quit school,” Durland was saying, while Ethel, having greeted her -sister, sat down by the smoldering coal fire and resumed her sewing. - -“It’s all right, father,” said Grace, who had taken off her hat and -coat. “I came back as soon as I got the news so you and mother would -know it’s all right with me. We’re all going to put up a cheerful -front, no matter what happens.” - -“Of course we’ve all got to do that,” murmured Ethel without looking up. - -“It’s hard on you children,” said Durland. “It’s all my fault; I’ve got -nobody to blame but myself, Grace. Cummings always seemed willing for -me to go on as I did for twenty years, trying to improve on the old -patents and develop new ideas. But ideas don’t come as fast as they -used to. I guess he thought he’d got everything I was ever likely to -have to offer.” - -“It was certainly unkind, after all the years you’d been together. But -I don’t believe for a minute your work’s done. You’ll strike something -bigger than any of your old inventions.” - -“That’s what I’ve been telling father,” said Ethel. “A man who’s spent -years inventing things is likely to find something big any time. Of -course, without the shop father can’t work as well, but he’s going to -have a shop of his own.” - -“Oh, that’s fine, father!” exclaimed Grace. “Where is the new place -going to be?” - -“It’s not much of a place,” Durland answered apologetically. “I rented -a little room in the Billings Power Building and am going to run a -pattern and model shop. I hope to get enough work right away to pay the -rent.” - -“I’m sure you will. Everybody who knows anything about the machinery -business knows you’re the inventor of the only good things -Cummings-Durland make.” - -“They’ve changed the name of the company now,” Ethel remarked. “They’ve -cut father’s name out.” - -“They changed the name in reorganizing the company,” Durland explained -patiently in his colorless tone. “I had some loans the bank wouldn’t -carry any longer; stock I put up as collateral had to be sold and -Cummings bought it.” - -“A man who will do a thing like that will be punished for it; he won’t -prosper,” said Ethel in a curious, strained voice. - -Durland frowned at his older daughter. Evidently her remark was -distasteful to him; he found no consolation in the prediction that -unseen powers would punish Cummings for his perfidy. - -“I’d probably have done the same thing if I’d been in his place. -Everything he turned down--my new ideas, I mean--proved to be no good -when I put my own money into ’em on the side. You’ve got to be fair -about it.” - -It was clear that he set great store by the new shop. The fact that -he still had a place to work preserved his self-respect. With a place -in which to continue his experiments he was not utterly condemned to -the scrap heap. He lifted his head and his jaws tightened. Grace noted -with pity these manifestations of a resurgence of his courage. His -laborious life, his few interests outside the shop or more accurately -the private laboratory he had maintained for years in a corner of the -Cummings-Durland plant; his evenings at home poring over scientific -books and periodicals; his mild unquestioning assent to everything his -wife proposed with reference to family affairs, all had their pathos. -She had always been aware that he had a fondness for her that was not -shared by Roy and Ethel. Grace imagined that it was a disappointment -to her father that Roy had not manifested a mechanical bent. In his -gentle, unassertive fashion, Durland had tried to curb the lad’s -proneness to seek amusement, to skimp his lessons--this in Roy’s high -school days; but Mrs. Durland had always been quick to defend Roy; in -her eyes he could do no wrong. - -Ethel and her father were almost equally out of sympathy. Ethel was -intensely religious, zealous in attendance upon a down-town church, a -teacher in its Sunday school and active in its young people’s society. -While Mrs. Durland had long been a member of a West End church she -was not particularly religious; she believed there was good in all -churches; but she was proud of Ethel’s prominence in a church whose -membership was recruited largely from the prosperous. Ethel was on -important committees and she was now and then a delegate to conventions -of church workers in other cities; the pastor called upon her -frequently and she had been asked to dinner at the houses of wealthy -members of the congregation, though usually some church business -inspired the invitation. In a day when the frivolity of the new -generation was a subject of general lamentation, Ethel could be pointed -to as a pattern of sobriety and rectitude. Durland had ceased going to -church shortly after his marriage and his wife had accounted to his -children for his apostacy on the ground of his scientific learnings. He -never discussed religion; indeed, he rarely debated any question that -rose in the family. - -Mrs. Durland came bustling in carrying an apron which she was -hemstitching and the talk at once became more animated. - -“The Cummings are in their new house on Washington Boulevard, Grace. -They’ve left the house on Meridian they bought when they moved away -from here. They haven’t sold their place; they’ve leased it for -ninety-nine years to an automobile company. We’re the only people on -this block who were here when your father bought this house.” - -Ethel and her mother engaged in a long discussion of the Cummings -family, not neglecting to abuse Isaac Cummings for his ungenerous -conduct in dropping Durland from the business. Meanwhile Durland -crossed and recrossed his short thin legs to express his impatience -or disapproval. Nothing interested him less than the Cummings family -history; and his elimination from the old company was a closed incident. - -“Bob Cummings’s wife is certainly a pretty woman,” continued Ethel. -“She’s very popular, too. You see her name nearly every day in the -society column. Bob was always so quiet; I wonder how he likes being -dragged about so much.” - -“I shall always think,” remarked Mrs. Durland expansively, “that if the -Cummings hadn’t moved away when they did Bob and Grace might--well, I -always thought he liked you particularly, Grace, and you were fond of -him. Of course, he’s five years older, but when you were still in high -school and he was in Yale he always came to see you and took you places -when he was home. But when they moved away everything changed.” - -“Oh, that didn’t amount to anything, mother,” Grace replied carelessly. -“He was always shy as a boy and I suppose he still is. After they moved -away he didn’t know the girls out there so he hung on to me for a -while. He just used me to cover up his diffidence among strange young -people at country club dances, and other places where he didn’t know -many people. When he got acquainted out there he didn’t need me any -more.” - -“It would be like Hetty Cummings to tell him he’d better cut his West -End friends,” said Mrs. Durland tartly. “Even back in Rangerton she -was always setting up to be better than most folks. It must have been -in their minds when they moved away that they were going to force your -father out of the business and burn all the old bridges.” - -“The canal bridge,” remarked Grace with a little laugh which the others -ignored. - -“Now, Allie,” said Durland in mild protest, “they didn’t force me out. -It was losing my stock in the company that put me out.” - -“It was merciless,” said Ethel, her voice rising, “Cummings took -advantage of you. He always knew you were not a business man. -Everything he’s got came through your genius.” - -“I guess he thought my genius was worn out,--and he may be right about -it,” said Durland. - -“Don’t be so foolish, daddy,” said Grace gently. “Any day you may have -an inspiration that will be worth a lot of money.” - -“It’s always possible, of course,” said Mrs. Durland with a little sigh -susceptible of the interpretation that she had no great confidence in -her husband’s further inspirations. “Ethel,” she continued, “tell Grace -about your work.” - -“Yes, please do, sis,” said Grace. - -“Well, I’ve just begun,” Ethel replied primly. “I don’t know much about -it myself. I’m in the Gregg and Burley company; they’re one of the -biggest insurance agencies in town. Mr. Burley’s been ever so nice to -me. His little girl’s in my Sunday-school class. Mrs. Burley asked me -to a birthday party they had for Louise last summer, so I really feel -that I know the family. I’m handling the telephone calls and doing -other little things till I get the run of the office. I’ve started at -eighteen a week but Mr. Burley says they’ll raise me just as soon as -I’m worth more. There are six other girls in the office and one who’s -been there ten years get fifty a week and I don’t see how they ever -could get along without her. She knows more about the details of the -business than the members of the firm.” - -“That sounds good,” said Grace warmly. “I suppose there are women -in business here who make large salaries, far more than high school -teachers or teachers in colleges.” - -“I never thought my girls would have to battle for their bread,” said -Mrs. Durland. “I’ve always clung to the old-fashioned idea that girls -should stay with their mothers till they married. Of course thousands -of splendid girls are at work in every kind of business, but it’s hard -for me to get used to it.” - -“I don’t see why women shouldn’t work if they need to or want to,” said -Grace, “I think that’s one of the things that’s settled; women can do -anything they please these days.” - -“I can’t bring myself to see it,” Mrs. Durland replied, “I remember -that it seemed queer when my father employed a woman stenographer in -his office.” - -“Well, times have changed, mother,” Grace remarked. “I have an idea -that I can sell things; I read an article in a magazine about the -psychology of salesmanship, and I have a strong hunch that that would -be a good field for me. The big stores must be taking on more help at -this season. I think I’ll see what the chances are.” - -“Grace, surely you’re not in earnest!” cried Mrs. Durland. “Of course -we will need your help, but it would be a lot better, considering your -education, for you to take up teaching or go into an office as Ethel’s -doing. It’s so much more in keeping with your bringing up. It would -break my heart to see you behind a counter!” - -Durland shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the matter was discussed. -For years he had lived his own life, his thoughts centered constantly -upon mechanical projects. He was now confronted by the fact that as the -result of his intense preoccupation with tools, metals and wood and his -inattention and incapacity in business he was hardly a factor in family -affairs. He listened almost as though he were a stranger in a strange -house, his guilt heavy upon him. He started when Grace addressed him -directly. - -“Well, daddy, don’t you think I’m right about trying my arts of -persuasion as a saleslady? I’ve always loved that word! I think it -would be fascinating.” - -“You make it sound interesting,” said Durland cautiously, after a timid -glance at his wife. “I want you to know it hurts me to think that you -girls have got to go to work. But as long as it can’t be helped I want -you to do the best you can for yourselves. You ought to be sure you get -into something where you’ll have a chance to forward yourself.” - -“Yes, daddy,” said Grace kindly. “I want to make my time count. If I’m -going to be a business woman I mean to play the game for all I’m worth.” - -“I simply couldn’t be reconciled to having you in a store,” said Mrs. -Durland. “An office would be much more dignified.” - -“I guess Grace can take care of herself,” Durland ventured. - -“Of course!” replied Mrs. Durland quickly, “we can trust our girls -anywhere. I was only thinking of the annoyances. I’ve seen girls -humiliated by floor-walkers--right before customers, and it always -makes me boil. And I’m ashamed to say there are women who are perfectly -hateful to the clerks who wait on them.” - -“Well, who’s afraid!” said Grace cheerfully. “School teachers have a -hard time too, with principals and supervisors pecking at them all the -time. Now that I’m going out into the world I’m not going to ask any -special favors because I’m a woman. The day for that’s all passed.” - -“And it’s a pity it’s so!” declared Mrs. Durland. - -“Oh, mother, I’m for taking the world as I find it!” She glanced -laughingly at her father who smiled at her approvingly. In his -undemonstrative way he was relieved that Grace was meeting family -misfortunes so bravely. His courage was strengthened by her very -presence in the house. Prematurely aged as he was, he rejoiced in -her youth, her radiant vitality, her good humor and high spirits. He -followed her with admiring eyes as she moved about the room. She bent -for a moment over the book he had been reading, asked questions about -it, drawing him out as to its nature and merits. He was as happy as a -boy when a sympathetic grown-up manifests an intelligent interest in -his toys. - -“I hope you won’t be in too much of a hurry about going to work, -Grace,” said Mrs. Durland. “It’s a serious matter for you and all of -us. Perhaps Ethel could make some suggestions. Some of her church -friends might be able to help you.” - -“I shall be glad to do anything I can,” Ethel murmured without looking -up from her sewing. - -“Oh, thanks; I’ll certainly call on you if I see any place where -you can help. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got mother’s -letter, and I believe I’ll call up Irene Kirby right now and make an -appointment to see her tomorrow. She’s been in Shipley’s ever since she -left high school.” - -“Now, Grace, please don’t do that,” protested Mrs. Durland, “you must -take time to consider your future. Irene’s people are very ordinary and -I never liked your intimacy with her when you went to school together.” - -“Why, mother, Irene’s one of the finest girls I ever knew! She was a -good student in high school and certainly behaved herself. She can tell -me all about Shipley’s and the chances of getting in there.” - -“I don’t like it at all, Grace,” replied Mrs. Durland. “It’s bad enough -having my daughters going down town to work but I’d hate having you ask -favors of a girl like Irene Kirby. I don’t see why you can’t wait a -little and let Ethel help you find something more suitable.” - -“But it won’t do any harm to see Irene and talk to her.” - -They heard her voice at the telephone in the hall and caught scraps of -her lively talk with Irene. - -“Grace is so headstrong,” Mrs. Durland sighed. “And you never can -tell how anything’s going to strike her. I’m always amazed at her -inconsistencies. She’s the last girl in the world you’d think would -want to work in a department store. She isn’t that type at all. -Stephen, I wish you’d put your foot down.” - -Durland looked at his wife blankly, trying to recall any other instance -where he had been asked to put his foot down. If he had been a man of -mirth he might have laughed. - -“Grace ain’t going to do anything foolish; you can trust Grace,” he -said. - -“What did Irene say?” asked Ethel when Grace came back from the -telephone. - -“Oh, I am going to have lunch with her tomorrow at the store and she’ll -tell me everything,” said Grace carelessly. “Well, daddy, it’s about -time for the regular evening apple.” - -There was a plate of apples on the table with a knife beside it, and -Durland, pleased that she remembered his habit of eating an apple -before going to bed, took one she chose for him and peeled it with -care, tossing the unbroken peeling into the grate. - - -II - -As Grace and her mother washed the dishes and made the beds the next -morning Mrs. Durland recurred to the ill fortune that had brought -Grace home from the university. Repetition was a habit with her, and -she explained again and with more detail the manner in which Cummings -had thrust her husband out of Cummings-Durland. She praised the -spirit in which Ethel had met the situation--all this as a prelude -to another plea that Grace should plan her future with care and not -take the first employment that offered. One of these days the right -man would come along and she would marry; Mrs. Durland hoped that both -her daughters would marry good men and keep up the traditions of the -American home. - -“Oh, I’ve never felt that I’d marry,” Grace replied. “The reason I went -to college was to fit myself to be something in the world; and now that -I’ve got to begin over again I’m going to experiment a little. I may -try a lot of things before I find something that suits me.” - -“Well, Grace, you know I’ve done the best I could for all you children. -When my time comes to go I want to know that you are all happy and well -placed in life.” - -“Yes, mother; you’ve been wonderful to all of us. And I want you to be -sure I’m not bitter about anything. You and father have always done the -best you could for us.” - -It was a clear, crisp morning and Grace decided to walk the short -distance to the business district. Her buoyant step expressed her -lightness of spirit; never had she felt so well, never had she been -so sure of herself. She was convinced that it was only her pride that -had suffered in the sudden termination of her college life and that -the blow was not to any lofty ideal that she had erected for herself. -The thought of freedom fascinated her. Her mother’s constant lament -that the world was not what it used to be and that the change was not -all for the better only piqued her curiosity. While the university had -thrown its protecting arm about her she had not thought of perils or -dangers; they were only the subject of tedious warnings by pessimists -who had despaired of youth in all ages. But now that she had been -thrust into the world she refused to be appalled by hints of unseen -dangers; the fact that they were only hints, intimations, vague -insinuations, only increased her incredulity while creating a wonder -in her mind as to their exact nature. She was afraid of nothing; dared -everything. - -A car screeched discordantly as it negotiated a turn on its way into -the interurban station. She noted the faces of the passengers at the -windows--country folk and small town people--and felt her comradeship -with them. She had once heard the president of the university say -that the state was like a big neighborhood of cheerful, industrious, -aspiring people, and the thought pleased her. - -To Grace the capital city of her native state was merely an aggregation -of three hundred and some odd thousand people. The rust-colored -dome of the State House and the majestic shaft of the Soldier’s and -Sailor’s Monument connoted history and implied changes that were to -influence and affect her as a child of the commonwealth; but she was -only vaguely conscious of them. It was her fate to become an active -member of the community at a time when elderly citizens, who professed -to believe that nothing had changed since the last wild turkey was -shot within the town’s original mile square, found themselves walking -from the post office to the old Bates House site without meeting a -single acquaintance. The languor that for years gave Indianapolis a -half-southern air was gone. Here indeed was abundant material for the -student of change. - -Still a sprawling country town at the end of the Civil War, -Indianapolis was booming gaily when the panic of ’73 punished it for -its temerity. The few conservative capitalists who patiently sawed -wood while the bubbles were bursting had money to invest when the -Eastern insurance companies began foreclosing their mortgages on the -best corners. Such banks as survived established new low records -of refrigeration. Newcomers, stupidly desirous of initiating new -enterprises, were chilled by their reception. Melancholy recollections -of the panic of ’73 were long a sufficient excuse for restricted -credits. Not going to take any chances! As a matter of fact they never -had taken any, those cautious souls, and in the trail of the whirlwind -they had gathered enough spoil to enrich themselves a thousand fold. -Stinginess nobly standardized by a few merely, one might think, that -the generous of hand and spirit might shine the more effulgently. -The town got by the pinching times of ’84 and ’93 and continued to -grow right along until the automobile craze arrived with a resulting -multiplication of smokestacks. With the old guard, and such portions -of a new generation as had been intimidated by its caution, sitting in -pigeon-toed fear predicting calamity, the growth persisted. - -Prosperity began to wear strange faces; the old-timers didn’t know the -new people or pretended they didn’t. Many of these new folk who rolled -over the asphalt in large expensive limousines didn’t go to church -at all. A singular thing. Once it hadn’t been respectable to abstain -from church. Spectacle of perfectly good citizens riding gaily to the -country clubs on Sunday morning without fear of eternal damnation. -Churches moving uptown, or those that clung to their old sites trying -valiantly to adjust themselves to changing spiritual needs. - -Sentiment--oodles and scads of sentiment about the town and its -people! Visitors expected to confess that here throbs a different -atmosphere--an ampler ether, a diviner air. Politics, no end. -Statesmen and stateswomen everywhere visible. Families torn asunder -by the battles of the primaries. A political bomb hidden under the -socks in every darning basket. The fine arts not neglected. An honest -interest, dating back to the founders, in bookish things; every mail -box a receptacle for manuscript. Riley in Lockerbie street thrumming -his lyre with the nation for audience. - -No reason why any one should go friendless or stray from the straight -and narrow path in a town so solidly based on the ten commandments, -except that the percentage of the wayward seems bound to grow with a -mounting population, particularly when the biggest war in all creation -comes along and jars most disturbingly all the props of civilization. -Changes! Changes of course, not local as to cause and effect, but part -of the general onward sweep of the Time-Spirit impelled by gasoline to -jazzy music. - -In so far as she paid any attention to the talk about changes that she -had heard at home and at the university, Grace believed it was all for -good; that it was well to be done with hypocrisy, cant, prudishness; -that a frank recognition of evil rather than an attempt to cloak it -marked a distinct advance. When she was about nine her mother had -rebuked her severely for using the word leg; a leg was a limb and -not vulgarly to be referred to as a leg. The use of leg when leg was -meant was still considered vulgar by fairly broad-minded folk in the -corn-belt, probably as late as 1906--if one may attempt to fix a date -for so momentous a matter. - -Grace Durland was no more responsible for the changes going on about -her than her parents had been for the changes of their day. They had -witnessed the passing of the hoop-skirt and red flannel underwear, -the abandonment of the asafetida bag as a charm against infection, and -other follies innumerable. Boys and girls had once stolen down the -back stairs or brazenly lied to gain an evening of freedom; now the -only difference was that they demanded--and received--a key to the -front door. Civilization will hardly go to smash over the question of a -girl’s refusal to wear a corset or her insistence on her right to roll -her stockings. The generation of Grace Durland isn’t responsible for -changes that began the day after creation and started all over again -after the flood and will continue right on to the end of all things. - - -III - -The last of a number of errands she had undertaken for her mother -brought Grace to Shipley’s a little before twelve. She observed the -young women who waited on her with a particular attention inspired by -the feeling that she too might soon be standing behind a counter. Some -of the clerks at Shipley’s were women well advanced in middle life, -whom she remembered from her earliest visits to the establishment. -These veterans contributed to Shipley’s reputation for solidity and -permanence. They enjoyed the friendly acquaintance of many customers, -who relied upon their counsel in their purchases. There were many more -employees of this type in Shipley’s than in any other establishment in -town; they were an asset, a testimony to the consideration shown the -employees, the high character of the owners. Grace’s imagination played -upon her own future: what if she should find herself in ten or twenty -years behind a counter, ambition and hope dead in her and nothing ahead -but the daily exhibition of commodities and the making out of sale -slips! - -But this cloud was only the tiniest speck on her horizon. She had -already set a limit upon the time she would spend in such a place if -her services were accepted; it was the experience she wanted, and when -she had exhausted the possibilities of Shipley’s or some similar place -she meant to carry her pitcher of curiosity to other fountains. - -While waiting for Irene outside the lunch room she found amusement -in watching the shoppers, studying them, determining their financial -and social status. Some one had told her that she was endowed with -special gifts for appraising character, and she had the conceit of her -inexperience as a student of the human kind. Her speculations as to the -passers-by were interrupted by the arrival of Irene. - -“It’s perfectly wonderful to see you again! I was that delighted to -hear your voice over the wire last night. You’re looking marvelous! I -always adored your gypsy effect! Come along--there’s a particular table -in a far corner they keep for me and we can buzz for just one hour.” - -She had put on her coat and hat, to disguise the fact, she explained, -that she was one of Shipley’s hired hands. She was a tall blonde, with -a wealth of honey-colored hair, china blue eyes and a dear brilliant -complexion. Grace’s admiration, dating from high school days, quickened -as she noted the girl’s ease and the somewhat scornful air with which -she inspected the lunch card. Irene’s father was a locomotive engineer -and the family lived in a comfortable house on a pleasant street in -the East End, not far from the railway shops. Irene had brothers -and sisters, but they did not share her good looks or her social -qualities. Irene met the rest of the world with a lofty condescension -which fell short of being insufferable only by reason of her good -humor. Selfishness with Irene was almost a virtue, it manifested itself -so candidly. She had no intention of being bored, or of putting herself -out. Ugliness and clumsiness were repugnant to her. Disagreeable things -did not trouble her because she had schooled herself not to see them. -She was clever, adroit, resourceful, and wise with the astonishing -worldly-wisdom that is the heritage of the children of the Twentieth -Century. In school she had been a fair scholar but the grand manner -and a ready wit had assisted her even there. When puzzled by Irene’s -ability to dress better than most of her girl companions in the high -school, Grace had been impressed by the revelation that Irene made -her own clothes and could retouch last year’s hat with a genius that -brought it into conformity with the latest and most exclusive designs. - -“You still have the same queenly look, Irene,” Grace remarked. - -“Queenly nothing! You’re nearly as tall as I am and I haven’t a thing -on you when it comes to hauteur. I suppose the Lord made me tall and -gave me square shoulders just to hang clothes on for women with money -to look at. I wish I had your black hair. Being a blonde is an awful -handicap if you’re doomed to work for a living. And a complexion like -mine, which is called good by experts, is a nuisance. I’ve refused an -offer about once a month to go on the road selling and demonstrating -cosmetics. Can you see me?” - -“I supposed you’d be married before this, Irene. You must have had -loads of chances.” - -“Chances but not opportunities,” replied Irene with a shrug. “Don’t -tell me you’ve quit college to get married; it’s not a professor, I -hope! I’d hate to see you sacrificing yourself in the noble cause of -education.” - -“Nothing like that. I quit because we’re broke--father couldn’t afford -to keep me in college any longer. Some one had to drop out and as Roy -has only a year more in the law school it seemed better for him to keep -on.” - -“Roy?” Irene repeated the name languidly as though Roy were a -negligible figure in the affairs of the Durlands. - -“My brother,” said Grace. - -“Oh, yes!” Irene’s eyes lighted as with some memory. “Oh, yes--brothers -do rather have the best of it, don’t they? But it’s too bad you -couldn’t finish. You’re just the type of girl that ought to be rounded -out at college.” - -“Oh, it’s all right; I’m rather glad to be free.” - -“Well, I’d dreamed of seeing you land high as a writer or something -like that. I’ll hand you this right now: women can’t know too much -these days. It’s a big advantage to a woman to know how to talk to men; -I don’t mean the pool room boys but the real men--the men who draw -the large mazuma. They have the brains themselves and they respect -the same ingredient in girls, a lot of silly ideas to the contrary -notwithstanding. Just by knowing Thackeray I’m the assistant manager of -the ready-to-wear department of this spacious emporium--the youngest -assistant in the house. Funny, but it’s true!” - -Asked for an elucidation of the statement, Irene explained that the -general superintendent of Shipley’s, who had power of life and death -over everything pertaining to the establishment, was Thackeray-mad. -Learning this she had carelessly referred to “Becky Sharp” in a chance -conversation with him in the elevator on a day when he deigned to -notice her. In a week she had been called to his office and promoted. - -“Oh, don’t imagine he was leading up to anything; he’s a gentleman -with a wife and three children and teaches a Sunday-school class. But -he yearns to talk to some one--any one who has a scrap of interest in -Thackeray. His wife invited me to their house for Sunday dinner awhile -back and I was never so bored in my life. But I did manage to show an -intelligent interest in his library, so I guess I’ll hold my job.” - -Irene had finished at the high school two years before Grace, but the -difference in their ages was not to be calculated in years. Irene -had always seemed to Grace to be endowed with the wisdom of all the -centuries. - -“About those correspondence courses, Grace,” Irene was saying, “I’ve -had most of the stuff on the schedule of that English course I wrote -you about. I wouldn’t read Carlyle’s ‘Heroes and Hero-worship’ again -for a farm in Texas.” - -“Or Bacon’s ‘Novum Organum’,” groaned Grace. - -“Well--I’m concentrating on French. You know I had French in high -school, and I’m keeping it up in the hope the house will send me to -Paris next year. You know Shipley’s is one of the most progressive -houses in the whole west; they certainly do treat you white.” - -“Mother’s not wildly enthusiastic about my going into a store. You know -mother; she thinks----” - -“I know,” Irene caught her up, “she thinks it’s not as respectable -as working in an office or teaching a kindergarten. I met Ethel on -the street the other day and she told me she’d taken a place with an -insurance firm. That’s all right for Ethel but no good for you. I -looked over the office game before I decided to come here and there’s -nothing to it, my dear. You can make a good thing of this if you have -selling talent. My salary is nothing to speak of but I get a bonus--I -drew seventy-five dollars last week and I expect to hit the hundred -mark before Christmas. They steer the customers who look like real -money to me. When you’ve learned the trick you can make them think it’s -a disgrace not to buy the highest priced thing we carry. The women -from the country towns whose husbands have grabbed the water power on -’Possum creek or foreclosed on ninety per cent of the farmers in the -township, bring said husbands along and they are the easiest. I throw -the wrap or whatever it is on my own stately person, then clap it on -the wife and hubby doesn’t dare let his wife suspect he doesn’t think -her as much of a Venus de Milo as I am! A modest little violet!” - -“Oh, Irene!” cried Grace, enchanted with her friend’s wisdom. - -She marveled at Irene’s poise, and envied her the light ironic flick -she gave to the business of bargain and sale. Irene complained in the -most ladylike manner of the chicken salad, which Grace had thought very -good. The head-waitress listened respectfully and offered to substitute -something else, but Irene declined, with the indifference of one to -whom petty annoyances are merely incidental and to be mentioned merely -for the good of the service. - -As they ate their chocolate eclairs Grace became impatient to broach -the matter of her own ambition to become a factor in Shipley’s, but it -seemed a pity to break in upon Irene, who went on tranquilly discussing -their old companions of high school days. Presently, after paying the -checks, she brought her wrist watch within range of her eyes with a -graceful gesture, and disposed of the matter with characteristic ease. - -“I’ve spoken to Miss Lupton--she manages our employment bureau--about -you. She’s a very good friend of mine; and I mentioned you to Miss -Boardman, the head of my department. I didn’t wait to ask where you’d -rather be; but of course I’d like to have you with me. I can’t just see -you in the toilet goods or infants’ wear. They’re pretty full in all -departments, but I think I’ve got you fixed.” - -“Oh, Irene----” - -“All you do is to fill out an application blank--they always require -that--and give two references. You’ve had no experience, but your -figure and general intelligence will more than balance that. They do -their best to keep the standard high and it won’t be lost on them that -you’re of good family and have taken a whirl at college.” - -“I’m certainly obliged to you, Irene. I didn’t know it would be as easy -as this--but”--she laughed, “they haven’t seen me yet!” - -“Don’t fish! Your appearance is nothing to complain of; you know that -as well as I do. It will be fine to have you where we can talk and play -together as we did in school. Between us we ought to be able to give -tone to our end of the shop!” - - -IV - -Miss Lupton received Grace amiably, asked her a few questions, and -pushed a blank toward her. - -“We always require this; it’s just a matter of routine,” she explained, -and as Grace filled in the blank she looked at Irene and nodded her -approval of the candidate. - -Miss Boardman, a woman of forty, short, plump and brisk in manner and -speech, surveyed Grace with full appreciation, remarking that Miss -Kirby had covered all the details. - -“We’ll be ready for you Monday morning,” she said. Then she directed -Irene’s attention to a lady who had, she explained, inspected all the -garments in the shop and still lingered, a prey to uncertainty. “Miss -Flagg doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere with that woman. It’s a Mrs. -Bascomb from up in the state somewhere--Muncie or Anderson, or maybe -Delphi. She’s a new customer and the fussiest person I ever saw. Maybe -you can help Miss Flagg, Miss Kirby, but be careful not to rattle her. -Very glad to know you, Miss Durland. You will begin at twelve fifty; -Miss Kirby will explain about the bonuses and other little things.” - -“Watch me work,” said Irene, her eyes upon Miss Flagg’s customer. “You -can sit right here.” - -Without taking off her coat and hat Irene walked toward the customer -and clerk who were evidently in a hopeless deadlock. Grace saw the -slight gesture with which Irene signalled to Miss Flagg. The import of -the signal was evidently that Miss Flagg was to continue her attentions -to the lady from Muncie, Anderson or Delphi while Irene idly examined -the garments heaped on a table, with which Miss Flagg had been tempting -her difficult shopper. Irene picked out a coat, held it at arm’s -length, and slipped it on. Walking to a glass she passed back and forth -the better to observe the effect of the garment upon her own person. - -Miss Flagg’s customer became interested, watching Irene enviously, and -the moment the girl divested herself of the garment she took it up. -The lady from Muncie, Anderson or Delphi exchanged a few words with -Irene; and again Irene put on the coat. Irene was soon discussing with -her the merits of other raiment which Miss Flagg produced from the show -cabinets. Grace watched intently, hearing nothing of the talk of the -trio, but interpreting the pantomime. Irene had evidently assumed the -role of adviser in the delicate matter of the lady’s choice. Presently -she took off her hat, disclosing the fact that she was a member of the -selling staff of the establishment. Two gowns having been added to the -wrap and the lady from the more northern provinces having been escorted -to the fitting room, Irene returned to Grace. - -“Six hundred dollars worth,” she said, flicking a raveling from her -sleeve. “I’ll stay on the job till she’s given her shipping order. Miss -Flagg is one of our best saleswomen; but she just didn’t hit it off -with that woman. They were both tired and irritating each other. If I’d -butted in and taken her away from Miss Flagg that would have spoiled -everything. I saved the day by pretending I wasn’t interested in her at -all; but now she knows I belong here and she wants me to come back to -the fitting room and make sure her things are all right. All she needed -was a little coaxing and the right kind of flattery. You’d better not -wait unless you want to watch the show a while. There’s a convention of -women’s clubs in town and we’re likely to be rushed this afternoon.” - -“I’ll run along,” said Grace. “And thank you ever so much.” - -On her way to the elevator she passed a clerk who was patiently -answering the questions of a captious customer as to the merits of a -garment. - -“I don’t know about this,” said the woman pecking at the silk lining -in the sleeve; “it looks cheap.” - -“What’s the difference, lady,” exclaimed the girl, “nobody’s going to -notice the lining.” - -Grace smiled. The girl’s phrase fastened itself in her memory. “What’s -the difference, lady?” It was susceptible of many interpretations and -applications not related to suits that sold for $19.50. - -She left the store elated, feeling herself already an essential unit -of Shipley’s. The great lower room seemed larger than when she had -entered. She went into the book department and idled over the counters, -opening volumes that roused her interest. She had no intention of -relinquishing her interest in bookish things. She would test life, -probe into the heart of things, but she would hold fast to all that -she had gained in her two years at the university. She had been -impressed by what the worldly-wise Irene had said of the value of a -little learning in getting on. She meant to propose to her friend that -they attack French together; and there were many lines of reading she -intended to pursue with a view to covering the more important cultural -courses which she had been obliged to abandon. Grace rejoiced in her -sense of freedom; she was tremendously sure of herself. - -When she reached home her mother was leaving for the first fall meeting -of the West End Literary Club which had held together for years in -spite of the deterioration of the neighborhood. Mrs. Durland made -much of her loyalty to the organization, of which she had been the -founder. While her old friends had dropped out when they moved away she -thought it her duty to fill up the membership with new arrivals in the -neighborhood. Women needed the inspiration of just such a society. She -had enrolled a number of young married women, some of them hardly more -than transients domiciled in boarding houses, with a view to keeping -them in touch with the best thought of the world. Ethel, sharing her -mother’s interest in all movements and devices for uplift, had acted as -her scout in discovering these recruits. - -“Well, Grace, I hope--” Mrs. Durland began, gathering up a number of -magazines she was carrying to the meeting. - -“I’ve done gone and done it, mother! I go to work at Shipley’s Monday -morning.” - -“I was afraid you would,” said Mrs. Durland with a sigh. “You’re so -headstrong, Grace. With a little patience we’d have found something -more suitable--more in keeping----” - -“Well, I may not like it. If I don’t I’ll change to something else, so -please don’t worry about it.” - -Mrs. Durland had mislaid a glove; the loss of it overshadowed -immediately her daughter’s grievous error in accepting employment in a -department store. Grace found the glove and held the magazines while -her mother drew it on. - -“The old security, the reticences and decencies of life have passed,” -said Mrs. Durland. Grace suspected that her mother was quoting from a -magazine article or a club paper. She declined an urgent invitation to -go to the meeting; she wanted to look over her clothes, she said. - -“I hope you’ll not give up your interest in literature now that -you’re going to work. You should save a little time every day for -self-culture. There are some new books on that line I want you to read. -I sometimes think the poorer we are the more we lean on the things of -the spirit.” - -“I’ve already decided to do some studying,” said Grace, who at the -moment didn’t feel the need of leaning on anything. She was relieved -that her mother, preoccupied with the club meeting, had so lightly -passed over the matter of her engagement at Shipley’s. - -“If I’m not back at five-thirty, put on that pot-roast,” said Mrs. -Durland from the door. “It’s all fixed in the ice-box. And if that -collector comes about the coal bill tell him I’ll call at the office -the next time I’m down town. That last load we had was full of slate -and I’m not going to pay the bill till they make it right.” - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - - -I - -“I mustn’t seem to be too much interested in you,” said Irene when -Grace reported for duty at Shipley’s on Monday morning. “I can’t play -favorites and it wouldn’t do to make the other girls jealous. The -first few days everything will seem strange but all you have to do is -to stand around and keep your eyes open. Be nice to everybody--that’s -the card to play. One girl in a department can make all the rest -uncomfortable. Miss Boardman’s a little sharp sometimes--but never talk -back! She knows her business and prides herself on keeping away ahead -of her quota of sales. The management is strong for _esprit de corps_ -and there’s a social club that’s supposed to promote that sort of -thing. There’ll be a few dances during the winter and a theatre party -and a few little things like that. You won’t mind them. They’re really -good fun.” - -Grace was number eighteen. Her investiture with a number was the only -real shock she experienced in taking her place in Shipley’s. One of her -new associates who was instructing her in the routine, which began with -inspection of the stock, tightening of buttons, the repair of minor -damages incurred in the handling of garments, addressed her casually as -“Eighteen” as though that had been Grace’s name bestowed in baptism. -For an instant Grace resented her numerical designation; it was almost -as though she had been robbed of her identity. Miss Boardman had given -her a quick looking over to satisfy herself that the new employee met -the store’s requirements as to raiment. She nodded her approval of the -frock of dark taffeta which Grace had worn to simple afternoon affairs -at college and told her to watch the other girls and lend a hand where -she could. - -Miss Boardman was beyond question a person of strong executive talent. -Though burdened with much desk work as the head of the department, -nothing escaped her watchful eye on the floor confided to her care. -By eleven o’clock the ready-to-wear presented a scene of greatest -animation. The day was fine and a throng of out-of-town customers, -lured by double page advertisements of fall apparel in the newspapers, -were attacking the department in dauntless battalions. Grace was -constantly on the alert, keeping the much-examined stock in order, -conducting customers to the trying-on room, and otherwise making -herself useful to the experienced clerks. - -A spectacled old lady fortified with a handbag appeared and surveyed -the scene of confusion with dismay. - -“Eighteen, see what that lady wants,” said Miss Boardman as she hurried -by. - -“What is it, please, that I can show you?” asked Grace, feeling her -heart thump as she realized that she had accosted her first customer. -She smiled encouragingly and the old lady returned the smile. - -“I want two suits--a gray and a blue, cut as nearly like this thing I -have on as possible. I’ve written my exact measurements on this card, -so don’t jump at me with a tape-line. And I want a plain long coat for -rough weather--something serviceable and unfashionable. You _look_ like -an intelligent girl, so I don’t expect you to show me anything in red -or green. And don’t tell me what they’re wearing in Paris, London or -New York--, as though _I_ cared! I pay cash, so there’ll be no time -lost in looking up my credit card.” - -Grace placed a chair for her singular customer, took hurried counsel of -Irene and was soon in the throes of her first sale. The little old lady -asked few questions but her inquiries were much to the point. - -“Show me only good quality,” she said, tossing aside a skirt after -asking its price. “You know perfectly well it can’t be wool for that -money, and the color will run the first time it gets rained on.” - -“This,” began Grace, “is genuine home-spun, hand-wove----” - -“That’s better. This will do for the blue. Find a gray of similar -style.” - -The gray was more difficult than the blue. She hadn’t wanted a mixed -weave but a plain gray, which was not in stock. Grace warmed to her -work, praising the quality of a gray with a misty heather mixture. -Holding the coat at arm’s length and becoming eloquent as to the fine -quality of the garment, Grace turned to find the customer regarding her -with a whimsical smile. - -“My dear child, you do that very well. How long have you been here?” -she demanded. - -Grace colored. “This is my first day,” she confessed. The old lady -seemed greatly amused at her discomfiture. Her alert eyes brightened -behind her glasses. - -“Am I your first customer? Well, you’re going to get on. You’ve made -me change my mind and not many people ever do that. That heather tone -really pleases me better than the plain smooth cloth I had in mind and -I’ll take it.” - -The customer explained that she walked in all weathers, and wanted -warmth, not style, in the topcoat with loose sleeves which she -described succinctly. Grace produced half a dozen such coats, one of -which her customer chose immediately. She slipped it on, said the -sleeves were too short, and Irene passing along opportunely said that -nothing could be easier than to let out the sleeve the required two -inches. - -“Be sure she’s perfectly satisfied before she leaves,” whispered Irene. -“She looks like real money.” - -The old lady who looked like real money was watching attentively an -evening gown which was being displayed before a smartly-dressed young -woman on the further side of the room. She drew out a memorandum book -and turned over the leaves. - -“I’ll wait a moment to see whether that woman over there buys that -gown. You might find out the measurements, if it will do for a -thirty-six I’ll take it for a niece of mine in Evansville. She’s very -fond of that rose color.” - -The rose colored gown was rejected a moment later by the lady who had -been considering it and Grace laid it before her customer. - -“My niece is just about your height and build, and has your coloring. -I’d like to see that on you!” - -Grace asked the nearest clerk whether there was any objection to -meeting this unlooked for request. Certainly not, though there was a -model for such purposes. The old lady who looked like real money didn’t -care to see the model in the gown and frankly said so. She expressed -her gratification when Grace paraded before her in the gray and ivory -fitting room. The price was three hundred dollars. - -“Thank you, I’ll take it.” - -Grace got out of the gown as quickly as possible, and presented the -garments already chosen for final approval. The old lady who looked -like real money produced from her satchel a checkbook and a fountain -pen. - -The total was six hundred and ninety dollars. Grace regarded the bit -of paper with awe; it was the largest check she had ever seen. The -customer wrote out the shipping directions for her niece’s gown, -screwed the cap on her pen, took the cash-sale slip Grace gave her and -tucked it carefully away. - -“You’ve been very nice to me. Thank you very much.” She smilingly -extended her hand. “Let this be a little secret between us!” - -The secret was a ten dollar bill. The little old lady who really didn’t -look like real money was already in the elevator and Grace turned with -relief to Irene, who inspected the office end of the cash-sale slip, -and read aloud the signature on the check. - -“Beulah Reynolds--you certainly drew a prize! I never saw her before -but you’ve heard of her. She belongs to the old Hoosier nobility. Her -people landed before the Indians left. She’s lived all over the world -and has just come back here and bought a house on Washington Boulevard. -I read a piece about her in the paper. If she tipped you ten dollars -it’s a good sign. Don’t you be squeamish about taking tips--it’s all -perfectly right and it won’t happen often. Don’t let your good luck -turn your head; there’s a lady coming now who looks as though she lived -on lemons. Pass the sugar and see what you can do with her.” - - -II - -Mrs. Durland was greatly distressed that a daughter of hers should have -met Miss Beulah Reynolds in what she was pleased to term a servile -capacity. Miss Reynolds was a personage, she said--a Colonial Dame, -a D. A. R. and everything else that implied noble American ancestry. -Mrs. Durland had met her at a tea, which she described with minute -detail. It was in Harrison’s administration, she thought, though it -might have been in the second consulship of Cleveland. That a lady so -distinguished and wealthy should have given Grace ten dollars quite as -though she were a waitress was humiliating. Miss Reynolds would never -have thought of tipping the daughter of Alicia Morley Durland. - -“I’m number Eighteen to all the world when I’m at Shipley’s,” Grace -replied good-naturedly. “If I’d told her in a burst of confidence that -I was your daughter she probably wouldn’t have given me the ten which I -sorely need. She was nice as possible and I didn’t see anything wrong -in taking her money.” - -“Well, of course she meant to be kind, dear; but it hurts me just a -little.” - -Thanks to Mrs. Reynolds’ generous purchases, Grace’s envelope for the -first week contained $35.21. Though warned by Irene that this was -beginner’s luck she was satisfied that she could master the selling art -and earn a good income. - -“You’ve got the gift, my dear. You’ll build up a line of regular -customers,” Irene expatiated, “who’ll always ask for you, and that’s -what counts. I notice that a good many customers already pick you out -and refuse to be steered to the other girls at your end of the room. -All due to your _beaux yeux_, as we say in Paris, and general air of -being somebody in particular.” - -Grace quickly made friends in the store, both in and out of her own -department. Two members of her sorority, who like herself had been -obliged to leave college before finishing, sought her out; an alumna -of the state university, a woman of thirty, who was employed in -the office as auditor, took her to lunch; a charming English woman, -stranded in America and plying her needle in the alteration room, -brought her books to read. Miss Vail at the glove counter knew all -there was to know about palmistry, table-tipping and automatic writing -and aroused Grace’s curiosity as to the mysteries of the ouija board. - -To break the monotony of her evenings, Grace asked Miss Vail and two -other girls from the store to the house for some experiments. She had -not announced in advance that the purpose of the meeting was to probe -into the unknown, and had counted on Ethel’s assistance in entertaining -her friends; but when the ouija board was produced Ethel expressed a -chilling disapproval of ouija and everything else pertaining to the -occult. Mrs. Durland, anxious to promote harmony, suggested that they -read aloud an article in a late magazine that explained ouija writing -and similar phenomena. Of course Grace and her friends did not want -scientific explanations of ouija; they wanted to see the thing work. - -“Much unhappiness may be caused by such things,” said Mrs. Durland; -“and of course they mean nothing.” - -“I’ve always felt,” remarked Ethel, “that there’s something just a -little vulgar about it.” - -“Oh, piffle!” exclaimed Grace impatiently. “We all know it’s a joke; we -just wanted to have a little fun out of it.” - -“Don’t bother, Grace,” said Miss Vail. “We’ll just forget about it.” - -Stephen Durland, who had changed his clothes in honor of Grace’s party, -broke his silence to say: - -“I don’t see any harm in those things. They’re all explained on -scientific grounds. I think it would be interesting to watch it work.” - -“It probably wouldn’t work in such an atmosphere,” said Grace, -thoroughly irritated. - -“Suppose,” said Mrs. Durland with sudden inspiration, “you girls make -fudge! I’ll get the things ready. I never saw a girl yet who didn’t -like fudge.” - -Something had to be done to amuse the guests and Grace assented. Ethel, -however, did not participate in the fudge making, but took herself off -to bed. Grace resolved never again to ask any one to the house. She -said as much to Ethel the next morning. - -“You seem to forget that I pay my board here and help with the -housework, too. I ought to have a few privileges. Those are as nice -girls as I ever knew and you and mother drove us into the kitchen as -though we were a lot of silly children. You’re certainly the queen of -the kill-joys.” - -“I should think,” said Ethel, regarding her sister pityingly, “that -with your education you’d be above putting yourself on the level with -the cheap people who patronize fortune-tellers. People who really have -faith that there’s a life to come don’t _need_ such things. They have -no place in a Christian home.” - -Grace stared at her helplessly. Ethel was an enigma; it was incredible -that any one could feel so intensely about so small a matter, or find -so complete a joy in making others uncomfortable. - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - - -I - -Mrs. Durland, no doubt to show her sympathetic interest in her -daughters’ labors, asked innumerable questions every evening when the -family gathered at the supper table. As Ethel’s experiences were much -less interesting than Grace’s, the burden of these conversations fell -largely upon Grace. Whenever Grace mentioned some customer her mother -or Ethel knew or knew about, that person was subjected to the most -searching analysis. It was incredible that they could be so interested -in people of whom they knew only from reading of their social -activities in the newspapers. - -Ethel’s preoccupations with her church and philanthropic affairs took -her away several evenings in the week, and at such times Grace played -checkers or sniff with her father while Mrs. Durland read or sewed. -The fact that Grace’s earnings averaged higher than Ethel’s made it -necessary for Mrs. Durland to soothe any feeling the older daughter -manifested as to this disparity. - -Grace found no joy in Ethel. Ethel hinted constantly that her work in -Gregg and Burley’s office placed her in a class much above that of a -salesgirl. She had brought to perfection a kind of cloying sweetness in -her attitude toward the other members of the family which Grace found -hard to bear. Ethel was at pains to remind her father from time to time -that it was due to his lack of foresight and initiative that she had -been obliged to become a wage-earner. Her remarks expressed something -of the solicitude a mother might manifest toward a slightly deficient -child. The effect of this upon Grace was to deepen her affection and -sympathy for her father. Several times she persuaded him to go down -town with her to a big motion picture house where there was good music. -He enjoyed the pictures, laughing heartily at the comics; and laughter -had been the rarest of luxuries in Stephen Durland’s life. Mrs. Durland -refused to accompany them; all the pictures she had ever seen had been -vulgar and she was on a committee of the State Federation to go before -the legislature and demand a more rigid censorship. - -Grace’s announcement that, on evenings when she went to the French -class she had entered with Irene, she would stay down town for supper -did not pass unchallenged at the supper table, which she had begun to -dread for its cheerlessness and the opportunity it afforded her mother -and sister to express their dire forebodings as to the future of the -human race. One evening after listening to a reiteration of their -predictions of calamity Grace broke the silence in which she usually -listened to these discussions. - -“I don’t know where you get these ideas, Ethel. You must be unfortunate -in your acquaintances if you’re talking from your own knowledge.” - -Mrs. Durland rallied at once to Ethel’s support. - -“Now, Grace, you know Ethel is older and views everything much more -soberly than you do. You know she’s in touch with all these agencies -that are trying to protect the young from the evils of a growing city.” - -“Just what evils?” Grace demanded. - -“There are some things,” said Ethel impressively, “that it’s better not -to talk about.” - -“That’s always the way!” Grace flared. “You’re always insinuating that -the world’s going to the devil but you never say just how. I know -perfectly well what you’re driving at. You think because I work in a -department store I can’t be as good as you are! I’ll tell you right now -that the girls I know in Shipley’s are just as good as any girls in -town--perfectly splendid hard-working girls. And one other thing I can -tell you, they don’t spend their time sneering at everybody else. I’d -rather be the worst sinner in creation than so pure I couldn’t see a -little good in other people.” - -“Please, Grace!” Mrs. Durland pleaded. “You’re unreasonable. No one was -saying anything about you or any other girl in Shipley’s.” - -“Oh, Ethel doesn’t have to say it straight out! I’m not so stupid! -Every time she takes that sanctified air she’s preaching at me. I don’t -pretend to be an angel but I’m tired of hearing how wicked everybody -is. I don’t dare ask any of the girls I work with to the house; you -think they’re all rotten.” - -“I don’t think they’re all bad, and I’ve never said such a thing,” -Ethel declared, “But I _have_ said that Irene Kirby is not the type of -girl I’d deliberately choose to be my sister’s most intimate friend, -and I say it again.” - -“Now, Ethel, you girls mustn’t hurt each other’s feelings! If you must -quarrel please don’t do it before your father and me.” - -This consideration for her father’s feelings was so unusual that -Grace laughed. Durland had been twisting uneasily in his chair. -His sympathies were wholly with Grace. Ethel’s indirect method of -criticizing her younger sister enraged him, and in this particular -instance he was secretly pleased that Grace was striking back. He -glanced about the table, cleared his throat and asked in his mild tone -for a second cup of coffee. - -“I hardly know Irene Kirby,” said Ethel, “but I have heard some things -about her I hate to hear about _any_ girl.” - -“Such as what? Tell me just what you’ve heard,” said Grace, sharply. - -“Well, if you _insist_,” replied Ethel, with affected reluctance, -“she’s keeping company with a married man. It’s been going on for some -time. They were seen together last Sunday night, quite late, driving -into town. Suppose you ask Irene where she was last Sunday.” - -“What’s the man’s name?” Grace demanded. - -“Oh, I needn’t mention his name! You ask Irene to tell you. A girl -friend of mine who used to work in his office saw them.” - -“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Grace. “You or I or any other girl -might be seen driving with a married man without there being anything -wicked about it.” - -“Well, you asked me and I told you,” returned Ethel complacently. “It’s -not a new story. I knew it when I tried to persuade you not to go into -Shipley’s, but I thought I wouldn’t tell you why I thought it best for -you to keep away from Irene.” - -“Irene has been fine to me,” said Grace quickly; “she’s one of the -nicest and one of the most intelligent girls I ever knew. I think it -poor business for a girl like you, who pretends to be a Christian, to -listen to scandalous stories about some one you hardly know. I’ll say -for Irene that I never heard her speak an unkind word of any one. Every -day she does a lot of little kindnesses for people and she doesn’t -strut around about it either.” - -“I don’t question that you believe all that, Grace,” remarked Mrs. -Durland as she served the rice pudding that was the regular dessert for -Thursday evening. “But you know Ethel is very careful what she says -about _every_ one.” - -“Yes, I’ve noticed that,” said Grace coldly. - -Durland had eaten his pudding and was stolidly slipping his napkin into -its ring. The better course might be to follow his example. Silence, -Grace reflected, offered the surest refuge from family bickering. She -saw the years stretching on endlessly, with her work-day followed by -evenings of discord in the cheerless home circle. The prospect was not -heartening. It was two against two, and her father was only passively -an ally. When Roy came home he would be pretty sure to align himself -with his mother and Ethel, in keeping with his general policy of taking -the easier and more comfortable way in everything. It flashed through -her mind that she might leave home and take a room somewhere or join -with two or three girls and rent an apartment. But her parents needed -her help. She knew that her father was wholly unlikely to assist -materially with the household expenses. Ethel had not demurred when -she volunteered to contribute in ratio to her earnings, which made her -share at least a third more each week than Ethel’s. - - -II - -Ethel’s intimations that Irene Kirby was not as good as she ought to be -so exasperated Grace that in a spirit of contrariness she hoped they -were true. At least she didn’t care whether they were true or not. She -knew little of Irene’s family but the bitterness engendered by her own -home life made it seem a natural and pardonable thing for a girl who -worked hard and was obliged to live in an atmosphere of perpetual -criticism to take her pleasure where she pleased. Her curiosity as -to Irene’s social contacts was greatly aroused. Irene, outwardly at -least the most circumspect of young women, certainly had mastered the -art of keeping her private affairs to herself. Now and then she spoke -of having gone to the theatre or to a dance with some young man whose -name she always mentioned; but when Grace tried to tease her about her -suitors Irene dismissed them disdainfully. They were impossible, she -said, in her large manner--bank clerks, traveling salesmen or young -fellows just starting in small businesses. She wasn’t at all interested -in marrying a young man with his way to make, cooking for him in the -kitchenette of a four-room apartment, with a movie once a week as the -reward for faithful service. - -These views on matrimony were revealed one day early in November when -they were lunching together in Shipley’s tea room. She went on to say -that she would wait a few years in the hope of meeting some man of -importance who could give her a position in life worth while. - -“It has been done before, my dear. It may not sound romantic but it’s -the only way to play safe. I want to get away from this town! It -smothers and chokes me. The firm has sent me to New York twice this -last year, and I think I could get along very well down there if I had -money to spend. I’ve been a little afraid you’d engaged yourself to -some struggling young professor at the university. No? Well, I’d hate -to see you wasting yourself. You’ve got brains and good looks and I -hope you won’t throw yourself away. By the way--just what do you do -with yourself evenings?” - -“Oh, I stay at home, mostly. I do a turn in the kitchen, play a game of -checkers with father and go to bed to read.” - -“Wholesome but not exciting! I’d imagined you had a few suitors who -dropped in occasionally.” - -“Haven’t had a caller since I came home,” said Grace. “The beaux I had -last summer don’t know I’m home and I haven’t felt like stirring them -up.” - -Irene was wearing a handsome emerald ring that Grace had not noticed -before. In keeping with the tone of subdued elegance she affected, -Irene never wore jewelry; the ring was a departure and required an -explanation for which Grace hesitated to ask. In spite of their long -acquaintance Grace never overcame her feeling of humility before -Irene’s large view of things, her lofty disdain for small change. Grace -knew more out of books than Irene; but in her cogitations she realized -that beyond question Irene knew much more of life. Aware of Grace’s -frequent glances at the emerald, Irene held up her hand. - -“Rather pretty, isn’t it?” she asked carelessly. “That cost some real -money. A little gift from a man who is foolish enough to admire me.” - -“It’s perfectly beautiful,” said Grace as Irene spread her fingers on -the table. “It’s the very newest setting and a wonderful stone. I don’t -believe I ever saw you wear a ring before.” - -“It’s the first I’ve worn in years; but this is too good to hide.” -She looked at the stone absently. “By the way, Grace, you don’t seem -to be burdened with engagements. I wonder if you’d care to drive into -the country tomorrow evening for dinner--a little party of four. My -friend--the man who gave me this,”--she held up her hand,--“has a -guest, a most interesting man you’d be sure to like. If you haven’t -anything better to do it might amuse you to meet him. A party of three -is a little awkward and you’d balance things beautifully.” - -Grace’s heart quickened to find herself at last admitted to Irene’s -confidence, a thing flattering in itself. Ethel’s charge that Irene was -accepting the attentions of a married man was probably true, or the -girl would have approached the matter differently. It dawned upon Grace -that the word party had a meaning previously unknown to her, signifying -a social event clandestine in character, in which the wives of married -men were not participants. The idea was novel and it caused Grace’s -wits to range over a wide field of speculation. - -“I suppose men do sometimes take their wives on parties that are a -little different--just a quiet little kick-up?” she ventured. - -“Not so you’d exactly notice it,” Irene answered, with a shrug and a -smile of indulgence at Grace’s innocence. “A wife knows her husband and -all his jokes; why should she meet him socially?” - -“Tomorrow night’s our French class,” said Grace, recovering herself -quickly. “We’d have to cut it.” - -“Oh, I hadn’t forgotten that. To be frank about it, I thought that -would make it easier for you to get away. I don’t know just how your -folks at home are--whether they always check you up as to where you go. -As you’ve been staying down town on lesson nights that would help you -put it over. I suggested Friday night to my friend instead of Saturday, -hoping to make sure of you. There are plenty of girls who’ll go on -parties but this is a case where just any girl won’t do. You’ll fit in -perfectly and I hope you’ll go.” - -“Thanks, ever so much, Irene; of course, I’m pleased to death to go,” -said Grace. “But, you’ll have to tell me what to wear; my wardrobe’s -rather limited.” - -“Oh, the occasion doesn’t call for magnificence. Dinner’s to be in a -charming old house about fourteen miles from town. I’m going to wear -the simplest thing I have.” - -“It’s awfully nice of you to ask me,” said Grace, her eyes dancing at -the prospect. “But if I mustn’t mention the party at home, I’ll have to -get in early so mother and Ethel won’t suspect anything.” - -“Let them suspect, honey! My family used to try to check me up every -time I went to the corner to mail a postal; but they’ve got over it. -By the way, I think that sister of yours doesn’t like me. I passed her -in the street yesterday and she gave me what I shouldn’t call a loving -look.” - -“She didn’t mean anything,” said Grace. “It’s just that Ethel takes -herself a little bit too seriously. She has all the old-fashioned ideas -about things.” - -“She’s got the uplift idea and all that sort of stuff. I met her in the -office one day looking up a girl who had dropped out of her church club -or something. That’s all fine work; I’m not sneering at it; but people -who go in for that kind of thing ought to remember we’re not all born -with wings.” - -“Oh, Ethel means well,” said Grace, her mind upon the proposed dinner -for four in the country, of which she was anxious to hear more. “What -time do we start?” - -“Seven o’clock. You may be sure I trust you or I shouldn’t be asking -you to go on this party,” said Irene. “It’s not a social event for the -society columns--just an intimate little dinner to be forgotten when we -all say good-night. Our host is Mr. Kemp--Thomas Ripley Kemp. You’ve -seen his factory; it’s as big as all outdoors. Don’t look so scared! -Tommy’s a peach! You can’t fail to like Tommy.” - -“Mr. Kemp is--married?” Grace ventured a little timorously. - -“Oh, Tommy’s been married for centuries! His wife’s one of Shipley’s -best customers. She’s awfully nice; I tell Tommy he ought to be ashamed -of himself! Tommy’s not stingy with his family, and he’s terribly proud -of them. He has a daughter in an Eastern college--a stunning girl. -Elaine is just about my age,--isn’t it weird!” - -“I think I never saw Mr. Kemp, but of course I’ve heard of him,” -remarked Grace, bewildered by the familiar tone in which Irene spoke of -Kemp and his family. “The other man--what’s he like?” she asked with -feigned carelessness. - -“Oh, his name’s Ward Trenton and he lives in Pittsburgh and is a -consulting engineer and a way-upper all right. Tommy thinks the sun -rises and sets in Ward. Ward drops in here every month or two and -Tommy always throws him a party, sometimes at home or at one of the -clubs; and when that’s the ticket he naturally forgets to invite me! -Screaming, isn’t it? Ward isn’t really a sport like Tommy, but he’ll go -on a party and keep amused in his own peculiar way. He does a lot of -thinking, that man. You’ll understand when you meet him. I’m never sure -whether Ward approves of me, but he’s always nice.” - -“He may not like me at all,” said Grace. - -“Don’t be foolish! You’re just the kind of girl men of that sort like. -They’re bored to death by girls--you know the kind--who begin every -sentence with ‘say’ or ‘listen,’ and would drop dead if they ever had -an idea. Tommy’s the higher type of business man,” Irene went on. -“College education, fond of music and pictures and that sort of thing. -By the way, Tommy has no particular love for that Cummings your father -was in business with so long. Make the same line of stuff, don’t they? -The Cummingses are going strong since they moved up among the swells -and it annoys Tommy a good deal. You know his folks landed here in 1820 -and he’s full of old family pride. He’s perfectly screaming about it!” - -“And Mr. Trenton--” Grace ventured, “is he married too?” - -“All the nice men are more or less married, my dear! Ward is and he -isn’t. Tommy’s never seen Mrs. Trenton, but there is such a person. -Ward speaks of his wife in the friendliest sort of way, but they don’t -meet often, I imagine.” - -When Grace recurred to the matter of changing her clothes for the -party, Irene’s resourcefulness promptly asserted itself. - -“There’s a very chic suit in stock, marked down from eighty-seven -to forty-two on account of an imperfection in the embroidery on the -cuffs. It will do wonderfully and if you haven’t the money handy I’ll -take care of it till you strike a fat week. We’ll try it on you this -afternoon and if you like it we’ll send it up to Minnie Lawton’s -apartment and you can change there. I’ll be doing the same--fact is, I -keep a few duds at Minnie’s for just such emergencies. Minnie’s a good -scout and attends strictly to her own business.” - -The Minnie Lawton Irene referred to held a responsible position with a -jobbing house. Grace had met her at lunch with Irene several times and -had found her a diverting person. - -“Minnie’s a broad-minded woman,” Irene remarked. “I usually meet Tommy -at Minnie’s when we’re going on a party, and that’s the schedule for -tomorrow evening. I’ll call Tommy now and tell him everything’s set.” - -The suit proved to be all that Irene had promised. Grace was not -unaware that the attendants were observing her with frankly approving -eyes. - -“It certainly sets you off, Eighteen. That shade of Oriental blue is -just right for you,” said one girl. - -“An inch off the sleeve will help; the collar pinches the least bit--or -does it?” remarked Irene to the hovering fitter. “All right then; thank -you.” - -Grace asked for an extra hour at noon the next day for a hair-washing, -marcelling and manicuring, saying to Miss Boardman that she had an -engagement with the dentist. Irene had suggested this, explaining that -it wasn’t lying as all the girls gave the same reason when asking extra -time for any purpose, and Miss Boardman wasn’t deceived by it. - -Beyond a few experiments in her youth for which she was promptly -punished, Grace had rarely resorted to deception; but manifestly she -would be obliged to harden herself to the practice if she yielded to -the temptation to broaden her experiences beyond the knowledge of the -home circle. She tried to think of all the calamities that might befall -her. Her father or mother might become ill suddenly; an attempt might -be made to reach her at the rooms of the French instructor; but instead -of being dismayed by the possibility Grace decided that it would be -easy enough to explain that she had gone unexpectedly to the house of -some friends of Irene who lived in the country. She was sure she could -make a plausible story of this; and besides, if any one became so ill -as to cause search to be made for her the fact that she hadn’t gone to -the French lesson would be overlooked. There might be an automobile -accident; the thought was disturbing but it troubled Grace only -passingly. - -“You’ll soon learn to be ready with an _alibi_ if you get caught,” said -Irene. “But the more independence you show the less you’ll be bothered.” - -Lively expectations of a novel experience that promised amusement -outweighed Grace’s scruples before the closing hour of the appointed -day. She and Irene left the store together and found a taxi to carry -them to Minnie Lawton’s apartment. - -“We’ll escape the trolley crowd,” said Irene placidly, “and save time. -Minnie’s not going home for supper but I’ve got a key to her flat and -we’ll have the place to ourselves.” - -They were dressed and waiting when Kemp and his friend Trenton arrived. -Assailed at the last moment by misgivings as to the whole adventure, -Grace was relieved by her first glimpse of the two men. Kemp was less -than her own height, of slender build and with white hair that belied -the youthful color in his cheeks. The gray in his neatly trimmed -mustache was almost imperceptible. Grace had pictured him of a size -commensurate with his importance as the head of one of the largest -industries in the city, but he was almost ridiculously small and didn’t -even remotely suggest the big masterful type she had imagined. His face -lighted pleasantly as Irene introduced him. His power was denoted in -his firm mouth and more particularly in his clear steady hazel eyes. - -“It’s so nice that you could come,” he said. “I’ve known of your family -a long time, of course, and Irene brags about you a great deal.” - -In marked contrast to Kemp, Trenton was tall and of athletic build, -with gray-blue eyes, and a smile that came a little slowly and had in -it something wistful and baffling that piqued curiosity and invited a -second glance. Grace appraised his age at about forty. She instantly -decided that she preferred him to Kemp; he was less finished with -nothing of Kemp’s dapperness. His careless way of thrusting his hands -into the pockets of his coat pleased her; he was not thinking of -himself, not concerned as to the impression he made; slightly bored -perhaps by the whole proceeding. - -Trenton had greeted Irene cordially as an old acquaintance and it was -evident that the three had met at other parties. - -“I’m starving,” said Irene; “let’s be moving, Tommy.” - -“Certainly,” replied Kemp. “I’m beginning to feel a pang myself.” - -A chauffeur opened the door of a big limousine that was waiting at the -curb. They were quickly speeding countryward with Irene and Grace on -the back seat with Trenton between them. Kemp, on one of the adjustable -chairs, crossed his legs with the easy nonchalance characteristic of -him. - -“How’s business, Irene?” he asked. “Are the dollars rolling into the -Shipley till?” - -“My department is running ahead of last year’s business,” said Irene, -“but there’s less call for the best grades.” - -“So? Same reports all over the country. We must charge it up to the -war. Well, we can’t change business conditions tonight. We’ll all die -bankrupt if things don’t take a brace and we may as well eat and be -merry while we can. Am I right, Ward?” - -“Certain, Tommy.” - -“Don’t always agree with me!” cried Kemp with feigned asperity. “You -have a most disagreeable way of pretending to agree with me when you -don’t.” - -“You’re too good a client for me to quarrel with. And besides you’re -always right, Tommy.” - -“Do stop spoiling him!” cried Irene. “Everybody spoils Tommy.” - -“Not you!” returned Kemp. “Your business in life seems to be to keep me -humble.” - -“It doesn’t show on you! You don’t see any signs of it, do you, Ward?” - -“I think he’s aging fast,” replied Trenton. “He’s breaking down under -the weight of his own humility.” - -“Find the man who’s giving the party! It’s going to be a beautiful -evening for me. Just one knock after another! Grace, don’t let these -birds prejudice you against me!” - -Kemp addressed her by her first name quite as though they were old -acquaintances. They were skimming rapidly over the Meridian street -bridge and her diffidence began to pass. - -“I’ll be your friend, Mr. Kemp,” she said. “You needn’t mind what the -others say.” - -“That will be all right; he needs friends; but don’t mister him. He’s -Tommy to one and all.” - - “‘O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”; - But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play’,”-- - -Kemp quoted. “It’s the same old story!” he finished in mock dejection. - -“Speaking of music, did you bring some new records, Tommy?” Irene -inquired. “The ones you have at the farm date from Rameses.” - -“Yes; there’s a package of ’em up in front, the very latest jazz, and a -few classic pieces for my own private consolation.” - -“That’s just like him,” said Irene. “Tommy thinks no one appreciates -good music but himself.” - -Kemp and Irene continued to do most of the talking, occasionally -appealing to Grace or Trenton to support them in their good-natured -contentions. For a time Kemp and Trenton discussed business as frankly -as though they were alone. Grace began to understand what Irene -meant when she spoke of knowing men of attainment and enjoying their -confidence. Kemp was saying that he was prepared to enlarge his plant -the moment business took an upward turn. He meant to strike out more -boldly into the South American markets than he had ever done before. -His competitors didn’t know it, and he didn’t want them to know it, but -he already had men down there preparing for an aggressive campaign. His -tone was optimistic and confident. It was evident that he paid great -deference to Trenton’s opinions and was anxious for his approval of -his plans. Once after Trenton had answered at length and with the care -that seemed to be habitual with him a technical question as to the -production by a new method of castings of a certain kind, Kemp turned -and remarked to the young women: - -“That answer’s worth money! It’s a joy to talk to a man who knows his -stuff.” - -“Even I could understand it!” said Grace, “or I thought I did.” - -Her father sometimes had explained to her problems in mechanics and -Trenton had employed terms with which she was familiar. - -“I’d rather expect you to know something about such things, Grace,” -said Kemp. “Your father was a pioneer in certain fields. Stephen -Durland, you know, Ward,--used to be in the Cummings concern.” - -“I know the name of course. I’ve run across it frequently in the patent -office reports. Your father’s been a prolific inventor.” - -“Yes; he’s always inventing something, but I’m afraid many of his -things don’t work!” - -“That’s true of hundreds,” said Kemp, “but certain of Stephen Durland’s -inventions are still standard. I know because I’ve tried to cut under -’em with things of my own! It was a scoundrelly trick for Cummings to -put him out of the company--that’s what I understand happened. You know -I believe every mean thing I hear about Cummings.” - -“Oh, I suppose it was strictly a business matter,” said Grace. - -“Beastly ingratitude, I’d call it,” exclaimed Kemp. “I’ve been told -that your father waived all rights to royalty on all the patents he put -into the company and Cummings only gave him a fifth of the stock in the -original corporation to cover everything. Do pardon me! But that whole -business made me hot when I heard about it.” - -“It was pretty hard to bear,” Grace murmured. - -“I’m no angel,” said Kemp, “but in the long run I think we get it in -the neck if we don’t play the game straight. Cummings is riding for a -fall. It tickles me to see two or three places right now where he’s -likely to come a cropper. His narrowness and lack of vision are going -to have the usual result.” - -“But you, the great Kemp, are going to push right ahead!” laughed -Trenton, laying his hand on his friend’s knee. - -“Oh, nothing can keep Tommy down,” exclaimed Irene in mock admiration. -“Tommy’s brain isn’t just cottage cheese.” - -Kemp enjoyed their chaffing and encouraged it. They were still -discussing Grace’s suggestion that Mars and other planets might become -littered with Kemp machinery as new markets were sought for it when -they reached the farm. - - -III - -A winding road led from the highway through a strip of woodland that -bore upward to a ridge where the lights of the house suddenly burst -upon them. The river, Kemp explained, lay just below. - -A Japanese boy in white duck flung open the door and smilingly bowed -them in. - -Kemp called his place The Shack, but in reality it was a dignified old -homestead that had been enlarged and only slightly modernized. The -parlor and sitting room of the old part had been thrown into one room -with the broad fireplace preserved. The floors were painted and covered -with rag rugs; the furniture was of a type that graced the homes -of well-to-do Middle Westerners in about the period of the Mexican -war. The rooms were lighted by a variety of glass table-lamps with -frosted shades adorned with crystal pendants. These survivals of the -days of “coal-oil” lighting were now cleverly arranged to conceal the -electrical source of their illumination. - -“Isn’t it a peach of a house?” demanded Irene as she convoyed Grace -through the lower rooms with a careless air of proprietorship. She -led the way up the steep stairway, that had been retained as built by -the original owner, to the rooms above. The extensions, following -strictly the original simple architecture, made a commodious place of -the house, which rambled on in an inadvertent fashion bewildering to a -first visitor. A wing that had been added in recent years was hardly -distinguishable from the old rooms. Concessions to modern convenience -and comfort had been made in the sleeping rooms, of which there were -half a dozen, with white woodwork, walls in neutral tints, and wicker -furniture in summer cottage style. - -“It’s all perfectly adorable,” cried Grace as they paused in one of the -rooms. - -“You’ve got to hand it to Tommy,” remarked Irene; “he does have taste.” - -“Maybe--” Grace hesitated and Irene instantly read her thoughts. - -“Oh, you’re looking for the traces of a woman’s hand! Bless your heart, -Mrs. Kemp doesn’t bother about The Shack! It was Tommy’s idea. The -family come out for week ends in the spring and fall and Tommy makes -a point of having Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners out here, and -Mrs. Kemp invites the guests. I need hardly say”--Irene walked to a -chiffonier and inspected her face intently in the mirror--“that I’ve -never been invited to these _en famille_ functions.” - -“It seems queer,” remarked Grace, dropping her hat on the bed,--“I mean -it’s queer our being here when _she_ doesn’t know!” - -“Why not?” said Irene, surveying herself slowly before the glass. -“She’d probably like us if she knew us, and didn’t know we work for -a living. If Tommy just has to play a little isn’t it fine that he -chooses nice little playmates like us? He might do much worse, and get -into awful scrapes. You needn’t be afraid that the lady of the house -will come tearing in and make a fuss. Tommy never takes a chance. Her -ladyship’s in New York spending a lot of money and having a grand old -time. For all we know she’s playing around a little bit herself!” - -“Oh, it wasn’t that I was thinking of so much,” Grace replied hastily. -“I was just thinking that it’s like a play, this quaint interesting -house hidden away, with all these lovely things, and kind of funny to -think that there is a woman somewhere who belongs here.” - -“While we’re here _we_ belong, my dear. We’ll pretend it’s all ours. My -conscience had awful twinges the first time I came out; but one does -somehow get used to things. There’s no use bucking the spirit of the -age; we’ve got to step to the music of the band. Tommy prefers a party -of four and nearly always brings an out-of-town man, so I have to find -the other girl. If you like this party I’ll put you on for some more.” - -She swung around and eyed Grace critically. - -“You’re just right! Tommy whispered to me in the car that you were -wonderful,--the first thing you know he’ll be flirting with you.” - -“Don’t be so foolish! Any one can see that he’s crazy about you.” - -“Well, that kind of insanity doesn’t last. These little affairs are -good for a while, but something always happens sooner or later.” - -She spoke with cheerful indifference as though it were the inevitable -ordering of fate that such affairs should be brief. - -At the table, with candles diffusing a yellow glow upon the silver and -crystal the party struck at once a key of gaiety. - -“Don’t be afraid of the cocktail, Grace,” said Kemp, lifting his -glass; “only a little orange juice and a very good gin I planted out -here in the woods before prohibition.” - -“When all the rest of the world is dry Tommy will still have a few -bottles put away,” said Irene. “There’s going to be champagne, too! -Here’s to you, Tommy!” - -Grace sipped the cocktail warily, drank a third of it and put it down -with a covert glance at the others to see whether they were watching -her. - -“We’re all entitled to a dividend,” said Kemp. “Get busy, Jerry.” - -Grace was fingering the stem of the cocktail glass, meditating whether -she should try it again, when Trenton met her gaze. Irene and Kemp were -talking animatedly, quite indifferent to the other members of the party. - -“You really don’t want that,” Trenton said. “If you’re not used to it -let it alone.” - -He took her glass, brimming from the dividend Jerry had poured into it, -and slowly drained it. - -With a smile Grace quickly moved the glass back in front of her plate, -glancing at Irene and Kemp to see whether they were observing her. - -“Thank you ever so much. I really am not used to those things.” - -“I thought not; otherwise I should have let you alone.” - -“How did you know?” she asked. - -“Oh, that’s part of my business, to know things without being told. You -might say that I earn my living that way.” - -He seemed amused about something; he constantly seemed secretly amused -in a way of his own; but there was no mistaking his wish to be kind, -and Grace was grateful for his kindness. The light touch of his -fingers as he took the glass from her hand was in itself reassuring. - -“We’re alone in the midst of a deep, dark forest,” she heard Kemp -exclaim. - -Turning, she saw him bending toward Irene, his arm round her shoulders, -kissing her. - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - - -I - -That Irene and Kemp should embrace and kiss at the table Grace -assumed to be the accepted procedure at such parties. Kissing to the -accompaniment of cocktails was not without its piquancy, but the -picture presented by Irene and Kemp she found unedifying. Under the -stimulus of alcohol Kemp and Irene seemed to have thrown away the -dignity with which they had begun the party. Grace was not without -her experience of kissing, but her experiences had been boy-and-girl -transactions, all the sweeter for their privacy. She wondered whether -it might not be necessary for Trenton to kiss her, but instead he -rebuked Kemp and Irene with mock severity for their unbecoming conduct. - -“You two have no manners! We’re terribly embarrassed on this side of -the table.” - -“Do excuse us!” cried Kemp. “We were merely carried away by our -emotions. I just happened to remember that I hadn’t kissed Irene for a -week.” - -“Well, you needn’t pull that cave man stuff here,” said Irene -petulantly. She opened her vanity box and squinted at herself in the -tiny mirror. - -“Pardon, everybody, while I powder my nose.” - -“Ward’s never been kissed to my knowledge, Grace,” said Kemp, -apparently undisturbed by Irene’s complaint of his roughness. “The -field’s open to you!” - -“Oh, we’re not going to begin in public,” said Grace; “are we Ward?” - -She turned smilingly toward Trenton, who met her gaze quizzically. - -“I’ll say I’ve never been so tempted before,” he answered. - -“Oh, you’re bound to come to it!” cried Irene. “Grace can’t pretend -she’s never been kissed. She’s just a little coy, that’s all.” - -“I’m not coy!” Grace protested. “But I’m all out of practice.” - -“Well, we can easily fix that!” said Kemp, jumping to his feet. “I’m -going to kiss you right now. My sense of hospitality demands it.” - -“Not much you’re not!” cried Irene, forcing him back into his chair. “I -see you kissing Grace!” - -“Jealous!” cried Kemp, striking his hands together with delight. -“Jealous at last! But you needn’t be scared Grace. There’s no fun -kissing a girl against her will.” - -“How do you know it would be against my will?” Grace demanded. - -“Well, it would be against mine,” said Irene. “Ward, why don’t you keep -Grace interested? I’m not going to have Tommy falling in love with her. -We’ve had some girls out here who played up to Tommy and tried to take -him away from me. That’s why I brought Grace. She’s an old pal of mine -and my little boy’s not going to flirt with her, is you Tommy?” - -“Of course I isn’t!” Kemp answered and in proof of his loyalty he -kissed Irene again. - -The food Jerry was serving called for praise and the Japanese grinned -his appreciation of the compliments they bestowed upon his cooking. -Kemp carved the turkey; he always did his own carving; it gave the home -touch, he explained. Irene said she would make the salad dressing and -that would be another home touch. The essentials were placed before -her and she composed the dressing after a recipe Kemp had taught -her. It was the inspiration of Kemp’s pet waiter in a New York club. -Kemp talked for some time of waiters he knew and their genius in the -composition of salads. - -Grace had never before heard food discussed by an epicure. It seemed -odd that a busy man should have given so much time and thought to the -formulae of the kitchen. Kemp appealed to Trenton for confirmation of -his appraisement of the merits of the cooking they had enjoyed together -in various parts of the country, Trenton replying in a whimsical -fashion, tolerant of his friend’s enthusiasm, but letting it be known -that as for himself he was much less fastidious about his food. Kemp -paused in his neat, skilled carving of the turkey to deliver a lecture -on green turtle soup. One might have thought that the whole progress of -civilization depended on settling then and there exactly where green -turtle soup attained perfection. Kemp’s insistence that the New York -Yacht Club was entitled to highest honors in this particular brought -from Trenton the remark that he knew a place in Kansas where the mock -turtle was preferable to any other liquid food he knew. - -“Heathen!” cried Kemp disdainfully. - -“Let’s talk of ham and eggs,--a brain food superior to the much-boasted -pie,” Trenton suggested. “There’s a boarding house in a coal mining -town in Southern Colorado where a woman sets out the best ham and -eggs I ever ate. I ought to know; I ate ’em three times a day for two -months!” - -“You’re an ostrich! If you don’t swear this is the finest turkey you -ever ate I’ll tell Jerry to serve you ham and eggs and I’ll make you -eat ’em.” - -Grace eyed her champagne glass with the same hesitancy with which -she had regarded the cocktail. She had never before seen champagne. -From what she had heard and read of it she knew it to be one of the -essentials of the new order of life into which she was being initiated. - -“That’s the very last,” said Kemp, taking the bottle from the cooler -and holding it up for their admiration. “Positively the last!” - -“Same old joke!” exclaimed Irene. “Tommy’s got enough liquor hid away -out here to last forty years. I’ve seen the cave he built to keep it -in--there’s oceans of it!” - -“A rotten exaggeration,” Kemp rejoined, thrusting the bottle back -into the cooler and taking up his glass. “I haven’t enough to last me -twenty.” - -Irene now engaged him in a lively debate as to the merits of the wine. -She pretended to a critical knowledge of vintages and after demanding -to see the label expressed serious doubts as to the authenticity of the -contents. - -Kemp challenged her assertions; apparently the two found the greatest -pleasure in taunting each other. - -“They’re off!” groaned Trenton; “you’d think they hated each other from -the way they talk. We’ll be dignified, Grace, and keep out of their -silly controversies. Between ourselves, I’ve been exposed to a great -deal of champagne, but I can’t tell one brand from another.” - -“It’s terribly dangerous, isn’t it?” asked Grace, peering into her -glass. “I took your advice about the cocktail and I didn’t feel it at -all; how much may I drink of this?” - -“Well, about a quarter of that won’t do you any harm,” Trenton replied -after pondering the matter with exaggerated gravity. “It seems to me -you’re rubbing it in just a little by asking my opinion in that tone -of voice. One might think I was your father.” - -“Oh, you’re not nearly old enough for that! But would you be ashamed of -me,” Grace asked, sipping the wine and holding up the glass each time -that he might see that she was not exceeding her allowance. - -“I shouldn’t be ashamed of you even if you were my aunt! I was just -thinking how singular it is that when a man reaches forty he wants -every girl he meets to think he’s only twenty-seven. Have you noticed -that?” - -“No; but I’ll remember it. I can see you’re terribly wise. Have I had -enough of this pretty stuff?” - -He inspected her glass carefully and nodded. - -“Just about.” - -“If I drank it all I might be more amusing,” she suggested. “I might be -as lively as Irene.” - -“Let me study you first without artificial stimulation. As I have every -intention of keeping sober myself you’ll get some little idea of what -manner of being I am. A first meeting is important--it’s either that -or nothing. If we both got tipsy it would be different; but frankly I -don’t like being tipsy. Oh, don’t think I’ve never been! Far, far from -it. But tonight I have a feeling that it wouldn’t be appropriate for me -to lose my head.” - -“No-o?” she inquired, with all the mockery she dared employ. - -They were interrupted by a question from Kemp, who was now discussing -automobiles with Irene. Kemp invited Trenton’s support in his defense -of the limousine in which they had driven to The Shack. The car was -not to Irene’s liking and she warned him never to buy another of the -same make. Kemp tried to explain why he had not met her wishes in the -matter. The car was a product of his home town and the manufacturer was -a friend and it was his policy to patronize local industries. Grace -thought it ridiculous that Irene should show so much feeling about -a matter which was, strictly speaking, none of her concern. The car -had seemed to Grace a machine of much splendor and it had borne them -speedily and comfortably to the farm. She was unable to understand why -her friend was so earnestly denouncing it. - -“Don’t let them bother you,” said Trenton, “they get into a row about -cars every time I’m here. Their ignorance is pitiful; neither one of -them knows a thing about it.” - -“Who doesn’t know anything about cars?” demanded Irene testily. - -“Ah! I’ve wakened the enemy’s pickets,” laughed Trenton. “You two ought -to remember that just six weeks ago tonight you threshed out the whole -business. You ought to know by this time, Irene, that Tommy is as -obstinate as a mule. He’d be sure to buy the very car you warned him -against.” - -“Oh, I knew all the time that’s what he’d do. Of course I don’t have -to be satisfied. But I’d rather ride in a jitney,” Irene rejoined -scornfully. - -“Knowing your aristocratic taste I don’t see you,” said Kemp, turning -to the others. “We are not really fussing today; it’s just a little -sketch we’re putting on. Irene and I never quarrel. I just lead her on -for the joy of seeing how ignorant she is about the things she spouts -about the loudest.” - -The talk now shifted to the theatre, it appearing that Kemp in his -business trips to New York found time to cultivate the acquaintance -of many actors and actresses. Irene had met some of them, both in -New York, where she seemed to have encountered Kemp on her buying -excursions for Shipley’s, and at home, where Kemp always “threw a -party” for his particular admirations among theatrical people when they -visited Indianapolis. Apparently these parties had been very gay from -the manner in which Irene and Kemp referred to them. They recounted -with particular delight an occasion on which the star of a musical -comedy had with the greatest difficulty been put into condition to -resume his itinerary after a Saturday night at The Shack. Irene was -moved to immoderate laughter at the recollection. - -“When he gets a bun he’s ever so much funnier off the stage than he -ever is on. He climbed out of a window when we were trying to get him -in shape to go to his train and would you believe it!--we found him -in the barnyard talking to a pig! Then he cried to take the little -brown piggy with him; he said he wanted it for his understudy. He was -perfectly screaming about that silly little pig, and we fooled around -so long he missed the last possible train and Tommy had to drive him -clear to Chicago for a Sunday night opening. He kept saying every time -we told him he had missed another train that he would wait till it came -back! You couldn’t beat that!” - -Grace and Trenton were laughing more at Irene’s enjoyment of her own -story than at the incident itself. They learned that the comedian -had finally been landed at the stage door of the Chicago theatre -where he was to appear barely in time to dress for his part. Kemp -was enthusiastic about the drive, which had broken all records. He -interrupted Irene’s story with many details of the flight which she had -forgotten. - -When Irene and Kemp again became absorbed in each other Grace picked up -the thread of her talk with Trenton. - -“We stopped just where it was growing interesting,” she remarked. -“Let’s go right on where we left off. You were saying you thought it -better not to lose your head tonight. Was that on my account? Am I such -a young innocent that you’ve got to take care of me?” - -He laughed at the eagerness with which she flung these sentences at -him. If she was affected by her restricted potations there was nothing -in her manner or speech to indicate the fact. Her eyes were bright, -but only from the excitement of her entrance upon a new field of -adventure. Once a young student at the university had addressed some -verses “To Her Questing Eyes” and published them in one of the college -periodicals. The poem had been instantly recognized as a tribute to -Grace Durland; questing was a fitting term for a certain look that came -into her eyes at times when her habitual eager gaze became crossed -oddly with a far-away look of revery. Trenton was doing full justice to -her eyes and was mindful of their swift changes. - -“On the whole I don’t really believe you need protecting,” he answered. -“Oh, just a little, perhaps; but I think I’d trust you to take care of -yourself.” - -“But what if I don’t want to be taken care of! What if I want to jump -into the water with a big splash!” - -“Um! So that’s the idea? Well, I think you’d swim out; and yet again -you mightn’t. There are those who don’t,” he ended gravely. - -“I’m not afraid--I’m not afraid of anything!” she said with a defiant -lifting of her head. - -“Dear me!” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her sharply. “Broadly -speaking, it’s better not to be afraid of life; life’s got to be -lived.” He pecked at his salad for a moment, then put down his fork -and went on. “We’ve got to meet situations; play the game with the -cards as they’re dealt. We hear a good deal these days about our grand -old grandfathers and what heroic stuff they were made of. They fought -with savages who didn’t have the right ammunition to fight back with; -but nowadays the savages are inside of us. The wild streak in man is -showing itself. It’s in all of us.” - -He touched his breast lightly and smiled to minimize the seriousness of -what he was saying. - -“Right around here, where the corn grows tall, you might think--and -probably a lot of people back yonder in the city like to think--that -everything’s safe and it’s easy to be good! We’re all being tested -all the time. The man who was an angel fifty years ago would probably -be a perfect devil these days if he had half a chance. The world is a -different place every morning; but that’s only an old habit the world -has. It keeps spinning a little faster all the time. Now we’ve got -right here--” with a slight movement of the head he indicated Kemp -and Irene--“we’ve got a situation that wouldn’t have been possible -twenty years ago--at least not in a town like this. But we may be sure -something of the kind was going on only it was better hidden. Nowadays -with more people and more wealth and the general craving for excitement -things happen differently. We may regret such things, you and I, but we -are not helping matters by denying they exist. Everybody is restless; -people are living as though they expected to die tomorrow and are -afraid they’re going to miss something; but I don’t believe people are -wickeder than they used to be. What we used to call wicked we call -naughty now, and pretend it doesn’t matter!” - -He spoke half questioningly, as though not sure of her assent. - -“I suppose that’s so,” she replied soberly. “I never thought of -it in that way. But,” she added, “you must have lots of other -responsibilities--more important ones, without troubling about me.” - -“We’re not much use in the world if we haven’t a few. I think--I think -I might put you on my list. How would you like that?” - -“It would be wonderful if you thought me worth thinking about after we -leave here!” she answered, her eyes bright. - -“If I never saw you again I shouldn’t forget you. You’re a vivid -person; I can honestly say that you’re the most interesting person I’ve -met in a long time.” - -They were interrupted by Irene and Kemp who rose suddenly from the -table. - -“Tommy and I are going to dance,” said Irene. “You two can have your -coffee where you like. There’s a cordial if you want it--Tommy has -everything, you know.” She rested her hand for a moment on Trenton’s -shoulder. Her face was flushed and her voice a little strident. “You -two are spooning beautifully. You may be awfully proud of yourself, -Grace. I never saw Ward so interested in any girl before.” - -“Run along, Irene; Grace and I are talking of serious matters,” Trenton -replied. - -“Listen to that, Tommy! These idiots are serious! It’ll never do to -leave them here.” - -Kemp caught Trenton by the arm and dragged him from his chair. - -“Can’t be serious ’n my house, Ward Trenton! Always too serious for -Irene and me. Just look ’t that beautiful girl I got you to play with; -silly to be serious with a girl like that.” - -“All right; we’ll dance then,” said Trenton, amiably. - -“Thass the talk! Don’t forget this’s a party, not a funeral.” - -Jerry had rolled back the rugs and pushed the furniture out of the way -in the living room. Kemp and Irene were already on the floor dancing -exaggeratedly to the air of one of the new records. - -“I’m not up to date on the new stuff,” remarked Trenton apologetically; -but Grace found that he danced well and evidently with enjoyment. - -“You two not drinkin’ enough,” said Kemp in one of the pauses, planting -himself waveringly before Trenton and Grace and extending a glass. -“Gotta drink more; party’s no good without wine; lots o’ wine. Want -everybody t’ get soused like me.” - - -II - -Grace’s experience of drunkenness had been limited to the occasional -sight of a tipsy man in the street and she was shocked by the unhappy -change in Kemp’s appearance. His suave courtesy had disappeared. -His hair was in disorder; Irene had rumpled it before they left the -table, saying that he was too pretty; and as he talked his head moved -queerly in time with his jerky articulation. And he looked old; one -might have thought that Age, as a punishment for his intemperance had -snatched away his youthful mask. Finding that Grace and Trenton paid -no heed to his demand that they drink more wine he followed them over -the floor and finally arrested them while he apologized elaborately -for neglecting Grace. She was his guest and it was time that he was -dancing with her. Irene rose from the couch where she had been watching -them and announced her determination to teach Trenton a new step; his -manner of dancing was all out of date she said. She flung her arms -around his neck and with her head on his shoulder pushed him about, -while Kemp, delighted at Trenton’s discomfiture, clapped his hands in -time to the music. - -Grace, finding herself free, seized the moment to try to escape, but -Kemp lunged to the door and intercepted her. - -“Runnin’ ’way from me! Awfu’ bad manners run away from host. Gotta -dance with me like Irene. Thass right, Grace; good li’l’ sport; Irene’s -friends all good sports.” - -He caught her arms and clasped them about his neck but as his muddled -senses were unequal to responding to the rhythm of the music the -performance resolved itself chiefly into an attempt on Grace’s part to -keep him on his feet. - -“Sorry I stepped on you. Awfu’ sorry, Grace. Wouldn’t step on you for -anything in this wide, wide world.” - -“Oh, it was great fun!” Grace cried when the record had played itself -out. She was determined to make the best of it, but Trenton, mopping -his brow, intervened. - -“Tommy, you’re too rough! Grace doesn’t want to dance any more; we’re -going to have our coffee. You go and dance with Irene.” - -“Poor sport! Awfu’ poor sport,” Kemp retorted as Trenton led Grace -away. He bawled after them his conviction that they were both poor -sports and resumed dancing with Irene. - -Jerry had placed the coffee-tray in a long, comfortably furnished sun -porch opening off the dining room, where the music and the voices from -the living room penetrated only feebly. - -“I think I’m going to like this better,” said Grace with a sigh of -relief. - -“A little calm _is_ agreeable after a rough house,” said Trenton -watching her intently as she seated herself by the table and filled the -cups. “Tommy never knows his limit,” he went on, taking a cigarette -from a silver box on the stand. “He can’t carry the stuff as he used -to and he doesn’t act pretty when he’s shot. But he recovers quickly; -he’ll be all right soon. Irene knows how to manage him. One lump, thank -you.” - -Grace was still breathing deeply from the violence of her romp with -Kemp. She was hoping that Trenton would renew the talk she had been -enjoying at the table; but his silence was disconcerting. She wondered -whether he was not purposely waiting for her to speak, to show her -reaction to the scenes in which they had been participating in the -living room. - -She turned to him presently with a slight smile on her lips. - -“You can see that I’m a terrible greenhorn. I don’t know how to act at -a party--not this kind of a party. I suppose it isn’t nice of us to run -away, but you were an angel to come to the rescue.” - -“It’s always pleasant to be called an angel!” he remarked. “It hasn’t -happened to me for some time. Tommy would die of chagrin if he knew -he’d been making a monkey of himself; but he’s likely to do most -anything when he gets a bun.” - -Jerry came in to inspect the wick of the coffee lamp and Trenton -detained him. - -“Oh! Jerry, you needn’t serve any more drinks. Mr. Kemp doesn’t need -any more.” - -“Yezzah.” The boy bowed imperturbably and withdrew. - -“Jerry and I understand each other perfectly. He’ll take care of that. -I wonder what the boy thinks! But you never can penetrate the innermost -recesses of the Oriental mind. He probably doesn’t approve of Tommy’s -parties, if we knew the truth.” - -“I suppose he’s used to them. Let me see, what were we talking about?” - -“We hadn’t settled anything; we were going round in a circle.” - -“Then let’s keep revolving! I want to hear you talk some more. I want -to know your ideas about everything.” - -“Oh, that’s a large order,” he laughed. “But I’ll do my best!” - -She was struck suddenly with a fear that he might be finding her -company irksome. It was quite likely that at other times, when he -had been provided with a companion familiar with the technic of such -parties, he had contributed more to the gaiety of the occasions. But -her imagination was unequal to the task of visualizing him in such -antics as Kemp was engaged in. He impressed her more and more as she -studied him as a man who kept himself in perfect control; who found -indeed a secret enjoyment in merely looking on when others were bent -upon making an exhibition of themselves. - -“We were speaking awhile ago of our naughtiness in accepting an -invitation to a function like this. I’ve attended a lot of such parties -here and elsewhere. I am always wondering why I’m invited and why I -go. Perhaps,” he smiled quizzically, “it’s to give moral tone! That’s -undoubtedly why you were invited.” - -“That excuse won’t do for me!” she replied quickly. “I wanted to come; -I was perfectly crazy to come!” - -“Well, it’s just as well to satisfy your curiosity. I assure you these -parties are all alike. I’ve taken a hand in them in every part of the -world. The only thing that makes this one different is--” he smiled -broadly and his eyes danced with humor--“is you! I might say that you -are quite different. You create an atmosphere quite your own.” - -“Hurry up and explain that!” She clasped her hands in mock appeal. “I -might be different and still very unsatisfactory!” - -“Yes, there is that possibility,” he answered musingly. “A girl -requires a little practice to catch the stroke. That is, she has got to -get over the first shock before she becomes a good party girl. You’re -a novice. It will be interesting to know just how you emerge from the -novitiate.” - -“Would you be interested in that,--really?” - -“Vastly!” - -Her attention wavered and with a quick lifting of the head she bent a -startled questioning look upon him. The new records of distinguished -operatic stars which Kemp and Irene had been playing had served as -a faint accompaniment to their talk, but the music and the sound of -voices were no longer audible in the sun porch. Grace glanced nervously -about, oppressed by the silence. Voices and steps were heard in the -rooms above. Trenton asked if she had read a novel which he took from -the lower shelf of the stand that held the coffee things. Her negative -reply was almost hostile and she did not meet his gaze. Her face wore a -look of cold detachment. It seemed to him that the girl was no longer -there; that what he saw was merely a shadowy shape that might pass -utterly at any moment. He rose and dropped his half-smoked cigarette -into an ashtray on the stand. When he faced her again the look had -changed. He interpreted it as an appeal and he was not unmindful of its -poignancy. She sat erect, her head lifted, her hands clasped upon her -knees. - -“I was just wondering--” she began. - -“Oh, Tommy and Irene? They’re about somewhere,” he said carelessly. He -reached for a fresh cigarette, eyed it as though it were an unfamiliar -thing and lighted it deliberately. That look in her face, the appeal -in her eyes, had struck deep into him. He sat down beside her on -the davenport, crossed his knees and folded his arms. His composure -restored her confidence. In a moment she settled back, quite herself -again. - -He touched rapidly upon a great number of problems, talking well, with -an animation that surprised her. But she knew that he was trying to -make her forget her perturbation of a moment ago. It was an enormous -satisfaction to know that he understood; it was almost uncanny that he -understood so much of what was in her mind and heart without being told. - -“If it isn’t impudent for me to ask, I’d like to know just what you’re -aiming at,” he said. “You look like a girl who might be cursed with -ambitions. Can’t you let me into the secret?” - -“Oh, honestly, I haven’t any! When I was at the university I thought -I had some--but they were silly. Like every other girl I was crazy -for a while to be a trained nurse, then a settlement worker, and I -even thought I might be a writer, and for about a week I had a craze -to study medicine. Then I had to leave college, so I took a job in a -department store! How’s that for ambition!” - -“A little mixed; but the books are not closed yet! There’s plenty of -time for fresh entries. There’s marriage. You’ve overlooked that. That -must be on the program!” - -“It’s not the first number! College girls who don’t get married the day -after commencement are likely to wait awhile. I’m not a bit excited -about getting married. I want to look the world over before I settle -down.” - -“Suppose you fell in love--some fine fellow who could take good care of -you. What then?” - -“Well, I’ve had chances to marry and I couldn’t see it. I’ve never been -in love--not really. There’s a professor who wanted to marry me--a -widower with two children. You wouldn’t have me do that? And young -fellows, several of them, very nice, who caused me a lot of bother -before I got rid of them. I liked them all but I couldn’t love them.” - -“Then I’ll make the prediction that always applies in such cases; some -day you’ll meet just the right man and that will be the end of it.” - -“Maybe; but I don’t see it now. All I want--all I want right now is to -be free!” she said and a far-away look came into the dark eyes. - -“One can be free and terribly lonesome too,” he suggested. “There’s -nothing quite so horrible as being lonesome. This is a big world -and just knocking around by yourself isn’t much good. We all need -companionship; the soul cries for it.” - -She glanced at him quickly, surprised at his sudden seriousness and the -note of depression in his voice. In her great liking for him she groped -for an explanation of his change of mood. He had not struck her as at -all a moody person. Some reply seemed necessary and she was at a loss -to know what to say to him. - -“But you’re a success!” she exclaimed. “It’s only when a man fails that -he’s likely to be lonesome.” - -“Success is a beautiful word, but to myself I’m a decided failure. I’ve -failed in the most important thing a man ever undertakes. Don’t look -at me like that! I’ll explain. I’m supposed to be a mechanical expert, -but there’s one mechanism that’s beyond me. I’m referring to the heart -of a woman. My ignorance of that contrivance is complete.” - -The grim look that had come into his face yielded to a smile as he saw -her bewilderment. - -“You’re going to be bored in a minute! I didn’t want you to think me -more than twenty-seven and you’re already guessing that I’m at least -seventy and a doddering wreck!” - -“I wasn’t thinking that at all. You seemed unhappy and I was sorry!” - -“Well, don’t be sorry for me. I’m not deserving of any one’s pity--not -even my own. When I spoke of failure I was thinking of my marriage. -Irene probably told you I’m married?” - -“Oh, yes; I asked her the first thing!” - -“And it made no difference to you--about coming I mean.” - -“None whatever,” she laughed. “I just thought of it as an experience.” - -“Rather like studying a bug under glass, is that it?” - -“Yes, something of the sort. But--you were speaking of your wife.” - -“Well,” he said with a smile; “my being married is not a confidential -matter; nothing to hide or be ashamed of. My wife is a very charming -woman. You’d probably fall under her spell if you knew her; people -frequently do. And I think she’d probably like you.” - -“Not if she knew I had met you at a party like this.” - -“Bless you, that wouldn’t make a particle of difference in her liking -you or not liking you! She’s broad-minded--very much so! And it’s one -of her many good points that she isn’t jealous. If she came in here and -found me talking to you she wouldn’t scream and break up the furniture; -she’d join in the conversation and make herself interesting--say -startling things just to make us sit up. After a fashion she’s a -philosopher, very much entertained by what the world’s doing. She -sees in me only one of the many millions, a queer specimen for the -microscope. She actually puts me into the books she writes!” - -Grace bent her head, lifted it quickly and exclaimed: “Is she Mary -Graham Trenton? I’ve read her ‘Clues to a New Social Order’ but I never -imagined----” - -“No, you wouldn’t connect me with anything so daring! I need hardly -repeat that she’s a broad-minded woman. I’d be interested to know how -you come to know about that book.” - -“Oh, that’s easy enough. We had a lecture on it in our sociology course -at the university. The head of the department didn’t approve of Mrs. -Trenton’s views and warned us against the book, so of course I read it!” - -“Naturally!” - -“But it’s interesting; awfully interesting.” - -“Written, I assure you,” laughed Trenton, “by a remarkable woman!” - - -III - -The unhappy marriages of which Grace had known had failed for obvious -reasons, but Trenton’s case was fascinating in its subtleties. He -spoke of his wife as a man might speak of a woman he admired in a -detached sort of way without really knowing her. In spite of his -amiable attitude toward Mrs. Trenton, Grace found herself instantly -his partisan; she was sure his failure as he called it was his wife’s -fault. She greatly disliked this woman she had never seen. She started -and flushed when he said abruptly, almost as though he had read her -thoughts: - -“You’re getting ready to pity me--but don’t do it! It’s something in -me that’s wrong. We don’t quarrel and throw dishes across the table or -call each other names. We respect each other tremendously. It isn’t -even one of these triangular affairs,--another man or woman. When we -meet now and then we talk quite sanely and sensibly of the news of -the day and the arts and sciences, as two strangers might talk in a -smoking car. The trouble may lie right there. A man and wife must be -necessary to each other to make a perfect marriage and we are not. For -seven or eight years we’ve mostly gone our separate ways. She has her -own interests, plenty of them. If I tell her I’m going to Hong Kong -to do a job and ask her to go along she’ll say that she doesn’t think -it would amuse her. She’ll go to Paris and stay till I come back. All -cheerful, you understand; no row! Mrs. Trenton’s quite able to do as -she pleases,--as to money, I mean,--independently of me. And she knows -people everywhere and they like to have her around. I like having her -around myself!” - -“Perhaps one of these days everything will come right,” said Grace. - -“Possibly,” he said. “But that’s enough of me. Let’s talk about you a -little.” - -He drew her out as to her experiences at the university but when these -were exhausted he told her something of his own history. He had been -thrown upon the world at an early age, and, not without difficulty, -had worked his way through a technical school. His profession had -carried him to every part of the world. He told amusing stories of the -reaction of remote foreign peoples to the magic of modern machinery. -No other man had ever interested Grace half so much. Trenton was like -a pilgrim from another and larger world; she was fascinated by the -cosmopolitan fashion in which he changed the scene of his adventures -from China to South Africa and from South America to far-flung islands -whose very names were touched with the glamour of romance. Some of -his journeys had been merely pleasure excursions; he got restless -sometimes, he said, and had to go somewhere; but chiefly he had -traveled to sell or to install machinery, or to work out mechanical -problems under new and difficult conditions. There was no conceit in -him--a vein of self-mockery ran through most of his talk. He made light -of the perplexities and dangers he had encountered; there was no fun, -he said, in the performance of easy tasks. He knew usually when he was -employed that his services were sought in the hope that he might be -able to solve riddles which other very capable persons had given up. - -Grace studied him at leisure through his desultory monologue, -interrupting only to ask questions to keep him assured of her interest. -Her mind turned back repeatedly to what he had said of his wife. She -was quite sure that Mrs. Trenton didn’t appreciate her husband’s -fine qualities. He was a man of genius, and as such probably wasn’t -always easy to understand; but it was Mrs. Trenton’s business, the -girl reflected, to learn to understand him, to seek ways of making him -happy. She was more and more struck by his seeming indifference to most -things, even to is own achievements. Her imagination played upon him -with girlish romanticism. He ought to be aroused, awakened; he deserved -to be loved, to have the companionship he craved. And yet from the -manner in which he spoke of his wife it was a serious question whether -he didn’t love her. Whether the unknown woman loved him was another -question that kept thrusting itself into her thoughts. - -As he rambled on through the hour they were alone he played fitfully -with the end of a gold locket which he carried on his watch chain. -He would draw this from his right hand waistcoat pocket, seemingly -unconscious of what he was doing, and hold it in his hand or smooth it -caressingly. She speculated as to whether it did not contain a picture -of Mrs. Trenton; she even considered asking him to let her see it. - -Again steps and voices were heard above and Trenton looked at his watch. - -“It’s eleven o’clock and Tommy and I are taking the midnight train for -St. Louis,” he said. “We’ve got to beat it.” - -She rose and stood beside him, sorry that the evening was so nearly -over. - -“I’ll always remember tonight; you’ve been awfully nice to me!” she -said. - -“Please don’t! If you begin thanking me I’ll know you feel I’m older -than the hills. I see it all now! I made my story cover too many years!” - -“Oh, that’s not it at all!” she protested. “I was just wondering how -you ever crowded so much into your young life!” - -“You do that sort of thing very prettily! And when you look at me like -that you become dangerous.” - -“You really don’t think I’m dangerous--not in the least little bit!” - -“I’m not to be caught in that trap! A wise man never acknowledges to -a woman that she’s dangerous. They ought to have taught you that at -the university. But you’re patient! You’ve listened to me as Desdemona -listened to Othello!” - -“I believe,” she said daringly, tilting her head, “I believe I’d like -to flirt with you--oh, just a little bit!” - -He took a step nearer, his hands thrust into his pockets in his -characteristic way. He drew them out and they fell to his side as he -regarded her fixedly with a smile on his lips. Then very gently he took -her cheeks between his hands. She thrilled at the touch. They were fine -strong hands; she had noted repeatedly all through the evening how -finely formed they were, and the strength implied in them. - -“It’s meant very much to me to meet you--you can’t know how much. I -almost feel that I know you a little bit.” - -“It’s meant so much more to me,” she returned sincerely. “I’d be -ashamed if I wasn’t grateful. And that doesn’t mean at all that I feel -that you’re a day older than I am!” - -They were smiling gravely into each other’s eyes. There was not for the -moment at least any question of a disparity of years. She drew away -slowly until her face was free of his touch; then she laid her hands -lightly on his shoulders. - -“Please kiss me,” she whispered, and their lips met. - -“Here, you two!” - -They swung around to find Kemp in the door, watch in hand. - -“We’ve just got time to make it. Your bag is at the station, Ward? All -right. Go up and get your things, Grace. And tell Irene to hurry.” - -Kemp was again the man of business, his preoccupation with the journey -already showing in his eyes. - -Irene was giving the last touches to her hair when Grace found her. - -“Ready in just a minute,” she said. “How did you get on with good old -Ward?” - -“He’s perfectly lovely! He’s the most interesting man I ever met!” - -“That’s what they all say. Have any luck vamping him?” - -“Of course not,” replied Grace, putting on her hat. “You couldn’t -expect me to make a hit with a man like that. He’s too big and much too -wise.” - -“Oh, the wiser they are the harder they fall!” replied Irene -carelessly. “It’s something that he didn’t leave you and go out for a -walk all by his lonesome. That’s the way he treated a girl I wished -on him once. Actually, my dear, walked out of the house and didn’t -come back till Tommy and I were ready to go! But she got soused, the -little fool. I guess I was lit up for a little while tonight and Tommy -certainly was feeling his poison when Jerry put the wine away. He’s all -right now. It hits him quick and then it’s all over.” - -Jerry appeared to bow them ceremoniously into the car. On the way into -town they talked only fitfully. When the men spoke it was to discuss -the business that was calling them to St. Louis. - -“I’m going to Minnie Lawton’s for the night, Grace,” said Irene. “You’d -better stop there with me. It’s easier doing that than explaining -things at home. There won’t be time for you to stop at Minnie’s to -change your things.” - -Grace had considered the possible embarrassment that might result from -going home at midnight in the new gown. She meant to explain that she -had changed before leaving the store and had gone home with Irene -after the French lesson, and some of Irene’s friends had dropped in. - -“Don’t take a chance of being scolded,” remarked Kemp. “You know your -family and I suppose you have some leeway. I’d hate for you to get into -trouble.” - -“Oh, I’ll fix everything all right. It isn’t so awfully late. I’ll be -home by twelve.” - -They dropped Irene at Minnie’s and then swung westward. Grace indicated -a point a block from home where they might leave her. - -“If you like The Shack I hope you’ll come again,” said Kemp. “It’s been -fine to have you along.” - -“We’ll meet again,” said Trenton. “We didn’t settle much! There’ll have -to be some more talks--many of them I hope!” - -“I hope so too! Thank you both ever so much.” - -When she reached the Durland gate she caught a last glimpse of the tail -light as the car swung southward round the park. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - - -I - -She turned off the hall light at the switch at the head of the stairs -and gained her room unchallenged. Usually her mother waited up for -her, and Grace breathed a sigh of relief to find her door closed. She -quickly undressed, hiding the new suit in the closet and throwing out -another to wear to work in the morning. - -She lay for nearly an hour thinking over the events of the night but -slept at last the sleep of weary youth and was only roused by the -importunate alarm clock at six thirty. On her way to the bathroom -for a shower--the shower had been a concession to her and Roy--she -passed Ethel whose good morning she thought a little constrained. As -she dressed she rehearsed the story she meant to tell to account for -her late home-coming. Something would be said about it and she went -downstairs whistling to fortify herself for the ordeal. Her father -was reading the morning paper by the window in the living room and -in response to her inquiry as to whether there was any news muttered -absently that there was nothing in particular, the remark he always -made when interrupted in the reading of his paper. - -She found her mother and sister in the kitchen. - -“Good morning, Grace,” said Mrs. Durland pleasantly. “We’re a little -late, so you might set the table. Ethel and I have started breakfast.” - -Mrs. Durland usually made a point of setting the breakfast table -herself and Grace wondered whether this delegation of the task might -not mean that her mother and Ethel wished to be alone to discuss just -what should be said about her arrival at midnight when they had every -reason to expect her home from her French lesson by half-past nine. - -When they were established at the table Ethel praised the clear bright -morning. It was her habit to say something hopeful and cheering at the -breakfast table, illuminated at times by an appropriate quotation. Mrs. -Durland encouraged this practice and if Ethel did not at once volunteer -her contribution to the felicity of the matutinal meal, would ask: - -“Ethel, haven’t you some _word_ for us this morning?” - -Ethel had offered a quotation from Emerson and Grace had correctly -guessed that it was from the essay on “Compensation” when Mrs. Durland, -having filled and passed the coffee cups, glanced at Grace. - -“What kept you so late last night, dear?” she asked in the kindest of -tones. “I waited up till eleven. I didn’t hear you come in. You must -have been very late.” - -“Oh, I didn’t get in until twelve. After the lesson I went home with -Irene and there were some people there and we just talked and played -cards. I didn’t know the time was passing till it was after eleven.” - -“That’s rather strange, dear. They didn’t _know_ at the Kirby’s that -you were at their house.” - -“Why didn’t they know?” Grace demanded. - -“Because we called up!” her mother answered. “John Moore’s in town and -telephoned about eight o’clock to know if he could come out. Ethel -talked to him.” - -“He’s such a fine fellow,” said Ethel. “You know mother and I met him -when we went down to see you at the University last spring. He’s such a -splendid type!” - -“The kind of high-minded, self-respecting young man we like to have you -know, Grace,” remarked Mrs. Durland. - -“John’s a dear,” said Grace warmly. “And you told him to go to -Professor Duroy’s, and of course he didn’t find me there.” - -“No; and he called a second time, thinking he had misunderstood. He was -very anxious to get you to go with him to the football game tomorrow -and was afraid you might make some other engagement. It was just a -_little_ embarrassing that we couldn’t tell him where you were.” - -“You might have told him to come to the store in the morning,” Grace -replied. “Well, I guess I may as well make a clean breast of it! I -played hooky! Irene and I went to a supper party.” - -“So you told me an untruth!” exclaimed Mrs. Durland, staring wide-eyed -at the culprit. “Grace, this isn’t like you. You should have told me -you were not going to Professor Duroy’s. You might have saved me my -worry last night when you were so late and the Kirbys said Irene had -not been home and that she told her family she was spending the night -with a friend.” - -“Yes, mamma: I shouldn’t have told you a fib. I’m sorry. It was a -dreadful sin!” - -She looked from one to the other smiling, hoping to dispel the gloom -that seemed to hang above the table. It was not however in her sister’s -mind to suffer the deception to pass unrebuked. - -“You’ll tell us, I suppose, _whom_ you had supper with besides Irene?” - -Her sister’s question angered Grace the more by reason of the tone of -forbearance in which it was uttered. She would tell them nothing. A -crisis had risen in her relations with her family and she resolved to -meet it boldly. - -“I’ll not answer your question,” she said, addressing herself directly -to Ethel. “It’s none of your business where I go or what I do. Ever -since I came home I’ve been staying in at night except when I’ve gone -to a movie with father. I’m working hard every day to help keep things -going here at home. And I mean to keep on doing it; but I’m not a child -and I’m not going to be checked up for every hour I’m out of your -sight.” - -“Calm yourself, Grace. Don’t say anything you’ll be sorry for!” -admonished Mrs. Durland. - -“After I’d warned you about the Kirby girl--” began Ethel with the -serene patience due an erring child who may yet be saved from further -misdemeanors. - -“Oh, you warned me all right enough!” Grace interrupted. “You’ve done -a lot to make things pleasant for me since I came home! When I asked -those girls here to the house you made everything as disagreeable as -possible. You shied from a harmless ouija board! And now if I go out -for an evening you’re terribly shocked because I lie about it and -refuse to tell you exactly where I’ve been! But I do refuse! I’m never -going to tell you anything! The sooner you understand that, Ethel -Durland, the sooner we’ll have peace in this house.” - -Her eyes were bright with tears but she held her head high. In so far -as she reasoned at all in her anger she was satisfied that justice was -on her side. She was of age, she was self-supporting, she was bearing -her full share of the family expenses, and she meant to establish once -and for all her right to freedom. - -“I hadn’t expected you to take the matter in this spirit,” said Mrs. -Durland. “It isn’t like you, Grace. We want the very best for you. We -want you to have your friends and to enjoy yourself. And be sure we all -appreciate the fine way you met your disappointment at being obliged to -give up college. But you know we owe it to you, dear, to protect you in -every way possible. There are so many perils these days.” - -“Not only here, but everywhere through the country, the moral -conditions are terrible,” said Ethel plaintively. “A young girl can’t -be too careful.” - -“Well, if I’m wicked your goodness more than makes up for it,” Grace -flashed back; and then, her anger mounting, “Why do you assume that -I’ve been wicked? Are you going to take my character away from me right -here at home? If I’ve got to live here in an atmosphere of suspicion -I’ll leave. I can easily find another boarding place where I won’t be -pecked at all the time.” - -“You wouldn’t think of doing that!” cried her mother aghast. “This is -your home, dear; it will always be your home. We should be so grateful -that we’ve been able to keep the dear old place.” - -“Well, you’re making me think of it! If I go you’ll be driving me out!” - -“No one has any intention of driving you from home,” said Ethel. “We -want to guard you with our faith and love.” - -“Your faith!” Grace laughed ironically. - -“Of course we have all the faith in the world in you!” declared Mrs. -Durland. - -Stephen Durland, who had remained silent during this discussion, was -now folding his napkin. He cleared his throat, glanced from his wife to -his daughters and back to his wife. - -“Seems to me this has gone far enough, Alicia. There’s no use acting as -though Grace had done anything wrong.” - -“Of course we didn’t mean that, Stephen,” said Mrs. Durland quickly. -“It was _only_----” - -The fact that Durland so rarely expressed an opinion on any matter -pertaining to family affairs had so surprised her that she found -herself unequal to the task of completing her sentence. - -“I guess it’s a good place to let the matter drop,” he said. “The way -to show Grace we trust her is to trust her. Twelve o’clock is not late. -I heard Grace when she came in. I don’t blame her for not answering -questions when she’s jumped on. Don’t nag Grace. Grace is all right.” - -This was the longest speech Stephen Durland had delivered in a family -council for years. He rose, paused to drain the glass of water at his -plate and left the room. A moment later the front door closed very -softly. The gentleness with which it closed had curiously the effect of -an emphasis upon his last words. They waited to give him time to reach -the gate. Having broken one precedent he might break another; he might -come back. He had even addressed his wife as Alicia instead of the -familiar Allie--a radical and disconcerting departure. - -“We may as well clear the table,” said Mrs. Durland, when a full minute -had passed. Grace assisted in the clearing up. All the processes of -this labor were executed in silence save for an occasional deep sigh -from Mrs. Durland. When the dishes had been washed and put away in the -pantry Grace hung up her apron and went to her room. She made her bed -and straightened up her dressing table and had put on her hat and coat -when Ethel appeared in the door. - -“Grace, I want you to know how sorry I am if I said anything to hurt -you. You know that not for worlds would I be unkind or unjust to my own -sister.” - -“Oh, that’s all right, Ethel; just forget it,” Grace replied -indifferently. - -She bade her mother good-bye with all the cheer she could muster. - -“Good-bye, Grace,” called Mrs. Durland from the window where she was -scanning the newspaper. “I hope you’ll have a good day.” - -“Thank you, mother.” - - -II - -As the trolley bore her townward she decided that all things -considered she had come off fairly well in the encounter; but she -was not jubilant. She had probably established her right to go and -come as she pleased, but the victory brought her no happiness. -Ethel’s conciliatory words meant nothing; it was her sister’s way -to manifest forbearance and tolerance, to smooth things over when -there had been a clash between them. Grace had for her mother a real -affection, sincerely admiring the effort she made to keep in touch -with the best thought of the world--a pet phrase of Mrs. Durland’s. -Mrs. Durland was kind, unselfish, well-meaning. She meant to live up -to her ideal of motherhood. It was despicable to lie to her. Grace’s -conscience was now busy tearing down the defenses behind which she -had excused herself for going to Kemp’s party. Any uncertainty as to -Irene’s relations with the manufacturer were dispelled by the visit -to The Shack. The fact that Kemp’s money made it possible to surround -the relationship with a degree of glamour did not mitigate the ugly -fact. It might be that the people who talked so dolefully of the new -generation and the low ebb to which old-fashioned morals had sunk were -right. Irene’s affair with Kemp presented a situation which, if greatly -multiplied, would mean the destruction of all that made womanhood -precious. - -Could she, Grace Durland, ever be like that? What was to prevent her -from doing exactly what Irene was doing or falling even lower? Nothing, -she pondered, but her own will and innate sense of righteousness. -She would have no excuse for following Irene’s example. The home she -had just left really stood for all those things she had been taught -to believe were essential to right living. Her mother, with all her -failings and weaknesses, had labored hard to implant in her children -the principles of honor and rectitude. And her father, pitiful figure -though he was, was a man of ideals and a pattern of morality. He -believed in her; he was her friend and it would be shameful to do -aught to bring disgrace upon him. And with an accession of generosity -as she pondered, Grace saw Ethel, too, in a different light. With -all her offensive assumption of saintly airs Ethel’s ideas of human -conduct were sound. Ethel was a disagreeable person to live with, but -nevertheless she was not always wrong. She had indubitably been right -about Irene Kirby. - -As Grace left the car she saw by a street clock that she still had ten -minutes in which to report at the store and she loitered, eager to -remain in the open as long as possible. And she rather dreaded meeting -Irene. - - -III - -Happily for her peace of mind the day opened briskly. She had disposed -of a rapid succession of customers before Irene, who had arrived late, -passed her in the salesroom with a careless nod and smile. At half-past -nine Grace espied John Moore, the unwitting cause of the exposure of -her truancy from the French class, standing in the entrance. So many -other thoughts had filled her mind since she left the breakfast table -that she had forgotten about Moore and the football game. She was -carrying a gown she had just sold flung over her arm when the sight -of the young man, who was clearly dismayed by the unfamiliar scene, -brought a smile to her face. He sprang forward beaming when he caught -sight of her. - -“I was just about to run; I’m scared to death!” he exclaimed. - -In his joy at finding her he dropped his hat as he grasped her hand. He -was big of frame but trained fine, and the deep tan of his summer on -a Kansas farm had not yet worn off. His gray suit was only saved from -shabbiness by a recent careful pressing. His lean cheeks were neatly -shaven and his thick brown hair was evenly parted and smoothly brushed, -though a wisp of it persisted in slipping down over his forehead. -Twenty-seven or thereabouts, John Barton Moore--as he was written on -the university books--seemed older with the maturity of one who begins -early to plan and fashion his life. - -“I’m awfully glad to see you, John!” she cried. “Up for the game, -of course! I was terribly sorry not to be home when you called. The -trouble was that I cut my French lesson at the last minute to go to a -party.” - -“Perfectly all right, Grace. I ought to have written you a note to say -I was coming up.” - -He glanced about anxiously. “Am I blocking the wheels of commerce?” -he asked with the drawl that proclaimed him one of those children of -Indiana whose ancestors reached the Wabash country by way of North -Carolina and Kentucky. - -“Nothing like that! Just a minute till I send this dress to be packed.” - -She motioned him to a chair but he remained standing like a soldier at -attention till she came back. - -“Now then! Let’s proceed to business.” - -“Well, I. U. needs all her children to root this afternoon, though I -think we’re going to win. And you’ve got to go. Got good seats and -everything’s all set.” - -“Why, John, I’m afraid I can’t go. Saturdays are busy days here. I -don’t like to ask to get off.” - -“Oh, you can fix it somehow. And besides I want to talk. I’ve got about -a million things to tell you. You left in such a hurry I didn’t know -you were gone till Roy told me the next day. I’ve certainly missed our -talks.” - -“Well, we’ll have some more; I’m starving for a talk with you!” - -“Well, this is a fearsome place and I mustn’t keep you. So please see -your boss and tell him or her this is a matter of life and death.” - -At this moment Irene swept by with a valued customer and Grace appealed -to her. - -“Miss Kirby, Mr. Moore. Irene, Mr. Moore is an old friend of mine from -I. U. and he wants me to go to the game. Would I be shot if I asked to -get off?” - -Irene surveyed Moore carefully and weighed the question for an instant. - -“What do I get if I fix it?” she asked, giving the young man the -benefit of her handsome eyes. - -“I might offer a bushel of hickory-nuts,” said Moore. “I counted a lot -on seeing the game with Grace.” - -“I think,” said Irene with mock gravity, “I _think_ it can be arranged. -Miss Boardman sent word this morning that she’s ill and won’t be down, -so I’m in charge. We’re likely to have a busy afternoon, but you run -along, Grace.” - -“Well, that’s mighty nice of you, Miss Kirby”; and Moore thrust out his -hand. It was evidently his habit to express all manner of emotion with -a handshake. He was regarding Irene with a frank curiosity manifest in -his steady gray eyes. The grand manner of the Irenes of the world, one -would have assumed, was new to him. - -“I wish you could go along too,” he said. “It’s likely to be a lively -scrap. If you say the word, Miss Kirby, I’ll get another seat right -away.” - -“Oh, thank you so much! But with Miss Boardman away it can’t be done. -It’s nice of you to ask me though.” - -If she was to him a puzzling type, alien to all his experience, he -was equally of an unfamiliar species to her. Grace noted with secret -amusement the interest they apparently awakened in each other. - -“Excuse me; I must run along,” said Irene. “Have a good time!” She left -them with her queenliest air. - -“I told you it could be fixed all right,” said Moore. “Fine girl; Miss -Kirby.” - -“It was mighty nice of her to do it. I’d hardly have had the nerve to -tackle Miss Boardman.” - -“Well, I mustn’t keep you. There’s lots of folks on the streets. Looks -like the whole of the grand old Hoosier State was in town. Where can I -meet you?” - -“At the main entrance of this emporium at one o’clock. You get your -lunch first and I’ll snatch something in the tea room. We’ll want to -get out early to see the crowd gather. I’m that thrilled, John!” - -Grace greeted her next customer with a smile that was not wholly -inspired by the hope of making a substantial sale. John had been one -of her best friends at the university, where every one knew and liked -him. Even the governor of the State knew Moore and referred to him -indirectly in public addresses as a justification for taxing the people -to place higher education within reach of the humblest. - -Moore was born on a farm and his parents dying just as he finished the -common schools, he had worked his way through college, doing chores -during the school terms and spending his vacations on farms wherever -employment offered. In like fashion he was now plodding his way through -the law school. His good humor was unfailing and his drolleries were -much quoted in the university town. When urged in his undergraduate -days to take up football he pleaded important engagements, not -scrupling to explain that they were the most solemn pledges to saw wood -or cut grass for his clients or drive the truck on Saturdays for a -grocer. He called his employers his noble patrons and praised them for -their consideration and generosity. He enjoyed music, and possessing a -good baritone voice he had been enrolled in the glee club. He never -had danced until, in his senior year, a number of co-eds conspired to -instruct him. He was the star performer of the debating society and -had several times represented the university in the contests of the -Inter-State Association. - -Though she had so quickly overcome her disappointment at leaving the -University, Grace found that the sight of Moore awoke in her a keen -regret that her college days were over. She was far less sure of -herself than she had been before her evening at The Shack. She clutched -at memories of her happy care-free yesterdays. A band in the street -was playing the air of the college song, which was punctuated by the -familiar yell from the throats of a mighty phalanx of undergraduates. -Young women from all the state colleges were coming into the store for -hurried purchases. Two members of her sorority, girls she had lived -with for two years, dropped in to see her--cheery, hopeful young women, -eagerly flinging at her scraps of college news and giving a sharper -edge to her homesickness for the campus and all it connoted. She was -beset with serious doubts as to her fitness to meet the problems of -life; the conceit was gone out of her. She recalled what a lecturer had -once said at a student’s convocation, that the great commonwealth of -Indiana stood behind them, eager to serve them, to put them in the way -of realizing the abundant promise of life. In her mood of contrition -she reflected that not only had the arm of the State been withdrawn, -but that she had gone far toward estranging those to whom she was bound -by the closest ties, who had every right to expect the best of her. If -it had been in her power she would have elected to join the throng of -young men and women who, victor or vanquished, would go back to the -university that night singing songs which echoed in her memory now and -made a continuing little ache in her heart. - -Moore’s pride in her was manifest as he hung to a strap and bent over -her in the crowded street-car on the way to the battlefield. Grace -was a pretty girl, and John was not unmindful of the fact that she -attracted attention. He talked steadily--of university affairs, of -their friends among the students. - -“Did Roy come up?” she asked. - -“I haven’t seen him. He may have come up with the bunch this morning. -But you might overlook the king of England in this crowd.” - -“Roy’s not terribly enthusiastic about the law,” she suggested -leadingly. - -“Well, maybe not just what you’ll call crazy about it; but he’ll come -along all right. There’s good stuff in Roy.” - -Moore was usually so candid that his equivocal answer did not escape -her. Grace had the greatest misgivings as to her brother’s future. He -had wanted to leave the university when she was summoned home. He had -won his A. B. by the narrowest margin and had gone into the law school -only because of his mother’s obsession that he was destined to a career -similar to that of her father and grandfather, whose attainments at -the bar and services to the State provided what Mrs. Durland called a -background for her children. - - -IV - -Arriving early at the ball park they found their seats and John -continued talking as the crowd assembled. On many Sunday afternoons -they had taken long tramps, discussing all manner of things. Moore was -a prodigious reader of poetry and made it his practice to commit to -memory a certain number of lines every day. Politics, too, interested -him seriously. He always spoke with deepest reverence of the founders -of the republic, referring to them familiarly as though they were still -living. Between the cheers to which he vociferously contributed his own -voice, he rambled on comfortably and happily, satisfied that he had a -sympathetic auditor. - -“There’s Bill Trumbull--hello there, Bill! Well, to tell the truth, -Grace, I don’t get much out of this new poetry. Flimsy stuff; doesn’t -satisfy you somehow. The times call for another old Walt Whitman. That -bird had ideas. He certainly hit some grand old truths. ‘Produce great -men,’ he says; ‘the rest follows.’ Just as easy! Wow! There’s our team -coming out now!” (prolonged cheering) “Well, there’s the old saying -that the time brings the man. Can’t tell but there’s a future president -right here in this crowd!” - -“It might be you, John!” remarked Grace, laughing at the serenity with -which he returned to his subject after joining in the uproar. - -“No, Grace; I’ve chosen the chief justiceship!” he said, swinging round -at her. “Isn’t that Daisy Martin?--Fred Ragsdale with her. Hello, Fred! -and if, there ain’t old Pop Streeter! Greetings Pop! No, sir; the times -call for men and we’re going to produce a fine new crop right out of -this generation here present.” - -Moore was enjoying himself; there was no question of it. And Grace was -experiencing a grateful sense of security in John’s company. He was -paying her his highest compliment, and she knew that the money for his -excursion to the capital had been earned by his own labor. Her girl -friends at the university had tormented her a good deal about John’s -attentions, which were marked by the shy deference and instinctive -courtesy with which he treated all women. He was not a person to be -flirted with; Grace had never in the prevalent phrase “teased him -along.” She respected him too much for that, and, moreover, he was not -fair game. Any attempt to practice on him the usual cajoleries and -coquetries would have sent him away running. When a girl visitor at the -university, meeting John at a dance, had referred to him as a hick, -Grace had resented it on the spot, informing the surprised offender -that John Moore was the finest gentleman on the campus. - -John was not wholly silenced by the spirited opening of the game. - -“Too bad Crump’s not here. Hurt his leg last week in practice. Thought -he’d make it. Break his heart not to be in the game. Thompson in his -place. You know Thompy? He’s a wonder on the trap drum. Wow! Illinois -got the ball. Where was I? Oh, yes! I read Landor last summer--Walter -Savage; a theological student from New York, working along with me -out in Kansas, put me on to Landor. Quite a man--Landor, I mean. The -theolog’s a bully chap, too, for that matter. Look at that! No; sending -’em back. Wow! That’s first blood for us! Well, you might like Landor -if you took a whack at him. That referee’s awful fussy. Wonder where -they got him. Remember that day we read ‘The Passing of Arthur,’ -sitting on a log by that gay little creek in the woods? I’ve thought -a lot about that and the way you _cried_. Yes; you did, Grace; and I -guess I shed a few tears myself!...” - -In moments of despair when Indiana’s fortunes were low, John’s optimism -evoked laughter from his neighbors, for he possessed in good measure -the homely humor which is indigenous to the corn-belt. - -Before the game ended it had occurred to Grace to ask John to go home -with her for supper. After they had joined in the demonstration for the -victorious Hoosier team and had made their way to the street she went -into a drugstore and called her mother on the telephone. Mrs. Durland -replied cordially that she would be delighted to see John; it was too -late to put on any extras but any friend of Grace’s was always welcome. -It would serve to ease the situation she had left behind her to take -John home, Grace reflected, and moreover, she was glad of an excuse for -seeing more of him. - -“Of course I’ll be glad to break bread with you. I’ll be glad to see -your folks again. If you’re not too tired, let’s walk. Fine zippy air! -Well, that was sure some game! I nearly died an unnatural death about -seven times in the last quarter, but we managed to pull through. Let’s -see, what were we talking about?” - -He let her into a great secret as they crossed the park toward the -Durland house. He had seen Judge Sanders, the senior member of one of -the best law firms in the capital and a university trustee, who had -offered to take him into his office. - -“Wants me to come in January,” John explained. “Says they’ll guarantee -my board and keep for running errands and attending to collections; and -I can go on studying and be ready for my exams in the spring just the -same. So I’ll be in the city for keeps after Christmas. Grand man, the -Judge. Found I was washing automobiles at night to pay for my room over -Westlake’s garage and he just couldn’t stand it. There’s a friend, I -say!” - -He waited for her to laugh and laughed with her. It was enormously -funny that among other jobs he washed automobiles on his way to the -chief justiceship! - -“Nothing can keep you back, John. You’re like the men we read about, -who strike right out for the top and get there and plant their flag on -the battlements.” - -“Don’t say a word! There’s luck as well as hard work in this business -of getting on. All summer I used to think about it--out in the fields -in Kansas. A big, hot harvest field’s a grand place for healthy -thought. I say, Grace, life’s a lot more complicated than it used to -be. Things all sort o’ mixed up since the war.” - -“You really believe the world’s so different, John? Everybody’s saying -that and the papers and magazines are full of stuff about the changes -and knocking our generation.” - -“Don’t let that talk throw you! It’s up to all of us to sit tight on -the toboggan and wait till she slows down. There’s a lot of good in -this grand old world yet. By the way, it was hard luck you had to quit -college. Excuse me for mentioning it, but I just wanted you to know I -was sorry you left.” - -“Oh, it’s all right, John. I miss the good times but there’s no use -crying. I’m ashamed now, though, to think how I just fooled along. I -ought to have got more out of it than I did.” - -“You don’t know how much you got,” he replied quickly. “Kind of a -mystery what we get and what we don’t. We got to keep braced for -anything we bump into. When the war came along I thought that was the -end of me so far as going into the law was concerned, but being shot at -by the Kaiser sort o’ made me mad. I wasn’t going to let a little thing -like that stop me; so my life being providentially spared, I thought it -all out on the ship coming home--on the deck at night with the stars -blinking at me. I’ve got health and a fair second-rate head and I’m -going to give the world a good wrestle before I quit.” - -“Fine!” she exclaimed, noting the lifting of his head as he swung along -in the gathering dusk. “You make me ashamed of myself, John. I think -I’ve begun to drift--I don’t know what I’m headed for.” - -“We all think we’re drifting when we’re not! It’s in the back of our -minds all the time that we’re aiming for something,” he replied; “we -don’t fool ourselves there!” - -“I hope you’re right,” she said, pensively. “But I’ve wondered a -lot lately about myself. Do you suppose there’s anything wrong with -me--lack of ambition, maybe?” - -He paused abruptly the more emphatically to dispose of her question, -which had a deeper meaning than he knew. - -“Don’t be foolish, Grace! You could keep up your college work if you -wanted to--there’s a way of doing that, and get your degree. Suppose -you thought of that--and teaching?” - -“Yes. But I don’t feel any strong pull that way. I’m in a French class -and I mean to keep that up. But before I was off the campus I was all -keyed up to jump right into things. I want experiences--not teaching or -anything like that--but to be as close to the heart of things as I can -get!” - -“Not a bit of fault with that! I’d trust you to find yourself anywhere. -You’re too fine a girl ever to get lost in the shuffle. I guess you’ll -learn a lot in Shipley’s; you see all kinds of people there every day, -and as Aleck Pope says the proper study of mankind is man--also woman!” - -In spite of herself the unhappiness with which the day had begun had -stolen into her heart again. It had betrayed itself in her speech, the -eagerness with which she appealed to Moore for approval and sympathy. -She was contrasting what he was saying with what Trenton had said the -previous night. No two men could be more unlike--Trenton the man of the -world, with a hint of cynicism in his attitude toward life; John Moore, -a son of the soil, with all his ideals intact, viewing life with hope -and confidence. - - -V - -Grace had not been mistaken in thinking that John’s presence would -exert a cheering influence on the household. It was clearly written -in the faces of Mrs. Durland and Ethel that they believed Grace was -not beyond redemption so long as she was capable of appreciating the -sterling worth of a high-minded and ambitious young man like Moore. -John was not without a sense of the fitness of things. When Mrs. -Durland and Ethel showed a disposition to maintain the conversation -on lofty heights John indulged them for a time and then concentrated -upon Stephen Durland. Farm machinery seemed to John a subject likely to -interest the silent head of the house. Durland was soon painstakingly -answering Moore’s questions as to the possibility of further reducing -the man power required in crop production. - -“I’ve hopped the clods since I could reach a plow handle,” said John, -“and it does seem to me that with the tractor coming in----” - -Durland delivered what amounted to a condensed lecture on the subject, -spurred on by John’s sincere interest and practical questions. - -“Thank you, Mr. Durland. I’ve been wanting to get an expert opinion on -those points for a long time. I tell you,” he said glancing round at -the others, “it does tickle me to run into a man who really _knows_.” - -“Father’s an authority on those things,” said Grace proudly. “He reads -everything that’s written on mechanics.” - -“Stephen _ought_ to know!” remarked Mrs. Durland with a sigh which -Grace translated as signifying that it was too bad that his knowing -really profited him so little. - -“We’re so sorry,” said Mrs. Durland, when the cold ham, baked potatoes -and canned peas had received attention and Ethel brought in a bread -pudding--“it’s a great grief to all of us that Grace had to leave -college. It meant so much to her. But her spirit about it all has been -fine.” - -“Well,” remarked John, after he had met Ethel’s apology for the pudding -with the assurance that it was his favorite of all desserts--“Well, -I’m not sure it isn’t a good thing for Grace to go into business for -awhile. I argue that things somehow work out for good in the long run. -Her English and the sociology courses were what interested her most; -and being in a big place like Shipley’s and running into all sorts and -conditions of folks the way she’s got to is bound to have a broadening -effect. It’s right along the line of things she’s keenest about.” - -“But, Mr. Moore, what we don’t like is the unfortunate contacts with -people who may not be--_wholly_ desirable acquaintances,” suggested -Ethel. - -Grace frowned. It was ungracious of Ethel to draw John into the -discussion of a subject that had been a matter of contention in the -family. But John, having convinced Mrs. Durland of his appreciation of -her hospitality by accepting a second helping of the pudding, met the -situation promptly. - -“Well, now Miss Durland, who’s going to draw the line between the -desirable and undesirable? Now I’m not saying that we haven’t a right -to choose our friends; but for me, I like all kinds. Why, on that farm -in Kansas where I slept in the hay mow for the sake of the ventilation -and to study the constellations through the cracks, a fugitive burglar -crawled in one night and we nearly scared each other to death! But I -made a friend of that poor chap. Tucked him away and fed him for a -couple of days. Had a letter from him last week. He’s away up in Canada -working in a lumber camp. Now sleeping in the hay with that poor devil -didn’t do me any harm. Maybe I did him some good! He swore he wasn’t -guilty, so my conscience was easy about not calling up the sheriff and -turning him over. Give everybody the benefit of the doubt; that’s my -idea!” - -It was not Ethel’s way to give any one the benefit of the doubt. Mr. -Durland covered a queer little chuckle by pretending to cough. Grace -tried to change the subject; but Ethel was not to be thwarted in her -attempt to elicit from John an expression of disapproval of Grace’s -course in becoming a salesgirl. - -“That’s a good story, Mr. Moore, but when you think of a girl like -Grace, being _numbered_ and put in with girls who’ve had nothing like -her advantages--that’s what I meant. Not that Grace won’t be equal to -the test, but----” - -“Well,” John interrupted, “I’ve never been in these big stores much but -this morning while I was trying to get my eye on Grace I saw all those -girls stepping round and I thought what a fine looking lot they were! -And all busy and right on the job! Now there’s that Miss Kirby--was -that the name, Grace?” - -“Yes,” Grace answered, strongly inclined to giggle, now that the -innocent and well-meaning John had brought Irene to the table. - -“You take a girl like that,” said John warming to his work, “moving -around like a duchess, and with that way about her that makes you -_know_ she’s onto her job! I’ll bet there’s lots of ’em just like her. -I say you’ve got to hand it to ’em. I tell you, Mrs. Durland, while -we’ve got girls like Miss Kirby and Grace Durland I’ll say America’s -safe! Wasn’t it nice, Grace, the way Miss Kirby fixed it for you to get -off. You could see she was pleased clear through to have the authority!” - -“I don’t think--” began Ethel; but scenting battle, Mrs. Durland rose -from the table. - -“You and Mr. Moore go into the parlor, Grace. Ethel and I will -straighten up out here.” - -“Not on your tin-type!” John protested. “I just love to dry dishes. You -just let me take a hand. I’ll pay for every plate I smash!” - -As he refused to be denied Grace found an apron for him and they made -merry over the dishwashing. - -While they were in the midst of it Ethel came to the door to say that -Grace was wanted on the telephone. Ethel’s manner of conveying the -information prepared Grace for Irene’s voice. - -“Can you talk a minute? I had a telegram from some friends of ours this -afternoon. They wanted to be remembered to you; that’s all. I think -your particular friend will stop on his way east. Tell me, did you get -in bad?” - -“Oh, it’s all right now,” Grace replied. “I’ve got company and we -mustn’t talk.” - -“I understand perfectly. I’m spending an evening at home for a change -and I just thought I’d let you know our gay cavaliers hadn’t forgotten -us. Is your company exciting?” - -“Just nice. You met him this morning.” - -“I’d guessed it. And you took him home for supper, like the good -little girl you are! Well, it’s a joy to meet one of the unvarnished -occasionally. I may try to take him away from you; just hand him that!” - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - - -I - -The repentant mood induced by the spectacle of the football game and -John Moore’s visit still lay upon Grace the next morning when she went -down to the Durland eight o’clock Sunday breakfast. - -“I’m sorry you hurried down,” said her mother cheerily. “I don’t want -you girls to come into the kitchen Sunday mornings; you’re both tired -from your week’s work and I want you to make the Sabbath a real day of -rest.” - -“Oh, I’m for getting up when I wake up,” Grace answered. “I’m feeling -fine. Let me do the toast, Ethel. I just love toasting.” - -She led the talk at the table, recurring to the football game, -exploring the newspaper for the sporting page to clarify her -impressions of certain points in the contest. - -“John was simply a scream! He talked of everything under the sun. You -might have thought he didn’t want me to know what was going on at all!” - -John was the safest of topics; they had all liked him; and Grace -related many stories illustrative of the young man’s determination to -refuse no task by which he could earn the dollars he needed to lodge, -clothe and feed himself while gaining his education. Now that they -had seen him at their own table they could the better enjoy Grace’s -enumeration of John’s sturdy qualities. - -This was the happiest breakfast the Durlands had known since Grace -came home. It was in her heart to do her full share in promoting the -cheer of the household. The unfortunate revelation of her duplicity of -Friday night would no doubt be forgotten if she behaved herself; and -she had no intention of repeating the offense. Nevertheless she was -glad that she had asserted herself. It had done no harm to declare her -right to independent action and the exercise of her own judgment in the -choice of friends; she would have had no peace, she assured herself, -if she hadn’t taken a stand against an espionage that would have been -intolerable. She persuaded herself that her mother and sister were -treating her with much more respect now that she had shown that she -couldn’t be frightened or cowed by their criticisms. - -Before breakfast was over Ethel asked quite casually whether Grace -wouldn’t go to church with her, and Mrs. Durland promptly approved the -invitation. - -“You can go as well as not, Grace. Ethel has her Sunday school class -first, but she can meet you right afterwards. I don’t want you girls -bothering with the Sunday dinner.” - -Grace didn’t question that this matter had been canvassed privately -by Ethel and her mother; very likely it had been Ethel’s suggestion; -but she decided instantly that it would be good policy to go. Her -church-going had always been desultory and her mother had ceased to -insist on it. But the situation called for a concession on her part. - -“Why, yes; thank you ever so much, Ethel,” she said. “I haven’t been in -ages. I’d meant to do some sewing but that can wait.” - -“I think,” said Mrs. Durland, “we all need the help and inspiration -of the church. Stephen, wouldn’t you like to go with the girls? I -don’t believe you’ve ever heard Dr. Ridgley; he’s very liberal and a -stimulating speaker.” - -Durland mumbled an incoherent rejection of the idea; then looked up -from his reading to explain that he had some things to attend to at -the shop. There was nothing surprising in the explanation. He always -went to his shop on Sunday mornings. Even in the old days of his -identification with Cummings-Durland he had betaken himself every -Sunday to the factory to ponder his problems. - - -II - -As the congregation assembled Grace yielded herself to the spell of the -organ, whose inspiring strains gave wings to her imagination. Always -impressionable, she felt that she had brought her soul humbled and -chastened into the sanctuary. Here were the evidences of those more -excellent things that had been pointed out to her from her earliest -youth. The service opened spiritedly with the singing of a familiar -hymn which touched chords in her heart that had long been silent. She -joined in the singing and in the responsive reading of a selection of -the Psalms. She had read somewhere that the church, that Christianity -indeed, was losing its hold upon the mind and the conscience of -mankind. But this church was filled; many men and women must still be -finding a tangible help in the precepts and example of Jesus. - -Ethel, sitting beside her, certainly found here something that brought -her back Sunday after Sunday, and made her a zealous helper in the -church activities. Bigoted and intolerant, unkind and ungenerous as -Ethel was, there was something in her devotion to the church that -set her a little apart, spoke for something fine in her, that for -the moment caused Grace a twinge of envy. In her early youth she had -“joined” the West End church that her mother attended; but before -she left high school the connection had ceased to interest her. Dr. -Ridgley’s congregation was composed largely of the prosperous and -well-to-do. Did these people about her really order their lives in -keeping with the teachings of Jesus? Was the Christian life a possible -thing? Were these women in their smart raiment really capable of living -in love and charity with their neighbors, eager to help, to serve, to -save? Absorbed in her own thoughts she missed the text; found herself -studying the minister, a young man of quiet manner and pleasing voice. -Then detached sentences arrested her truant thoughts, and soon she was -giving his utterances her complete attention. - -... “Leaving God out of the question,” he was saying, “what excuse -have we to offer ourselves if we fail to do what we know to be right? -We must either confess to a weakness in our own fibre, or lay the -burden on some one else. We must be either captain or slave.... We -hear much about the changed spirit of the time. It is said that the -old barricades no longer shield us from evil; that the checks upon -our moral natures are broken down; that many of the old principles of -uprightness and decent living have been superseded by something new, -which makes it possible for us to do very much as we please without -harm to our souls. Let us not be deceived by such reasoning. There’s -altogether too much talk about the changes that are going on. There -are no new temptations; they merely wear a new guise. The soul and -its needs do not change; the God who ever lives and loves does not -change.... There’s a limit upon our capacity for self-deception. We -may think we are free, but at a certain point we find that after all we -are the prisoners of conscience. - -“The business of life is a series of transactions between the -individual soul and God. We can change that relationship only by our -own folly. We can deceive ourselves with excuses; but the test of an -excuse is whether it will pass muster with God. God is not mocked; we -can’t ‘just get by’ with God. We may be sure that we are pretty close -to a realization of the Christian life when we feel that we have an -excuse for any sin or failure that we dare breathe into a prayer. -There’s hope for all of us as long as our sins are such that we’re -not ashamed to carry them to God.... Let us live on good terms with -ourselves first of all and with God be the rest. Let us keep in harmony -with that power above us and beyond us which in all ages has made for -righteousness.”... - -The minister was uttering clearly and forcibly the thoughts that had -been creeping through her own mind like tired heralds feebly crying -warning to a threatened fortress. Captain or slave, that was the -question. She had told Trenton that she was afraid of the answers to -vexed problems of life and conduct. She saw now the cowardice of this. -Her intelligence she knew to be above the average, and her conscience -had within twenty-four hours proved itself to be uncomfortably -sensitive and vigilant. There might be breaks in the old moral barriers -but if this were really true it would be necessary for her to stumble -over the debris to gain the inviting freedom of the territory beyond. -No; there would be no excuse for her if she failed to fashion something -fine and noble of her life. - -In the vestibule Ethel introduced her to the minister, who greeted her -warmly and praised Ethel; she was one of his standbys he said. While he -and Ethel were conferring about some matter connected with the young -people’s society Grace was accosted by a lady whom she identified at -once as her first customer at Shipley’s. - -“Do I know you or not?” demanded Miss Reynolds pleasantly. “Hats make -such a difference, but I thought I recognized you. I’ve been away so -many years that I look twice at every one I meet. I was caught in -England by the war and just stayed on. It gives you a queer feeling to -find yourself a stranger in your native town. It was silly of me to -stay away so long. Well, how are things going with you?” - -“Just fine,” Grace answered, noting that Miss Reynolds wore one of the -suits she had sold her, and looked very well in it. - -The old lady (the phrase was ridiculous in the case of one so alert -and spirited) caught the glance; indeed nothing escaped the bright -eyes behind Beulah Reynolds’ spectacles. She bent toward Grace and -whispered: “This suit’s very satisfactory!” And then: “Well, we’ve -caught each other in a good place. My grandfather was one of the -founders of this church, so I dropped in to have a look. Haven’t seen -more than a dozen people I used to know. There was a good deal of sense -in that sermon; the best I’ve heard in years. They don’t scatter fire -and brimstone the way they used to.” - -One would have thought from her manner that she was enormously relieved -to find that fire and brimstone had been abandoned as a stimulus to the -Christian life. - -“I’m not a member,” said Grace, “but my sister is. I never heard Dr. -Ridgley before. I liked his sermon; I think I needed it.” - -Grace was smiling but something a little wistful in her tone caused -Miss Reynolds to regard her with keen scrutiny. - -“Do you know, you’ve come into my mind frequently since our meeting at -the store? I’ve thought of you--uncommercially, I mean, if that’s the -way to put it! I’d like to know you better.” - -“Oh, thank you, Miss Reynolds; I’ve thought of you, too, and have hoped -you’d come into Shipley’s again.” - -“Oh, clothes don’t interest me a particle; I may not visit Shipley’s -again for years! But that doesn’t mean I shan’t see you. I wonder if -you’d come to my house some evening for dinner--just ourselves. Would -that bore you?” - -“It certainly wouldn’t!” Grace responded smilingly. - -“The sooner the better then! Tomorrow evening shall we say? Don’t think -of dressing. Come direct from your work. Here’s my address on this -card. I’ll send my motor for you.” - -“Please don’t trouble to do that! I can easily come out on the -street-car.” - -“Suit yourself. It’s almost like kidnapping and--it just occurs to me -that I don’t really know your name!” Her ignorance of Grace’s name -greatly amused Miss Reynolds. “For all you know this might be a scheme -to snare you to my house and murder you!” - -“I’ll cheerfully take the chance!” laughed Grace, and gave her name. -The minister had now finished with Ethel, and Grace introduced her -sister to Miss Reynolds, who did not, however, include Ethel in her -invitation to dinner. - -“She charmingly eccentric,” Ethel remarked as Miss Reynolds turned -away. “And awfully rich; one of the richest woman taxpayers in the -state.” - -“Yes; I understand she is,” said Grace without enthusiasm. “But we -needn’t hold that against her.” And then, recalling Ethel’s complacent -tone in mentioning any social recognition by her church friends, Grace -remarked carelessly, “She’s invited me to dine with her tomorrow night. -I’m to be the only guest. She seems to have a crush on me!” - -At the midday dinner Ethel disclosed Miss Reynolds’ partiality for -Grace with all impressiveness. - -“Why, Grace!” exclaimed Mrs. Durland, “do you fully _appreciate_ what -that means?” - -“It means that a very nice lady has invited me to share her dinner,” -Grace answered. - -“I hope you realize,” said Ethel, “what a great compliment that is. -Why, she can do worlds for you!” - -“Here’s hoping she keeps a good cook!” Grace retorted, irritated that -they were attributing so much importance to what she preferred to look -upon as no more than an act of spontaneous kindness in a generous -hearted woman. - -“Miss Reynolds represents the old conservative element here,” Mrs. -Durland remarked in a tone that implied her deep reverence for that -element of the population--“the people who always stood for the best -things of life. Her father was a colonel in the Civil War. They always -had money. A woman like that can make herself _felt_. Now that she’s -back, I hope she’ll see that she has a work to do. She has no ties and -with her position and wealth she can make herself a power for good in -checking the evil tendencies so apparent in our city.” - -“She’s so quaint; so deliciously old-fashioned,” added Ethel, “and you -can see from her clothes that she’s an independent character. I’m -going to ask Dr. Ridgely to invite her to take the chairmanship of our -girl’s club committee.” - -“That would be splendid, Ethel,” exclaimed Mrs. Durland, “perhaps _you_ -could say a word to her about it, Grace. You know better than Ethel the -dangers and temptations of the girl wage-earner.” - -“I don’t know why I should,” Grace replied. “Please don’t talk to me as -though I had a monopoly of all the wickedness in the world.” - -“Grace, dear, I didn’t _mean_----” - -“All right, mother. But I have my feelings, you know.” - -“The old Reynolds house on Meridian Street has been turned into a -garage,” said Ethel; “it’s too bad those old homes had to go. Miss -Reynolds has bought a house not far from where Bob Cummings built.” - -Any mention of the Cummingses, no matter how inadvertent, inevitably -precipitated a discussion of that family from some angle. Mrs. Durland -said for the hundredth time that they didn’t deserve their prosperity; -she doubted very much whether they were happy. - -“Bob’s the best one of the family,” she continued. “Tom and Merwin -haven’t amounted to anything and they never will. It must have been a -blow to the family when Merwin married a girl who was nobody, or worse. -She worked in some automobile office.” - -Ethel challenged the statement that the girl Merwin Cummings married -worked in an automobile office. It was a railroad office, and though -it didn’t matter particularly with which method of transportation the -young woman was identified before her marriage, Mrs. Durland and Ethel -debated the question for several minutes. Mrs. Durland had only heard -somewhere that Mrs. Merwin Cummings had been a stenographer for an -automobile agent while Ethel was positive that a railroad office had -been the scene of the girl’s labors, her authority being another girl -who worked in the same place. - -“Jessie didn’t speak any too highly of her,” Ethel added; “not that -there was anything _really_ wrong with the girl. She ran around a good -deal, and usually had two or three men on the string.” - -“A good many very nice girls keep two or three men on the string,” said -Grace. “I don’t see that there’s anything so terrible in that.” - - -III - -The next day at noon Grace went to a trust company where she kept an -account that represented the aggregate of small gifts of cash she had -received through a number of years at Christmas and on her birthdays. -As she waited at the window for her passbook, Bob Cummings crossed -the lobby on his way to the desk of one of the officers. She wondered -how he would greet her if they met, and what her attitude toward -him ought to be in view of the break between her father and Isaac -Cummings. She found a certain mild excitement as she pondered this, -her eyes occasionally turning toward Cummings as he leaned against -the railing that enclosed the administrative offices of the company. -Grace had always liked and admired him; and it had hurt her more than -she ever confessed that after the removal of the Cummingses from the -old neighborhood Bob had gradually ceased his attentions. Perhaps -his family had interfered as her mother had hinted; but it made no -difference now that he had married and passed completely out of her ken. - -Cummings had finished his errand and was walking quickly toward the -door when he caught sight of her. - -“Hello, Grace! I’m mighty glad to see you,” he said cordially. -“Why--” He checked himself and the smile left his face abruptly as he -remembered that their friendly status had changed since their last -meeting. - -Grace relieved his embarrassment promptly by smilingly putting out her -hand. - -“I’m very glad to see you, Bob,” she said. “It’s really been a long -time, almost three years!” - -“Just about,” he answered slowly. - -“Old Father Time has a way of romping right on!” she remarked lightly. - -They were in the path of customers intent upon reaching the cages and -she took a step toward the door when he said, glancing toward a long -bench at the side of the room, “If you’re not in a rush let’s sit down -a minute. There’s something I’d like to say to you.” - -“Oh, very well,” she assented, surprised but not displeased. - -He was the son of a man who had dismissed her father from the concern -in which their names had long been identified; but in so public a -place there could be no harm in talking to him. Her old liking for him -at once outweighed any feeling she had against his father. He was a -big boy when she was still a small girl and he was her first hero. He -was always quiet, thoughtful and studious, with a chivalrous regard -for the rights and feelings of others. They had been chums, confiding -their troubles to each other. It was to her that he had revealed his -succession of boyish ambitions, and she had encouraged his fondness for -music when other youngsters twitted him for taking piano lessons like -a girl. He had never thought he would like business; he wanted to be a -musician, with the leadership of an orchestra as his ultimate goal. It -was because his brother Merwin had from an early age shown a refractory -spirit that the parental authority had thwarted Bob’s aspirations; one -of the sons at least had to go into the business and Bob was now a -vice-president of the reorganized Cummings Manufacturing Company. - -“I’ve been hoping for a chance to see you, Grace. It’s not easy to -speak of it but I want you to know I’m sorry things turned out as they -did. About your father and the business, I mean. You must all of you -feel pretty hard about it. I hope it doesn’t mean any change in your -plans for finishing at the university. I know how you’d counted on -that.” - -“I’ve given it up; I’m home to stay,” she answered. “But you needn’t -feel badly about it. Of course it must have been necessary--about -father and the business, I mean.” - -He was embarrassed by her cheerful acceptance of the situation, and -stammered, leaving one or two sentences unfinished before he got hold -of himself. - -“I want you to know I did all I could to prevent the break. It seemed -a pity after your father and mine had been together so long. But -for some time the plant had needed an active superintendent; just -trusting the foremen of the shops wouldn’t serve any longer, and you -won’t mind my saying it but your father never liked executive work. I -suggested another way of handling it that would have made Mr. Durland a -vice-president and free to go on with his experiments, but I couldn’t -put it through. I did my best; honestly I did, Grace!” - -There was the old boyish eagerness in this appeal. He regarded her -fixedly, anxious for some assurance that she understood. She understood -only too well that her father had become an encumbrance, and that in -plain terms the company couldn’t afford to keep him at his old salary -any longer. It was unnecessary for Bob to apologize; but it was like -him to seize the first possible moment to express his sympathy. She -had always felt the gentleness in him, which was denoted in his blue -eyes, which just now shone with the reflection of his eagerness to -set himself right with her. He turned his hat continually in his -hands--they were finely shaped, with long supple fingers. At the base -of his left thumb there was a scar, almost imperceptible, the result -of a slash with a jack knife one day in the Durland yard where he had -taken her dare to bring down a particular fine spray of blossoms from -an old cherry tree. In his anxiety to deliver it unbroken on the bough -he had cut himself. She remembered her consternation at seeing the -injury, his swaggering attempt to belittle it; his submission to her -ministrations as she tied it up with a handkerchief. She was twelve -then; he sixteen. He saw the direction of her eyes, lifted the hand and -with a smile glanced at the scar. She colored as she realized that he -had read her thoughts. - -“That was centuries ago,” he said. “We did use to have good times in -your back yard! Do you remember the day you tumbled out of the swing -and broke your arm? You didn’t cry; you were a good little sport.” And -then, his eyes meeting hers, “You’re still a mighty good sport!” - -“If I never have anything worse than a broken arm to cry over I’ll be -lucky,” she answered evasively. - -There was no excuse for lingering; he had expressed his regret at her -father’s elimination from Cummings-Durland, and it served no purpose -to compare memories of the former friendly relation between the young -people of the two families, which were now bound to recede to the -vanishing point. But he seemed in no haste to leave her. She on her -side was finding pleasurable sensations in the encounter. He had been -her first sweetheart, so recognized by the other youngsters of the -neighborhood, and they had gone to the same dancing class. And he had -kissed her once, shyly, on a night when the Cummingses were giving a -children’s party. This had occurred on a dark corner of the veranda. -It had never been repeated or referred to between them, but the memory -of it was not without its sweetness. She was ashamed of herself for -remembering it now. She wondered whether he too remembered it. And -there had been those later attentions after the Cummingses had moved -away that had encouraged hopes in her own breast not less than in -her mother’s that Bob’s early preference might survive the shock of -the Cummingses’ translation to the fashionable district, with its -inevitable change of social orientation. - -Ethel and her mother had questioned the happiness of his marriage, and -her mind played upon this as she sat beside him, feeling the charm he -had always had for her and wondering a little about the girl he had -married whom she had never seen and knew of only from the talk at home. -But two years was not long enough; it was ridiculous to assume that he -wasn’t happy with his wife. - -“We certainly had a lot of fun over there,” he was saying. “I suppose -the park fountain plays just the same and the kids still sail their -boats in the pond.” - -“Yes, and go wading and fall in and have to be fished out by the -policeman! But we can’t be kids always, Bob!” - -“No; that’s the worst of it!” he said with a tinge of dejection. - -“I’m all grown up now and have a job. I’m a working girl!” - -“No!” he exclaimed incredulously. “And Roy----” - -“Oh, Roy’s to finish his law course; he’ll be through in June.” - -“That’s too bad, Grace!” he exclaimed. “It’s you who ought to have -stayed on! You’re the very type of girl who ought to go to college. It -would have made all the difference in the world to you! And Ethel--is -she at work too?” - -“Yes; she’s in an insurance office and I’m in Shipley’s!” she went on -smiling to relieve his evident discomfiture. “I’m in the ready-to-wear -and I’ll appreciate any customers you send my way. Call for Number -Eighteen!” - -“Why, Grace! You don’t mean it! You have no business doing a thing like -that. You could do a lot better.” - -“Well, I didn’t just see it. I’m an unskilled laborer and haven’t time -to fit myself for teaching, stenography or anything like that. You get -results quicker in a place like Shipley’s. That is, I hope to get them -if I’m as intelligent as I think I am!” - -“I’m terribly sorry, Grace. I feel-- I feel-- as though we were -responsible, father and I; and we are, of course. There ought to have -been some other way for you; something more----” - -“Please don’t! That’s the way mother and Ethel talk.” - -She rose quickly, feeling that nothing was to be gained by continuing -the discussion of matters that were irrevocably settled. And, -moreover, his distress was so manifest in his face that she feared the -scrutiny of passers-by. - -“Good-bye, Bob,” she said. “I’m awfully glad I met you. Please -don’t trouble at all about what can’t be helped. I haven’t any hard -feeling--not the slightest.” - -“I don’t like it at all,” he said impatiently. - -He kept beside her to the entrance, where she gave him a nod and -smile and hurried away. She was troubled at once for fear she hadn’t -expressed cordially enough her appreciation of his sympathy. Very -likely they would never meet again; there was no reason why they -should. He had merely done what was perfectly natural in view of their -old friendship, made it clear that he was sorry her father had been -thrust out of the company of which he had been one of the founders. She -was unable to see anything in the interview beyond a wish on his part -to be kind, to set himself right. And it was like Bob to do that. - - -IV - -The strong romantic strain in her was quickened by the meeting. All -afternoon her thoughts played about Bob Cummings. She reviewed their -associations in childhood on through those last attentions after the -Cummingses left the Military Park neighborhood. Her mother had probably -been right in saying that if fortune hadn’t borne the Cummingses -steadily upward, leaving the Durlands behind, Bob might have married -her. It had been a mistake for him to marry a society girl who was, -she surmised, incapable of appreciating his temperament. A matter of -propinquity very likely; she had heard that the girl was not rich but -belonged to one of the old families; and very likely on her side it had -been an advantageous arrangement. - -Why did men marry the wrong women? she asked herself with proneness of -youth to propound and answer unanswerable questions. There was Trenton, -who had so frankly admitted the failure of his own marriage and with -equal frankness took the burden of his failure upon himself. No two men -could be more utterly unlike than Ward Trenton and Bob Cummings, and -she busied herself contrasting them. Trenton was practical-minded; Bob -a dreamer, and save for his college experiences the range of his life -had been narrow. If both were free which would she choose? So great -was her preoccupation with these speculations that her work suffered; -through sheer inattention she let a promising customer escape without -making a purchase. - -In the afternoon distribution of mail she received a letter from -Trenton. It began, “Dear Grace” and read: - -“I expected to see you again this week--that is, of course, if you’d be -willing; but I’m called to Kansas City unexpectedly and may not touch -your port for ten days or so. I’m not conceited enough to assume that -you will be grief-stricken over my delay, and strictly speaking there’s -no excuse for writing except that you’ve rather haunted me,--a welcome -ghost, I assure you! I talked far too much about myself the other -night. One matter I shouldn’t have spoken of at all. No question of -confidence in you or anything of that sort. But it’s something I never -discuss even with old and intimate friends. You have guessed what I -mean. Bad taste, you probably thought it. It was quite that! I want you -to think as well of me as you can. I’m counting very much on seeing you -again. I hope you are well and happy and that nothing has happened to -your eyes since I saw them last!” - -This was all except that he named a Kansas City club where he could -be reached for the next week if she felt moved to write. She hadn’t -expected to hear from him and the note was a distinct surprise. At -every opportunity she reread it, and, catching her in the act, Irene -teased her about it. - -“Oh, you’ve started something! I’ll wager he signed his name in full; -that’s just like him. Tommy never writes to me and when he wires he -signs an assumed name. But Ward Trenton’s different. I think if he -decided to commit murder he’d send his own account of it to the papers. -He didn’t talk to you about his wife, I suppose, when Tommy and I left -you alone so long at The Shack? Tommy’s known him for years but he says -he wouldn’t think of mentioning his wife to him. I’d like to see Ward -in love! These quiet ones go strong when they get started.” - -“Oh, his letter’s just a little friendly jolly. He’s had to go to -Kansas City instead of coming back here right away.” - -“Of course he just had to explain that!” Irene laughed. “I can see -this is going to be a real case. See what you can do with that woman -just coming in. She looks as though she might really have some of the -mazuma.” - -It was not so easy as Grace had imagined in her spiritual ardor of -Sunday to begin retreating from Irene. She realized that Irene would -hardly listen in an amiable spirit to the warning she had thought in -her hours of contrition it was her duty to give her friend. Irene’s -serenity as she paced the aisles of the department, her friendliness -and unfailing good humor were all disarming. Irene wasn’t so bad -perhaps; Grace was much more tolerant of Irene than she had thought on -Sunday would ever be possible again. - -The letter from Ward Trenton had the effect of reopening a door which -Grace had believed closed and the key thrown away. She found herself -wondering whether he might not always write to girls he met and liked; -and yet as his image appeared before her--and he lived vividly in her -thoughts--she accepted as sincere his statement that he had broken an -established reserve in talking of his wife. This of course was what he -referred to; and she saw a fine nobility in his apprehension lest the -recipient of his confidences might think the less of him for mentioning -his wife at all. - -Grace was again tormented by curiosity as to whether Trenton still -loved his wife and the hope that he did not. She hated herself for -this; hated herself for having lost her grip upon the good resolutions -of Sunday to forget the whole episode of Kemp’s party. She knew enough -of the mind’s processes to indulge in what she fancied was a rigid -self-analysis. She wondered whether she was really a normal being, -whether other girls’ thoughts ran riot about men as hers did; whether -there might not be something vulgar and base in her nature that caused -her within a few hours to tolerate the thought of two men, both -married, as potential lovers.... - -It occurred to her that she might too effectually have burned her -bridges when she left the university. There were young men she had -known during her two years in Bloomington whose interest she might -have kept alive; among them there were a number of sons of well-to-do -families in country towns. But she was unable to visualize herself -married and settled in a small town with her prospect of seeing and -knowing the world limited by a husband’s means or ambition. There were -one or two young professors who had paid her attentions. One of them, -a widower and a man of substantial attainments, had asked her to marry -him, but she was unable to see herself a professor’s wife, beset by all -the uncertainties of the teaching profession. - -She had always been used to admiration, but until now she had heavily -discounted all the compliments that were paid her good looks. She found -herself covertly looking into the mirrors as she passed. Trenton had -been all over the world and no doubt had seen many beautiful women; and -yet he wrote that she haunted him, which could only mean that he was -unable to escape from the thought of her. Again, deeply humble, she -scouted the idea that he could have fallen in love with her; he was -only a little sorry for her, thinking of her probably as a rather nice -girl who was to be pitied because she had to work for her living. - -He had spoken of being lonely. Maybe it was only for lack of anything -better to do that he fell to thinking of her as he sat in the club -in St. Louis and wrote to her out of his craving for sympathy. At -twenty-one Grace did not know that the only being in the world who is -more dangerous than a lonely woman is a lonely man. - - -V - -Grace was correct in her assumption that Ward Trenton had written her -in a fit of loneliness but she did not know that in the same hour he -had written also to his wife. After a few sentences explaining his -presence in St. Louis, the letter to Mrs. Trenton ran: - - “It’s almost ridiculous,--the distinctly separate lives we lead. - I was just studying the calendar and find that we haven’t met for - exactly six months. When I’m at home--if I may so refer to the house - in Pittsburgh that fixes my voting place and--pardon me!--doesn’t fix - much of anything else--I occasionally find traces of your visits. I - must say the servants do pretty well considering that they go their - own gait. You’re a wonderful housekeeper at long range! But I’m not - kicking. The gods must have their will with us. - - “I read of you in the newspapers frequently and judge that you’re - living the life that suits you best. I found a copy of your ‘Clues to - a New Social Order’ on the new book table here in the club library - and reread parts of it. It never ceases to tickle me that a woman of - your upbringing, with your line of blue-nosed New England ancestors, - should want to pull down the pillars of society. I marvel at you!... - - “You’ve asked me now and then not to be afraid to tell you if ever - I ran into a woman who interested me particularly. I haven’t had - anything to report till now. But the other night I met a girl,--she’s - probably just crossing the line into the twenties,--an interesting, - provocative young person. She represents in a mild degree the new - order of things you’re so mad about; going to live her own life; - marriage not in the sketch. She’s a salesgirl in a big shop, but her - people have known better days and she went half-way through college. - She’s standing with reluctant feet where the brook and river meet, - but I’m afraid won’t be satisfied to play in the brook; she’s keen - for the deeper waters. She’s as handsome as a goddess. She kissed me - very prettily--her own idea I assure you! The remembrance of this - incident is not wholly displeasing to me; it was quite spontaneous; - filial perhaps.... - - “Those bonds you have in the Ashawana Water Power Company are all - right. I had a look at the plant recently and the dividends are - sure....” - -Having sealed and addressed the envelopes Trenton laid them side by -side on the blotter before him, lighted a cigarette, and then drew out -and opened the locket that Grace had noted at The Shack, studying the -woman’s face within a little wistfully. Then with a sigh he thrust it -into his pocket and went out into the night and tramped the streets, -coming at last to the post office where he mailed both letters. - - -VI - -Grace set off with the liveliest expectations to keep her appointment -with Miss Reynolds. The house struck her at once as a true expression -of the taste and characteristics of its owner. It was severely simple -in design and furnishing, but with adequate provision for comfort. -Grace had seen pictures of such rooms in magazines and knew that they -represented the newest ideas in house decoration. The neutral tint -of the walls was an ease to eye and spirit. Ethel had spoken of Miss -Reynolds as quaint, an absurd term to apply either to the little woman -or any of her belongings. She was very much up to date, even a little -ahead of the procession, it seemed to Grace. - -“Oh, thank you! I’m glad if it seems nice,” Miss Reynolds replied -when Grace praised the house. “All my life I’ve lived in houses where -everything was old and the furniture so heavy you had to get a derrick -to move it on cleaning day. But I can’t accept praise for anything -here. The house was built for a family that moved away from town -without occupying it. The young architect who designed it had ideas -about how it ought to be fixed up and I turned him loose. There was -a music room, so I had to get a grand piano to fit into the alcove -made for it. That young man is most advanced and I thought at first he -wouldn’t let me have any place to sit down but you see he did allow me -a few chairs! Are you freezing? I hate an over-heated house.” - -“I’m perfectly comfortable,” said Grace, noting that Miss Reynolds wore -the skirt of the blue suit she had sold her, with a plain white waist -and a loose collar. Her snow white hair was brushed back loosely from -her forehead. Her head was finely modeled and her face, aglow from an -afternoon tramp in the November air, still preserved the roundness of -youth. The wrinkles perceptible about her eyes and mouth seemed out of -place,--only tentative tracings, not the indelible markings of age. She -had an odd little way of turning her head to one side when listening, -and mistaking this for a sign of deafness Grace had lifted her voice -slightly. - -“Now, my dear child!” cried Miss Reynolds, “just because I cock my head -like a robin don’t think I’m shy of hearing. It always amuses me to -have people take it for granted that I can’t hear. I hear everything; I -sometimes wish I didn’t hear so much! I’ve always had that trick. It’s -because one of my eyes is a bit stronger than the other. You’ll find -that I don’t do it when I wear my glasses, but I usually take them off -in the house.” - -At the table Miss Reynolds rambled on as though Grace were an old -friend. - -“Our old house down on Meridian Street was sold while I was abroad. -It had grown to be a dingy hole. Garret full of trunks of letters and -rubbish like that. I cabled at once to sell or destroy everything in -the place. So that’s why I’m able to have a new deal. Are you crazy -about old furniture? Please tell me you are not?” - -“Oh, I like new things ever so much better!” Grace assured her. - -“I thought you would. I despise old furniture. Old stuff of every kind. -Old people too!” With a smile on her lips she watched Grace to note the -effect of this speech. “I shouldn’t have dreamed of asking you to give -up an evening for me if I meant to talk to you like an old woman. My -neighbors are mostly young married people, but they don’t seem to mind -my settling among them. I’m sixty-two; hurry and say I don’t look a day -over fifty!” - -“Forty!” Grace corrected. - -“I knew I was going to like you! I think I’ll spend my remaining years -here if I can keep away from people who want to talk about old times, -meaning of course when I was a girl. It doesn’t thrill me at all to -know that right here where this house stands my grandfather owned a -farm. Every time I go down town I dodge old citizens I’ve known all my -life for fear they’ll tell me about the great changes and expect me to -get tearful about it. I can’t mourn over the passing of old landmarks -and I’d certainly not weep at the removal of some of the old fossils -around this town who count all their money every day to make sure -nobody’s got a nickel away from them. They keep their lawyers busy -tightening up their wills. They’ve invented ways of tying up property -in trusts so you can almost take it with you!” - -“That’s their way of enjoying life, I suppose,” remarked Grace, who was -taking advantage of Miss Reynolds’ talkativeness to do full justice -to a substantial dinner. The filet of beef and the fresh mushrooms -testified to the presence of an artist in the kitchen, and the hot -rolls were of superlative lightness. Miss Reynolds paused occasionally -to urge Grace to a second helping of everything offered. - -“I detest anemic people,” Miss Reynolds declared. “If you don’t eat my -food I’ll feel terribly guilty at asking you here.” - -“It’s the best food I ever ate! We were going to have corned beef and -cabbage at home, so all these wonderful dishes seem heavenly!” - -“You’ve probably wondered why I grabbed you as I did and asked you to -sit at meat with me?” - -“Why, I hope you asked me because you liked me!” Grace answered. - -“That’s the correct answer, Grace--may I call you Grace? I hate having -a lot of people around; I like to concentrate on one person, and when -I met you in the church entry it just popped into my head that you -wouldn’t mind a bit giving me an evening. It’s awfully tiresome going -to dinners where the people are all my own age. I’ve always hated -formal entertaining. You struck me as a very fair representative of the -new generation that appeals to me so much. Don’t look so startled; I -mean that, my dear, as a compliment! And of course I really don’t know -a thing about you except that you have very pretty manners and didn’t -get vexed that day in the store when I must have frightened you out of -your wits.” - -“But you didn’t,” Grace protested. “I liked your way of saying exactly -what you wanted.” - -“I always try to do that; it saves a lot of bother. And please don’t -be offended if I say that it’s a joy to see you sitting right there -looking so charming. You have charming ways; of course you know that. -And the effect is much enhanced when you blush that way!” - -Grace was very charming indeed as she smiled at her singular hostess, -who had a distinct charm of her own. She felt that she could say -anything to Miss Reynolds and with girlish enthusiasm she promptly told -her that she was adorable. - -“I’ve been called a crank by experts,” Miss Reynolds said -challengingly, as though she were daring her guest to refute the -statement. “I get along better with foreigners than with my own people. -Over there they attribute my idiosyncrasies to American crudeness, to -be tolerated only because they think me much better off in worldly -goods than I really am.” - -They remained at the table for coffee, and the waitress who had served -the dinner offered cigarettes. Grace shook her head and experienced a -mild shock when Miss Reynolds took a cigarette and lighted it with the -greatest unconcern. - -“Abominable habit! Got in the way of it while I was abroad. Please -don’t let me corrupt you!” - -“I suppose I’ll learn in time,” Grace replied, amused as she remembered -the stress her mother and Ethel had laid on Miss Reynolds’ conservatism. - -It occurred to her that Miss Reynolds was entitled to know something -of her history and she recited the facts of her life simply and -straightforwardly. She had only said that her father had been -unfortunate without explaining his connection with Cummings-Durland. -Miss Reynolds smoked and sipped her coffee in silence; then asked in -her quick fashion: - -“Cummings-Durland? Those names tinkle together away back in my memory.” - -“Father and Mr. Cummings came here from Rangerton and began business -together. The Cummingses used to live neighbors to us over by Military -Park.” - -“Bob Cummings is one of my neighbors,” said Miss Reynolds. “Rather -tragic--putting that young man into business. He hates it. There ought -to be some way of protecting artistic young men from fathers who try to -fit square pegs into round holes. I suppose the business troubles broke -up the friendship of your families.” - -“Yes; my mother and sister are very bitter about it; they think father -was unfairly treated. But I met Bob only this morning and he was very -friendly. He seemed terribly cut up because I’d left college.” - -“He’s a sensitive fellow; he would feel it,” said Miss Reynolds. “So -you children grew up together--the Durlands and the Cummings. I’m -asking about your present relations because Bob comes in occasionally -to play my piano--when there’s something on at his own house that he -doesn’t like. His wife’s the sort that just can’t be quiet; must have -people around. She’s crazy about bridge and he isn’t! He called me on -the telephone just before you came to ask if he might come over after -dinner, as his wife’s having people in for bridge. I told him to come -along. I enjoy his playing; he really plays very well indeed. You don’t -mind?” - -“Not at all,” said Grace, wondering at the fate that was throwing her -in Bob Cummings’ way twice in one day and a day in which she had been -torn with so many conflicting emotions. - -“If you have the slightest feeling about meeting him do say so; you may -always be perfectly frank with me.” - -“Yes; thank you, Miss Reynolds. But I’d love to hear Bob play.” - -When they were again in the living room Grace stood for a moment -scanning a table covered with periodicals and new books. - -“Since I came home I’ve been trying to find out what’s going on in -America, so I read everything,” Miss Reynolds explained. “The general -opinion seems to be that things are going to pot. Right under your -hand there’s a book called ‘Clues to a New Social Order,’ written by a -woman named Trenton. I understand she’s a respectable person and not a -short-haired lunatic; but she throws everything overboard!” - -“I’ve read it,” said Grace. “It’s certainly revolutionary.” - -“All of that!” Miss Reynolds retorted. “But it does make you think! -Everybody’s restless and crazy for excitement. My young married -neighbors all belong to families I know or know about; live in very -charming houses and have money to spend--too much most of them--and -they don’t seem able to stand an evening at home by themselves. But -maybe the new way’s better. Maybe their chances of happiness are -greater where they mix around more. I’m curious about the whole -business. These young folks don’t go to church. Why don’t they, when -their fathers and grandfathers always did? Their parents stayed at -home in the evening. My father used to grumble horribly when my mother -tried to get him into a dress suit. But there was wickedness then -too, only people just whispered about it and tried to keep it from -the young folks. There were men right here in this town who sat up -very proper in the churches on Sunday who didn’t hesitate to break -all the commandments during the week. But now you might think people -were sending up fireworks to call attention to their sins! I remember -the first time I went to a dinner--that was thirty years ago--where -cocktails were passed around. It seemed awful--the very end of the -world. When I told my mother about it she was horrified; said what she -thought of the hostess who had exposed her daughter to temptation! -But now prohibition’s driven everybody to drink. I asked my chauffeur -yesterday how long it would take him to get me a quart of whiskey and -he said about half an hour if I’d let him use the car. I told him to -go ahead and sure enough he was back with it in twenty minutes. It was -pretty fair whiskey, too,” Miss Reynolds concluded. “I was curious to -see just how it felt to break the law and I confess to you, my dear, -that I experienced a feeling of exultation!” - -She reached for a fresh cigarette and lighted it tranquilly. - -“Everybody’s down on the young people,” said Grace, confident that she -had a sympathetic listener. “They tell us all the time that we’re of no -account.” - -“There are pages of that on that table,” Miss Reynolds replied. “Well, -I’m for the young people; particularly you girls who have to rustle for -yourselves. If I stood up in a store all day or hammered a typewriter -I’m sure I’d feel that I was entitled to some pleasure when I got -through. Just what do girls do--I don’t mean girls of your upbringing -exactly and your schooling,--but less lucky girls who manage their own -affairs and are not responsible to any one.” - -“I haven’t been at work long enough to know much about that,” said -Grace; “but--nearly every girl who’s at all attractive has a beau!” - -“Certainly!” Miss Reynolds affirmed promptly. “It’s always been so. -There’s nothing new in that.” - -“And they go to dances. Every girl likes to dance. And sometimes -they’re taken out to dinner or to a show if the young man can afford -it. Girls don’t have parties at home very much; I mean even where they -live at home. There’s not room to dance usually; the houses are too -small and it isn’t much fun. And if the beau has a car he takes the -girl driving.” - -“And these girls marry and have homes of their own? That still happens, -doesn’t it?” - -“Well, a good many girls don’t want to marry,--not the young men -they’re likely to meet. Or if they do, some of them keep on working. -There are girls in Shipley’s who are married and keep their jobs. They -like the additional money; they can wear better clothes, and they like -to keep their independence.” - -“There you are!” Miss Reynolds exclaimed. “The old stuff about woman’s -place being in the home isn’t the final answer any more. If you won’t -think it impertinent just how do you feel on that point, Grace?” - -“Oh, I shouldn’t want to marry for a long, long time!--even if I had -the chance,” Grace answered with the candor Miss Reynolds invited. -“I’ve got that idea about freedom and independence myself! I hope I’m -not shocking you!” - -“Quite the contrary. I had chances to marry myself,” Miss Reynolds -confessed. “I almost did marry when I was twenty-two but decided I -didn’t love the young man enough. I had these ideas of freedom too, -you see. I haven’t really been very sorry; I suppose I ought to be -ashamed of myself. But the man I almost married died miserably, an -awful failure. I have nothing to regret. How about college girls--you -must know a good many?” - -“Oh, a good many co-eds marry as soon as they graduate, and settle -down. But those I’ve known are mostly country town girls. I think -it’s different with city girls who have to go to work. They’re not so -anxious to get married.” - -“The fact seems to be that marriage isn’t just the chief goal of a -woman’s life any more. Things have reached such a pass that it’s really -respectable to be a spinster like me! But we all like to be loved--we -women, don’t we? And it’s woman’s blessing and her curse that she has -love to give!” - -She was silent a moment, then bent forward and touched Grace’s hand. -There was a mist of dreams in the girl’s lovely eyes. - -“I wish every happiness for you, dear. I hope with all my heart that -love will come to you in a great way, which is the only way that -counts!” - - -VII - -A moment later Bob Cummings appeared and greeted Grace with unfeigned -surprise and pleasure. - -“I’ll say we don’t need to be introduced! Grace and I are old friends,” -he said, still unable to conceal his mystification at finding Grace -established on terms of intimacy in his neighbor’s house. - -“I inveigled Grace here without telling her it was to be a musical -evening,” said Miss Reynolds. - -“Oh, I’d have come just the same!” laughed Grace. - -“We’ll cut the music now,” said Cummings. “It will be a lot more fun -to talk. I tell you, Grace, it’s a joy to have a place of refuge like -this! Miss Reynolds is the kindest woman in the world. I’ve adopted her -as my aunt.” - -He bowed to Miss Reynolds, and glanced from one to the other with -boyish eagerness for their approval. - -“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Miss Reynolds retorted with a -grieved air. “Why don’t you tell him, Grace, that being an aunt sounds -too old. You might both adopt me as a cousin!” - -Grace and Bob discussed the matter with mock gravity and decided that -there was no good reason why they shouldn’t be her cousin. - -“Then you must call me Cousin Beulah!” said Miss Reynolds. Her nephews -and nieces were widely scattered she said, and she didn’t care for her -lawful cousins. - -Grace talked much more freely under the stimulus of Bob’s presence. It -appeared that Miss Reynolds had not known Bob until she moved into the -neighborhood and their acquaintance had begun quite romantically. Miss -Reynolds had stopped him as he was passing her house shortly after she -moved in and asked him whether he knew anything about trees. Some of -the trees on her premises were preyed upon by malevolent insects and -quite characteristically she had halted him to ask whether he could -recommend a good tree doctor. - -“You looked intelligent; so I took a chance,” Miss Reynolds explained. -“And the man you recommended didn’t hurt the trees much--only two died. -I’ve bought a tree book and hereafter I’ll do my own spraying.” - -When Miss Reynolds spoke of Mrs. Cummings she referred to her as -Evelyn, explaining to Grace that she was the daughter of an old -friend. Evelyn, it appeared, was arranging a Thanksgiving party for -one of the country clubs. Bob said she was giving a lot of time to it; -it was going to be a brilliant affair. Then finding that Grace did not -know Evelyn and remembering that in all likelihood her guest wouldn’t -be invited to the entertainment, Miss Reynolds turned the talk into -other channels. It was evident that Bob was a welcome visitor to Miss -Reynolds’s house and that she understood and humored him and indulged -and encouraged his chaffing attitude toward her. That he should make a -practice of escaping from a company at home that did not interest him -was just like Bob! He was lucky to have a neighbor so understanding and -amiable as Miss Reynolds. Perhaps again and often she would meet Bob at -Miss Reynolds’s when he found Evelyn irksome. Grace rose and changed -her seat, as though by so doing she were escaping from an idea she felt -to be base, an affront to Miss Reynolds, an insult to Bob. - -“The piano’s waiting, Bob”; and Miss Reynolds led the way to the music -room across the hall. - -Bob began, as had always been his way, Grace remembered, by -improvising, weaving together snatches of classical compositions, -with whimsical variations. Then, after a pause, he sat erect, struck -into Schumann’s Nachtstuck, and followed it with Handel’s Largo and -Rubenstein’s Melody in F, all associated in her memory with the days -of their boy-and-girl companionship. He shook his head impatiently, -waited a moment and then a new mood laying hold of him he had recourse -to Chopin, and played a succession of pieces that filled the room with -color and light. Grace watched the sure touch of his hands, marveling -that he had been so faithful to the music that was his passion as a -boy. It had always been his solace in the unhappy hours to which he had -been a prey as far back as she could remember. There was no questioning -his joy in the great harmonies. He was endowed with a talent that had -been cultivated with devotion, and he might have had a brilliant career -if fate had not swept him into a business for which his temperament -wholly unfitted him. - -While he was still playing Miss Reynolds was called away by callers and -left the room quietly. - -“You and Bob stay here,” she whispered to Grace. “These are people I -have to see.” - -When Bob ended with a Chopin valse, graceful and capricious, that -seemed to Grace to bring the joy of spring into the room, he swung -round, noted Miss Reynolds’s absence and then the closed door. - -“My audience reduced one-half!” he exclaimed ruefully. “At this rate -I’ll soon be alone.” - -“Don’t stop! Those last things were marvelous!” - -“Just one more! Do you remember how I cornered you one day in our old -house--you were still wearing pigtails--and told you I’d learned a new -piece and you sat like a dear angel while I played this--my first show -piece?” - -It was Mendelssohn’s Spring Song, and she thrilled to think that he -hadn’t forgotten. The familiar chords brought back vividly the old -times; he had been so proud and happy that day in displaying his -prowess. - -Her praise was sweet to him then, and she saw that it was grateful to -him now. - -“You play wonderfully, Bob; it’s a pity you couldn’t have kept on!” - -“We can’t do as we please in this world,” he said, throwing himself -into a chair and reaching for the cigarettes. “But I get a lot of fun -out of my music. I’m not sorry I stuck to it as I did from the time I -could stretch an octave. Are you spending the night with Miss Reynolds?” - -“No; we’re not quite that chummy. Miss Reynolds said she’d send me -home.” - -“Not on your life she won’t! I’m going to run you out in my roadster. -That’s settled. I don’t have to show up at home till midnight, so -there’s plenty of time. You and Cousin Beulah seem to get on famously.” - -Grace gave a vivacious account of the beginning of her acquaintance -with Miss Reynolds, not omitting the ten dollar tip. - -He laughed; then frowned darkly. - -“I’ve been troubled about this thing ever since I met you today,” he -said doggedly; “your having to quit college, I mean. I feel guilty, -terribly guilty.” - -“Please, Bob! don’t spoil my nice evening by mentioning those things -again. I know it wasn’t your fault. So let’s go on being friends just -as though nothing had happened.” - -“Of course. But it’s rotten just the same. You can hardly see me -without----” - -She raised her hand warningly. - -“Bob, I’d be ashamed if anything could spoil our friendship. I’m -perfectly satisfied that you had nothing to do with father’s troubles. -So please forget it.” - -She won him back to good nature--she had always been able to do -that--and they talked of old times, of the companions of their youth -in the park neighborhood. This was safe ground. The fact that they -were harking back to their childhood and youth emphasized the changed -circumstances of both the Durlands and the Cummingses. It didn’t seem -possible that he was married; it struck her suddenly that he didn’t -appear at all married; and with this came the reflection that he was -the kind of man who should never marry. He should have kept himself -free; he had too much temperament for a harmonious married life. - -“You don’t know Evelyn,” he remarked a little absently. And then as -though Grace’s not knowing Evelyn called for an explanation he added: -“She was away at school for a long time.” - -“What’s she like, Bob?” Grace asked. “A man ought to be able to draw a -wonderful picture of his wife.” - -“He should indeed! Let me see. She’s fair; blue eyes; tall, slender; -likes to have something doing; wins golf cups; a splendid dancer.... -Oh, pshaw! You wouldn’t get any idea from that!” he said with an uneasy -laugh. “She’s very popular; people like her tremendously.” - -“I’m sure she’s lovely, Bob. Is she musical?” - -“Oh, she doesn’t care much for music; my practicing bores her. She used -to sing a little but she’s given it up.” - -He hadn’t said that he hoped she might meet Evelyn; and for a moment -Grace resented this. She was a saleswoman in a department store -and Evelyn had no time for an old friend of her husband who sold -ready-to-wear clothing. A snob, no doubt, self-centered and selfish; -Bob’s failure to suggest a meeting with his wife made it clear that he -realized the futility of trying to bring them together. - -“You haven’t missed me a bit!” cried Miss Reynolds appearing suddenly. -“Is the music all over?” - -“Oh, we’ve been reminiscing,” said Grace. “And you missed the best of -Bob’s playing.” - -“I’m sorry those people chose tonight for their call. It was Judge -Sanders, my lawyer, and his wife, old friends--but I didn’t dare smoke -before _them_! You’ve got to stay now while I have a cigarette.” - -When Grace said presently that she must go and Miss Reynolds reached -for the bell to ring for her car, Bob stayed her hand. - -“That’s all fixed! I’ll run around and bring my car and _I’ll_ take -Grace home. Please say you don’t mind!” - -“Of course, I don’t mind; but you needn’t think you’re establishing a -precedent. The next time Grace comes I’ll lock the door against you and -all the rest of the world!” - -While Bob went for his car Miss Reynolds warned Grace that she was -likely to ask her to the house again. - -“You’ll be doing me a favor by coming, dear. And remember, if there’s -ever anything I can do for you you’re to tell me. That’s a promise. -I should be sorry if you didn’t feel that you could come to me with -_anything_.” - - -VIII - -“It’s only a little after ten,” said Bob as he started the car, “and -I’m going to touch the edge of the country before I take you home. Is -that all right? How long’s it been since we went driving together?” - -“Centuries! It was just after you moved.” - -“I was afraid you’d forgotten. I remember the evening perfectly. -We stopped at the Country Club to dance and just played around by -ourselves. But we did have a good time!” - -His spirits were soaring; through his talk ran an undercurrent of -mischievous delight in his freedom. “It’s just bully to see you again!” -he repeated several times. “While I was playing I kept thinking of the -royal fun we used to have. Do you remember that day our families had -a picnic--we were just kids then--and you and I wandered away and got -lost looking for wild flowers or whatever the excuse was; and a big -storm came up and our mothers gave us a good raking when we came back -all soaked and everybody was scared for fear we’d tumbled into the -river!” - -To Grace the remembrance of this adventure was not nearly so thrilling -as the fact that Bob, now married, still chortled over the recollection -and was obviously delighted to be spending an evening with her while -his wife enjoyed herself in her own fashion at home. He would probably -not tell Evelyn that he had taken the daughter of his father’s old -business associate driving, a girl who clerked in a department store -and was clearly out of his social orbit. Here was another episode which -Grace knew she dared not mention at home; Ethel and her mother would -be horrified. But Grace was happy in the thought that Bob Cummings -still found pleasure in her company even if she was Number Eighteen at -Shipley’s and took and accepted tips from kindly-disposed customers. He -halted the car at a point which afforded a broad sweep of moonlit field -and woodland. - -“You know, Grace, sometimes I’ve been hungry and positively homesick -for a talk with you such as we’ve had tonight.” - -“Please drive on! You mustn’t say things like that.” - -“Well, that’s the way I feel anyhow. It’s queer how I haven’t been able -to do anything I wanted to with my life. I’m like a man who’s been -pushed on a train he didn’t want to take and can’t get off.” - -Here again was his old eager appeal for sympathy. He was weak, she -knew, with the weakness that is a defect of such natures. It would -be perfectly easy to begin a flirtation with him, possibly to see -him frequently in some such way as she saw him now. It was wrong to -encourage him, but her curiosity as to how far he would go overcame her -scruples; it would do no harm to lead him on a little. - -“You ought to be very happy, Bob. You have everything to make you -happy!” - -“I’ve made mistakes all down the line,” he answered with a flare of -defiance. “I ought to have stood out against father when he put me into -the business. I’m no good at it. But Merwin made a mess of things; -father’s got him on a ranch out in Montana now, and Tom’s got the bug -to be a doctor and nothing can shake him. So I have to sit at a desk -every day doing things I hate and doing them badly of course. And for -the rest of it----!” - -He stopped short of the rest of it, which Grace surmised was his -marriage to Evelyn. It was his own fault that he had failed to control -and manage his life. He might have resisted his father when it came to -going into business and certainly it spoke for a feeble will if he had -married to gratify his mother’s social ambitions. She was about to bid -him drive on when he turned toward her saying: - -“I feel nearer to you, Grace, than to anybody else in the world! It was -always that way. It’s got hold of me again tonight--that feeling I used -to have that no matter what happened you’d know, you’d understand!” - -“Those days are gone, Bob,” she said, allowing a vague wistfulness to -creep into her tone. “I mustn’t see you any more. We’ve both got our -lives to live. You know that as well as I do. You’re just a little down -tonight; you always had moods like this when you thought the world -was against you. It’s just a mood and everything will look differently -tomorrow.” - -“But I’ve got to see you, Grace; not often maybe, but now and then. -There’ll be some way of managing.” - -“No!” she exclaimed, her curiosity fully satisfied as to how far he -would go. “I’ll be angry with you in a minute! This is positively the -last time!” - -“Please don’t say that!” he pleaded. “I wouldn’t offend you for -anything in the world, Grace.” - -“I know you wouldn’t, Bob,” she said kindly. “But there are some things -that won’t do, you know.” - -“Yes, I know,” he conceded with the petulance of a child reluctantly -admitting a fault. - -“I’m glad you still like me, but you know perfectly well this kind of -thing’s all wrong. I mustn’t see you again.” - -“But Grace, what if I just have to see you!” - -“Oh, don’t be so silly! You’ll never just have to. You’ve got a wife to -tell your troubles to.” - -She wasn’t sure that she wanted to make it impossible for him to see -her again or that she really preferred that he tell his troubles to his -wife. His troubles were always largely imaginary, due to his sensitive -and impressionable nature. - -“You needn’t remind me of that!” he said. - -“Oh, start the car! Let’s all be cheerful! We might as well laugh as -cry in this world. Did you see the game Saturday? I had a suitor turn -up from the university and we had a jolly time.” - -“Who was he?” Bob demanded savagely. - -“Oh, Bob, you’re a perfect scream! Well, you needn’t be jealous of -_him_.” - -“I’m jealous of every man you know!” he said. - -“Now, you’re talking like a crazy man! Suppose I were to tell you I’m -jealous of Evelyn! Please remember that you forgot all about me and -married another girl quite cheerfully with a church wedding and flowers -and everything. You needn’t come to me now for consolation!” - -She refused to hear his defense from this charge, and mocked him by -singing snatches of college songs till they were in town. When they -reached the Durland house she told him not to get out. - -“I won’t tell the family you brought me home; they wouldn’t understand. -Thanks ever so much, Bob.” - -Mrs. Durland and Ethel were waiting to hear of her evening with Miss -Reynolds and she told everything except that she had met Cummings -there. She satisfied as quickly as possible their curiosity as to Miss -Reynolds and her establishment, and hurried to her room eager to be -alone. She assured herself that she could never love Bob Cummings, -would never have loved him even if their families had remained -neighbors and it had been possible to marry him. He wasn’t her -type--the phrase pleased her--and in trying to determine just what type -of man most appealed to her Trenton loomed large in her speculations. -Within a few weeks she had encountered two concrete instances of the -instability of marriage. Love, it seemed, was a fleeting thing and -loyalty had become a by-word. Bob was only a spoiled boy, shallow, -easily influenced, yet withal endowed with graces and charms. But -graces and charms were not enough. She brought herself to the point of -feeling sorry for Evelyn, who probably refused to humor and pet Bob and -was doubtless grateful that he had music as an outlet for his emotions. -It was something, though, to have found that he hadn’t forgotten; that -there were times when he felt the need of her. She wondered whether he -would take her word as final and make no further attempt to see her. - - -IX - -Grace addressed herself sincerely to the business of bringing all the -cheer possible to the home circle. She overcame her annoyance at being -obliged to recount the details of her work, realizing that her mother -spent her days at home and save for the small affairs of her club had -little touch with the world beyond her dooryard. Ethel’s days in the -insurance office were much alike and she lacked Grace’s gift for making -a good story out of a trifling incident. Even Mr. Durland enjoyed -Grace’s account of the whims and foibles of the women she encountered -at Shipley’s. Grace reasoned that so long as she lived at home it would -be a mistake not to make the best of things; but even in her fits of -repentance she had not regretted her assertion of the right to go and -come unquestioned. - -In the week following she left the house on two evenings saying merely -that she was going out. On one of these occasions she returned a -book to the public library; on another she walked aimlessly for an -hour. These unexplained absences were to determine whether her new -won liberty was really firmly established. Nothing was said either -by her mother or Ethel, though it was clear that they were mystified -by her early return, though not to the point of asking where she had -been. On a third evening she announced at the table that she had -earned a good bonus that day and would celebrate by taking them all -to the vaudeville. Mrs. Durland and Ethel gave plausible excuses -for declining, but not without expressing their appreciation of the -invitation in kind terms, and Grace and her father set off alone. - -In her cogitations Grace was convinced that nothing short of a miracle -could ever improve materially the family fortunes. They had the house -free of encumbrance, but it needed re-roofing, and the furnishings -were old and dingy. Mrs. Durland had worked out a budget by which to -manage the family finances, and it was clear enough to Grace that -what she and Ethel earned would just about take care of the necessary -running expenses. Mrs. Durland had received for many years an income -of five hundred dollars a year from her father’s estate, and this -Grace learned had always been spent on the family. The last payment -had been put away, Mrs. Durland explained to her daughters, to help -establish Roy after he completed his law course. It was impressed upon -Grace constantly that all the hopes of bettering the family conditions -centered in Roy. Ethel shared, though in less degree, her mother’s -confidence in the son of the house. Grace kept silent when Roy’s -prospects were discussed, feeling that it would serve no purpose to -express her feeling that Roy had no special talent for the law, and -even if he had the Durlands were without family or business connections -that could possibly assist him in establishing himself. - - -X - -Grace’s meeting with Bob Cummings served to sharpen her sense of -social differentiations. Her mother had always encouraged the idea -that the Durlands were a family of dignity, entitled to the highest -consideration; but stranded as they were in a neighborhood that had -no lines of communication with polite society, Mrs. Durland now rarely -received an invitation even to the houses of her old friends. Grace’s -excursions in social science had made her aware of the existence of -such a thing as class consciousness; but she had never questioned that -she belonged to the favored element. The thought assailed her now that -as a wage-earning girl she had a fixed social status from which there -was little likelihood she would ever escape. The daughters of prominent -families she waited on at Shipley’s were no better looking, no more -intelligent and had no better social instincts than she possessed; but -she was as completely shut off from any contact with them as though -she were the child of a Congo chieftain. With all her romanticism she -failed to picture the son of one of the first families making her -acquaintance and introducing her to his family as the girl he meant to -marry. Several young men with whom she became acquainted in Shipley’s -had asked her to go to dances, or for Sunday drives. Irene sniffed when -Grace reported these overtures. - -“Oh, they’re nice fellows; but what have they got to offer? They’re -never going to get anywhere. You can’t afford to waste your time on -them.” - -However, Grace accepted one of these invitations. The young man took -her to a public dance hall where the music was good, but the patrons -struck her as altogether uninspiring; and she resented being inspected -by a police matron. She danced with her escort all evening, and then -they went to a cafeteria for sandwiches and soda water. - -Irene had warned Grace that such young fellows were likely to prove -fresh; that they always expected to kiss a girl good-night, and -might even be insulting; but this particular young man was almost -pathetically deferential. Grace was ashamed of herself for not inviting -him to call, but she shrank from encouraging his further attentions; he -might very easily become a nuisance. - -Again, she went to Rosemary Terrace, a dance and supper place on the -edge of town, in company with a young man who carried a bottle on his -hip to which he referred with proud complacency, as though it were the -symbol of his freedom as an American citizen. The large dance hall -was crowded; the patrons were clearly the worse for their indulgence -in the liquor carried by their escorts; the dancing of many of the -visitors was vulgar; the place was hot and noisy and the air heavy with -tobacco smoke. Grace’s young man kept assuring her that the Rosemary -was the sportiest place in town; you didn’t see any dead ones there. -His desire to be thought a sport would have been amusing if he hadn’t -so strenuously insisted upon explaining that he was truly of the great -company of the elect to whom the laws of God and man were as nothing. -When Grace asked to be taken home he hinted that there were other -places presumably even less reputable, to which they might go. But he -did not press the matter, when, reaching the Durland gate, he tried -to kiss her and she, to mark the termination of their acquaintance, -slapped him. - -These experiences were, she reflected, typical of what she must look -forward to unless she compromised with her conscience and accepted -Irene’s philosophy of life. - -She had replied immediately to Trenton’s letter from St. Louis with -a brief note which she made as colorless as possible. She knew that -it was for her to decide whether to see more of him or drop the -acquaintance. He was not a man to force his attentions upon any young -woman if he had reason to think them unwelcome. Hearing nothing from -him for several days she had decided that he had settled the matter -himself when she received a note explaining that he had been very busy -but would start East the next day. He hoped she would dine with him on -Thursday night and named the Indianapolis hotel where her reply would -reach him. - -“Don’t turn him down!” exclaimed Irene when Grace told her Trenton was -coming. “He wouldn’t ask you if he didn’t want you. Tommy skipped for -New York last night so it’s a safe bet that Ward’s stopping on purpose -to see you.” - -“I don’t know--” began Grace doubtfully. - -“Oh, have a heart! There’s no harm in eating dinner with a married man -in a hotel where you’d get by even if all your family walked in and -caught you! Of course Tommy can’t appear with me at any public place -here at home, but it’s different with you and Ward. He doesn’t know a -dozen people in town.” - -“I wouldn’t want to offend him,” Grace replied slowly, a prey to -uncertainty; but she withheld her acceptance until the morning of the -day of Trenton’s arrival. - - -XI - -When she reached the Hotel Sycamore at seven o’clock he was waiting for -her at the entrance. - -“On time to the minute!” he exclaimed. “I took you at your word that -you’d rather not have me call for you.” - -“Thanks; but it was easier this way,” she answered. - -He had been so much in her thoughts, and she had considered him from -so many angles that at first she was shy in his presence. But by the -time they were seated in the dining room her diffidence was passing. He -appeared younger than at The Shack, but rather more distinguished; it -might have been the effect of his dinner coat; and she noticed that he -was the only man in the room who had dressed for dinner. - -“You’ve been busy of course and I’ve been up to my eyes in work,” he -said; “so we’ll dismiss business. Shall we talk of the weather or see -what we can do to save the world from destruction!” - -“Oh, I’ve had a lot of ideas about things since I saw you,” she said. -“Half of them were right and half wrong.” - -“Oh,” he exclaimed, “our old friend conscience!” - -“Yes,” she replied, meeting his gaze squarely. “I’ve been trying to -decide a thousand questions, but I’ve got nowhere!” - -“Terrible! But I’m glad to find that you’re so human; most of us are -like that. Honest, now, you weren’t at all sure you wanted to see me -tonight!” - -“No,” she assented under his smiling gaze; “I didn’t send the answer to -your note till nearly noon!” - -“So I noticed from the hotel stamp on the envelope! But I’d have been -very much disappointed if you’d refused.” - -His tone was too serious for comfort. She felt that she must have a -care lest he discover the attraction he had for her. - -“Oh, you’d have got over it! You know you would. You needn’t have dined -alone--Tommy’s out of town, but there’s Irene!” - -“Much as I admire Irene she would be no substitute! I was sincerely -anxious to see you again, if only to make sure you were still on -earth.” - -“Oh, I have no intention of leaving it!” - -She was finding it easy to be flippant with him. Whatever liking he had -for her was no doubt due to the seriousness she had manifested in their -talk at The Shack. And the effect of that talk had been to awaken a -sympathy and interest on both sides; in her case she knew that it was -trifle more than that. She was sorry now that she had kissed him; she -was puzzled that she had ever had the courage to do it, though it was -such a kiss as she might have given any man older than herself in the -same circumstances. She had heard of women, very young women, who were -able to exert a strong influence upon men much older than themselves. -She felt for the first time the power of sex--at least she had never -before thought of it in the phrases that now danced through her brain. -If he was annoyed not to find her as interesting and agreeable as -at The Shack he was successful in concealing his disappointment. He -continued to be unfailingly courteous, meeting her rejoinders with -characteristic mockeries until she began to feel ashamed of her lack of -friendliness. He deserved better of her than this. - -“We’re going to the theatre; did you know that?” he asked toward the -end of the dinner. “And we’re going to be fashionably late.” - -“‘Stolen Stars!’ Oh, that’s perfectly marvelous,” she exclaimed. “I’ve -been just dying to see it!” - -“Then it’s lucky that you can live and see it!” Through the performance -the thought kept recurring to her that he meant to be kind. No one -had ever been so kind or shown her so flattering a deference as Ward -Trenton. She was proud to be sitting beside him. When the lights went -up after the first act a buzz of talk in one of the boxes drew her -attention, and she caught a glimpse of Bob Cummings. At the same -moment he saw her and bowed. There were six in the party and she -decided that Bob’s wife was the young woman he most rarely addressed. -Evelyn was not beautiful; she was gratified to have Trenton’s -confirmation of her opinion on this point when she directed his -attention to the box party. - -“I’ll be here for several days,” said Trenton when they reached the -Durland house and he stood for a moment on the doorstep. “Could you -give me another evening? Tomorrow night I’m tied up with a business -appointment, but may we say day after tomorrow?” - -“Yes,” she assented, “but isn’t there danger of seeing too much of me?” - -“I’ll take the risk!” he said. “And thank you ever so much.” - -She fell asleep glad that she was to see him again. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - - -I - -The second evening with Trenton was very like the first except that -after dinner at the Sycamore they attended a concert given by a -world-famous violinist. Again as under the spell of Bob Cummings’ -playing at Miss Reynolds’, Grace was caught away into a wonder-world, -where she wandered like a disembodied spirit seeking some vestige of a -personality that had not survived her transition to another realm. She -was assailed by new and fleeting emotions, in which she studied Trenton -and tried to define her attitude toward him, conscious that the time -might be close at hand when some definition would be necessary. Now and -then she caught a glimpse of his rapt look and saw the lines about his -mouth tighten. Once he clasped his hands as though, in response to some -inner prompting, he were attempting by a physical act to arrest some -disturbing trend of his thoughts. - -There was a fineness in his face that she had not before fully -appreciated, and it was his fineness and nobility, Grace assured -herself, that appealed to her. Then there were moments when she was -undecided whether she loved or hated him, not knowing that this is a -curious phase which women of highly sensitive natures often experience -at the first consciousness of a man’s power over them. She saw man as -the hunter and woman as his prey. Then with a quick revulsion she freed -herself of the thought and drifted happily with the tide of harmony. - -When they left the theatre Trenton asked whether she felt like -walking. The night was clear and the air keen and stimulating. - -“Of course; it would be a shame to ride! That music would carry me a -thousand miles,” she answered. - -As soon as they were free of the crowd he began to talk of music, its -emotional appeal, its power to dissociate the hearer from material -things. - -“I never felt it so much before,” he said. “I’m afraid there’s not much -poetry in me. I’m not much affected by things that I can’t reduce to a -formula, and I’m a little suspicious of anything that lifts me off the -earth as that fiddle did. If I exposed myself to music very often it -would ruin me for business.” - -“Oh, never that! I feel music tremendously; everybody must! It wakes up -all manner of hopes and ambitions even if they don’t live very long. -That violin really made me want to climb!” - -“Yes; I can understand that. For a few minutes I was conscious myself -of reaching up the ladder for a higher round. It’s dangerous to feel -so keenly. I wonder if there ever comes a time when we don’t feel any -more--really feel a desire to bump against the stars; when the spirit -goes dead and for the rest of our days we just settle into a rut with -no hope of ever pulling out? I have a dread of that. It’s ghastly to -think of. Marking time! Going through the motions of being alive when -you’re really dead!” - -“Oh, don’t even think of it! You could never be like that!” - -“Maybe I’m like that now!” - -“You’re clear off the key!” she cried. “Of course you’re not at the end -of things. It’s wicked to talk that way.” - -“Do you really think that?” he asked eagerly. “Do you see any hope -ahead for me?” - -“You know you see it yourself! We wouldn’t any of us go on living if we -didn’t see some hope ahead.” Then with greater animation she added: - -“You’re not a man to sit down at the roadside and burst into tears -because things don’t go to suit you! I don’t believe you’re that kind -at all. If you are--well, I’m disappointed!” - -“Now you’ve got me with my back to the wall!” he laughed. “No man ever -wants a woman to think him a coward. I’ll keep away from all music -hereafter except the snappiest jazz. But give music the benefit of the -doubt; it may not have been the fiddle at all!” - -“More likely you ate too much dinner!” - -“Impossible! The ostrich has nothing on me when it comes to digestion. -Maybe you’re the cause of my depression! Please consider that for a -moment!” - -“Oh, that’s terribly unkind! If I depress you this must be our last -meeting.” - -“You know I didn’t mean that, it’s because----” - -“Don’t begin becausing! You know you’re in a tight corner; you hint -that I’ve given you a bad evening just by sitting beside you at a -concert--and a very beautiful concert at that.” - -“The mistake is mine! You haven’t the slightest respect for my -feelings. I show you the wounds in my very soul and you laugh at them.” - -“I certainly am not going to weep my eyes out merely because you let -a few bars of music throw you. I had a fit of the blues too; several -times I thought I was going to cry. How embarrassed you’d have been!” - -“No; I should have held your hand until you regained your composure!” - -“Then we’d both have been led out by the ushers!” - -He joined with her in playing whimsically upon all the possibilities -of their ejection. They would have been arrested for disturbing a -public gathering and their names would have figured in the police -reports, probably with pictorial embellishments. This sort of fooling -was safe; she thought perhaps he meant to maintain the talk on an -impersonal plane but in a moment he said: - -“I’m going away tomorrow, first home to Pittsburgh for about a week; -then to New York. I may not get back here for two or three weeks; I’m -mixed up in some things that I can’t neglect. I’d like to think you’ll -miss me!” - -“Oh, I always miss my friends when they go away,” she replied. Then -realizing the banality of this she laughed and added: “How silly that -sounded!” - -“Then you mean you wouldn’t miss me?” - -“Of course I didn’t mean that!” - -Under a street lamp she saw in his face once more the grave troubled -look that she had observed at intervals during the concert. It was -foolish to question now that his interest in her was something more -than a passing fancy. Her thoughts flew to the other woman, the wife of -whom he had spoken at The Shack only to apologize for it in his letter -from St. Louis. He was thinking of her of course; it was impossible -for him to ignore the fact that he had a wife. And again as so many -times before she speculated as to whether he might not still love this -woman and be seeking diversion elsewhere out of sheer loneliness. But -as they passed into the shadows again, her hand resting lightly on his -arm, she experienced suddenly a strong desire to be kind to him. She -was profoundly moved by the thought that it was in her power to pour -out to him in great measure the affection and comradeship which he had -confessed he hungered for. - -They had crossed the canal bridge and were nearing the Durland house. -Trenton was accommodating himself perforce to her rapid pace. The tonic -air kept her pulses throbbing. She was sure that she loved this man; -that the difference in their years was as nothing weighed against his -need for her. Tonight, she knew, marked a crisis in their relationship. -If she parted from him without making it clear that she wished never -to see him again she would be putting herself wholly at the mercy of a -fate that might bear her up or down. With only a block more to traverse -she battled with herself, summoned all her courage to resist him, only -to find that her will was unequal to the contest. - -Deep in her heart she did not want to send him away with no hope of -seeing him again. He was her one link with the great world beyond the -city in which, without his visits to look forward to, she was doomed to -lead a colorless, monotonous existence. She was moved by a compassion -for him, poignantly tender, that swept away all sense of reality and -transcended the bounds of time and space. The very thought of losing -him, of not knowing where he would be in the endless tomorrows, only -that she would never see him again, was like a pain in her heart. -The need in him spoke to the need in her--for companionship, help, -affection. - -They seemed vastly isolated in the quiet street, as though the world -had gone away and left them to settle their affairs with only the stars -for witnesses. It had been easy to parry Bob Cummings’s attempts to -assume a lover-like attitude toward her. But with Trenton this would -be impossible. With him it would be necessary to state in the plainest -terms that their acquaintance must end. - -Nothing had been said since her last remark and if she meant to thrust -him away from her she must act quickly. In a winning fashion of his own -he was frank and forthright. She found it difficult to anticipate him -and prepare her replies. There was no leer in him and he did not take -refuge in timid gallantries; he addressed her as a man who felt that he -had a right to a hearing. And this, in her confused, bewildered senses, -gave dignity to the situation. He loved her and she loved him--she was -sure she loved him--and her heart was in a wild tumult. She was afraid -to speak lest the merest commonplace might betray her eagerness to -confess her love for him. - -He stepped in front of her and clasped the hand that lay lightly on his -arm. - -“I’ve got to say it; I must say it now,” he said in grave even tones. -“No woman ever meant to me what you mean. The first night I met you -I knew it had come--the thing I had hoped for--and sometimes had -dreaded,--a woman I could know as I’ve never known any woman, not my -wife or any other! After I left you I couldn’t get you out of my mind.” -He paused for an instant, then went on hurriedly with undisguised -intensity of feeling. “You may think me mad when I’ve seen you so -little; and I know I have no right to love you at all! But I do love -you! I want you to belong to me!” - -A gust of wind caught up a mass of leaves from the gutter and flung -them about their feet as though to remind them of the mutability of all -things. He had said that he loved her; almost savagely he had demanded -that she give herself to him. It was incredible that he cared so much, -that his desire for her could be so great. - -He released her hand as though in sign that he wanted her to speak -without compulsion. He waited quietly, his shoulders thrown a little -forward, and in the dim starlight she saw his eyes, bright and eager, -searching her own. - -“You know I care,” she said softly. - -The words fell from her lips inevitably; no other reply was possible, -and it seemed that a great weight had lifted from her heart and that -in entrusting herself to him she had found security and peace. She -questioned nothing, feeling his arms about her, his kiss warm on her -lips. All her doubts were lost in the joy of the moment in which he had -confessed his love for her. It was a strange place for the pledging of -love and the moment was not to be prolonged. - -“We must go on, dear,” she said laying her cheek against his for an -instant. The touch of her face caused him to clasp her again. - -“Oh, my dearest one!” he cried hoarsely. - -As they went on, loitering to delay the moment of parting, they caught -hands like happy children. - -“I don’t see how you can love me,” she said with the anxiety of new -love for confirmations and assurances. “I don’t belong to your world.” - -“There’s the strangest thing of all!” he exclaimed. “We are born into a -new world that is all ours. We have inherited all the kingdoms tonight.” - -“And the stars up there--do they shine just for us?” she asked, -bringing herself closer to him. “And can we keep every one else out -of our world? I want it all to be our very own. Oh, it’s so sweet, so -wonderful!” - -“It’s a miracle beyond any words,” he said, “to know that you care. -It’s easy for me to love you; I loved you in that very first hour we -spent together. We don’t account for things like that, that come so -suddenly and without warning; we merely accept them. I’ve fought this; -I want you to know that I’ve fought it.” - -“Oh, so have I! But--why did you fight it?” - -Her voice betrayed her confused emotions. Her sense of right was as -nothing against the belief that he loved her and that she loved him. -A masterful tide had caught them up and borne them far, leaving them -islanded on territory remote and touched with a mystical light that -souls had never known before. - -She was now fully persuaded that henceforth her life was to be bound -up with his; that until death took one or the other they would never -face separation. Space and distance were as nothing; if he went to far -and waste places there would be still the strong spiritual tie which it -pleased her to think was the real bond between them--something which, -in her absolute surrender, she felt to be above all laws of men and of -kinship with heavenly things. It struck her as odd that she was able so -thoroughly to analyze her sensations, seeking and finding explanation -and justification cleansed of all passion. - -“I know I have no right to your love; none whatever,” he said steadily. -“There are people who would call me a scoundrel for saying what I have -just said to you. But every man in my plight feels that his case is -different. I’ve thought of all this in the plainest terms, not sparing -myself.” - -“It would be like you to do that,” she replied. - -Now that she had taken him for her lover she saw him as a paragon of -generosity and nobility. He would not spare himself; she was anxious to -apply balm to his conscience, to make him understand that her happiness -was so complete that nothing else mattered. - -“Just so you love me!” she said gently. “Nothing could be so dear as -just knowing that you care. Oh, do I mean so much to you?” - -“Everything,” he exclaimed and lifted her hand and kissed it. - -“That’s the way it has to be--everything or nothing. I never loved any -one before.” - -“I’m so glad! I was afraid to ask you that. I had even thought there -might be some one else--some younger man----” - -“Stop! We’re not going to talk of ages,” she laughed, with a quick -gesture laying her hand for a moment against his lips. “It must be -understood right now that you’re not a day over twenty-five.” - -“You’re going to spoil me! And you don’t know how much I want to be -spoiled.” - -“You poor dear! I’m going to love petting and spoiling you!” - -Instantly it occurred to her that the other woman, the unknown wife of -her frequent conjecture, had neither petted nor spoiled him and that -this accounted for his eagerness for a new experience. A cloud crossed -the bright heaven of her happiness. His wife was not to be relegated to -oblivion merely because he had found another object for his affections. -The wife had a very real existence in Grace’s imagination; to Trenton’s -lightly limned sketch the girl had added a line here and there until -she fancied she possessed a very true portrait of Mrs. Trenton. -Somewhere there existed a Mrs. Ward Trenton, who wrote books and -lectured and otherwise advertised herself as a vital being. - -“Dear little girl!” said Trenton tenderly. “You are all the world to -me. Do you understand?” - -“I must believe that,” she said. - -“There’s nothing I can offer you now--neither a home nor the -protection of my name. It’s got to be just love that’s our tie. I’m not -going to deceive you about that.” - -“Yes, I understand what it means,” she answered. - -“You must believe that I’ll do the best I can to make you happy. Love -that doesn’t bring happiness is an empty and worthless thing. You don’t -know how much I count on you. I’m laying a burden on you; I’m clutching -at you for all the things I’ve missed out of my life.” - -“Yes; I know dear.” - -“There’s something not fair about it--about casting myself upon you as -I’m doing,” he said doggedly. - -“I’m proud that you want me! I want to fill your heart and your life.” - -“You can; you do even now! But first of all I want you to be sure--sure -of yourself, dear. There must be no regrets afterward. I can’t see you -again before I go, but I’ll write.” - -“I shall miss you so! You _will_ write to me!” she cried, feeling -already the loneliness of the days of his impending absence. His -calmness was disconcerting but she readily forgave this as she would -have forgiven him anything. He was thinking of the long future no -doubt, planning ways of seeing her. - -“Promise me you’ll consider everything.” - -“It’s enough that we love each other!” she replied softly. - -“You’re not a child but a woman, able to see it all in every light. You -must be very sure that you care; that you do love me.” - -“I’m very sure, dear,” she said, not a little disturbed by his -solicitude, fearing that he himself might now be a prey to misgivings. - -“You can write to me at the addresses I’ll send. And then wire me when -you’re quite sure--not till then!” - -“Yes; I’ll do as you say. But tell me again that you love me! I shall -be so lonely without you!” - -“With all my heart I love you. I wish we need never part again. Some -day that will be. Some day I can have you with me always! But now----” - -The sentence died on his lips. What could be now he did not say, shrank -from saying perhaps. It was not for her to express in words what could -be now. She felt a sudden strong impulse to speak of his wife; to ask -him whether he did not still care for her. But it was in her heart, the -battleground of many and confused emotions, to give him the benefit of -every doubt. Her forces of defense had mutinied and left her powerless -even to question him. The joy of the knowledge that he loved her and -that she returned his love thrilled her like the song of triumphant -bugles. - -Her heart was throbbing as they passed through the Durland gate. At the -door he took her in his arms. - -“My dearest! I wouldn’t lie to you; I love you with all my heart. You -will write me; and don’t forget the telegram. I shall come flying at -the first possible moment after I get that. And don’t trouble about -anything. I want you to say you trust me and are sure of me.” - -His kisses smothered her replies. - -“Promise to be careful of yourself, dear. I should die without you!” - -There were tears in her eyes as she fumbled for her latch key. She -watched him as he struck out with a long stride toward the city. She -thought that he looked back and waved his hand out of the shadows just -as she opened the door. - - -II - -It was long before she slept but she rose obedient to the summons of -the alarm clock and assisted as usual in the preparation of breakfast. -At the table her silence and preoccupation caused her mother to -scrutinize her closely. - -“You don’t seem quite like yourself, Grace. Don’t you feel well?” - -“Oh, there’s nothing at all the matter. I had a hard day at the store -yesterday.” - -“Maybe you ate something for supper that didn’t agree with you.” - -Grace read into this suggestion a hint that her mother and sister were -not without their curiosity as to where she had dined and the manner -in which she had spent the remainder of the evening. They had been -accepting so meekly her silence as to her evenings away from home that -it occurred to Grace that it would serve to allay suspicion if she told -occasionally just what she had been doing. - -“I had dinner at the Sycamore with an acquaintance--a man from out of -town--and we went to the concert. The music was perfectly wonderful. -And then we walked home. Nothing terribly exciting in that!” - -“I thought I heard voices at the door just before you came in,” said -Mrs. Durland with an effort at indifference that was only partly -successful. - -“Very likely you did, mamma. Mr. Trenton and I walked home; it seemed -a pity to ride when the night was so fine and there was all that music -still ringing in our ears.” - -She was pleased with her own audacity and smiled as she saw Ethel and -her mother exchange glances. But having ventured so far it would be -necessary now to explain how she had met Trenton and she was prepared -with a small lie with which to fortify the truth when she saw that -something more was expected. - -“Mr. Trenton, did you say, Grace?” inquired Mrs. Durland as though not -sure she had heard aright. - -“Yes, mother; Mr. Ward Trenton, of Pittsburgh. I knew his niece very -well at the University, and as he comes here now and then Mabel wrote -and asked him to look me up. He’s ever so nice. He’s been everywhere -and talks wonderfully. He’s a mechanical engineer and rated very high, -isn’t he, daddy?” - -Trenton’s name had impinged upon Durland’s consciousness and he put -down the morning newspaper to which he had been referring from time to -time during the consumption of his breakfast. - -“Ward Trenton? Yes, he’s one of the ablest engineers in the country. -Did you say he’d been in town, Grace?” - -“Yes, he comes here now and then. I had dinner with him last night at -the Sycamore and we went to the concert. I meant to tell you about him. -He knows of you; he says he’s always stumbling into you in the patent -office records.” - -“Did Trenton say that?” asked Durland, greatly pleased. - -“Yes; he spoke of you in the kindest way, father.” - -“You don’t say! I wouldn’t have thought he’d ever heard of me. He’s -in touch with all the big industrial concerns of the country,” said -Durland. “I guess there is hardly a man whose word is worth more than -Trenton’s. I read just the other day, in one of the trade journals, an -address he made somewhere on shop efficiency. His opinions are quoted -a good deal; he knows what he’s talking about.” - -Her father’s manifestation of interest in a man so eminent in his own -field did not prevent Ethel from taking advantage of Grace’s unexpected -frankness to ask: - -“Was it Mr. Trenton you were with at the theatre a few nights ago? -One of the girls in the office said she saw you there with a very -distinguished looking man.” - -“The very same!” Grace replied promptly. “You know Mr. Trenton is awful -keen about Mabel, so when she wrote him that I was at Shipley’s he came -in to see me.” - -Having gone so far with the imaginary niece she thought it best to -endow her with a full name. - -“Mabel Conwell is awfully nice, though you wouldn’t exactly call her -pretty.” - -“Does she live here?” asked Mrs. Durland. - -“Oh, no! Her home’s in Jeffersonville or New Albany, I forget which. -It’s one of those Ohio river towns.” - -“It was certainly kind of her to have Mr. Trenton look you up,” said -Mrs. Durland. “But I wish you’d asked him to the house. It doesn’t seem -just right for you to be going out with a man your family doesn’t know. -I’m not saying, dear, that there’s any impropriety; only I think it -would give him a better impression of all of us if we met him.” - -“Oh, I meant to bring him up but he’s so terribly busy. He works -everywhere he goes right up to the last minute. And it was much simpler -to meet him at the Sycamore.” - -“He’s married, is he not?” asked Ethel. - -“Oh, yes!” said Grace, heartily regretting now that she had opened the -way for this question. “His wife is Mary Graham Trenton who write and -lectures.” - -“That woman,” exclaimed Mrs. Durland, plainly horrified. “She is one -of the most dangerous of all the foes of decency in this country! -Last spring we had a discussion of her ideas in the West End Club. I -hadn’t known how utterly without shame a woman could be till one of our -members wrote a paper about her.” - -“I’ve heard that she’s very wealthy,” interposed Ethel in a tone which -suggested that, no matter how utterly destructive of public morals Mrs. -Trenton’s ideas might be, as a rich woman she was not wholly beyond the -pale. “It’s all the more remarkable that she’s opposed to marriage and -nearly everything else, or pretends to be, when she belongs to one of -the oldest American families and inherited her wealth.” - -“I don’t know that Mr. Trenton accepts her ideas,” said Grace. “He -hasn’t discussed them with me. He seemed rather amused when I told him -I’d read her ‘Clues to a New Social Order’.” - -“You haven’t read that awful thing?” cried Mrs. Durland. - -“Why, certainly, mother; I read it last winter. It’s not so awfully -shocking; I suppose there are a good many people who believe as Mrs. -Trenton does.” - -“How can you speak so, Grace! What would become of the home and the -family if such ideas prevailed? That woman’s positively opposed to -marriage.” - -“Oh, I don’t believe it’s as bad as that! I think it’s more her idea -that where marriages are unhappy it’s cruel to make people live -together. But, you needn’t be afraid that Mr. Trenton’s trying to -convert me to his wife’s notions. I don’t believe he is terribly -tickled to have her gallivanting over the country lecturing.” - -“You can’t be too careful, you know, Grace, about letting a married man -pay you attentions. People are bound to talk. And Mrs. Trenton, being -known for her loose ideas on marriage, naturally causes people to look -twice at her husband.” - -“And at any woman her husband pays attention to,” Ethel added. - -“Of course I’m careful what I do,” replied Grace. “Mr. Trenton is a -perfect gentleman in every way and just as kind and considerate as -can be. He gave me two of the pleasantest evenings I ever spent. You -certainly can’t object to my knowing a man like that.” - -“No, dear,” replied Mrs. Durland, “except that it seems strange for a -daughter of mine to be meeting a married man and having dinner with him -and going to the theatre when I don’t know him at all.” - -Durland had lingered, pretending to be looking for something in the -paper but really prepared to support Grace in the event that his wife -and Ethel showed a disposition to carry their criticisms further. - -“I suppose we have to put up with such things,” said Ethel, “but that -doesn’t make them right. I hope, Grace, you won’t let your independence -carry you _too_ far.” - -“Well, Mr. Trenton has passed on and I don’t know when he’ll turn up -here again, so you needn’t worry.” - -“It’s fine you can know a man like Trenton,” Durland ventured from the -hall door. - -“Here’s an idea!” cried Grace, springing after him to hold his -overcoat, “the next time Mr. Trenton comes to town I’ll try to have you -meet him.” - -“I think some of us ought to meet him,” said Mrs. Durland, who had -begun to clear the table. - -“By all means,” Ethel affirmed. “I think the family dignity calls for -at least that!” - -“Yes, we must preserve the family dignity at any hazard,” Grace -retorted. - -Having buttoned her father into his coat she snatched his hat and -planted it at a rakish angle on his head. He submitted good-naturedly, -pleased as he always was by her attentions. - -“You bring Trenton down sometime, Grace. I’ve some old junk I’d be glad -to show him,” he said, glancing furtively at his wife. - -“Grand! Between us we ought to be able to put something over on him.” - -She flung her arm across his shoulder and walked with him to the front -door. - -No highly developed talent for mind reading was necessary to an -understanding of the mental operations of Mrs. Durland and Ethel in -matters pertaining to the father and younger daughter. When Grace -entered the kitchen she knew that she had interrupted a conference -bearing upon her acquaintance with Trenton. Her mother and Ethel would -study the matter in all its aspects. She derived a cynical satisfaction -from the knowledge that her apparent frankness was probably causing -them more anxiety than an evasion or a downright lie. - - -III - -Grace’s thoughts raced madly in the days that followed. She saw -herself in new aspects, dramatized herself in new and fascinating -situations. She was like a child peering into a succession of alluring -shop windows, the nature and value of whose strange wares it only -imperfectly understands. Life was disclosing itself, opening long -vistas before her. As to men she now believed that she knew a great -deal. Confident that she loved Trenton and without regret that she -had confessed her love she did not question her happiness. She lived -in a paradise whose walls were fashioned of the stuff that dreams are -made of. It pleased her to think of herself as a figure of romance -and she got from the public library several novels in which young -women, imaginably like herself, had given their all for love. She was -satisfied that her own case was far more justifiable than those of -these heroines. - -Her heart was filled with kindness toward all the world. On the day -that brought her Trenton’s first letter she went to her father’s new -shop in the Power Building carrying lunch for two from a cafeteria. -Her father’s silence in his hours at home, his absorption in his -scientific books, had for her an increasing pathos. Mrs. Durland -referred not infrequently to the fallen estate of the family in terms -well calculated to wound him from the very tone of helpless resignation -in which they were uttered. - -Durland pushed his hat back on his head and stared as Grace appeared in -the door of his little shop. - -“What’s the matter, Grace? Anything happened?” he asked with his -bewildered air. - -“Not a thing, daddy. I just thought I’d come around and have lunch; so -here’s sandwiches for two.” - -“I never eat lunch,” he said, turning reluctantly from the bench at -which he had been at work. - -“Well, you’re going to today!” - -Over his protests she cleared a space on the bench and laid out the -contents of her package--sandwiches, cakes and apples. She dusted off a -chair for him and then swung herself on to the bench within easy reach -of the food. She ignored his warning that there was grease on the bench -and flung him a paper napkin. - -“The banquet’s begun! Now proceed and tell me how every little thing’s -a going.” - -“Just about the same, Grace. I’m working on an idea or two. Not sure -yet just what I’ve got, but I think maybe I’m on to something that’ll -turn out big.” - -“You’re bound to, daddy! You work so hard!” - -“Cummings may have scrapped me too soon,” he muttered and looked at her -with an ironic grin and a fanatical gleam in his eyes that caused her -to wonder for a moment whether from his lonely brooding he might not be -going mad. - -A man came in to see about some patterns he had ordered. They were not -ready and even while Durland expressed his regret at the delay Grace -saw that his thoughts were still upon his inventions. The customer -manifested impatience, remarking angrily as he left that if his work -wasn’t ready the next day he would take it elsewhere. - -“Really, daddy, you oughtn’t to keep people waiting when you take their -jobs. If you’ll only build up this pattern and model business you can -make a good thing of it.” - -“You’re right, Grace. But I can’t keep my mind off my own work. I know -all the weaknesses of my old things that Cummings is making. I’m going -to put him out of business!” - -“That’s all right, but you mustn’t take jobs for other people unless -you mean to do them right away. This place is in an awful mess!” - -As she began straightening up a litter of papers on one end of the -bench a bill for the rent of the room caught her eye. - -“Don’t look at these things, Grace!” he pleaded, as he tried to snatch -the bill. “I’ll be able to pay that in a day or two. I got a check -coming for a model and it’ll cover the rent.” - -Her questioning elicited the information that the check had been -expected for several weeks and that the man for whom the model had been -made left town without leaving his address. - -“It seems pretty uncertain, daddy, and this rent’s three weeks over -due. I have a little money in the trust company and I’ll send my check -for it.” - -“I don’t like taking your money, Grace,” he said as she thrust the bill -into her purse. - -“Don’t you worry about that. I’d be ashamed if I didn’t help you when -you’ve always been so good to me.” - -“I don’t see where I’ve done much for you. I never expected you girls -would have to work. You know I’m sorry, Grace!” - -“Well, I’m perfectly happy, so don’t you worry.” - -She took his old-fashioned watch from his pocket and noted the time. - -“I’ve got to skip.” - -“Nice of you to come round, Grace; but you’re always good to me. By -the way, I guess you’d better not tell your mother about the rent. She -wouldn’t like my taking your money.” - -“Then we won’t say a word!” She whispered, touched by his fear of her -mother’s criticisms. She flung her arms about him and hugged him till -he cried for mercy. - -Her savings account was further depleted the next Saturday. She was -surprised to find Roy waiting for her when she left the department at -her lunch hour. - -“No, sis; I didn’t write I was coming. I’ve got to go back on the first -train.” - -“But of course you’ll see mother!” - -“Well, I thought I might call her up,” he said evasively. - -“Call her up!” Grace repeated sharply. “If you’re not going out home -don’t call her! She’d never forgive you. Come and have lunch with me so -we can talk.” - -Roy Durland was tall and fair, a handsome young fellow, though his face -might have been thought too delicate, a trifle too feminine. One would -have known that as a child he had been pointed out as a very pretty boy. - -“I hate like thunder bothering you, sis,” he began when they were -seated in the lunch room. “But I’m up against it hard. Harry Sayles and -I got a car from Thornton’s garage the other night and took a couple of -girls out for a ride. It was Harry’s party,--he was going to pay for -the machine. Well, we were letting ’er go a pretty good clip, I guess, -when something went wrong with the steering gear and we ran smash into -a barn and mussed things up considerable. Harry and Freda Barnes were -on the front seat and got cut up a little. We had to wake up a farmer -and telephone to Thornton to send out for us. Thornton wants fifty -dollars to cover his damage and of course I’ve got to stand half of it; -that’s only square. He’s pretty ugly about it and says if we don’t come -through with the money he’ll take it up with the college people. Now I -know, Grace,--” - -“Yes, you know you have no business going on joy rides, particularly -with a boy like Harry Sayles who’s always in nasty scrapes! Who’s Freda -Barnes? I don’t remember a student of that name.” - -“Well, she isn’t exactly a student,” Roy replied, nervously buttering -a piece of bread, “but she’s a perfectly nice girl. She works in -Singleton’s store.” - -“That’s one girl; who was the other?” - -“Sadie Denton; you must remember her; she was cashier in Fulton’s for a -while.” - -“No; I never heard of her,” said Grace eyeing him coldly. “You -know plenty of nice girls on the campus and plenty of decent, -self-respecting boys. There’s not the slightest excuse for you. I -suppose Harry provided the whiskey. There _was_ whiskey of course. -Come, out with the truth about it!” - -“Well,” Roy admitted shamefacedly, “we did have a bottle but we didn’t -drink enough of it to make any difference. Really, Grace, it was an -accident; no one could have helped it.” - -“I’m not so sure of that. I understand now why you didn’t want to -show yourself at home. The day I left college you promised to behave -yourself and put in your best licks on your work and already you’re -mixed up in a nasty scrape. It would break mother’s heart if she knew -it. Mother’s crazy about you; she’d sacrifice all the rest of us for -you, and you evidently don’t appreciate it at all!” - -“I understand all that, sis. I told you I’d be glad to quit and let you -stay on and finish. My hanging on in the law school is all a mistake.” - -“Well, don’t whimper! It’s too late to weaken now. You were old enough -to know what you were doing when you took up the law. It begins to look -as though you simply wanted to hang on at the university to loaf and -have a good time. You don’t deserve any pity for getting into a mess -like this. I suppose the story’s all over the campus.” - -“I don’t think so,” he answered quickly, with hope lighting his eyes. -“Thornton promised to keep his mouth shut if we’d pay his bill. And -Harry and the girls won’t talk.” - -“I imagine not! And you’re letting me into the secret merely in the -hope of getting twenty-five dollars out of me.” - -“Don’t be so hard on me, Grace! I know I’m a fool and haven’t sense -enough to say no when anybody asks me to do things like that. But if -you’ll help me out this time I swear never to bother you again.” - -“All right, Roy. I haven’t the money here but I’ll walk over to the -trust company with you and get it. But be sure this doesn’t happen -again. I don’t want to rub it in but it may help you to keep straight -if I tell you that it’s just about all we can do to get by at home. -Father is earning nothing; the family’s clean busted. Mother’s pinching -and denying herself to be ready to give you a start when you leave the -law school. I’m not complaining; I’m only telling you this because I -don’t think you mean to make it any harder for the rest of us than you -can.” - -“It’s all a silly mistake,” he said dully, “this trying to make a -lawyer of me. I’ve a good notion to have it out with mother now and -tell her I’ve come home to stay.” - -“If you do you’re the rankest kind of quitter! You could have refused -to take up the law when you graduated from college, but now that you -have only a few more months you’ve simply got to make good. Mother -would die of humiliation if you stopped. Come along; we’ve got to step -lively.” - -“Now, Roy,” she said as she gave him the money at the teller’s window: -“Please behave yourself!” - -He left her at the store, repeating his promises that he would never -again ask her for money and assuring her that he would make the most of -his time for the remainder of the year. - -She had dealt with him more severely than it was in her heart to do -and she was a little sorry that she hadn’t shown more tolerance for -his misadventure. Fairly considered, his joy-riding with undesirable -companions was hardly more censurable than her participation in Kemp’s -party at The Shack, a matter as to which her conscience was still at -times a little tender. - - -IV - -Trenton wrote every day, letters in which there was no attempt to -disguise his love for her. He hadn’t warned her against keeping his -letters but she destroyed each one after writing her reply. These -answers were little more than notes which she wrote and rewrote in -trepidation lest she say too much or too little. Now that he had -declared himself and was reiterating daily his complete absorption -in her as to everything that affected his future she could afford to -risk certain reserves and coynesses. But she did love him; she had -positively settled this question. It was a tremendous thing that had -happened to her, the realization of a great love, love awakened at -a first meeting and endowed with all the charm of romance and the -felicity of clandestine adventure. In one of her notes, written with -her door locked--her family imagined her to be zealously devoting -herself to her French studies--she wrote: - - It is all like a dream. I never cease to marvel that _you_ should - care for me.... Every note you send me is a happy surprise. If one - failed to come I think I should die.... You wanted me to take time - to think. That is like my good and true knight. But I want you to - consider too,--everything.... Your world is so much bigger than - mine. Any day you may meet some one so much finer than I am, so much - worthier of your love.... I like to think that it all had to be just - as it has been,--you and I wandering toward each other, guided and - urged on by destiny. - -To her intimations that he might have regrets he replied in his next -message with every assurance that he, too, shared her feeling that -their meeting had been predestined of all time. Now and then in his -life, he wrote, he had felt the hand of a directing and beneficent -fate. She wondered how he would have replied to a direct question as -to the forces that had combined to bring about his marriage to the -woman he had no doubt loved at some time, but she refrained. In Grace’s -thoughts, Mrs. Ward Trenton, the Mary Graham Trenton who sought clues -to social problems and moved restlessly about the country proclaiming -revolutionary ideas, was receding further and further toward a -vanishing point. - -At the end of a week she became restless, eager for Trenton’s return. -She several times considered telegraphing him to make haste, but after -going once to the telegraph office at her lunch hour and writing the -message she tore it up. He had asked her to wire whenever she was -sure; the mere sending of a telegram would commit her irrevocably. It -was not so easy as she had imagined to write the words which meant -that after pondering the matter with the gravity it demanded she was -ready to enter into a relationship with him which would have no honest -status, no protection, but would be just such an arrangement as Irene -maintained with Kemp. - -Irene, aware of Trenton’s daily letters, now refrained from giving -her further encouragement to the affair. On the other hand she seemed -disposed to counsel caution. - -“Some days you seem as cheerful as a spring robin and then again you -don’t seem so chipper. You don’t want to take your love affairs so -hard!” - -“Oh, we’re just having a little flirtation, that’s all,” said Grace -carelessly. - -“That’s not the way you’re acting! You’re terribly intense, Grace. I -knew you had temperament, but I didn’t know you had so much. But I’ll -say this for Ward, that he’s a fine, manly fellow,--frankly a much -finer type than Tommy Kemp. Tommy’s a sport and Ward isn’t. Ward really -has ideals, but such as Tommy has don’t worry him much.” - -This left Grace, again a prey to doubts, wondering whether after all -Trenton was so utterly different from Kemp. Intellectually he was a -higher type than Tommy Kemp, but when it came to morals he was not a -bit better. - - -V - -Grace had not yet wholly escaped from the effect of Dr. Ridgely’s -sermon, with its warning against the too-readily-found excuse for -wrong-doing. She continued to observe carefully her associates in -Shipley’s and other business girls she became acquainted with, and -she had no reason for suspecting that by far the greater number were -not high-minded young women who met cheerily all the circumstances -of their lives. She found herself stumbling uncomfortably over the -excuses she made for herself. Other girls forced to labor and blessed -with equal charm and wit did not find it necessary “to play around -with married men” as the phrase went, or encourage the attentions of -young unmarried men who were not likely to show them every respect. -There were societies and associations whose purpose was to safeguard -young womanhood; some of her new acquaintances were members of such -organizations. She accepted invitations to go for lunch or supper to -several of these, but thought them dull. - -Finding that Grace hadn’t attempted to enlist Miss Reynolds in the -girl’s club of Dr. Ridgley’s church, Ethel Durland had sent the pastor -himself to invite that lady to one of the meetings. - -“I hope you will come Tuesday night,” said Ethel, when she reported -this to Grace. “We want Miss Reynolds to see the scope of our work and -your being there will be a help. Maybe you’d ask some of the girls in -Shipley’s? We want to have a record attendance. And we want the girls -to bring their young men friends with them. It’s our idea that the -girls should feel that the church is like another home.” - -The attempt to establish a new high record of attendance brought -twenty-five girls and four young men to the church parlors. Three -of the young women were from Shipley’s and they had gone at Grace’s -earnest solicitation; four were Servians, employed in a garment -factory, and they were convoyed by young men of their own race. - -“I wish you’d be specially nice to those Servian girls,” Ethel remarked -to Grace. “It wasn’t easy to get them to come, but they brought their -beaux with them. We must be sure they have a good time.” - -The beaux did not seem to relish the hopeless minority of their -sex. The meeting was opened formally by Ethel as chairman of the -entertainment committee. She introduced Dr. Ridgely, who expressed the -hope that the club would develop into one of the strongest agencies of -the church. He referred to religion only indirectly. Grace was again -impressed by his sincerity; and he was tactful and gracious in his -effort to put the visitors at ease. He would not linger, he said, as -a reminder that they were in a church; the evening was theirs and he -wanted the club to manage its own affairs and define its own policy -to meet the tastes and needs of the members. No one of any shade of -religious faith could have taken offense from anything he said or -feared that the pastor wished to use the club for proselyting purposes. -However, when he had left, Ethel Durland extended an invitation to -those present who were not already enrolled in the Sunday school -to become affiliated, and urged attendance upon the regular church -services. - -“How tactless! Why couldn’t she let well enough alone!” whispered Miss -Reynolds to Grace. “Dr. Ridgely knows better than that.” - -“My sister has a strong sense of duty,” Grace answered. “She couldn’t -bear to let the opportunity go by.” - -“She might have waited at least till they’d got their refreshments,” -Miss Reynolds retorted. - -A young lady elocutionist who had volunteered her services recited a -number of poems after Ethel had prepared the way with a few words on -the new movement in poetry. The audience manifested no great interest -in the movement and seemed utterly mystified by the poems offered. -However, Ethel now announced that the formal exercises were concluded -and that they would repair to the basement where there would be -dancing. Ethel, who did not dance herself and thought it a wicked form -of amusement, had yielded reluctantly to the suggestion of the other -members of the committee that dancing be included in the programme. Dr. -Ridgely had given his approval on the ground that young people were -bound to dance somewhere and as there was so much criticism of the -prevailing fashion in dancing he thought it highly desirable to provide -the amusement under auspices calculated to discourage the objectionable -features complained of in the public dance halls. - -“Well, where are all the young men?” inquired Miss Reynolds as -she stood beside Grace in the basement. “Those four Servians look -frightened to death and girls don’t enjoy dancing with each other. If -the church is going to do this thing, why don’t they do it right? You’d -think the committee would have got some young men here if they’d had to -ask the police to drag them in.” - -The music was provided by two negroes, one of whom played the piano -and the other the drum. As Twentieth Century dance music it was not of -a high order. The musicians, duly admonished by the Chairman of the -entertainment committee, were subduing their performance in the attempt -to adjust it to the unfamiliar and sobering environment. And the room -itself was not a particularly inspiring place for social entertaining. -A map of the Holy Land and several enlarged photographs of early -members of the church were the only adornments of the plaster wall, -and the chairs were of that unsteady, collapsible type that suggest -funerals and give the sitter a feeling of undergoing penance for -grievous sins. The low ceiling was supported by iron pillars that added -nothing to the pleasure of dancing. - -A number of girls began dancing together and after some persuasion -Grace succeeded in getting the four couples of Servians on the floor. -The young men danced with something of a ceremonial air as though, -finding themselves in an alien atmosphere, they wished fitly to -represent the dignity and pride of their race. Grace picked out several -young girls who were huddled helplessly in a corner and danced with -them and then seized upon the young men and introduced them in the -hope of breaking the racial deadlock. The young fellows proved to be -painfully shy when confronted by the necessity of dancing with girls -they had never seen before. Nevertheless Grace’s efforts resulted in -putting some life and animation into the party. It had been said of her -in college that she had the knack of making things go and it struck -her suddenly that something might be done to inject some spirit and -novelty into the occasion by asking the Servians to give their folk -dances. One of the Servian girls undertook to instruct the negroes in -the rhythms required for the folk dances and the young woman’s vivacity -and the negroes’ good-natured eagerness to meet her wishes evoked much -merriment. The dances were given with spirit in a circle formed by the -rest of the company, who warmly applauded the quaint performance. - -“I always wanted to try these folk dances myself!” cried Grace -appealing to the tallest of the young men. “Won’t you teach me?” - -He would be honored, he said, and the girl with whom he had been -dancing went to the piano. Grace quickly proved herself an apt and -enthusiastic pupil. When she had learned the postures and steps of -one of the group dances her instructor took her as his partner and she -went through with it without an error. Others of the American girls -now began trying the steps with the Servian young men and women, who -entered zestfully into the work of teaching them. The result was the -breaking down of restraint and by the time the refreshments were served -the room presented a scene of gaiety and good fellowship. - -“You have a genius for that kind of thing, my dear; you managed that -beautifully,” said Miss Reynolds to Grace as they assisted in pouring -chocolate and passing sandwiches. “You saved the evening! Dear me! -There’s something wrong with this. As an effort to interest young -people in the church this club can’t say much for itself. Girls won’t -go where there are no young men; I imagine young men are not easy to -lure into church parlors to hear poetry read to them, particularly -poetry that doesn’t mean anything. And this cellar and the piano and -drum can’t compete with a big dance hall and a real jazz band. This -has been going on about like this for several years, but without as -many girls as came tonight. I don’t know what could be done, but this -doesn’t seem worth while.” - -“I don’t know the answer either,” said Grace, who, more or less -consciously, was observing this attempt to do something for working -girls with reference to her own problems. Her reading had made -her familiar with the efforts of church organizations to meet the -social needs of the changing times. It seemed to her that these all -presupposed a degree of aspiration in the class sought to be helped. -And knowing herself to have enjoyed probably the best opportunities -as to education of any girl in the room she was troubled, knowing how -feeble was her hold on such ideals of conduct as only a little while -ago she had believed herself to possess. - -“Maybe,” said Miss Reynolds, “those people are right who say we’re -running too much to organizations. We start a club like this and stick -it in a church basement and are terribly pleased with ourselves. These -girls are all good girls; naughty girls wouldn’t come; they can have -a better time somewhere else. And they’re just the ones we’ve got to -reach. Am I right about that?” - -“I think you are,” replied Grace, wondering what Miss Reynolds would -say if she could read her thoughts. To drop Trenton while it was still -possible would make it necessary to reconcile herself to the acceptance -of just such pleasures as Ethel thought sufficient social stimulus for -girls who worked for a living. - -“Why don’t the church members come to these meetings?” Miss Reynolds -demanded, “or send their sons and daughters? The minister of this -church has sense and I’ll wager he sees that side of it. A miserable -thing like this only strengthens class feeling. I don’t believe there’s -any way of making such a club go. The church is put in the position of -tagging the rich and the poor so nobody can mistake one for the other. -I think I’ll spend my time and money on individual cases--find a few -young people who really need help and concentrate on them!” - -At eleven o’clock the musicians left and the entertainment came to an -end. - -“I’m so grateful to you, Grace, for helping; this is the best meeting -we’ve ever had,” said Ethel after she had pressed a folder describing -the church’s activities upon the last of the company. “Don’t you think -our work well worth while, Miss Reynolds?” - -“I was greatly interested,” Miss Reynolds replied evasively. - -She took Grace and Ethel home in her car but did not encourage Ethel’s -attempt to discuss the evening. However, in bidding Ethel good-night -she said she would send her a check for one hundred dollars for the -girls’ club. - -“Your work is important, Miss Durland; I sympathize with the purpose; -but I don’t think you’ve got quite the right plan. But I confess that -I have no suggestion worth offering. I realize that it’s not easy to -solve these problems.” - - -VI - -Grace was not happy! Much as she tried to avoid the flat conclusion, -the best she could do was to twist it into a question. Love was a -worthless thing if its effect was merely to torture, to inflict pain. -She had told Trenton that she loved him and had virtually agreed to -accept him on his own terms. Why, as the days passed, was she still -doubting, questioning, challenging her love for him? - -At the end of a rainy day that had been full of exasperations Grace -left the store to take the trolley home. The rain had turned to sleet -that beat spitefully upon her umbrella and the sidewalks were a mass -of slush. She was dreading the passage home in the crowded car and the -evening spent in her room, thinking of Trenton, fashioning her daily -letter. She had begun to hate her room where every object seemed to be -an animate, malevolent embodiment of some evil thought. She had half -decided to persuade her father to brave the weather and return down -town after supper to go to a picture show when, turning the corner, -she heard her name called. - -“Hello, there, Grace!” - -“Why, Bob, is it you?” she cried peering out at Cummings from under her -umbrella. - -He took her umbrella and fell into step with her. - -“Don’t look so scared; of course it’s I. Frankly this isn’t just chance -alone; I’ve been lying in ambush!” - -“This will never do!” she cried, but in spite of herself she was unable -to throw any resentment into her tone. - -“I’ve got a grand idea!” he said. “I’m playing hooky tonight. Evelyn -called me up this afternoon to ask if I’d go to dine with an uncle of -hers who’s having a birthday. These family parties are bad enough at -Christmas and Thanksgiving but when they begin ringing in birthdays I -buck. So I told Evelyn I was too tired to go and that I had a business -engagement anyhow, and would get my dinner down town.” - -“Do you realize that I’m getting wet? You beat it for your family -party; I’m going home.” - -“Please, Grace, don’t desert me!” he replied coaxingly. “Let’s have a -cozy supper together and I’ll get you home early.” - -“I told you I’d never see you again!” she said indignantly. “You have -no excuse for waylaying me like this. It’s unpardonable!” - -“Don’t be so cruel!” he pleaded. “I’ll be awfully nice--honestly I -will! You won’t have a thing to be sorry for.” - -Firm as her resolution had been not to see him again she was weighing -the relief it would be to avoid going home against the danger of -encouraging him. - -“Where are your manners, sir? You haven’t even offered to drive me -home.” - -“God pity us homeless children in the great city tonight!” he cried, -aware that she was relenting. “My car’s parked yonder by the Sycamore -Tavern. The night invites the adventurous spirit. We’ll dare the -elements and ride hard and fast like king’s messengers.” - -“Will you keep that up--just that way--pretending we’re two kids -cutting up, as we used to do?” - -“Of course, Grace; you may count on it.” - -“Well, I’m tired and bored with myself, and was dreading the ride -home--I’ll go! But whither?” - -“To McGovern’s house of refreshment at the border of a greenwood, known -to Robin Hood in olden times!” cried Cummings, elated by her consent. -“We’ll stop at the Sycamore and I’ll telephone the varlet to make the -coffee hot.” - -“I supped there once, years agone! But the crowd was large and -boisterous,” she replied, now entering fully into the spirit of the -proposed adventure. Their attempt at archaic speech recalled their -youthful delight in the Arthurian legends in days when their world was -enfolded in a golden haze of romance. - -It was impossible to think of Cummings otherwise than as a boy, and a -foolish boy, but amusing when the humor was on him as now, and to have -supper with him would work injury to no one. - -While he talked to McGovern she went into a booth and explained to her -mother that she wouldn’t be home for supper, saying that she was going -to a movie with a girl friend. - -“All set?” asked Cummings. “That’s fine. We’ll move right along. You’ll -be in early; that’s a cinch. Evelyn’s sure to be home by ten and I’ll -be practising Chopin furiously when she gets back from her uncle’s. -Mac wasn’t keen about taking us in as he shuts down at the first frost. -But that’s all the better; nobody else would think of going there on -such a night!” - -They were planning with much absurd detail the strategy of their -approach to a beleaguered capital when they reached McGovern’s and were -warmly welcomed by the proprietor. - -“It gets mighty lonesome out here in the winter,” he said. “The missus -thought you’d like having supper right here in the living room so you -could sort o’ chum with the fire.” - -“That’s a heavenly idea,” said Grace, eyeing the table with covers -laid for two. Mrs. McGovern, a stout woman whose face shone with -good nature, appeared and bade her husband help bring in the dishes. -Whereupon Cummings and Grace rushed to the kitchen to assist and filed -in behind him, bearing serving dishes and singing a song they had -learned in their childhood: - - “It’s over the river to feed the sheep, - It’s over the river to Charlie; - It’s over the river to feed the sheep - And measure out the barley!” - - -VII - -The wind whined in the chimney and somewhere a shutter banged -spitefully. - -“That’s the only touch we needed to make a perfect evening!” said -Grace, her cheeks glowing. “I expect to hear a stage coach come tearing -into the yard any minute pursued by highwaymen. How did you ever come -to think of McGovern’s?” - -“Just one of my little happy thoughts! Now that we’ve found the way -there’s no reason why we can’t repeat,” said Cummings. - -“There you go! This doesn’t establish a precedent; it belongs to those -experiences it’s better never to try again. But, it’s certainly jolly -so far as we’ve gone. What if somebody should come prancing in?” - -“It’s not a good night for prancing. McGovern said there hadn’t been a -soul here for a week. That’s why he let us come, I suppose.” - -“I can think of certain persons who wouldn’t add much to the joy of -this particular party,” said Grace musingly. - -“A little danger adds to the fun! You seem to forget that I thought it -all up; I’m ready to go right on round the world!” - -“Yes, you are!” she retorted teasingly. “It sounds awful but sometimes -I think it’s cowardice that keeps most of us good! If you were a -philosopher I’d ask your opinion on that subject but I see you haven’t -a ghost of an idea!” - -He frowned. There had always been a serious side to Grace. In her high -school days she was constantly dipping into books that were beyond her, -treatises on social science and the like that only depressed him. He -didn’t know, of course, how eagerly she had caught at the opportunity -of spending the evening with him merely to enjoy a few hours freedom -from the turmoil of her own soul. It interested her for a moment to -sound him as to whether by any chance he was conscious of the general -transformation of things or knew that their visit to McGovern’s in -itself had a significance; but he was a dreamer who responded only to -the harmonies of life and avoided all its discords. He was caught up -in the whirligig of apparently changing conditions just as she knew -herself to be. Were they really breaking down the old barriers? Or was -the world, aided by gasoline and jazz, moving so rapidly that in the -mad rush it required a more alert eye to discern the danger signs? - -The fact that she was eating supper with another woman’s husband in -a place frankly chosen for its isolation interested her, as so many -social phenomena had interested her since she left the University. - -“Oh, thunder!” he said with a shrug. “There’s no use in our worrying. -Let the old folks do that. I guess we’ve all got a right to be happy -and tastes differ as to what happiness is. That’s all.” - -This, of course, wasn’t all, but she refrained from saying so. A look -came into his eyes that warned her to have a care. She must guard -herself from an attempt on his part, which she saw was impending, to -take advantage of the hour to make love to her. - -“Grace,” he resumed, “every time I get blue it’s you I want to see.” - -“Tush, tush! I’d never have come if I’d thought you were going to be -foolish. Don’t you get the notion into your silly head that you can run -to me every time you get down in the mouth. There’s no reason why I -should hold your hand when you’re sorrowful; I don’t want the job!” - -She was eating with an honest appetite that discouraged his hope of -interesting her in sentiment. - -“Wow! I thought you’d jump at the offer!” - -“Have another biscuit! I want to laugh! How silly this is, Bob! I -supposed you brought me out here to show me a good time and we’re -almost at the point of quarreling.” - -“Now, Grace, we’ll never do that! I didn’t think you’d mind the -compliment! But,” dolefully, “I suppose you get so many!” - -He became tractable, obedient, anxious to please her. She knew that -she could do with him very much as she pleased; but there was no -satisfaction in the exercise of her power over so unstable a character. -She was sorry for him, much as she would have been sorry for a child -who never quite learned his lessons; and there were lessons Bob -Cummings would never learn. - -After they had eaten their dessert they started the victrola and -danced, and Bob was again the good play-fellow. They began burlesquing -classic dances, and laughed so boisterously at their success in making -themselves ridiculous that McGovern and his wife came in to watch them. -They had brought themselves to a high pitch of merriment when McGovern, -who was assisting his wife in clearing the table, darted across the -room and stopped the music. - -“Good Lord; it’s some one knocking!” cried Bob, as the outer door shook -under a heavy thumping. - -“Just keep quiet,” said McGovern. “I guess it’s some one who’s got into -trouble on the road.” - -“People stop for a little gas to help ’em out sometimes,” said Mrs. -McGovern. “Mac’ll get rid of ’em.” - -McGovern, with his shoulder against the door threw a look of inquiry -at Cummings and Grace. Cummings lifted his head as the voice again -demanded admittance. - -“Sounds like Atwood,--a chap I know,” he said to Grace. “Who’s with -him, Mac?” - -As McGovern opened the door a few grudging inches a male voice called -him by name. - -“Let us in, Mac: we’re freezing to death!” - -“Sorry, but we’re closed for the season,” McGovern answered. - -“That doesn’t go, Mac! You can’t turn _me_ down,” replied the voice. - -Before McGovern could answer a vigorous pressure flung the door open -and a young man stepped in followed by a young woman in a fur coat and -smart toque. - -“Never thought you’d shut the door in my face, Mac!” said the young man -reproachfully. “We’ve got to have some coffee and sandwiches. Hello, -Mrs. Mac: how’s everything?” - -The young woman, blinking in the light, was walking toward the -fireplace when she became aware that McGovern and his wife had been -entertaining other guests. She paused and stared, her gaze passing -slowly from Cummings to Grace. Her companion, finding that McGovern and -his wife were receiving coldly his voluble expressions of regard, now -first caught sight of the two figures across the room. - -“Hello-o-o!” he exclaimed. “Look who’s here!” - -“Why, Jimmie, is that you?” said Cummings with a gulp. - -“I call it some night! And Mac, the old pirate, didn’t want to let me -in!” - -The McGoverns were hastily retiring toward the kitchen, Mac tiptoeing -as though leaving a death chamber. The weight of his grievous error was -upon him; never before had he precipitated a wife upon a husband in so -disturbing a fashion. - -Grace was watching the young woman, who pulled a chair away from the -table that still bore evidences of the recent repast and sank into -it. She was tall and slender and the light struck gold in her hair. -Feeling perhaps that Grace’s eyes were upon her, she bent and plucked a -raveling, real or imaginary, from the skirt of her coat. She unbottoned -her coat and drew off her gloves with elaborate care. - -Her companion stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his -overcoat, grinning. An old-fashioned clock on the mantel began to -strike to the accompaniment of queer raspings of its mechanism. The -hands indicated the hour as ten but in the manner of its kind the -hammer within pounded out twelve. There was a suggestion of insolence -in the protracted thumping of the bell. As the last torturing sound -was dying Grace turned her head slightly to look at Cummings, who was -staring blankly at the lady in the fur coat. - -“What a funny clock!” Atwood remarked with the jubilant tone of one who -has made a discovery of great value to mankind. - -“It’s a dreadful liar!” said Grace. - -“My grandfather used to have one just like it, with a basket of fruit -painted on the door,” said Atwood, advancing toward Grace, beaming with -gratitude for her response to his attempt to promote conversation. He -was short, plump and blond, with thin fair hair already menaced by -baldness. He was not far advanced in the twenties and looked very much -like an overgrown school boy. Grace appraised him as a person of kindly -impulses and possibly not wholly without common sense. - -Having planted himself beside Grace he remarked further upon clocks -and their general unreliability, while he rolled his eyes first toward -Cummings and then in the direction of the lady in the fur coat. Grace -had already assumed without the aid of this telegraphy that the lady -was Bob’s wife. Atwood seemed to be appealing to Grace to assist him -in terminating a situation that was verging upon the intolerable, -but she was unable to see that it was incumbent upon her to take the -initiative. But Mrs. Cummings might sit there forever unless something -happened. Bob continued to wear the look of one condemned and awaiting -the pleasure of the executioner. Grace felt strongly moved to walk -up to him and shake him. She had read of such unfortunate meetings -between husband and wife and they were usually attended with furious -denunciations and sometimes with pistols. Without the sustaining -presence of Atwood she would have retired to the domestic end of the -McGovern establishment and waited for the storm to blow over, but the -storm, if such impended, was slow in developing. - -“This can’t last forever,” said Grace in a low tone. - -“If _something_ doesn’t happen in a minute I’m a dead man,” Atwood -whispered. - -“I think it would be nice if we all got acquainted. I’m Miss Durland, -Mr. Atwood,” said Grace in a tone audible throughout the room. - -“Thank you so much! I was just dying to know your name!” he declared -fervidly. “Oh, Evelyn----” - -Evelyn lifted her head and looked at him defiantly, but he squared -himself and said: - -“Mrs. Cummings, Miss Durland. I really supposed you had met before.” - -His voice rose to an absurd squeak as he expressed this last hopeful -sentiment. - -Evelyn bit her lip and nodded, a nod that might have been intended for -Grace or quite as definitely for an enlarged photograph of an ancestral -whiskered McGovern in a gilt frame that adorned the wall behind her. - -Grace glanced at Bob, still rooted to the floor, and he remarked with -badly-feigned cheerfulness. - -“Well, I suppose we might as well go home--” a suggestion not without -ambiguity, as there were four persons in the room and two at least, -having just arrived and awaiting refreshments, might be assumed to -prefer to linger. - -“Not just yet!” said Grace, walking slowly toward Evelyn. “There’s -something I’d like to say to Mrs. Cummings.” - -“Oh, _really_----” - -“We’re going in a minute,” interposed Cummings, with sudden animation. -“I think maybe, Grace----” - -“Grace!” Evelyn repeated scornfully. “I’m going home. Jimmy, I want you -to take me home.” - -“Yes, Evelyn; of course we’ll go whenever you like,” said Atwood. “But, -we ought to explain things a little. I mean you and I ought to explain -them,” he elaborated as he saw her lips tighten. “I wouldn’t want Bob -to think----” - -“I don’t care what Bob thinks!” she flared. “He lied to me; he told me -he had a business engagement, to get out of taking me to Uncle Fred’s! -And this was the engagement!” - -“But everything’s going to be explained,” Atwood persisted. “You know -there’s always an explanation for everything, and Bob’s the best fellow -in the world--you know that Evelyn.” - -“I know nothing of the kind! I’ll let him know at the proper time and -place what I think of him.” - -“Well, of course, Evelyn,” said Atwood with his odd little pipe of a -laugh. But he was very earnest; he brought Cummings to his side by -an imperious gesture. As the man for the hour he was not acquitting -himself so badly; he looked at Grace for her approval, wasn’t sure that -she gave it, but with his hand resting on Cummings’s shoulder, he spoke -directly to the point. - -“I’m awfully sorry about this, Bob. You know I’m in and out of your -house a lot and you never seem to mind. And tonight I tried to get you -on the telephone to see if we could do something, the three of us I -mean,--run down to see a picture or any old thing--and the maid said -you were at Colonel Felton’s; both of you, I thought she meant. And I -called up there about the time I thought the party would be over and -found you weren’t there and asked Evelyn to let me come for her. And I -thought it would be good fun to take a little dash through the storm -and I knew you wouldn’t care. There couldn’t be any harm in that; we’ve -all been out here together lots of times.” - -“Why, that’s perfectly all right, Jimmie!” exclaimed Cummings with a -flourish of magnanimity which did not, however, awaken the grateful -response he may have expected from Evelyn, who had murmured an -indifferent, “Thank you, Jimmie,” when Atwood concluded. - -“There’s nothing tragic about this,” Cummings began a little defiantly. -“Miss Durland and I have known each other all our lives. She’s an old -friend. She came out with me just as a lark; just as you and Jimmie -came. I don’t want you to think----” - -“That will do!” said Evelyn rising so suddenly that Cummings backed -away from her in alarm. “Anything you have to say to me needn’t be said -before this old friend of yours.” - -“But, Evelyn, you’re not fair!” cried Cummings hotly. “It isn’t fair to -Miss Durland. The whole fault of her being out here is mine. I’ll not -have you think----” - -“You’re terribly anxious about what I think!” Evelyn interrupted. “I’ll -think what I please!” - -Grace, on her way to the sofa on which she had left her coat and hat, -swung round, her face aflame. - -“It may not occur to you, Mrs. Cummings, that what you think isn’t of -the slightest importance.” - -“You act as though you thought it was!” Evelyn flung back. - -“I’m not acting; you’re doing enough of it!” - -“You’ve probably had far more experience in such scenes!” - -“With much better actors than your husband, I hope!” - -“Humph! I don’t believe we’re going to like each other.” - -“The regret is not mine, I assure you!” - -Grace turned to a mirror to straighten her hat. Her preparations for -departure were provocative of thought in Atwood’s mind. He expressed -the thought immediately, evidently with the laudable hope of lessening -the tension. - -“Oh, Miss Durland, won’t you let _me_ take you home? I can run you into -town without the slightest trouble.” - -Evelyn’s surprise at this suggestion betrayed itself in a spurt of -coffee that missed the cup she was filling and spread in an amber stain -on the table cloth. - -Grace was walking toward the veranda door drawing on her gloves. - -“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Atwood,” she said evenly. “But Mr. -Cummings is going to take me home!” - -Cummings glanced at his wife, uncertainty plainly written on his face. - -“Why, yes--yes--” he mumbled. - -“I’m waiting, Bob!” said Grace. - -He gathered up his raincoat and cap. Grace waited for him to open the -door for her. - -“Good-night, Mr. Atwood!” she flung over her shoulder, and the door -closed. - -“Well, there was that!” Cummings said after they were in the highway. - -“I hope you’re satisfied with yourself,” said Grace angrily. - -“Good Lord! Didn’t I do the best I could about it?” - -“You couldn’t have done worse if you’d had a week to plan it! Instead -of standing there like a fool when your wife came in, why didn’t you -walk right up to her like a man and introduce me? You were scared to -death; you thought of nothing but how you were going to square yourself -with her. You did everything you could to give her the idea that you -were ashamed of me.” - -“Why, Grace, you can’t mean this!” He slowed down the car the better -to talk. “God knows I did the best I could. I couldn’t help being -surprised when they came in. And you never can tell how Evelyn’s going -to take anything.” - -“Oh, yes; it was Evelyn you were troubled about; you weren’t at all -worried about me! When you came out of your trance and tried to explain -how I came to be there the mischief was already done. Of course she -wouldn’t listen to you then. You certainly made a mess of it.” - -“I don’t understand you at all! I swear I did the best I could.” - -“Well, it was a pretty poor best! Please mind what you’re doing; you’re -still so nervous you’ll land in the ditch in a minute.” - -Thus admonished he steadied himself at the wheel. Her anger had -expended itself and she was now silently staring ahead at the snow -covered road. - -No word had passed between them for several minutes and Grace, absorbed -in her own thoughts, was hoping that he wouldn’t attempt to discuss -the matter further. Her respect for him was gone; she disliked him -cordially, seeing him only as a timid, evasive person whose primary -impulse was self-protection. He might play on the wrong side of a -forbidden wall but the moment he was discovered he would scramble for -safe territory. - -He touched her hand so suddenly that she started and snatched it away -with a feeling of aversion. - -“We’ve both been thinking about what happened back there,” he began. “I -don’t know just where it leaves me; I don’t know how Evelyn is going to -take it.” - -He paused, bending forward while he waited for some encouragement to go -on. - -“I don’t care how Evelyn is going to take it! I thought I’d made it -clear that I didn’t want to talk of your private affairs any more. They -don’t interest me in the least.” - -“Of course if Evelyn wants a row----” - -“Oh, Bob! _Please_, be quiet!” - -“But I can’t leave it this way! You’ve meant too much to me for us to -part like this. What I was going to say was--is----” - -She sighed despairingly and resettled herself in her place. - -“What I want you to know is that I care a lot for you, Grace--and if -there’s a row--if we break up, Evelyn and I, I mean----” - -“I think you’ve lost your mind!” she cried furiously. - -“But, you don’t see--you don’t understand----” - -“Oh, but I do! If Evelyn turns you out you think maybe you’d like -to give _me_ a trial! That’s certainly an idea! I suppose you have -visions of me figuring in your divorce suit--Cummings against Cummings! -I don’t believe you used to be like this. It’s astonishing how you’ve -deteriorated!” - -“I didn’t expect this from you, Grace!” he replied bitterly. “I’ve felt -that I could always count on you to----” - -The engine began to cough peevishly and he stopped to investigate. - -“Here’s luck!” he exclaimed spitefully as he got back into the car. -“Just about enough gas to pull us to that garage half a mile ahead. I -guess somebody’s pinned a jinx on the evening!” - -“I’ll wait outside,” she said when the car had been coaxed to the -garage. - -“Only a minute, Grace. I’m awfully sorry.” - -As she stood on the cement driveway the whistle followed by a flash -of the headlight of an incoming interurban car on the track that ran -parallel with the highway caught her attention. Across the road several -people were waiting on the platform and she resolved to board the car -if it stopped before Cummings reappeared. She was in a humor to annoy -him if she could and as the car slowed down she began to walk slowly -toward the platform and then with a glance over her shoulder ran and -swung herself aboard. As the car got under way she caught a glimpse of -the roadster as Cummings backed it out. She derived no small degree of -satisfaction from the reflection that her departure in this fashion -expressed her scorn of him more effectually than anything she could -have said. - -She left the car at the interurban station and walked home. Her -knowledge of life was broadening and that too in divisions of the -Great Curriculum of whose very existence she had had only the haziest -consciousness. Her freedom, the independence she so greatly prized, -was not without its perils. Her thoughts took a high range; she -wondered whether after all the individual could, without incurring -serious hazards, ignore the warnings and safeguards established for the -protection of society. - -She wanted to laugh over the encounter at McGovern’s, but in the quiet -street it was not so easy to laugh at it. What society had done to -educate her, to fortify and strengthen her for the battle of life--a -phrase she detested from her mother’s frequent use of it--counted for -naught. She was alarmed to find that she never really reached any -conclusion in attempting to settle her problems. When she thought she -had determined any of the matters that rose with so malevolent an -insistence for decision some unexpected turn left her still beset by -uncertainties. - -Two policemen standing on a corner stopped talking as she passed and -she felt their eyes following her. They symbolized the power of the -law; they were agents of society, they were representatives of the -order of things against which she had been trying to persuade herself -she was in rebellion. She now seriously questioned the desirability of -being a rebel; such a status had its disagreeable and uncomfortable -side. - -When she reached her room she sat down thinking she would write her -usual daily letter to Trenton; but with paper before her and a pen in -her hand she was unable to bring herself to it. The disturbance at -McGovern’s had shaken her more than she liked to believe. - -In her cogitations, as she lay in the dark unable to sleep, she -wondered whether the incident at McGovern’s might not be a warning, -which she would do well to heed, to discourage Trenton’s further -attentions. Trenton might in a similar circumstances behave no better -than Bob had behaved and she was not anxious to subject herself to the -ire of another indignant wife. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - - -I - -Grace was keenly disappointed at receiving no letter from Trenton the -next day. She canvassed all possible explanations of this first lapse -in their correspondence. Whatever might be the cause she decided not to -write until she heard from him again. She passed an unhappy morning and -was relieved when Irene asked her to go to lunch. It was possible that -Irene might have some news of Trenton, as he and Kemp were constantly -in touch with each other. - -“Tell me I look perfectly all right--just as though nothing had -happened,” Irene remarked when they had given their order. - -“Well, if you want to know, you’re just a trifle paler than usual; but -I’d never have noticed it. What’s the trouble?” - -Irene answered by holding out her left hand. - -“The emerald is no more! Oh, I haven’t sent it back! I’ve just stuck it -down in the bottom of a drawer with a lot of other old junk. It’s all -over, my dear.” - -“You and Tommy have quit!” Grace exclaimed. - -“Finished, quit--whatever you like. You’ll remember I told you such -things can’t last. Please don’t think I wasn’t prepared! But to a -certain extent Tommy did fool me. I thought he really cared for me and -I won’t deny that I thought a lot of him.” - -“This is certainly a surprise,” Grace remarked, noting signs of -dejection in the usually placid Irene that had previously escaped her. - -“Well, I got a line on him a few days ago. It’s a small world and -things have a way of getting round.” - -Irene spoke as one whose philosophy is quite equal to any demand that -may be made upon it. She dilated upon the general perfidy of man as -though her personal disappointment was negligible and only to be -mentioned for purposes of illustration. She continued in this vein -so long that Grace began to fear she was not to learn just what had -happened to shatter Irene’s faith in Kemp. - -“Let’s consider all the male species dead and buried! I’m dying of -curiosity. Just what happened to you and Tommy?” - -“He lied to me, that’s all; and I found him out.” - -“That’s too bad; I’m ever so sorry,” Grace replied, not knowing whether -Irene sought consolation for the loss of her lover or wanted to be -congratulated on her prescience in foreseeing the inevitable end of the -affair. - -“Oh, it’s all right with me! But I can’t deny that when it came it was -a jar. You see Tommy’s mighty good fun and awfully clever. I learned a -lot from Tommy; he used to tell me everything. I’ll wager he’s sorry -now he told me a lot of most intimate things, about people and business -and even his family affairs; but they’re safe, I’d never betray his -confidence even if he has gone back on me.” - -“Of course not; you’d never do that,” Grace assented, and saw that -Irene was pleased by this testimony to her high-mindedness. “Maybe -there’s some mistake about it. Of course you’ll give Tommy a chance to -explain.” - -“Oh, I gave him the chance all right enough. It was over the telephone -and, my dear, you should have heard him gasp when I put it up to him!” - -“Go on and tell me what Tommy did or let’s stop talking about it!” - -“I’m going to tell you. You and Minnie Lawton are the only people I -_could_ tell. I’ve been meeting Tommy at Minnie’s apartment and she -has to know why I’m not going there any more. Tommy’s always told me -I was the only one--that old, old story! Well, a certain person--he -didn’t know I knew Tommy--was asking me about him the other day. He -said he’d seen Tommy in Chicago with a very nifty girl he seemed to be -chummy with. He saw them together last Saturday night. Now, Tommy had -a date with me for Saturday evening but he told me Friday he was going -to Chicago unexpectedly with his wife for the opera. He didn’t take his -wife to Chicago--I easily found that out. Tommy went to Chi all right -enough but not to hear Mary Garden. So, there’s the end of our little -romance.” - -“What did Tommy have to say for himself?” - -“What _could_ he say!” Irene exclaimed disdainfully. “He wanted to see -me of course; said he could explain everything, but I said good-bye -very sweetly and hung up on him. I’d like to see him explain a thing -like that! I suppose he thought he’d send me a box of candy and -everything would be lovely. I’m a good deal of a fool, my dear, but -hardly to that extent.” - -“I shouldn’t just pick you out to try putting anything over on.” - -“They’re all alike!” Irene resumed, ignoring Grace’s tribute to her -perspicacity. “Men expect women to take everything. Poor Tommy! If -he doesn’t stop drinking he’s going to die real quick one of these -days. I guess he didn’t like my lecturing him so much. You know I -was interested in all his plans--he’s no end ambitious and he used to -invite my little hints and suggestions; not that I really know about -machinery or finance, but I suppose I have got a business head.” - -“You certainly have, Irene. You’ll have a big business of your own some -day or a wonderful position in New York. You could easily swing our -department now.” - -“I suppose I might, but I’ve almost decided to get married. Oh, don’t -jump! I mean when I see a good chance. Now that I’m done with Tommy the -idea doesn’t seem so bad. Perhaps,” she added, “perhaps we’re not fair -to marriage! There may be something in it after all.” - -“There are still people who think so,” said Grace, impelled to laughter -by Irene’s gravity. - -“Oh, I suppose we’ve got to recognize it! How’s Ward these days? Still -roaming the world?” - -“In New York the last I heard of him, and terribly busy.” - -“Do you know, there’s something pathetic about Ward Trenton,” said -Irene. “There’s something away back in his mind that he tries to hide -even from himself! You know what I mean? It’s his wife, I suppose. I -saw her picture in a magazine not so long ago and meant to show it to -you. She’s not at all the frump you’d expect from her being an author -and lecturer, but quite handsome and smartly got up. It’s certainly -queer that a woman like that who has scads of money and a real man -for a husband won’t stay at her own fireside, but has to trot around -showing herself off. And Ward’s fascinating; those quiet self-contained -men are always fascinating. And they certainly keep you guessing as to -what they think. Take poor Tommy; once he’s away from business he’s -got to be amused. But Ward’s different. That man does a lot of solid -thinking even when he’s out to play.” - -“He’s kind, he’s awfully kind,” Grace murmured. - -With the Cummings’s episode and its very obvious lesson still playing -through her thoughts Grace eagerly welcomed Irene’s praise of Trenton, -feeling the need of just the assurances her friend was giving her as -to his fine qualities, which attained a new dignity in view of Kemp’s -inconstancy. - -“Ward’s perfectly splendid,” Irene continued as though fearing she -hadn’t done Trenton full justice. “I’ve never had any illusions about -Tommy; I always knew I’d have to pass him up some day. But don’t let me -shake your faith in dear old Ward. He won’t lie to you; he’d tell the -truth if it ruined him.” - -“You really think that?” asked Grace with a slight quaver in her voice -which the watchful Irene did not miss. - -“Of course I think it! But with two people as intense in your different -ways as you and Ward, you’re likely to hurt each other terribly. I’ve -been awfully careful what I’ve said to you, Grace, about--well--about -going the limit with Ward. But I can see you’re not just throwing -yourself at his head. And Ward, if I know him, is not going to expect -you to.” - -“Oh, he’s fine!” said Grace, averting her eyes. “No one could be finer, -but----” - -“Yes, my dear; there’s that _but_ we always bring up against! I won’t -say a word about Tommy and me. Of course I never loved Tommy but I -thought he was a good fellow and on the level; and it was exciting -while it lasted. That’s what catches a lot of girls who go in for -such little affairs as mine with Tommy. It’s the excitement of doing -something they know’s dead wrong and bound to end in a smash-up.” - -As Grace was eating little and seemed dispirited, Irene recurred to -Trenton. - -“Ward would never be satisfied just to play around with a girl, knowing -that whenever he got tired he’d chuck her and pick up another. I’m -saying this because I know he fell for you hard that very first night -you met; it was a clear case of love at first sight with you two. I’m -not just kidding you; you know as well as I do you’re different from -other girls. You’ve got brains and poise. Not that you weren’t always a -lot of fun and a good pal,--I never knew a girl who was as much fun to -play with. But you’ve always kept your self-respect and held your head -high. Ward likes that in you because he’s that sort himself.” - -“I wish I could believe you’re right but, Irene, sometimes I don’t feel -I know myself at all! When I quit college I was full of self-conceit -and thought I had a strong grip on myself. I was going to test out -life--find out everything in my own way. But there are times when I -get scared. I thought it would be fun to drift along for awhile, just -trying myself out and I was sure I could stop whenever I pleased and -settle on something. But I’m not doing it! What’s the matter with me -anyhow?” she demanded mournfully. - -“You’re in love! Don’t you think I haven’t been watching the awful -symptoms. You’ve got a real case!” - -“Do you really mean that? Would you really know?” asked Grace eagerly. - -“Would I know? I could see it with my eyes shut. And I can see it’s -troubling you. These are things we’ve all got to settle for ourselves, -my dear. And from what I know of Ward I’ll wager he’s taking it just -as hard as you are. He’s married and he knows just what the whole thing -means. I’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t give you a good chance -to drop him now even though he suffered terribly. And he’s of the kind -who do suffer all right.” - -“It might be better,” said Grace soberly, “if I didn’t see him again!” - -“You’re going to be unhappy if you do that. You’d both be unhappy. Of -course, there’s his wife. He’d be likely to think of her pride and -dignity,--chivalry and all that sort of stuff. And if he got a divorce -and married you the whole business might be unpleasant. You’re not the -sort of girl who could go through a thing like that without suffering -terribly. It’s something for you to think about, my dear!” - -In spite of her trouble with Kemp, Irene was eating a substantial -luncheon. There were times when Grace felt an aversion for Irene. The -most sacred relationships of life the girl treated with a cold cynicism -that affected Grace disagreeably. She was pondering the sordidness of -Irene’s liaison with Kemp. The lofty condescension with which Irene -spoke of him amused Grace only mildly. - -“Wouldn’t it be grand,” Irene continued, “to be made love to--I mean by -some one who really knew how! Somebody who’d approach you as though you -were a queen and stand in terrible awe of you! The trouble with all us -women nowadays is that we’re too easy. The next time a man shows any -symptoms of being interested in me I’m going to be the coy little girl, -I can tell you! Oh, I’m not thinking of Tommy”--her lip curled--“I mean -where the man really respects you first of all. I tell you, Grace, I’m -pretty well fed up on this new woman stuff. Believe me, I’m staying -home with mother these nights knitting a sweater for father, and Sunday -I’m going to put on a big apron and bake a cake--honest, I am! Women -do better as a domestic animal like the common or fireside cat.” - -“You don’t really think that!” Grace exclaimed. - -“Oh, I know Grace, you’re all for our glorious independence and -fighting in the ranks shoulder to shoulder with the men. But the -trouble is we can’t fight _with_ them; we’re fighting against them -every hour of the day! My dear, there’s a curse on us--the curse of -sex! There’s absolutely no ducking it. You may talk all you like about -equality and how men and women meet in business and the woman is the -equal of the man. All right! She may have just as good a head as the -man she’s dealing with but if she still has home-grown teeth and her -face isn’t painful to look at sex is all mixed up in the figures. You -can’t get away from it.” - -“But, Irene----!” - -“Oh, I saw you sell a woman a coat yesterday--that old girl from up in -the bushes whose husband came along to keep her from blowing his bank -roll, and it was the man you sold that rag to, not the woman. Sex! -You’re a pretty girl, you know, and he spent twice what he’d let her -blow on herself if it hadn’t been for your blandishments. And when I -go down to New York on a buying jaunt the polite gentlemen in our line -buy me expensive dinners and take me in swift taxies to the theatre and -to supper and to snappy dance places afterwards. That’s sex! If the -store sends a _man_ down there the same birds buy him a quick lunch and -that’s all. But a woman’s different! Sex, my dear, sex!” - -“Oh, it’s not as bad as that!” Grace protested. “I want to be -considered as a human being first and as a woman afterwards. I don’t -mind saying that there have been times lately when I’ve wished I could -see things as mother does, but I can’t. There’s no use trying to live -backwards. I just couldn’t stay in a house all the time and cook and -sew and darn for a husband; I’d go crazy!” - -“Well, the home life listens good to me right now!” replied Irene with -a sigh. “No; this is my turn to pay the check. By the way, did you -notice that woman I waited on this morning--the dish-face with too much -paint and pearl earrings as big as your fist--well,” she broke off -abruptly--“here’s a happy surprise! If I’m not mistaken here’s the tall -sycamore of Raccoon Creek!” - -“What on earth are you talking about--a raccoon with pearl earrings?” - -“No; a certain party just coming in the door. Looks like your old -college chum who took you to the football game.” - -Grace turned to find John Moore bearing down upon their table. - -“You _will_ excuse me, won’t you?” he exclaimed radiantly as he shook -hands. “Oh, I remember Miss Kirby; ashamed of myself if I didn’t. -Well, Grace, they told me you were up here at lunch so I thought I’d -take a chance. Hope you’ve got a minute. I came to town on particular -business. Sold an Airedale pup and brought him up to make special -delivery.” - -“You have a kennel, Mr. Moore?” asked Irene. “I adore Airedales.” - -“I’ll say it’s a kennel!” John answered as he drew a chair from an -adjoining table and seated himself. “Grace knows the place; an old -barn, one of the professors let’s me use for taking care of his -furnace. I’m selling off my pups now before I move to the great city. -I’ll be lonesome without a dog when I come up after Christmas. When I -went West last summer as an honest farm hand I had to leave my dogs -for a darky to look after and I certainly did miss them. But I’ve got -twenty-five dollars apiece for them,” he concluded, with a frank appeal -for their approval. - -He gave Grace the latest news of the university, explaining his items -for Irene’s enlightenment. When Grace asked him about particular girls -he protested that he had never heard of their existence. Grace was just -kidding him, he said. - -“The fact is, Miss Kirby, since Grace left the campus I haven’t seen -any girls.” - -“I can well believe it,” Irene replied. “With Grace gone there’s -nothing left of the picture but the frame. She’s one in a million. -You’ll look a long time before you find another girl like Grace -Durland.” - -“You’ve said something!” John affirmed, and pretending that Grace was -not present he and Irene engaged in a lively discussion of Grace’s -merits. With Irene this was of course only a device for flirting with -John. John understood perfectly that she was flirting with him. As -this went on John and Irene were taking careful note of each other. -Two natures could not have been more truly antipodal. Grace was amused -to see them at such pains to please each other. She interrupted them -occasionally with a question as to some virtue attributed to her, which -they feigned not to hear but answered indirectly. - -He was already preparing for his removal to the city and wore a new -suit and hat and carried a pair of tan gloves which obviously had not -been worn. He struck his hat with them occasionally as he talked. John -had always been quick to note little tricks of manner and speech and -when they pleased him he frankly adopted them. His manner of playing -with his gloves was imitated from a young instructor at the university -who carried gloves with him everywhere, even into the class room, where -he played with them as he heard recitations. John in his new raiment -looked less like a countryman than Grace had thought possible. She -recalled what a cynical senior had once said of him--that above the -collar he looked like a signer of the Declaration of Independence but -that the rest of him was strongly suggestive of the barnyard. His eyes -missed nothing; he was too eager to get ahead in the world not to study -his own imperfections and overcome them. Having impressed John with -the idea that for the few minutes they spent together he was the only -specimen of the male species in the world, Irene languidly glanced at -her watch. - -“Only ten minutes to get back, Grace. I’ll keep the wheels of commerce -turning while you talk to Mr. Moore. Do forgive me, old things, for -keeping you waiting.” - -As she gathered up her purse and vanity box Moore protested that he and -Grace had nothing to say to each other which she might not hear. - -“Oh, don’t try that on me!” Irene replied, looking from one to the -other meaningfully. - -“If you leave us alone John will begin talking poetry,” said Grace. -“Please wait, I don’t feel a bit like poetry today!” - -“There, Miss Kirby; you see Grace doesn’t want to be alone with me! -I’ll tell you what! I’m staying in town tonight and it would be fine -if we could all go to a show together. There’s a picture I’ve read -about--‘Mother Earth,’ they call it; said to give a fine idea of -pioneer life. I guess we owe it to the folks who drove out the Indians -and cleaned up the varmints to show ’em a little respect, and they say -that picture’s a humdinger. If you don’t like the notion and there’s -some other show----” - -His eyes were bright with expectancy as he awaited their decision. - -“You see,” he added with a broad smile, “now that I’ve sold my last pup -and paid my debts I feel a little like celebrating.” - -“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Moore,” said Irene, “but really, I----” - -“Why, of course you can go, Irene,” exclaimed Grace, who had not -missed Irene’s look of consternation when John suggested spending an -evening viewing a movie illustrative of the sacrifices of the pioneers. -However, Irene had quickly recovered from the shock and seemed to be -seriously considering John’s invitation. - -“I’ll be glad to go, thank you, John; but of course we must have Irene!” - -“Certainly, we want Miss Kirby,” John declared. - -“But if you hadn’t seen me here, Mr. Moore, you’d never have thought of -asking me. You know you wouldn’t.” - -“Honestly, I thought of it before I came into the store! Ever since -that day you were so nice about letting Grace off to go to the game -I’ve had a feeling I’d like to show you some trifling attention. I’ll -take it as another favor if you’ll go.” - -“Oh, if you put it that way, Mr. Moore, of course I accept,” said -Irene. “I must skip; you stay, Grace, and arrange the little details.” - -“It’s mighty nice of Miss Kirby to go,” John remarked as he resumed -his seat after bowing Irene from the table. “And it must make things -a lot easier for you to have a fine girl like that to work with. You -can tell she knows her business. I guess nothing’s going to rattle her -much!” - -“What are you trying to do, John; make me jealous?” laughed Grace. - -“Now Grace, you know----” - -What would John think, Grace wondered--John of the high ideals and -aspirations, if he knew that it was only because Irene had broken with -a man whose mistress she had been and in consequence was disposed to -take refuge in things wholly foreign to her nature and experience, that -she had accepted an invitation to attend a picture show that celebrated -the joys and sorrows of the pioneers! - -It was settled that John should go home with her for supper and that -they would meet Irene in the lobby of the theatre. Grace took occasion -to caution John against mentioning Irene at home. Her mother and Ethel -didn’t like Irene, she explained. - -“I don’t see but she’s a pretty fine girl,” John replied. “And it makes -a hit with me that she’s such a good friend of yours.” - -“Of course I’m not going,” said Irene when Grace went back to her -department. “I supposed you understood that.” - -“I certainly didn’t. John wanted you or he wouldn’t have asked you. -You know what you were saying about sex! Here’s a chance to prove you -can forget it. Let’s assume John’s taking us to a movie merely because -we’re charming and amusing persons; just as he might take a couple of -young men.” - -“Well I don’t care anything about going to a show right now when I’m -wearing mourning for myself, but I’d just like to sit near that suitor -of yours for an hour or two. He does me good.” - -This was not like Irene, and Grace discounted heavily her friend’s -admiration for John. It was merely that Irene was contrasting John with -Kemp, in much the same spirit that she had praised Trenton at the lunch -table. - -“If he knew me for what I am he’d probably run like a scared rabbit,” -said Irene, slipping a tape-line through her fingers. “I felt myself an -awful fraud all the time I talked to him.” - -“You can always rely on John to think the best of everybody and -everything,” Grace replied. “He’s a mighty satisfactory sort of person. -If I ever got into trouble I know John would stand by me.” - -“I believe you’re right,” Irene returned. “A man with eyes like his is -bound to be mighty square. But when I sat there kidding him about you I -did feel awfully guilty and ashamed of myself. I was afraid those eyes -might see too much!” - -“Come out of the dark!” exclaimed Grace. “We’d better go to work. -John’s going home to supper with me and we’ll meet you in the Pendennis -lobby at a quarter before eight.” - - -II - -The afternoon passed and still no letter from Trenton. Grace was glad -that she had not told Irene how far Trenton had gone in declaring -himself. Not even Irene should know how much she cared for Trenton. -She indulged in the luxury of self-pity, picturing herself going -through life with the remembrance of him like a wound in her heart -that would never heal. And after summoning her courage to meet such a -situation she was swept with a great tenderness as she thought of him, -remembering the touch of his hand, his kiss on her lips. - -When she called up her mother to say that she was bringing John home -Mrs. Durland reminded her that this was the night Ethel had asked -Mr. Haley to supper. Grace had been fully informed as to Mr. Haley’s -acceptance of Ethel’s invitation but in her confused state of mind she -had forgotten it. Haley was Ethel’s discovery and Grace had several -times encountered him in the Durland parlor. Recently Ethel had been -referring to the young man a little self-consciously by his first name. -Osgood Haley was twenty-seven, a well appearing young man, who was a -city salesman for a wholesale grocery firm. Mrs. Durland had satisfied -herself by inquiries of an acquaintance in the town in which Haley had -originated that he was of good family and he was thereupon made to feel -at home in the Durland household. - -Ethel had met him in her Sunday school where within a few weeks after -taking a class of boys he had doubled its membership. It was his -personality, Ethel said; and beyond question Haley had a great deal -of personality. Among other items of Haley’s biography Ethel had -acquainted the family with the fact that his interest in religion was -due to the influence of a girl to whom he had been engaged but who died -only a short time before the day appointed for their wedding. Ethel -made a great deal of this. Haley’s devotion to the memory of the girl -he had loved was very beautiful as Ethel described it, and Mrs. Durland -said that such devotion was rare in these times. - -Haley had brought to perfection a manner that not only had proved its -efficacy in selling groceries but was equally impressive in the parlor. -When he shook a hand he clung to it while he smiled into the face of -its owner and uttered one of a number of cheerful remarks from a list -with which he was fortified. These were applied with good judgment and -went far toward convincing the person greeted that Mr. Haley was the -possessor of some secret of happiness which he benevolently desired to -communicate to all mankind. - -Ethel having gone home early to prepare some special dishes for her -guest, came in flushed from the kitchen just as Haley arrived with -Grace and John, who had met him on the street-car. Mr. Durland had -meekly submitted to investiture in a white shirt in honor of the -occasion. He had confused Haley with a young man from Rangerton who -sometimes visited the family. When he had been set straight on this -point they went to the table where the talk opened promisingly. - -Haley needed no encouragement to talk; he was a born talker. He was -abundantly supplied with anecdotes, drawn from his experience as -a salesman, which proved that a cheery and optimistic spirit will -overcome all obstacles. John provoked him to renewed efforts by -insisting that theoretically the position of the pessimist is sound. -Haley would have none of this. He had found, he declared, that hope is -infectious and he derived the liveliest satisfaction from his success -in overcoming the prejudice and reluctance of difficult customers. - -“You two boys make a splendid team,” remarked Mrs. Durland. “I suppose -you don’t know many people here, John.” - -“Only frat brothers and boys who’ve graduated from the University since -I’ve been there. There’s quite a bunch of them, too, for I’ve been -plugging around the sacred groves of academe a long time.” - -“I suppose you’ll be so busy when you move to town you’ll have to limit -your social life,” said Ethel. “But we all need outside interests. -Osgood has been here a year but it was some time before he found just -what he needed.” - -Haley rose to this promptly by saying that being received in a home -like the Durland’s was the pleasantest thing that had ever happened to -him. - -“Of course, John,” Ethel continued, “you will find a church connection -helpful. I hope you will hear Dr. Ridgley before handing in your letter -anywhere else.” - -“By all means,” said Haley. “I tried several churches before I finally -settled on Dr. Ridgley’s. He’s helped me over a lot of hard places -just by a word or two. It just occurs to me, Ethel, that John,” (Haley -was already calling Moore by his first name) “would enjoy Mr. Forman’s -bible class. They’re all business and professional men and Mr. Forman -is a thorough Bible student. If I didn’t enjoy my boys so much I’d -certainly never miss a Sunday morning with Mr. Forman.” - -“You see, John, we’re trying to fix everything up for you,” said Mrs. -Durland, turning a sympathetic glance upon Moore. - -Grace was unable to recall that she had ever heard John speak of -churches, though in their walks about Bloomington he had discussed -religion in general terms. She doubted whether, with his many -engrossing employments, he had been a diligent church-goer. - -“Don’t let them crowd you, John,” she said, seeing that he hesitated to -commit himself. - -“I’m not a church member,” he said diffidently. “I suppose I’m hardly -what you’d call a believer; at least I don’t believe all you’re -supposed to believe if you subscribe to a creed. I hope I’m not -shocking you folks but it always seems to me there’s something stifling -about a church. When I was a boy on the home farm and all the neighbors -met at the country church every Sunday, I always hated to go in; it -seemed a lot cheerfuller outside. I suppose if I got right down to it -I’d say I believe in a great power that I haven’t any name for, that -moves the world. It’s bigger than any church, and it works in all of us -whether we go to church or not. I suppose if you got down to bed rock -you’d call me an agnostic. But I’m strong for whatever any church does -to help people live right. When it comes to believing a lot of things I -can’t square with reason I just can’t do it.” - -“That’s about my own idea,” ventured Mr. Durland, who had been bending -over his plate with his usual stolid silence. - -“We’re not so far apart, John,” said Mrs. Durland, anxious to avert -the deliverance which she saw from the tense look in Ethel’s face was -imminent. “We all see things differently these days and I think it -better not to discuss the subject. It’s far too personal.” - -“I don’t see how you can say such a thing, mother,” said Ethel, with -painstaking enunciation. “I think it our solemn duty to discuss matters -that affect our souls. If there ever comes a time when I can’t believe -in God I want to die! I don’t see how any one can live without the hope -of a better world than this. Without that nothing would be worth while.” - -“Please don’t think I want to destroy any one’s faith,” John replied. -“But for myself I try to keep tight hold of the idea that it’s a part -of our job to make that better world right here. And if we do that and -there is a better place after death I don’t believe anybody’s going to -be kept out of it for not believing what he can’t.” - -“John,” began Haley with a deprecatory smile, “that’s exactly where I -used to stand! You don’t need to feel discouraged about your doubts. If -we just will to believe we can overcome everything. That’s the truth, -isn’t it, Ethel?” - -Ethel promptly affirmed his statement, and Mrs. Durland softened the -affirmation out of deference for John’s feelings. - -“I think I agree with John,” said Grace; “I’d like to believe a lot of -things the church teaches but I can’t; I’m always stumbling over some -doubt.” - -“I didn’t know _you_ called yourself an agnostic,” said Ethel severely. - -“I don’t know that it’s necessary to classify myself,” Grace replied -coldly. - -Haley volunteered to lend John certain books which he had found helpful -in overcoming his own doubts. John listened attentively as Haley named -them and replied that he had read them and when Mr. Durland asked John -if he had read “The Age of Reason,” Mrs. Durland thwarted Ethel’s -attempt to denounce that work by remarking that she thought they could -all agree that every effort to promote peace and happiness in the world -was worthy of encouragement. - -“You’ve said something there, Mrs. Durland,” said John soberly. “I’m -strong for that.” - -“I guess that leaves us nothing to quarrel about after all,” said -Haley, beaming with tolerance. - -Ethel resented her mother’s interference with the religious discussion -just when she was ready to sweep away all agnostic literature with a -quotation. And she was displeased to find John again exchanging stories -with Haley. She had counted much on the beneficent exercise of John’s -influence on Grace after he settled in Indianapolis. Her father was -hopeless where religion was concerned and she had no sympathy with -her mother’s oft-reiterated opinion that there was something good in -all churches. Her indignation increased as good cheer again prevailed -at the table. She waited till a lull in the story-telling gave her an -opportunity to ask John, with an air of the utmost guilelessness, the -proportion of women to men in the University. John answered and called -upon Grace to verify his figures. Grace, familiar with Ethel’s mental -processes, groped for the motive behind the question. Her curiosity as -to what her sister was driving at was quickly satisfied. - -“I was just wondering, that’s all,” remarked Ethel carelessly. “I -suppose I might have got the figures from the catalogue. Oh, by the -way, John, Grace has spoken of so many of her friends in college I feel -that I almost know them. Just the other day she was speaking of a Miss -Conwell--Mabel, wasn’t it, Grace?--who must be a very interesting girl. -She had her uncle look Grace up when he was here recently.” - -“Conwell?” repeated John, looking inquiringly at Grace, who sat -directly opposite him. “Do I know a Miss Conwell?” he asked and -catching a hint from Grace’s eyes that something was amiss he added, -“There’s such a lot of girls down there I get ’em all mixed up.” - -“She’s from Jeffersonville, you said, didn’t you, Grace?” asked Ethel. - -“Jeffersonville or New Albany,” Grace answered, “I’m always confusing -those towns.” - -John was now aware that Grace was telegraphing for help. - -“Oh, yes;” he exclaimed, “I remember Miss Conwell. I’d got the name -wrong; I thought it was Conway. I run into her occasionally at the -library.” - -“She doesn’t seem to be in the catalogue,” Ethel persisted, “but that -may be because they don’t know where she comes from.” - -Haley laughed boisterously at this. John, detecting a tinge of spite -in Ethel’s pursuit of a matter that apparently was of no importance, -answered that he thought Miss Conwell hadn’t taken up her work till -after the fall term opened, which probably accounted for the absence of -her name from the catalogue. - -“She is a special, isn’t she, Grace?” he asked. - -“Yes; in English,” Grace answered, with a defiant look at her sister. - -“That’s the girl who’s related to Mr. Trenton?” asked Durland, vaguely -conscious that Grace was under fire. “I thought that was the name. -Trenton,” he explained to Moore, “is a famous engineer. I guess there’s -nobody stands higher in his line.” - -“He’s the husband of that Mary Graham Trenton who writes horrible -books,” announced Ethel. - -“That’s got nothing to do with Trenton’s standing as an engineer,” -Durland replied doggedly. - -“I guess no man has to stand for his wife’s opinions these days,” said -John conciliatingly. - -“Of course I don’t know what Mr. Trenton’s views are on the subjects -his wife writes about,” said Ethel. “But Grace probably knows.” - -“You couldn’t expect me to violate Mr. Trenton’s confidence,” Grace -replied. - -Fortunately the meal was concluded and Mrs. Durland rose from the table. - -“I’m awfully sorry, John,” said Grace, when they reached the street. -“There’s no reason why Ethel should show her spite at me when we have -company. She thought with you there it would be easy to catch me in a -lie. It was a nasty trick; but it was splendid of you to help me out.” - -“You don’t need to thank me for that,” said John. “Ethel was sore at me -for being a heathen and she thought she’d pot us both with one shot. -And I guess she did,” he ended with a chuckle. “It would be easy for -her to prove that there’s no Mabel Conwell at the University. But why -make so much fuss about it?” - -“It’s just her way of nosing into other people’s affairs. If she hadn’t -been so nasty about Mr. Trenton in the first place I wouldn’t have had -to lie.” - -“It’s too bad Ethel’s got that spirit. It must be hard living with such -a person.” - -Irene was waiting for them when they reached the Pendennis. Grace noted -that her friend wore her simplest gown and hat, perhaps as an outward -sign of the chastened mood in which Kemp’s passing had left her. John -sat between them and their enjoyment of the picture was enhanced by his -droll comments. - -“It’s me for the simple life,” said Irene at the end. “I’ll dream of -myself as that girl in the sunbonnet going down the lane with the jug -of buttermilk for the harvest hands.” - -“The dream’s as near as you’ll ever come to it!” said Grace. “I can see -you on a farm!” - -“I’d be an ideal farmer’s wife, wouldn’t I, Mr. Moore? I’ve certainly -got enough sense to feed the chickens.” - -“When you weren’t doing that you could feed the mortgage,” John -replied. “Let’s see, which one of you girls am I going to take home -first?” - -They went into a confectioner’s for a hot chocolate and to discuss this -momentous question. Irene lived in the East End, much farther from the -theatre than Grace. Grace insisted that if he took her home first she -would think it because he wanted to spend more time with Irene. - -“That would be perfectly satisfactory to me!” said Irene demurely. - -“I don’t know that I’d hate it so much myself,” John replied. - -“Do you ever use a taxi, Mr. Moore?” Irene asked. - -“Not on the price of one Airedale!” - -When he suggested seriously that the whole matter would be greatly -simplified by taking a taxi Irene would not hear of it. She hadn’t -meant to hint; she was just joking. They continued their teasing until -they reached a corner where Grace settled the matter. - -“Irene wins!” she cried and before they knew what she was about she -boarded her car and was waving to them derisively from the platform. - - -III - -During the preparation of breakfast the next morning Ethel apologized -for her conduct at the supper table. - -“I didn’t mean to speak of that matter at all, Grace. It’s none of my -business how you met Mr. Trenton. I don’t want there to be any hard -feeling between us. I realize that we look at things differently and I -want you to know that before Osgood left last night I made it all right -with him. I told him it was just a joke between you and me about Miss -Conwell. I wouldn’t want him to think we spend our time quarreling.” - -“I hope he thought it was funny,” Grace returned. “I don’t mind telling -you that there’s no such person as Miss Conwell. John backed me up just -because he resented the way you were ragging me. He knew perfectly -well there’s no Mabel Conwell at the University.” - -Mrs. Durland entered the kitchen in time to catch this last remark. - -“I hope you know, Grace, that neither Ethel nor I have any wish to -question you about your friends. I scolded Ethel for asking you about -Miss Conwell before company. I’m sure she’s sorry.” - -“I’ve apologized to Grace, mother,” said Ethel meekly. - -“We assume, Grace,” said Mrs. Durland, “that you mean to hold fast to -the ideals we’ve tried to teach you at home. We trust you, dear; you -know that. You know all the dangers that a young girl’s exposed to and -I believe you mean to make something fine and beautiful of your life. I -expect that of both you girls.” - -“I don’t like being pecked at and quizzed,” Grace replied. “I’ll attend -to the bacon, Ethel; you needn’t bother about it.” - -“I hope you and John had a pleasant evening,” said Mrs. Durland. - -“Yes; it’s a very good picture. We all enjoyed it. Irene went with us.” - -“Irene Kirby went with you and John to the picture show!” exclaimed -Mrs. Durland. “I don’t believe you said Irene was going.” - -“Grace naturally wouldn’t mention it,” said Ethel, lifting the lid of -the coffee pot and closing it with a spiteful snap. - -“Now, dear, let’s think the best we can of every one,” said Mrs. -Durland. She had with difficulty persuaded Ethel to apologize to Grace -for questioning her about the imaginary Miss Conwell and it seemed for -an instant that her efforts to promote harmony were to fail, now that -Grace had mentioned Irene. - -“Oh, it happened by accident!” Grace explained. “Irene and I were -lunching together at the store and John strolled in looking for me. And -he was polite enough to include Irene in his invitation.” - -“I’d hardly expect her to do anything as tame as going to a picture -show,” said Ethel. - -“Well, as I’ve said before, Irene isn’t as bad as you paint her. You -probably wouldn’t think she’d waste time on John, but they get on -famously.” - -“John isn’t quite what I thought he was,” said Ethel, ignoring her -mother’s signal for silence. - -“That’s because he wouldn’t let you choose a church for him,” said -Grace, gingerly drawing a pan of corn muffins from the oven. “John -lives his religion, which is a lot better than parading it all the -time.” - -“Now, Grace, Ethel didn’t mean to reflect on John,” Mrs. Durland -hastened to explain. - -“It may give you a better impression of John to know he’s been very -kind to Roy,” said Grace. - -“How’s that, Grace?” asked Mrs. Durland quickly. “I didn’t get a chance -to ask John about Roy.” - -“John wouldn’t have told you he’d been helping Roy even if you’d asked -him. John doesn’t advertise his good works. But I had a letter from one -of the girls the other day and she was teasing me about John. She said -he must be seriously interested in me for he’d been coaching Roy in his -law work. I call it perfectly splendid of John when he has so much to -do.” - -“It’s certainly kind of John,” said her mother, “I wish you’d told me -so I could have thanked him. But I didn’t suppose Roy needed coaching. -He’s working very hard; he’s sent just scraps of letters all winter and -gives as his excuse that he’s too busy to write.” - -“We’ve all got to begin thinking about what Roy will do after he’s -graduated,” said Ethel. “I’ve talked to some of the lawyers who come -into our office and they all say he’d better go into an office as clerk -until he gets started. A young man can’t just hang out his shingle and -expect business to come to him.” - -“It’s too bad your father isn’t in a position to help Roy,” sighed Mrs. -Durland. - -“Why not let Roy make some suggestions himself about what he wants to -do,” said Grace. “He’s got to learn self-reliance sometime. John Moore -hadn’t anybody to boost him and he’s already found a place in one of -the best offices in town.” - -“But Roy’s case is very different,” replied Mrs. Durland, instantly on -the defensive. “John’s older for one thing and the hard work he’s done -to get his education naturally arouses sympathy. I want us all to make -Roy feel our confidence in him. I’m getting anxious to have him home. -He’s going to be a great comfort to me and it will be fine for you -girls to have your brother back. You can both of you do a lot for him. -And, Grace, he can help you solve many of your problems,--socially I -mean.” - -“I shall want Roy to know all my friends,” said Ethel. “Since I’ve been -with Gregg and Burley I’ve made a good many acquaintances among men who -are in a position to help Roy.” - -“Roy’s fine social side is bound to be a help to him in his -profession,” said Mrs. Durland. “He’s always been a friendly boy.” - -“Yes, mother,” Grace replied. “Roy certainly has a way of making -friends.” - -She refrained from saying that these friends were not always wisely -chosen. She dreaded the time when he would finish at the University -and begin his efforts to establish a law practice. A good many young -men of the best type of ambitious student had confided in her as -to their plans for the future and she thought she knew pretty well -the qualities essential to success. Roy was blessed with neither -initiative nor industry, and she knew as her mother and Ethel did not, -the happy-go-lucky fashion in which he had played through his college -course, and his rebellion against undertaking the law. It was quite -like him to lean upon John Moore. He must be doing badly or John would -not have volunteered to aid him. - -As they ate breakfast, with Mr. Durland dividing attention between -his food and his newspaper, Mrs. Durland’s usual attempt to create -an atmosphere of cheer for the day struck Grace as pathetic in its -futility. Hearing her father’s voice she roused herself to find -that her mother had asked him to look in the market reports for the -quotations on turkeys. Christmas was approaching and Roy would be -home; and Mrs. Durland was speculating as to whether a turkey for the -Christmas dinner would be too serious a strain on the family budget. -Durland shifted uneasily in his chair as his wife recalled that they -had never been without a Christmas turkey since they were married. -Grace noting the fleeting pain in her father’s patient eyes, hastened -to say that beyond question the turkey would be forthcoming. It was a -relief to be out of the house, walking to the car with her father who -was laden as usual with his notebooks and drawings. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - - -I - -“What’s the difference, lady?” - -The remark she had heard the salesgirl make to the critical shopper -was often in Grace’s mind. What did anything really matter! But the -aisles at Shipley’s were crowded with importunate holiday shoppers, and -she was able to forget herself in her work. She had been complimented -by the superintendent of the store; she was already one of the most -successful saleswomen in her department. She had earned as high as -fifty dollars a week, not a contemptible sum, even if to earn it she -had become Number Eighteen at Shipley’s! - -Four days passed and still no word from Trenton. On two nights Grace -cried herself to sleep in a confusion of emotions--loneliness, fear -that some evil had befallen him, mortification that she had listened to -his protestations of love, and hope that he would yet explain himself. -Her repeated efforts to shut him out of her mind failed miserably. She -had not known until his communications ceased how much she counted on -him, or how completely he had captivated her imagination. - -As she waited for a customer to decide upon a wrap her gaze fell -upon a young woman whom she recognized, after a bewildered moment of -uncertainty, as Mrs. Bob Cummings. - -Briskly summing up the arguments in favor of the garment her customer -was considering, Grace was disagreeably conscious that Evelyn appeared -to be waiting for an opportunity to speak to her. Grace answered -perfunctorily the last question of her customer and made out the charge -slip. As she concluded the transaction and bade her customer good -morning Evelyn crossed the room. - -“Please pardon me, Miss Durland!” she began, half extending and then -withdrawing her hand. - -“Is there something I can show you?” asked Grace in her most -business-like tone. - -“Not a thing, Miss Durland,” said Evelyn and smiled ingratiatingly. -“You are terribly busy I know, but there’s something I want to say to -you; it will take only a minute. I’m sorry I was so rude the other -night; may I--apologize?” - -“That’s quite unnecessary,” said Grace coldly, and was instantly vexed -that she had thought of no better response. Evelyn, embarrassed for a -moment, smiled again. She was much prettier than Grace had thought her -at McGovern’s. - -“It was all so ridiculous!” said Evelyn, now perfectly composed. -“Bob’s such a baby! I didn’t mind at all your going out to supper with -him. What I did mind was his acting like an idiot when I walked in on -you. Jimmie was just as idiotic--the idea of explaining anything! And -then _Bob_ must try to explain! That bored me just as it bored you. -Of course I wasn’t going to let him explain! But I’m sorry I lost my -temper and spoke to you as I did. Won’t you forgive me?” - -“If there’s any forgiving to be done let’s both do it!” said Grace; and -they smiled at each other. - -“Men are such fools!” exclaimed Evelyn, as though greatly relishing the -statement. “Nothing ever pleased me more than the way you made Bob take -you home. And then he came back to McGovern’s and complained--actually -complained to _me_!--that you had given him the slip! He did -that--really he did! Can you imagine it?” - -Her mirth over the affair had communicated itself to Grace. It hadn’t -occurred to her that Bob might have returned to McGovern’s when she -left him. - -“Bob is so obvious!” Evelyn continued. “He’s just got to have sympathy. -Really, he wanted _me_ to sympathize with him because you shook him in -the road! Jimmy and I teased him till he cried for mercy. Bob’s a dear -boy but he needs just the jar you gave him. You were perfect! And you -won’t think the worse of me will you, for losing my temper?” - -“Certainly not!” said Grace, “I’ve known Bob so long----” - -“Yes; the moment Jimmy spoke your name I knew all about you, and -understood everything. He wanted sympathy and being a sentimental -person he sought you out of the score of old friendship. Just like him! -Selfish is no name for him! But to think he was afraid of me! He gave -himself away terribly! He’s so meek now it’s positively pathetic!” - -To be laughing over Bob’s frailties with Bob’s wife was something that -hadn’t figured in Grace’s calculations. The superintendent, on his way -through the department, frowned to see Number Eighteen neglecting her -duties to chat with a caller, but recognizing Mrs. Cummings he asked -deferentially whether she was finding what she wanted. - -“Miss Durland is taking excellent care of me,” Evelyn replied. “I’m -violating all the rules, I suppose,” she said when the man had passed -on. “If they scold you let me know and I’ll speak to Mr. Shipley about -it. Just one thing more! Bob has told me about your father and the way -Mr. Cummings, senior, treated him. It wasn’t fair; Bob says that. I’d -like you to know I’m sorry----” - -“It was all in the way of business,” said Grace. “I have no feeling -about it; I’m only sorry for my father and mother. It was a blow they -hadn’t expected.” - -“It wasn’t nice,” said Evelyn decisively. “I wish we could really -become acquainted. I’m going to ask you up for dinner soon--please -don’t say no! There are some young people I’d like you to meet. -Good-bye and thank you ever so much.” - - -II - -Grace turned to a waiting customer with a kindlier feeling for all the -world. She was uncertain whether in like circumstances she would have -been capable of the kindness and generosity Evelyn had manifested. It -pleased her to believe that her education in the ways of the changing, -baffling world was progressing. - -Evelyn Cummings was evidently a young woman without illusions; she -knew exactly how to manage a temperamental husband. Marriage, as Grace -viewed it with the three different illustrations afforded by Kemp, -Trenton and Cummings, was of the realm of insubstantial things. Even -the spectacle offered in her own home by her father and mother, between -whom disappointment and adversity had reared a wall no less grim -because of their steadfast loyalty, was hardly convincing on the other -side of the picture. Stephen Durland and his wife were held together -by habit, by a deeply implanted sense of duty to their children. Grace -could not remember when her father had kissed her mother, or in any way -manifested any affection for her. And yet in the beginning they must -have loved each other. She wondered whether it was always like that! - -She had given up all hope of hearing again from Trenton when on the -tenth day she received a note postmarked New York, that set her heart -fluttering. - - My Dear Little Girl: - - What must you think of me! I think pretty poorly of myself, I can - tell you. Picked up a cold on my way East. Pretended it didn’t amount - to anything; motored down into New Jersey for a week-end with some - old friends. Got chilled on the drive; pneumonia almost. My host - was afraid I’d die on his hands and made a frightful row--couple of - doctors, nurse and all the other frills.... I had no way of letting - you know. Found your letter when I came into town this morning. I’m - away behind on my jobs.... The great thing is that I want to see you - and look into those dear, dark eyes again.... One day at twilight - down there in the country, I thought of you so intently that I really - brought you into the room! The nurse was sitting beside the bed, - then suddenly you were there, your dark head clearly outlined in - the dusk. You lifted your hand to touch your hair--that’s a pretty - trick you have! You have so many dear ways--and you smiled--another - sweet way you have!--the smile coming slowly, like a dawn, until it - brightened all the world. The illusion was so perfect that it wasn’t - an illusion at all, but really you! I was terribly indignant at the - nurse when she turned on the light and I lost you.... The doctor says - I may travel in three or four days and my thoughts carry me in only - one direction. You haven’t sent me the telegram I hoped for; never - mind about that. Please wire me that you are well. And if you put in - a word to say that you want to see me I shall be the happiest man - alive. Be assured of my love always. - -He hadn’t forgotten her; he really cared! She moved with a quicker -step; her work had never gone so smoothly. While she had been -doubting him, trying to put him out of her heart he had been ill. -She was unsparing in self-accusation for what now seemed the basest -disloyalty. She tried to picture the room to which his longing had -summoned her. Those lines in his letter moved her deeply and set her to -speculating whether such a thing might not be possible in the case of -two beings who loved each other greatly. - -There was no intimation in the letter that his wife had been with him -in his illness. Grace grew bitter as she thought of Mrs. Trenton, who -was probably roaming the world preaching a new social order to the -neglect of her husband. In countenancing Trenton as a lover Grace found -Mrs. Trenton’s conduct her most consoling justification. It came down -to this, that if Ward Trenton’s wife failed in her marital obligations -there was no justice in forbidding him to seek happiness elsewhere. - -This view was in fact advanced in Mary Graham Trenton’s “Clues to a New -Social Order.” It seemed a fair assumption that Mrs. Trenton wouldn’t -advocate ideas for all mankind that she wouldn’t tolerate in her own -husband. - -At her lunch hour Grace went to the telegraph office and sent this -message: - -“Greatly troubled by your illness. Please take good care of yourself. -You may be sure I shall be glad to see you.” - -“Straight telegram, paid,” the clerk repeated perfunctorily, and swept -the message under the counter. The sending of the telegram gave Grace -a gratifying sense of kinship with the larger world which Trenton’s -love had revealed to her. She found happiness all the afternoon in -wondering just what he would be doing and how he would look when the -message reached him. She wrote that night the longest letter she had -yet written him. She thought often of what Irene had said about wanting -to be loved. To be loved, in the great way that Miss Reynolds had said -was the only way that counted,--this had become the great desire of her -heart. Old restraints and inherited moral inhibitions still resisted -her impulse to fashion her life and give herself as she pleased. She -meant to be very sure of Trenton and even more sure of her own heart -before committing herself further. She was not, she kept assuring -herself, an ordinary or common type. She dropped into her letter -several literary allusions and a few French phrases with a school -girl’s pride in her erudition. There were times when Grace was very -young! - -Trenton’s next letter reported his complete recovery. He was working -hard to make up for lost time, but would leave for the West as soon as -possible and hoped to spend Christmas in Indianapolis. Incidentally -he had business there in which she might be able to assist him. This -was further explained in a typewritten enclosure which he asked her to -deliver to her father. He warned her that the inquiry might lead to -nothing, but there were certain patents held in Stephen Durland’s name -which he wished to investigate. - -“The name Durland,” he wrote, “gave me a distinctly pleasant shock -when the memorandum turned up on my desk in the routine of the office. -There may be a place where I can use some of your father’s ideas; but -in this business we’re all pessimists. I appoint you my agent and -representative on the spot. Don’t let your father dispose of any of the -patents described in my letter till we can have an interview.” - -She made the noon hour the occasion for one of her picnic lunches with -her father in his work shop. - -He looked up from a model he was tinkering and greeted her with his -usual, “That you, Grace?” - -“Very much Grace!” she answered, tossing her packages on the bench. -“What are you on today--perpetual motion or a scheme for harnessing the -sun?” - -“A fool thing a man left here the other day; wanted me to tell him why -it didn’t work. It doesn’t work because there’s no sense in it.” - -As he began to explain why the device was impracticable she snatched -off his hat and flinging it aside with a dramatic flourish handed him a -sandwich. - -“Don’t waste your time on such foolishness; we’re only interested in -machines that work!” - -She sprang upon the bench and produced Trenton’s letter. - -“Let your eye roam over that, old top! And don’t tell me you’ve let -somebody take those things away from you.” - -Durland pondered the letter, lifting the business sheet closer to his -eyes as he examined Trenton’s small neat signature. He walked to a -closet and extracted some papers from the confused mass within. - -“Well, daddy, what’s the answer?” - -“I got those patents all right; they cover my improvements on my old -gas engine Cummings is making. There’s already been a fellow nosing -round asking about ’em; from Cummings I guess. I got something now -that’s going to interest everybody that’s making motors; something I -been working at two or three years. Cummings can’t have ’em. He hasn’t -got any right to ’em!” - -His eyes flashed as his hatred of Cummings for the moment possessed -him. Grace had never taken seriously her father’s hints that Cummings -might have got rid of him too soon. She had never before seen -him so agitated. He paced the floor, reiterating that his former -associate should never profit by his improvements on any of the old -Cummings-Durland devices. He paused, picked up an apple and bit into it -savagely. - -“Now, daddy,” said Grace, “it isn’t at all like you to flare up that -way. Mr. Trenton hasn’t a thing to do with Cummings; I happen to know -that. But he’s a business adviser and particular friend of Kemp.” - -“Kemp!” Durland repeated, lifting his head with a jerk. “You think -maybe Kemp’s interested? Kemp could use these patents; there isn’t a -thing in these improvements that wouldn’t fit right into Kemp’s motor!” - -“That’s perfectly grand! Now that you’ve got your patents, what you -want to do is to sit back and wait. There must be something pretty good -in your ideas or Mr. Trenton wouldn’t be interested. Wouldn’t it be -wonderful if the dollars would begin to roll in?” - -“I’ve been fooled a lot of times, Grace,” he answered, picking up -his hat, staring at it as though it were an unfamiliar thing and -clapping it on his head. “I guess you better not say anything about -this at home. If it doesn’t come to anything I don’t want your mother -disappointed.” - -“Of course not; it’s our big secret, daddy. I just love having secrets -with you. After the row at home the other night about Mr. Trenton’s -niece we’d better never mention him.” - -“What was that all about, Grace?” he asked frowning. “I didn’t get what -Ethel was drivin’ at.” - -“Just making herself disagreeable, that’s all. I told a fib, but Ethel -had no business to attack me that way before guests.” - -“Ethel’s kind o’ different somehow,” he said, drawing the back of -his hand across his mouth. “I guess she means all right. Funny, you -children ain’t any of you alike,” he went on ruminatively. “I don’t -ever seem to get much out o’ Ethel and Roy.” - -“Roy and Ethel are both fond of you, daddy. And you know I adore you; -I’m simply crazy about you!” - -She pounced upon him and threw her arms about his neck, laughing at his -struggles to avoid the kisses she distributed over such parts of his -face as were free of grime. - -“You’re a mighty fine girl, Grace. There mustn’t anything happen to -you,” he said, freeing himself. - -“Oh, you needn’t be afraid, you dear angel! Nothing’s going to happen -to me! Here’s where I skip--vamoose--disappear! I’m going to take you -to a show tonight--yes, I am! You be awfully surprised when I spring it -at supper.” - - -III - -Trenton wrote again that he would reach town at noon of Christmas day -and expected to remain a week. - -“Why didn’t you tell me Ward’s been sick?” asked Irene when Grace told -her that he was coming. “You’re certainly the secretive little one.” - -“How did you know it?” Grace demanded. “You and Tommy made up?” - -The girls were putting up stock at the end of the day and quiet reigned -over the department, broken only by the voices of gossiping employees. - -“I’ve been dying to tell you something all day,” said Irene holding -up her hand on which the emerald had been restored to it’s old place. -“Yes; Tommy told me about Ward.” - -“Well----” - -“Oh, I’ve just taken him back on trial,” said Irene with a sigh. “Poor -Tommy! Minnie got me up to her apartment last night for supper and -who should walk in but Tommy! He swore that girl in Chi didn’t mean -anything in his life. He saw her just once when he had dinner with her -and some other people; he was careful to mention the other people! I -believed him even if he had denied the whole business on the telephone. -Tommy looks terribly pathetic. He’s going to die if he doesn’t check -up. His wife’s gone to California for the winter, and he’s drowning his -sorrow in too much booze. Another victim of prohibition! Tommy’s one of -the million who didn’t know he had to have it till they took it away -from him!” - -“Well, I’m glad you’ve fixed it up. It’s much nicer to be friends with -him.” - -“Just a friend, that’s all,” replied Irene, slowly shaking her head. -“The poor boy really needs somebody to keep him straight. From what he -said his wife went away in disgust. Why don’t these women stay at home -and look after their husbands and not leave the job to us poor working -girls!” - -“Irene, you’re a perfect scream! Don’t make me laugh like that or we’ll -never get this stuff put away.” - -“It’s not a laughing matter,” said Irene, maintaining her tone of lofty -indignation. “I can tell you right now that a woman who parks her -husband’s taking an awful chance.” - -Before they separated Irene warned Grace that Kemp had it in mind to -drive them with Trenton to The Shack Christmas afternoon. - -“He wanted us to have dinner out there but I told him nothing doing. -I’d promised to play with my family and besides I can’t let him think -I’m forgiving him too easy.” - - -IV - -On Christmas morning as Grace was helping in the kitchen John Moore -called her on the telephone. He had moved to town the day before and -thought it would be fine if they could ride to the end of one of the -trolley lines that afternoon and take a tramp. Grace excused herself -with the plea that she already had an engagement to go to a matinee. - -She sang about her work, watching the clock to mark the approach of -the hour of Trenton’s arrival. His coming would bring a crisis in -her life. The exchange of gifts in the household, the cheer all the -members of the family were trying to bring to the day and the train -of associations the festival inevitably awakened touched her; but -not as in other years. There was a difference now. She stood free, -self-assured, confidently seeing in life a great adventure. - -As quickly as possible after dinner she flew to her room to dress, and -at half-past two reached Minnie Lawton’s, where she found Irene waiting. - -“Tommy took Ward to The Shack from the train. They had dinner out -there. Tommy’s car’s waiting, so we’ll prance right along.” - -Grace was disappointed at not seeing Trenton at Minnie’s and on the -drive to The Shack talked little. - -“You either don’t want to see him at all, or you’re consumed with -anxiety,” commented Irene. - -Kemp had given her a thousand dollar bond for a Christmas present. Her -acceptance of the gift she mentioned without apology. She was going to -save her money, she said in her spacious manner; a girl who didn’t put -away something for a rainy day was a fool. - -The car was stopped suddenly just inside the entrance to Kemp’s farm -and Trenton smilingly opened the door. - -“Merry Christmas! Tommy refused to leave the fire!--the poor old -salamander! But being of tougher fibre, here I am to meet you!” - -His unexpected appearance had found Grace unprepared and she was -grateful for the moment his banter with Irene gave her to adjust -herself. He stood with head bared, the wind ruffling his hair. The -astrakan collar of his overcoat, turned up about his neck, set off -effectively his handsome head and high-bred face. He was indubitably -handsome, a man to be noticed in a crowd. Grace felt a new pride in the -knowledge that he loved her. She laughed at some mocking reply he gave -Irene and found his gaze upon her, the grave eyes all tenderness. - -“For heaven’s sake, get in, Ward!” exclaimed Irene. “You’ll catch your -death standing there.” - -“I’m going to live forever! Grace, are you shod for a walk? Then we’ll -let Irene drive on!” - -He led the way to a point where the driveway skirted a woods-pasture, -and opened a gate. The sense of strangeness at being with him again -passed quickly as he began answering her questions about his illness. -He declared that he was too well-seasoned to be killed by a cold. And -besides he had found that he had something to live for, and that made a -difference. A year before he would have relinquished his life without -regret; now through her he had found the hope and the promise of life. - -“I couldn’t bear the idea of going indoors until I’d had you all to -myself a little while.” - -The trees rose tall and black against the bluest of winter skies. A -southwest wind whined fitfully among the boughs overhead. Grace felt -the power of elemental forces in her blood. She was a free spirit -in a world where the children of men were created of all time to be -free. Through what Trenton was saying and her replies this thought was -dominant. It lifted her to a mood of exaltation; it seemed that she -could touch the heavens with her finger tips. A branch of brier caught -her skirt and Trenton was quickly on his knees to free it. He looked -up into her face before he rose and she touched his cheek with her -hand,--lightly and caressingly. - -“I make you my true knight,” she said. “Arise, Sir Ward!” - -He rose and took her in his arms. - -“Oh, my dearest! This is worth waiting for; this is worth living for!” - -“You are so dear,” she whispered; “you are so wonderful!” - -“Have you missed me; have you really thought of me?” he asked. “Do I -really mean something to you?” - -“Not something, but everything!” - -There was a sob in her throat. She clung to him, laying her cheek to -his face, calling him by endearing names that were new to her lips. -“Sometimes I doubted you, dear. When I didn’t hear from you I thought -you’d forgotten; and it hurt me so!” - -“I understand how that would be,” he said tenderly. “I’d have let -you know if there’d been any way. I was afraid to ask my friends to -telegraph; it would have involved explanations.” - -“I only want your forgiveness. I’ll never doubt you again, dear!” - -“We must have faith in each other; we must trust each other,” he said. -“You know I’d trust you round the world.” - -She clasped her arms about his neck and held him in a long kiss to seal -his faith in her. As they went on she told him about Bob Cummings and -the visit to McGovern’s. - -“It was to give myself a chance to forget you. I wanted to see if I -_could_ forget you. All that day I had thought of you so steadily that -I was unhappy. I hated the thought of going home and sitting in my room -and thinking of you. Can you understand how that would be?” - -As she began the story in a tone that was half self-accusation, half -apology, he teasingly pretended to make something tragic of it, but -when he saw that it was a matter of conscience with her to confess he -hastened to make it easy for her. Assured that he saw in the episode no -disloyalty she gave every humorous twist to the incident. He laughed -till the woods rang when she described the manner in which she had -slipped away from Cummings and taken the trolley home. - -“I’m warned now,” he said, “but don’t you ever try running away from -me!” - -“Oh, I don’t know!” she cried. “I dare you to catch me!” She vaulted -the fence into a corn field and alertly dodged him as he pursued her -over the stubble and among the shocks. She was fleet of foot and easily -outdistanced him. She ended the long chase by hiding behind a shock and -then as he blundered about seeking her, she sprang out and flung her -arms about him. - -“It’s time to go to the house,” he said, glancing at the lowering -sun. “Tommy threatened to have tea. We’ll take another way back; it’s -longer!” - -“Isn’t it too bad that things must end? I wish today could last -forever!” - -“Let’s think of it only as the beginning! Today I refuse to think of -anything disagreeable. I only ask to be sure you belong to me.” - -“Oh, dear and splendid one, you don’t question it!” A smile played -about her lips and her dark eyes were afire. “I love you!” she -whispered. “I love you! I love you!” - -The path they were following paralleled the highway at this point and -as they clung to each other a man passed in the road, walking rapidly -toward town. He could hardly have failed to see their embrace. - -It was John Moore, taking alone the tramp he had asked Grace to share -with him. He paused and stared, lifted his hat and hurried on. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - - -I - -Grace and Trenton had sprung apart as Moore passed in the highway -and they waited in silence until the sound of his even step over the -hard macadam died away. The romp through the corn field had loosened -her hair and she began thrusting it back under her hat. Trenton, -straightening his tie, looked the least bit crestfallen. - -“Who was that?” he asked. - -“John Moore, an awfully nice fellow I knew in college. He’s just moving -to Indianapolis to go into the law.” - -“There’s no question but he saw us. It’s so easy to forget there are -other people in the world! I hope his seeing us won’t embarrass you.” - -“Oh, John’s all right,” she replied. “The only embarrassment is that I -fibbed to him about this afternoon. He asked me to go walking,--we did -a lot of tramping at college--and I told him I was going to a matinee.” - -“Well, you were!” laughed Trenton; then with an attempt at -carelessness, “Is he a suitor?” - -“Heavens, no! But I admire John as every one does who knows him. He’s a -mighty good friend, and the kindest soul in the world.” - -As they resumed their walk toward The Shack she continued talking of -John, Trenton manifesting a sympathetic interest and asking questions -to elicit further anecdotes of Moore’s varied activities at the -University. - -“He may be in love with you,” he suggested. “You see I can’t help being -just a little jealous of every man you knew before you knew me.” - -“If John’s in love with me he’s very successful in concealing it!” she -laughed. “No; strange as it may seem, he likes to talk to me and I’m -proud of his friendship. He does a lot of reading and thinking. He’s -a fine character and you’d be sure to like him. He’s leaving the law -school to go into Judge Sander’s office; the Judge has picked him for a -winner.” - -“I know Sanders; he’s Tommy’s lawyer. I see I’ll have to keep an eye on -Moore,” he went on teasingly. “I’m not sure he isn’t likely to become a -dangerous rival!” - -“I wish I were sure you could be jealous! Maybe I’m jealous too! Hasn’t -that ever occurred to you?” - -She was a little frightened at her temerity in asking a question that -was the crystallization of her constant speculation as to his attitude -toward his wife. There flashed through her mind everything he had said -of Mrs. Trenton, which, to be sure, was very little though the little -required clarifying. She recalled the apology in his St. Louis letter -for having spoken of Mrs. Trenton at all. In that first talk at The -Shack he had led her to believe that his wife gave him wide liberty to -do as he pleased; but it was conceivable that a woman might indulge her -husband’s acquaintance with women she did not know and was not likely -to meet without sanctioning infidelity. Grace had persuaded herself -that there was a distinct difference between entering into a liaison -with a man who still maintained martial relations with his wife and -one who did not. She was vastly pleased with the moral perception that -showed her this. And she was confident that she had the will to dismiss -him if his explanation of the _modus vivendi_ that existed between him -and his wife should prove to be unsatisfactory. - -The cowpath they were traversing made it necessary for them to walk -singly and he went ahead, holding back the boughs that hung over the -trail. For a few minutes she thought he meant to ignore her question -but suddenly he stopped and swung round. - -“I know what you’re thinking of,” he said quietly. “You’re thinking of -Mrs. Trenton.” - -He pulled a twig from a young maple and broke it into tiny bits. Grace -wondered whether this trifling unconscious act might not symbolize the -casting aside of such slight ties as bound him to his wife. - -“Yes, I’ve thought of her a great deal. You couldn’t blame me for that.” - -“No; that’s wholly natural,” he said quickly. “You wouldn’t be the -woman I know you to be if you didn’t. You have a right to know just -what my relations are with my wife. I’ll be frank about it. I loved her -when I married her and I believe she loved me.” - -There was an appeal for sympathy in his eyes, a helplessness in his -tone that was new to her knowledge of him. It was as though the thought -of Mrs. Trenton brought a crushing depression upon him. Jealousy -yielded to pity in her heart; she was touched with something akin to -maternal solicitude for his happiness. But she wished to know more; the -time had come for an understanding of his attitude toward his wife and -of Mrs. Trenton’s toward him. - -“Does love really die?” she asked almost in a whisper. “If you two -loved each other once how can you tell whether the love is dead or not?” - -“It’s the saddest thing in the world,” he said, smiling in his -tolerance of her ignorance, “that love can and does die. Mrs. Trenton -and I meet rarely now; but our estrangement came about gradually. I -admit that the fault has been more than half mine. In every such case -there’s always fault on both sides. When I saw that her interests -were carrying her away from me, and particularly after she began to -be a public character through her writing and lecturing, I might have -asserted myself a little more strongly--let her know that I wanted -her and needed her even if the first passion was gone. But--you may -laugh at this--I had old-fashioned ideas that didn’t square with her -new notions of things. I wanted children and a home of the traditional -kind. Possibly it was in my mind,” he smiled wanly, “that I expected -my wife to bring my slippers and mother me when I was tired. All men -are babies, you know; but all women don’t understand that. Probably -there’s where the trouble began. And I found myself more and more -alone as Mrs. Trenton got deeper into her reform work. She likes the -excitement of moving about and stirring people up. I think she even -enjoys being criticized by the newspapers. I’m a peaceful person myself -and can’t quite understand that. We still keep a house in Pittsburgh -but I haven’t seen Mrs. Trenton there for a long time. I doubt whether -she any longer considers it her domicile. When we’ve met it’s been by -accident or where I’ve made the opportunity by going to some place -where she was lecturing. The breach has widened until we’re hardly more -than acquaintances. She’s said that if I ever found a woman I thought -I’d be happy with to be frank about it. It may be in her mind to free -me if I ask it. I don’t know. And that’s the situation.” - -“You don’t--you’re sure you don’t--love her any more?” Grace asked, -uttering the words slowly. - -“No”; he answered meeting her direct gaze with a candor that was a -part of his charm for her. “That’s all over. It was over before I met -you. But I suppose, after a fashion, I’m still fond of her; she was -always interesting and amusing. Even as a girl she’d been a great hand -to take up with new ideas. When the suffrage movement developed she -found she could write and speak and I saw less of her to a point where -we began an existence quite independent of each other. I want you to be -satisfied about this; if there’s anything you want to know----” - -“No; I believe you and I think I understand. And I’m sorry--very sorry -for your unhappy times. I wish----” - -“Yes, dear----” - -“Oh, you’re so fine; so kind, so deserving of happiness! I want so much -to help you find it. I want to be of real use to you. You deserve so -much of life.” - -“But--do I deserve you!” he asked softly. - -She answered with a look all eloquent of her love, and kissed him. - -When they reached the house they found Irene and Kemp in the living -room engaged in a heated argument over Irene’s preemption of a bottle -of whiskey which she had seized to prevent his further consumption of -the contents. - -“Take it, Ward!” Irene cried, flinging off Kemp’s hold upon her arm and -handing the bottle to Trenton. “Tommy’s had too much. I’m going to take -him home.” - -“Gimme tha’ bottle; gotta have another drink,” blurted Kemp, lunging -toward Trenton. - -“Not another drop!” said Trenton, passing the bottle to Grace, who ran -with it to the dining room and told Jerry to hide it. Kemp, caught -in Trenton’s arms, drew back and stared, grinning stupidly in his -befuddlement at the legerdemain by which the bottle had eluded him. - -“Tommy’s a naughty boy,” said Irene. “He’s nasty when he’s drunk. Hands -off!” she cried as Kemp again menaced her. “Don’t you dare touch me!” - -“Not goin’ home. Never goin’ home. Goin’ to shtay right here,” declared -Kemp, tottering as he attempted to assume an attitude of defiance. - -The Japanese boy had brought in the tea tray and was lighting the -kettle-lamp. - -“Everythin’s goin’ fine,” Kemp continued, indicating the tray with a -flourish. “Have nice chat over teacups--hiccups--tea-cups--joke, ha, -ha! Guests drink tea; host drink whisk--key--thass thirty year ole, -Ward. Can’t change drinks; always makes me sick change drinks. Where’s -tha’ bottle?” - -“You’ve spoiled everything by getting drunk,” said Irene viciously. -“You’re going home. You know what you told me the other night at -Minnie’s. Your doctor’s warned you to cut out the booze or you’ll die. -Your heart won’t stand it.” - -Kemp turned toward her slowly, opening and closing his eyes in the -effort to comprehend this statement. He was very white; Trenton was -watching him with deep concern. - -“Nothin’ the matter with me. Jus’ foolin’ ’bout doctor. Hadda get lil’ -sympathy out o’ Irene.” - -“I’ll put you to bed, Tommy,” said Trenton. “A nap will pull you out of -this.” - -“No y’ don’t, Ward, old man! Not slippy; not bit slippy.” - -“He’s got a dinner engagement in town at seven and I’ve got a date -myself,” said Irene. “I’ll take him home. The chauffeur will look after -him. There’s no use letting him spoil the day for you and Grace. You -came out in the runabout, didn’t you, Jerry? Jerry can walk over to the -interurban when he’s ready to go and you two can take your time about -going in. You can manage the runabout, can’t you, Ward?” - -“That’s easy enough,” Trenton replied, frowning in his perplexity as he -eyed Kemp, who had stumbled to a chair where he sat breathing heavily. -“But I don’t like your going in alone with Tommy.” - -Irene bent over Kemp and drew a phial from his pocket. She shook out a -tablet and placed it in his mouth. The vigilant Japanese boy was ready -with a glass of water. - -“Strych-ni-ah,” explained Kemp with a drunken grin. “How you come think -o’ that, Irene? First aid ’n all that sor’ thing. Givin’ me poison; -thass wha’ she’s doin’. Forgot I had tha’ stuff in my pocket. Awfu’ -funny. Doctor cut off whiskey and gimme rat poison. Mos’ singular. Mos’ -incomree--in-com-pre-hens-ble.” - -He lay back in his chair and threw out his legs, wagging his head as he -laughed inordinately at his lingual difficulties. When Trenton tried to -feel his pulse he good-naturedly resisted. He was perfectly all right; -never felt better in his life, he declared. - -The question of his immediate return to town was peremptorily settled -by Irene, who rang for the car. - -“His heart’s certainly doing queer things,” said Trenton. “It would be -better for us all to go in.” - -“Oh, he’ll come out of it. It’s nearly dark and I’ll open the car -window and give him air. Craig’s driven him for years and he’ll look -after him at home. I’m sick of this business. If he wants to kill -himself let him go ahead.” - -“He oughtn’t to be left alone at home,” said Grace. “You’d better go -in with him, Ward, and see that he has the doctor.” - -“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Irene decisively. “I’ve been -through this before and his heart kicking up this way doesn’t mean -anything. Alcohol hits him quick but it doesn’t last long. He really -didn’t have enough to make a baby tipsy. But he never learns that he -can’t stand it. You two just forget all about him.” - -Craig, the chauffeur, came in with Kemp’s coat and they got him -into it; but Kemp played for delay. His dinner engagement was of no -consequence; he insisted that Irene could go alone if she pleased; she -was a quitter and above all things he hated a quitter. His engagement -to dine was at the Isaac Cummings’s, and the fact that he was asked -there called for an elaborate explanation which he insisted on -delivering from the door. People were always boring him by asking him -to do things when his wife was away, from a mistaken idea that a man -alone in town is a forlorn and pitiable being, subject to the wiles -of people he cares nothing for and in normal circumstances avoids. -He warmed to the work of abusing Cummings; it was an impertinence on -the part of his business competitor to invite him to his house. The -Cummingses were climbers; his wife detested Mrs. Cummings, and if she -had been home he wouldn’t have been trapped into an engagement of which -he now profoundly repented; and besides the dinner would be dry; he -would never be able to sit through it. The insistence of the others -that it was a formal function and that it was too late to withdraw his -acceptance aroused him to an elaborate elucidation of the Cummings’s -offer of hospitality. Cummings was hard up; he had sunk a lot of money -in oil ventures. Kemp recited a list of Cummings’s liabilities, -tracing imaginary tables of figures on the wall with an unsteady finger -and turning to his auditors for their concurrence in his opinion that -Cummings was on the verge of bankruptcy. - -“Playin’ up to me; thinks Tom Kemp’s goin’ help him out! Poor boob’d -like to merge--merge his business with me--me! No y’ don’t, Mr. -Cummings!” he bowed mockingly to an imaginary Cummings. The bow would -have landed him on the floor if Trenton hadn’t caught him. - -“Jes’ foolin’; don’ need to hol’ me, Ward,” he said, straightening -himself. “Goin’ home ri’ now. Miss Kirby take my arm! Guess I know my -manners; or’nary courtesy due lady ’nevery part th’ worl’.” - -Irene steadied him to the car, and after Craig had lifted him in he -waved his hand to Trenton and Grace with an effort at gaiety. - -“House all yours, Ward; make y’ present ole Shack. Burn it down; do’s -y’ please. Jerry’ll give y’ anythin’ y’ want--wine ’neverythin’.” - - -II - -Grace and Trenton watched the car turn the long bend toward the highway -and hurried back to the fire of hickory logs that crackled merrily in -the living-room fireplace. - -“Now for tea!” said Grace. “I ate a huge dinner but our tramp’s given -me a new appetite.” - -She sat down before the tray while he stood by the hearth, resting his -elbow on the mantel-shelf, watching her. Jerry asked if he should turn -on the lights. - -“Thank you, no, Jerry;” Grace answered. “The fire gives light enough. -No; don’t trouble about dinner. You might give us some sandwiches with -our tea.” - -There was a broad smile on Trenton’s face as he took his cup and sat -down near her. - -“What’s the joke, Ward?” she asked. She was now finding it easy to call -him Ward. - -“It’s not a joke; I was just admiring your manner of addressing Jerry. -It was quite perfect. He was greatly impressed by it.” - -“Oh, was that it! What did you expect me to do--snap at him?” - -“No; I was only thinking how charming you’d be as the lady of a great -house. Your slaves would worship you. Jerry caught the idea too; I -never saw him bow so low.” - -“Jerry’s adorable,” she murmured, her eyes flashing her appreciation -of Trenton’s compliment. “But, really I must look awful; my hair’s in -a mess. I’ll run upstairs and give it a smoothing as soon as we’ve had -tea.” - -“Please don’t! I like it that way. The dark frame for your face adds a -charm that’s bewildering!” - -“What did Tommy mean about Cummings?” she asked presently. “Isn’t the -Cummings business prospering?” - -“Tommy must know what he’s talking about. He never quite loses his head -even when he’s drunk. These are anxious times and it’s quite possible -that Cummings is hard up. Tommy can afford to feel easy because he’s -well off even without his manufacturing business. I’ve got to do -something about Tommy, though,” he went on thoughtfully. “His New -York doctor told me he’ll have to stop his monkey shines or something -unpleasant will happen to him. While I’m here I’m going to try to get -him to submit to treatment. But he’s not easy to manage--frankly says -he prefers a short life and a merry one. We’ve got to save Tommy if we -can.” - -He smiled a little sadly. Grace liked the way he talked of Kemp and -listened attentively while he gave many instances of Tommy’s kindness -and generosity. - -“About your father’s improvements on the motor,” Trenton continued, -“I’ll go into that while I’m here. From the claims of the new patents -it would appear that he’s got something of real value; but we’ll have -to give them a try-out. We can do that at Kemp’s shop. Of course Tommy -will be anxious to get the new ideas if they’re practical.” - -“Even a small success just now will mean so much to father,” said -Grace. “He was greatly excited by your letter and had to be convinced -that you weren’t acting for Cummings. He pretends to mother that there -was nothing unfair in Cummings’s treatment of him, but deep down in his -heart he’s terribly bitter.” - -A fire makes for intimacy and their concord was now so complete that -silence had all the felicity of speech. The perfect expression of -love may be conveyed in a glance and from time to time their eyes met -in communications too precious for words. After these mute periods -the talk would ripple on again unhurriedly as though they were the -inheritors of immeasurable time. - -In moments of animation when her dark eyes flashed and she smilingly -invited his response she disclosed new and beguiling charms. In its -disorder her hair emphasized what Irene was fond of calling Grace’s -gypsy look. - -The tea disposed of, she sent away the tray and as his cigarette case -was empty she filled it from a box Jerry found for her. - -“It seems funny to be using other people’s things this way,” she -remarked. “It’s like finding a house in perfect running order on a -desert island.” - -“You don’t know what a joy it is to be waited on in this fashion.” - -He looked up at her fondly as she stood beside him. When she returned -the case he drew her upon his knees, took her hand and scrutinized it -closely. He pressed a kiss upon the palm and closed his fingers upon it. - -“How long will you keep it?” he asked. - -“The hand?” she asked provokingly. - -“No; what I’ve just put into it!” - -“Oh, I don’t need to keep that, do I? Won’t there be some more?” - -“Millions!” he replied and clasped her tight. - -“Your hands are finely shaped and interesting, Ward. Oh, you have a -double life line! You’ll never die! The Mount of Apollo is wonderfully -developed--don’t you see it, right there? Of _course_ that’s what that -is. It’s plain enough why music affects you so. You really might have -been an artist of some kind yourself.” - -This called for an argument in the course of which she got illuminative -glimpses of him as a boy who was always interested in machinery. He -had been predestined to the calling he had chosen but confessed that -sometimes he wished that he had tried his hand at executive work. - -“I may do it yet,” he said. “I have opportunities occasionally, which -I’m probably foolish to let pass, to take hold of big concerns. But -I’ve liked my freedom to roam. It’s helped solve my problem to be able -to wander.” - -“Yes, I understand, dear,” she said softly, stroking his hair. She -knew that by his problem he meant his wife. Though she had accepted -as sincere his explanation of his relations with Mrs. Trenton, she -resented in spite of herself even this remote reference to the woman -whom she had never seen but had constantly tried to visualize. - -“I might even move to Indianapolis one of these days,” he was saying. -“I have a standing offer from Tommy to come and help him run his plant. -I tell him it’s his game to wish his job on me so he can have more time -to play. And Tommy doesn’t need that!” - -She drew from his waistcoat pocket the locket that had so aroused her -curiosity at their first meeting. - -“What’s in this, Ward?” she asked, holding up the round gold trinket. - -“Oh, _that_!” he said, frowning at it. - -“Don’t look so cross! Must I tease you to show me what’s inside?” - -As she dangled it at arm’s length he encouraged the idea that its -contents were secret by snatching it away. - -“It’s the darkest of mysteries. What will you give me for a peep?” - -“I might give you one kiss,” she said, deliberating, “if I like what’s -inside.” - -“Oh, I must have three!” - -“Agreed. But don’t show me if you don’t want to.” - -“Well, it’s a great concession, a privilege reserved only for royalty.” - -He opened the locket guardedly, so turning it as to conceal the inner -surfaces. - -“Just a moment, please. Do you stand by the bargain?” - -“Absolutely.” - -He gave it to her, laughing at her disappointment at finding it empty. - -“Fraud!” she exclaimed. “How long has it been empty?” - -“Do you really want to know?” he asked, suddenly grave. - -“Yes; but not if you’d rather not tell me.” - -“I can’t give the exact date, but you can approximate it for yourself. -Do you remember the first time I wrote you--from St. Louis? It seems -aeons ago!” - -“Yes; I’ll never forget that.” - -“Well, that night I took out and destroyed a little photograph I’d -carried there for a good many years. I’ll leave you to guess why I -didn’t care for it any more.” - -“Your wife’s picture?” - -“Yes; I bought the locket right after we were engaged and the picture -had been there until I took it out that night in St. Louis.” - -“Tell me more about how you came to take it out,” she asked with the -insistence of a child demanding the continuation of a story. “Didn’t -it have any kind of meaning for you any more,--not even little -associations--memories--you wouldn’t lose?” - -“No; it was as though something had died in me and utterly ceased to -be. I was wondering about a lot of things that night. After I had -written to you I wrote a letter to Mrs. Trenton. She had said from time -to time that if I ever found myself interested in another woman not -to be afraid to tell her. I don’t know how seriously she meant that. -Odd as it may seem, I don’t _know_ Mrs. Trenton! I used to think I did -but that was sheer conceit on my part. As long as she had made that -suggestion--about telling her if I met a woman who really appealed to -me more than she did--I thought I’d tell her about you. Oh, I didn’t -tell your name nor where you live!” he exclaimed seeing the look of -consternation on Grace’s face. “My agreement with her was half a joke; -in later years I’ve never quite known when to take her seriously. -I suppose I wrote her more to feel her out as to whether she might -not have reached the point where it would be a good thing to quit -altogether.” - -“Well,” Grace asked, “what did she say?” - -“Oh, so far her only answer has been a magnificent silence! The -philosophers agree, don’t they, that a woman doesn’t always mean what -she says? But a silence is even more baffling. What would you say about -it?” - -“A little ominous--perhaps----” - -“Contempt, disdain, indifference? Maybe she’s just awaiting further -advices, as we say in business.” - -“Possibly she never got the letter.” - -“That’s conceivable; she’s a fast traveler; the mails have hard work to -catch up with her.” - -“You don’t really know whether she got the letter or what she would -have written if she received it. Maybe she’s just waiting for a chance -to talk to you about it.” - -“Well, in any event we needn’t worry about it,” said Trenton with a -shrug. She rose and drew up a low rocker and sat beside him, facing the -fire. - -“I’d like to have seen your letter,” said Grace, musingly. - -“I told her you kissed me. Like a brave man I put the responsibility on -you!” - -“Oh, that wasn’t fair!” she cried hastily. “It would be sure to give -her a bad impression of me.” - -“I think I intimated that it was only such a kiss as a daughter might -bestow upon a father she didn’t think so badly of! I shall always be -glad that our first kiss was like that; we’ve traveled a long way since -then.” - -“Every step has been so dear,” she said contentedly. “I think I could -never forget one single thing. I don’t believe I’ve forgotten a word -you’ve ever said to me. And when you were away I lived our times all -over again. And I like to imagine that we talk to each other by our own -private wireless even when you are miles away. I think I can imagine -just what you would say and how you would look when you said it. Oh,--” -she bent forward quickly and grasped his hand in both of hers; her lips -quivered and there was a mist in her eyes. “Oh!--I wish I didn’t love -you so _much_!” - -“Has it occurred to you,” he asked, “that we’re alone away out here in -the woods?” - -“I don’t feel a bit lonesome; I’d never be afraid anywhere with you!” - -The fire had burned low and she watched admiringly his manner of -replenishing it. He used the shovel to push back the ashes and bring -the embers together in a neat bed, in the center of which he dropped -a fresh log with calculated accuracy. It was his scientific mind, she -reflected, habituated to careful planning even in unimportant things. -He stood for a moment inspecting his work; moved the log a trifle; -watched attentively the effect of the change, and as the dry loose bark -broke into flame brushed the hearth neatly and smiled into her eyes as -he found her at his side. - -“You do everything just right! I love to see you use your hands,” she -said. “They’re so strong and skillful.” - -“I ought to know something about fires; I’ve made enough of them. As -a young fellow I did a lot of jobs that took me into remote places, -surveying and construction gangs; and I’ve camped a bit--hunting and -fishing. I might even say that I can make coffee and fry bacon without -utterly destroying their food values.” - -She established him before the fire in the most comfortable chair in -the room and sat at his feet. With her arms folded upon his knees to -make a resting place for her head she listened with the rapt attention -a child gives to a beguiling chronicler as he told how he was lost for -three days in the Canadian wilds, and of a flight by canoe on a stormy -night to fetch a doctor for one of his party who had fallen ill. He had -given her from the first a sense of far horizons, and tonight her fancy -perfected every picture his narratives suggested of hills and woodlands -and streams. They constituted a new background against which she saw in -him an heroic figure equal to any demand that might be made upon his -strength and courage. - -“One of these days,” he went on, “We must do the Canadian Rockies -together; and then I’d like to take you to some places I know in -Maine--just guides and canoes and _us_; and I want to do India before -I die, but not without you. You’re in all my future! I want to live a -long time to enjoy life with you. Does that appall you?” - -She was gazing wide-eyed into the fire, her dark eyes the harbor of -dreams, and he laughed and bent forward to touch her cheek and break -the spell that bound her. - -“I should love it _all_, dear!” she said with a happy sigh. “To be with -you, to share everything with you! Oh, that would be more happiness -than I could bear!” - -“You do love me; tell me, dear, once more, that you do!” - -“More than all this earth and the stars! More than all the other -universes beyond this one!” she cried, laughing at her extravagance. - -He raised his hand and bade her listen. - -“I thought the wind changed awhile ago. The weather spirit’s abroad. -Let’s have a look.” - -He threw on the porch lights and opened the front door. It was snowing -hard; the porch steps and driveway were already covered, and the -nearest trees had been transformed into ghostly sentinels. She clapped -her hands in delight at the beauty of it. - -“It makes me think of ‘Snow Bound,’” she said when they had gone -back to the fire. “I used to know some of that poem. Little Grace -will now recite for you!” She assumed the attitude of a school girl -recitationist and repeated, gesturing awkwardly: - - “‘What matter how the night behaved? - What matter how the north-wind raved? - Blow high, blow low, not all its snow - Could quench our hearth-fire’s ruddy glow.’ - -I’m talented; you can see that! What if we should be snowed in?” - -“What if we should!” he answered. “Tommy always carries a full larder -and we wouldn’t starve to death.” - -With her hands clasped before her she gazed down at the flames. He -drew his arm about her waist and the room was silent save for the cosy -murmur of the fire. - -“Why not stay here all night? Jerry hasn’t left and he’ll spend the -night if I ask him and give us breakfast. I suppose you have to go to -the store tomorrow?” - -“Yes,--” the assent was to one or all of his questions as he might -choose to interpret it. - -“We can go in of course, early in the morning. I have a nine o’clock -engagement myself.” - -“They’ll be expecting me at home,” she said, pondering deeply, “but if -I could telephone from here----” - -“I think Tommy’s connected direct with the city exchange. Jerry can -tell us.” - -He rang for Jerry, who confirmed his impression as to the telephone -connection. - -Trenton detained the boy to ask for more logs while Grace went to the -pantry to telephone. - -“Were you going into town tonight, Jerry?” - -“No, Mr. Trenton; too complete snowing. I very well stay all night.” - -“The runabout’s in order, is it?” - -“Yezzah.” - -“Miss Durland and I are spending the night. If you could give us -breakfast, Jerry?” - -“With much ease, Mr. Trenton.” - -Trenton lit a cigarette and smoked meditatively while Jerry noiselessly -filled the wood box. Grace reappeared as Jerry stood awaiting further -instructions. - -“Oh, Grace, what time shall we say for breakfast?” Trenton asked -casually. - -“I must be at the store at eight-thirty,” she answered from the door. - -“Then breakfast at seven? We’d better allow a little extra time in case -the snow keeps up. Seven it is, Jerry.” - -The boy left them and could be heard moving about upstairs. A clock -struck ten and Trenton exclaimed at the hour. - -“I’d have guessed it wasn’t more than eight! The hours do jump along -when the heart’s light. Any difficulty about not going in?” - -“No; not at all. Every one was out but father and I merely said I was -at the house of a girl friend and would spend the night there.” - -She walked to a table and began inspecting the books that were arranged -upon it in careful order. It might have seemed that she wished to avoid -meeting his eyes immediately. He hesitated a moment then crossed to her -quickly. - -“It’s always interesting to see what books you find in a country -house,” he said. “But it’s a mistake to judge the owner by the -literature you find lying about; it’s usually the discards of the -guests. At the place where I caused so much disappointment by not -dying----” - -“Oh, please don’t say it, even as a joke, Ward!” she pleaded, dropping -a book she had opened and laying her hands on his arm. - -“Well, I won’t then! I was jealous of that book. You were so absorbed I -almost felt that I was alone in the room. And I was horribly oppressed -by the general vacancy, emptiness, voidness! Now my vanity is touched -to find that you hadn’t really gone away and left me; you’re very much -here!” - -“You’re so foolish!” she said. “What were the books you found in your -room at that place where you were ill?” - -“Oh, they were on the occult and had been left behind by some -enthusiastic spook hunter. After that hour when I so plainly saw you -right there by my bed I studied those books carefully. I wanted to -explain the transformation of a very plain nurse in spectacles into the -most beautiful girl in the world!” - -“And,--did you explain it?” - -“Yes; but not from the books!” - -“How was it then?” - -“My heart did the explaining. I knew I loved _you_! That’s the answer -to all my questions.” - -“You do love me, Ward, really and truly?” - -“Yes, dear,” and then with head lifted he added as though repeating a -pledge from some ritual: “With all my heart, with all my soul, with -every hope of happiness I have for the future, I love you!” - -He took her in his arms and held her so that he could look down into -her eyes. - -“I want to be everything to you; I want to fill your heart so that you -will turn to me in every need. I want you, all or nothing!” - -Her lips parted tremulously, inviting his kiss. She felt singularly -secure and content in his arms. - -“All or nothing?” she repeated in a low whisper. - -“Yes! There was no escape for us from the beginning,” he said slowly. -“It’s been like a drawing of the tide that no man’s hand could stay.” - -They walked slowly to the hearth, his hands thrust deep into his coat -pockets. He eyed the fire critically and rearranged the half-burnt logs. - -“Guess I’d better put this up as a precaution,” he remarked lifting the -wire screen that stood against the wall and laying it against the arch -under the mantel. “Run along, dear. I’ll see to the locking up.” - -He went into the hall and snapped on the lights and kissed his hand to -her as she started up the steep, old-fashioned stair. The lights were -turned on in all the rooms and humming softly she wandered through -them, pausing finally in one in which a suitcase lay open on a chair, -evidently placed there by Jerry. She recognized it as Irene’s, kept at -The Shack for occasions when she spent the night there. - -Below, Trenton was testing the fastening of the doors. She lifted her -head, listening intently as she heard his step. - - -III - -As she dressed the next morning Grace saw a white world reluctantly -disclosing itself in the gray dawn. Trenton was already gone, and -hearing the scraping of a shovel she looked out and saw him clearing a -path that led to an old barn which Kemp had converted into a garage. -Jerry darted out of the kitchen to remonstrate and Trenton ceased from -his labors to fling a shovelful of snow at him. - -When she went down Trenton met her in the hall, kissed her and led her -with mock ceremony to the dining room door. - -“Breakfast for two! Something awfully cozy about that table, with the -plates so close together!” - -“Just perfect! I’d like to take a run through the snow; wouldn’t it be -jolly! And there’s that hill we climbed yesterday that would be a grand -place for coasting!” - -“No time for that now!” he replied looking at his watch. “There’s -a good six inches of snow and being out so early we’ll have to be -pathfinders. It will be about all we can do to hit Washington street -by eight-thirty. There’s going to be waffles and maple syrup for -breakfast. I got that out of Jerry; also bacon and guaranteed eggs.” - -“The Olympians had nothing on us!” she replied in his own key of -gaiety. - -“Oh, we are become even as the gods!” he cried, drawing out her chair. -“This is a touch--breakfast by candlelight!” - -Tall candles in glass holders lighted the table. Grace for a fleeting -moment thought of the kitchen at home, where her mother and Ethel were -now preparing breakfast, wholly ignorant of her whereabouts. Trenton -saw the smile waver and leave her face, and he bent over and laid his -hand on hers. - -“You know--No! you don’t, you can’t know what all this means to me! I -feel as though I’d been dead and come to life again!” - -“Does it mean so much, dear?” she asked, her eyes, intent and -searching, meeting his. - -“If you look at me like that, dear,” he replied, “I’ll never be able -to finish this grapefruit!” Then with a quick change of tone he asked -anxiously: - -“You’re not unhappy, dear?” - -“No; it’s just the strangeness of being here; that’s all.” - -“It doesn’t seem real to me, either. I’d thought so much of just such -an hour as this, facing a new day and a new world with you, that it’s -hard to believe the dream has really come true!” - -“But you’ll be going away. There will be lots of times I can’t see you. -It’s going to be hard to get used to that,” she said pensively. - -“Don’t worry on that score. I’ve got a lot of work laid out for the -next year right here in the Middle West. I can easily spend my Sundays -in Indianapolis. I’d travel a mighty long way just for a sight of you. -Let’s make the most of today and not worry about tomorrow. Sufficient -unto the day is the happiness thereof!” - -She smiled her acquiescence in this philosophy, was again buoyant, and -joined with him in praising Jerry as the boy appeared with a plate of -fresh waffles. - -“I tell you what I’ll do!” exclaimed Trenton suddenly. “I’ll cut all my -engagements for today if you will and we’ll stay right here!” - -“Oh, it would be wonderful! But I mustn’t even think of it! I’d lose my -job; and besides, I mustn’t forget I have a family. Please don’t try to -persuade me. But you know I’d love to stay--not just today but forever!” - -“I wish you didn’t have your job!” he said, frowning. “I don’t feel -comfortable about that.” - -“Don’t begin telling me I ought to be doing something different! -Everybody else does! I really enjoy my work at Shipley’s.” - -“There ought to be some way,--” he began. Something in her look caused -him to pause. “I was going to say that I don’t like the idea of your -working--you must let me--now--” - -“Ward!” - -“Forgive me, dear,” he said contritely. - -“I believe in work,” she went on quickly. “I mean always to do -something; maybe not just what I’m doing now, but--something!” - -“When you talk that way I feel as though you didn’t expect to belong -to me always.” He rose and drew her to her feet. “Let’s have that -understood here and now.” He held her away, his hands resting lightly -on her cheeks as he looked into her eyes with mock severity. “We’ve got -to be on our way in about two minutes, Miss Durland, and there must be -no nonsense about this. Is it for always?” - -“Yes, for always,” she answered. - -“To the very end?” - -“Yes, to the very end,” she assented soberly, and there was the -foreshadowing of tears in her eyes. - -“No matter what may happen; no matter if there should be times of -separation beyond our control--you will still love me and trust me?” - -“Yes--always. There will never be any one else for me but you,--not if -I live a thousand years.” - -She put her arms about his neck and kissed him,--a kiss without -passion, on forehead and lips. - -“You don’t care less for me,--now?” she asked, and pressed her face -close to his. - -“Grace!” he cried, catching her wrists and looking into her eyes. “You -wouldn’t think that of me! I’d be a beast----” - -She laid her hand over his lips. - -“Forgive me, dear,” she whispered. “If I didn’t trust you I couldn’t -love you; and I just,--I thought----” - -“Dearest little girl!” - - -IV - -The sun came out of the mists as they set off for town with the snow -flung up by the rear wheels of the car whirling behind in a miniature -storm. - -“You’re not afraid of a little speed?” - -“Not with you!” she answered happily. “Was that the right answer?” - -“One hundred per cent correct! Look at the smoke from that farmer’s -chimney--it goes up as straight as a column. Not a breath of air!” - -“It’s a dear good old world,” she said, her eyes reflecting her -enjoyment of the swift rush between the long stretches of white level -fields broken by patches of woodland. - -“What’s the dearest thing in all the world?” he demanded. - -“You!” she replied. - -“Wrong that time! It’s you!” - -“I wonder how many lovers have said just that to each other?” - -“Thousands--billions, no doubt. But that doesn’t matter. It never was -as true of the others as it is of us.” - -“We’re not conceited or anything!” - -“No; just happy! Honestly and truly, are _you_ happy?” - -“Enormously! Are you?” - -“Right up to the perishing point!” - -“Then _why_ are you happy?” - -“Because the dearest girl in the world loves me!” - -They laughed their delight in this interchange, stopped to extricate -from its difficulties a car which, unprovided with skid-chains, -had landed in a ditch, and hurried on to make up for lost time. It -was with a sense of disillusionment that Grace saw the city, as it -seemed, coming out to meet her. Trenton was talking of his day’s -appointments, of the men he expected to see. Grace’s thoughts flew -ahead to the store, where she would meet Irene--meet her friend with a -new self-consciousness--and of the deceptions and evasions that would -be necessary to explain her night’s absence at home. But these thoughts -were fleeting. She was happy in the confidence that the man beside her -truly loved her and her love for him, which she had so often challenged -and questioned even after she first encouraged him to think she cared, -was no longer a matter for debate. She assured herself that there was -nothing base in the relationship into which she had entered with him; -that the attraction had been of the mind and spirit first of all. She -swiftly reviewed all the points upon which her justification rested, -and was satisfied that they stood the test of the morning sunlight and -the clean wholesome air. She had no regrets; no misgivings. She had -already convinced herself that their love was sufficient in itself. -He turned from time to time to smile at her and took her hand that it -might rest beneath his on the wheel. - -“We haven’t settled yet when I’m to see you again. I want every minute -you can give. Can’t we have dinner together tonight?” - -“I wish we could, but I’ve got to go home for supper.” - -“But I can see you afterwards,--please!” - -“I could go to Miss Lawton’s where we met the first time. I think I can -fix it with Minnie.” - -“Then that’s settled! I understand perfectly that you have your family -to consider and we’ve got to remember there are people in the world -who haven’t much to do but pry into other people’s business. They’re a -large and mischievous phalanx. For the present we’ve got to be careful.” - -She was rather relieved that he did not amplify the suggestive “for the -present.” He was thinking, she assumed, of his wife and the freedom -which he had intimated would be his for the asking. But marriage was no -assurance of the perpetuation of love; it was a convention, no doubt -desirable and necessary for society’s protection; but Grace was in a -mood to enjoy her sense of being in rebellion against society, that -intangible “they” which, she had brought herself to believe, quite -ignorantly established laws and in the light of them appraised and -condemned human frailty. - -She derived the greatest comfort from this idea; it encouraged and -strengthened her belief that she was an independent unit of the social -order. If her relationship with Trenton became known she would forfeit -the love and confidence of her family and many prized friendships. -But his love would be compensation for anything she might lose in the -eyes of people she felt to be hopelessly shackled to old notions of -rectitude and chastity with which she no longer felt any concern. It -would be necessary, of course, to maintain secrecy; but it was no one’s -business what she did with her life. - -“Last chance for a kiss,” Trenton exclaimed, slipping his arm about her -as they reached the Meridian street bridge. - -She asked him to let her out at the soldiers’ monument to avoid the -possibility of being inspected by questioning eyes at Shipley’s. -Trenton was going at once to Kemp’s house to make sure Tommy was all -right; he meant to have it out with Tommy about his drinking. - -“Tell your father I’d like to see him tomorrow at two o’clock. Yes; I -have the address.” - -With his good-bye ringing in her ears she walked the few remaining -blocks to the store. - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - - -I - -When Grace reached home that evening her absence of the preceding night -was barely mentioned by her mother, and Ethel did not refer to it at -all. The conduct of another member of the family had aroused grave -apprehensions in the domestic circle and any suspected derelictions -of her own were suffered to pass, or were accepted in a spirit of -resignation, as a part of a visitation of an inscrutable providence -upon the house of Durland. - -Roy had turned up in the early hours of the morning much the worse for -dalliance with a contraband beverage that had served him ill. There was -gloom in the kitchen where she found her mother and Ethel preparing -supper and after satisfying herself that she was not the cause of the -depression she summoned courage to ask her mother what had happened. - -“I think, mother,” said Ethel loftily, “that Grace should _know_. It -may be possible that she can help us in our trouble. Roy has always -been fonder of her than of me.” - -Ethel’s tone was replete with intimations that this affection was not -wholly complimentary to either her brother or sister. She entered -upon a circumstantial account of Roy’s misbehavior which omitted -nothing that could enhance its heinousness, Mrs. Durland interrupting -occasionally to soften the harsh terms in which Ethel described Roy’s -appearance on the snowy threshold at two o’clock, in the care of two -young friends in little better condition than himself. It had been -necessary to summon a doctor to relieve Roy’s stomach of the poison he -had consumed. - -“I’m sure it’s the first and last time for Roy,” said Mrs. Durland. -“He’s terribly cut up over it; but of course at the holiday season, and -meeting old friends and all, I suppose we must make allowances.” - -“That’s the way to look at it, mother,” said Grace, sincerely grieved -for her mother and anxious to restore her confidence in Roy. “I know -Roy wouldn’t do anything to trouble you. We ought to be glad that stuff -didn’t kill him! Roy isn’t the only boy who thinks it smart to drink -now that it’s forbidden. I hear a lot about that, down town.” - -“I suppose you do,” said Mrs. Durland, catching hopefully at the -suggestion that her boy was not the only wanderer in the path that -leads to destruction. - -“Roy knows our hopes are centered in him; there’s not the slightest -excuse for his conduct!” Ethel resumed, unwilling that Roy’s sin should -be covered up in charitable generalizations. “Instead of running around -with a lot of dissolute young men he ought to be making friends who can -help him get a start in life. As for prohibition, it’s the law of the -land and you’d think a young man who’s studying law would respect it. -Only the other day Osgood gave me an article with statistics showing -what’s being done to enforce the law and it will only be a short time -until the rum power is completely vanquished.” - -“It’s dying mighty hard,” remarked Grace cheerfully. “Anybody can get -whiskey who has the price.” - -“One would think--” began Ethel, moved at once to give battle. - -“Oh, I’m not hankering for it myself,” Grace interrupted. “But they -ought to enforce the law or repeal it. I’m only saying what everybody -knows.” - -“Well, of course, Grace, we don’t know just _who_ your friends are,” -Ethel retorted. - -“Oh, they probably wouldn’t amuse you even if you knew them!” Grace -flung back. - -Whereupon Mrs. Durland, who was arranging a tray with coffee and toast -to carry up to Roy, announced that enough had been said on the subject. - - -II - -Trenton’s week in town lengthened to ten days. Minnie Lawton’s -apartment proved to be a convenient meeting place, and on two evenings -Grace and Trenton dined there alone, with Jerry to serve them. Trenton -had persuaded Kemp to go to a hospital for rest and observation. The -reports of the local physician merely confirmed what the New York -specialist had told Trenton as to his friend’s condition. Trenton took -Irene and Grace to the hospital to see Kemp one evening. They found him -looking a little thin and white but he greeted them joyfully. He wasn’t -wholly cut off from civilization in spite of their efforts to get rid -of him, he said, pointing gleefully to a telephone at his bedside which -he had obtained as a special concession. He boasted that he could lie -in bed and direct his business affairs almost as well as at his office. - -“But the nurses won’t flirt with me,” he complained, “and you -girls showed up just in time to keep me from passing up your whole -unaccountable sex. I’ve got to be amused even if I am locked up here -with fourteen disagreeable things being done to me every day. The -purpose of woman is to amuse.” - -“There you go, Tommy! Women are divided into two classes,” said Irene -in her spacious manner, “those who amuse their husbands and those who -amuse other women’s husbands. It’s not for me to say to which variety, -subdivision or group I prefer to belong.” - -Trenton had visited Stephen Durland twice at his shop in the Power -Building and at the hospital he mentioned the matter of Durland’s -improvements on the Cummings-Durland motor. The issuance of the patents -to Durland had brought inquiries from several Eastern manufacturers and -the representative of one concern had opened negotiations for an option. - -“Look here, Grace,” said Kemp when Trenton had explained concisely the -nature of the improvements, “I’m going to be mighty sore if you let -this escape before I have a look at it. Go on, Ward, and tell me more -about it.” - -“You father must have something good,” said Irene, who had listened -attentively to the talk, “for I don’t understand a word of it. I hope -there’s millions in it.” - -“That new composition Mr. Durland’s working on for non-cracking -spark-plug porcelains will be worth something handsome if it’s as good -as it promises to be,” Trenton remarked. Kemp’s alert curiosity had -to be satisfied as to the nature of the substance Durland was working -on and Trenton went into the chemistry of the composition and said it -would have to be subjected to more exacting tests. - -“We’ll test that at my plant too,” said Kemp, “but the sooner we get -to work on the motor the better. We’ll give Mr. Durland a corner in my -shop, and all the help he needs; I’ll call up the superintendent in the -morning and explain what’s wanted.” - -“It’s all too good to be true!” said Grace. “Father’s such a dear, -patient, gentle soul and to land something now will mean more than you -can understand. Thank you so much, Tommy.” - -She walked to the bed and took Kemp’s hand. - -“I suppose your father would rather Cummings had the new features for -the engine,” he said drily. - -“Gracious heavens, no!” Grace exclaimed. “Father would cheerfully die -in the poor house before he’d let Cummings have anything of his.” - -“That’s the spirit! Ward, don’t be stingy with Mr. Durland. Double -whatever anybody else offers for an option on the motor improvements -and we’ll hope it’s only the beginning.” - - -III - -Stephen Durland discussed with Grace everything pertaining to his new -connection with the Kemp concern. He had made so many mistakes in his -life that he didn’t want to risk making any more, he said pathetically -at a noon hour which Grace spent with him after he had agreed to the -terms Kemp had proposed through Trenton. - -“A thousand dollars just for an option looks mighty big,” he said. -“I never expected to see that much money again. And I’m to draw two -hundred a month from the Kemp Company while I’m building a motor out -there. It’s pretty nice, Grace.” - -He wanted to give her the thousand dollars and any income he might -derive from the improved motor as compensation for what he felt was the -wrong she had suffered through his inability to keep her in college. -He was greatly in earnest about this and showed his affection for her -in a shy gentle fashion that touched her deeply. She laughed him into -accepting her rejection of his offer and overruled his decision not to -tell his wife and Ethel of his brightening prospects. The motor might -not stand up under the tests, he said, and he wished to avoid the -necessity of confessing a fresh failure. - -“Don’t be afraid; I’ll see that you don’t get scolded! You just strut -around the house and make the most of your success--for that’s what it -is! Mr. Trenton told me he was sure your improvements were enormously -important--greater efficiency, greater economy of operation and every -other little old thing you’ve thought up in that dear bean of yours!” - -“Trenton’s a fine man. He’s been mighty nice to me,” said Durland. -“It’s a pleasure to talk to a man who catches an idea so quick. I guess -Kemp does pretty much what he says. I don’t know Kemp. I never thought -of it till after the break, but Cummings never wanted me to meet other -manufacturers in our line. Guess he didn’t trust me,” he ended with a -grim smile. “Afraid I might get away from him before he was sure I’d -petered out.” - -“He guessed wrong, daddy! We’ll let Cummings do the worrying now.” - -On the day he closed his shop in the Power Building and moved to the -experimental room that had been fitted up for him at Kemp’s big plant -Durland mentioned his new prospects at the supper table. He made the -disclosure so slightingly that Mrs. Durland and Ethel, who had been -busily discussing the merits of a novel they had been reading and Ethel -thought grossly immoral, failed to catch the point of the revelation -until he had cleared his throat and announced for a second time that he -was moving out to Kemp’s to do a little experimenting. - -“I guess that’s yours, Allie,” he remarked, producing the check. “Got -it for an option on a patent I’ve been tinkering at. Trenton, that -Pittsburgh expert, recommended it to Kemp.” - -“Trenton?” repeated Ethel, carefully scrutinizing the Kemp -Manufacturing Company’s check before passing it on to her mother. - -“Yes; Ward Trenton,” Durland replied with a note of pride that so -distinguished an engineer had recognized his merits. “He keeps track -of everything that goes through the patent office for clients he’s got -all over the country. I’m going to build some of my motors at Kemp’s; -they’ve given me a lot better place to work in than I used to have at -Cummings’s, and I’m going to have all the help I want. And I’m to draw -two hundred a month while I’m there. I guess that’s fair enough.” - -“This is your friend, Trenton, is it, Grace?” asked Ethel, awed into -respect by the size of the check. - -“The same,” Grace replied, carelessly meeting Ethel’s gaze across the -table. “He’s the kindest man imaginable. You can hardly complain of his -treatment of father.” - -“I’ve _always_ believed in father,” said Ethel. “I hope Isaac Cummings -will see in this a retribution--God’s punishment for the way he treated -father.” - -“Let’s not hand out the retribution to Cummings till Kemp’s satisfied -about the motor,” suggested Grace. - -“We’re all proud of you, Stephen,” said Mrs. Durland, smoothing the -creases in the check. “I’m writing Roy tonight and I’ll tell him the -good news. Of course I’ll warn him not to speak of it. Your success -will be a great incentive to the dear boy. He was so contrite over his -behavior while he was home that I’m glad to have this news for him. We -should all feel grateful. Something told me when Isaac Cummings turned -you out that it was for the best. I’ll never again question the ways of -Providence. I don’t feel like taking this money, Stephen, but it will -come in handy in giving Roy a start.” - -In the happier spirit that now dominated the home circle Grace’s -increasingly frequent absences for evenings and occasionally for a -night passed with little or no remark. - -“You’ve got to live your life in your own way,” Mrs. Durland would say -with a sigh when she found Grace leaving the house after supper. “I -hardly see you any more.” - -To guard against awakening in Ethel’s mind any suspicion that her -evenings away from home coincided with Trenton’s presence in town, -which her father usually mentioned, Grace made a point of going out -at times when Trenton was away. There were always things she could -do--entertainments among the Shipley employees, dances, theatre -parties of business girls with whom she had become acquainted. These -engagements she refrained from describing with any particularity as -this would make the more marked her silence on evenings when she went -to Minnie Lawton’s to meet Trenton. She had adopted a regular formula -when she left the house, saying merely, “I’m going out for a little -while,” which her mother and Ethel had schooled themselves to accept as -an adequate explanation of her absences. - -Mrs. Bob Cummings looked in on her one day at Shipley’s with the -promised invitation to dinner, and to go to a club dance afterwards, -which Grace refused only because the dramatic club of Shipley employees -was giving a play the same night and she had a leading part. And Miss -Reynolds dropped in to the ready-to-wear department frequently when she -was down town and occasionally asked Grace to dinner. - -The mild winter almost imperceptibly gave way before the blithe -heralds of spring and April appeared smiling at the threshold. - -No cloud darkened the even course of her affair with Trenton. She was -more and more convinced of the depth and sincerity of her love for him -and he was the tenderest, the most considerate of lovers. When she did -not see him, sometimes for a week or fortnight, his messages floated -back with those constant reassurances of his loyalty and affection that -are the very food of love. He rarely mentioned his wife in their talks -and Grace was no longer a prey to jealousy. She wondered sometimes -whether he had ever broached to Mrs. Trenton the matter of the divorce -at which he had hinted, but Grace found herself caring little about -this one way or another. She exulted in her independence, complacent in -the thought that she was a woman of the Twentieth Century, free to use -her life as she would. - - -IV - -John Moore had not crossed Grace’s vision since the afternoon of -Christmas day, when his unexpected appearance in the highway near The -Shack proved so disconcerting. She suspected that he was avoiding -her, probably from a generous wish to spare her the embarrassment of -explaining herself. - -When she left Shipley’s at the closing hour of a day early in April she -was surprised to see him waiting at the door. - -“Good evening, Grace! Hope you don’t mind being held up, but I wanted -to see you and this seemed the easiest way. Got time to walk home?” - -Grace had meant to take the car but she decided instantly that in view -of the glimpse he had got of her in Trenton’s arms on the memorable -day at The Shack it would be poor diplomacy to refuse. - -“Of course, I’ll walk, John,” she replied cordially. “I’ve been wanting -to see you.” She waited till they were out of the crowd, then said with -a preluding laugh: - -“You must be thinking the awfulest things of me, and that’s why you’ve -given me the go-by. That was an awful fib I told you Christmas about -going to a matinee. The truth of the matter was that I had promised -to go with some people into the country for the afternoon and didn’t -want the family to know; and I couldn’t explain over the telephone. And -out there we all got to cutting up and well--you saw me! I’m terribly -ashamed of myself!” - -“Oh, pshaw, you needn’t be! I didn’t think anything about it. I always -know you’re all right. I’m for you, Grace--you know that. I’ve been -so busy since I moved to town that I’ve kept my nose right on the -grindstone.” - -His words lacked the usual John Moore flavor, and in spite of his -protest she guiltily attributed his unusual restraint to reservations -as to the Christmas day episode. But his next speech quickly shifted -the ground of her apprehensions. - -“I’ve just been down to Bloomington to see Roy,” he said, doggedly -blurting out the sentences. “The boy sent for me; he’d got into a bad -scrape--about a girl. You can guess the rest of it.” - -“Oh!” she gasped, feeling the earth whirling. “Not that!” - -“Roy was in a blue funk and threatened to run away but I talked him out -of that. The girl’s name is Sadie Denton; she’s not really a bad girl. -I had a talk with her and went down to Louisville with them yesterday -and saw them married. Her folks live there and they’ll look out for -her till Roy finishes at the law school. I guess that’s about all. He -didn’t want any of you to know about it just yet; but I sat down on -that and he agreed I should tell you. I was sure you’d handle it right -at home.” - -“Oh, it will break mother’s heart! She’s counted everything on Roy.” - -“Well, everything isn’t lost yet,” he replied. “I hope you think I did -right.” - -“It was the only thing, of course, John. It was just like you to see it -straight and do the right thing.” - -She wormed from him the fact that he had given Roy a hundred dollars, -and that certain payments for the support of Roy’s wife had been agreed -on. - -“You’re certainly a friend, John. We’ll return the money at once; -that’s the least we can do.” - -When he protested that he did not need the money immediately she -explained that her father’s affairs were looking brighter and that the -return of the sum advanced would work no hardship. - -The bad news having been delivered, Moore exerted himself to cheer her, -but a vast gloom had settled upon her. As he shook hands at the gate -her sense of his tolerance, kindness and wisdom brought tears to her -eyes but, left alone, her only emotion was one of fury against Roy. -She stood on the doorstep pondering. Again, as after Roy’s appeal for -money to cover his share of the expense of his automobile escapade, she -thought of her own weakness in yielding to temptation. But for John’s -advice that it would be better for the rest of the family to know at -once of Roy’s tragedy--this being the only word that fitly described -this new and discouraging blight upon her brother’s future--she -would have lacked the courage to communicate the evil tidings to the -household. - -It was not until they had all settled in the living room after supper -that she broke the news. Her father sat at the table, reading a -technical journal, with Ethel near by preparing her Sunday-school -lesson. Mrs. Durland had established herself by the grate with -the family darning in her lap. Since Durland’s removal to Kemp’s -establishment a new cheer and hope had lightened the atmosphere of the -home, and Grace, moving restlessly about the room, dreaded to launch -her thunderbolt upon the tranquil scene. - -“I have something to tell you; please listen,--you too, father,” she -began quietly. - -She used much the same blunt phrases in which Moore had condensed the -story, watching with a kind of fascination a long black stocking slip -from her mother’s hand, pause at her knee and then crawl in a slow -serpentine fashion down her apron to her feet. - -“Oh, Roy!” Mrs. Durland moaned, her face white. - -Mr. Durland coughed, took off his glasses, breathed on the lenses and -began slowly rubbing them with the corner of the linen table cover. -He desisted suddenly, remembering that Ethel had once rebuked him for -mussing the cover. - -“I guess that’s all there is to say about it,” Grace concluded when she -had told everything, not omitting their financial obligation to Moore. -“We’ve all got to make the best of it.” - -Grace picked up the fallen stocking and handed it to her mother, who -made a pretense of carefully inspecting a hole in the heel. - -“What time’s the first train down in the morning?” she asked. “I must -see Roy--and----” - -Ethel, who had sunk back helplessly in her chair, jumped to her feet, -her eyes blazing. - -“You shan’t go one step mother! It’s enough that Roy’s brought this -disgrace on the family without you going down there to pet him. It’s -your spoiling him that’s made him what he is. John Moore had no -business meddling in our affairs. What Roy should have done was to -go away and never show his face to any of us again. Father, you tell -mother to keep away from Roy!” - -The appeal to Durland, who had so rarely found himself a court of last -resort in the whole course of his life, was not without its humor and -Grace smiled bitterly as she watched her sister, who stood before her, -white, her lips set in hard lines, her hands clenched at her sides. -Durland cleared his throat and recrossed his legs. - -“I guess your mother’ll do the right thing, Ethel,” he said. - -“I think you’re all crazy!” Ethel flared. “What will Osgood think of -me, with my brother forced to marry a girl off the street.” - -“I didn’t say she was off the street,” Grace corrected her. “I’d show -the girl a little mercy if I were you, and I wouldn’t make it any -harder than necessary for father and mother. You’re not the only one of -us who has feelings.” - -“I’ll leave! The rest of you may do as you please, but I’ll not let -Osgood think I don’t feel the _shame_ of my brother’s sin.” - -“If Osgood reads his Testament he may not see it in quite that light.” - -Ethel breathed hard in the effort to think of some withering retort. -The best she could do, however, was not especially brilliant. - -“Osgood,” she announced grandly, “is a gentleman!” - -“He might be that and still be a Christian,” Grace replied tartly. - -“What did you say about trains, Grace,” asked Mrs. Durland, who, deep -in thought, had scarcely heard the colloquy between her daughters. - -“I’ll call the station and find out. And I’ll get Irene on the ’phone -and tell her I won’t be at the store tomorrow. I’m going with you, -mother.” - -“Irene!” - -Ethel caught up and flung back the name as though it were some hateful -and obscene thing. - -“Ethel,” said Mrs. Durland serenely, “If you’ve got nothing better to -do you might help me with the darning. I don’t like to go away without -clearing it up.” - - -V - -The visit to Bloomington was not particularly heartening. Roy was in a -sullen humor when they talked to him in the hotel parlor. He wanted to -drop the law course and go West, and they argued the matter most of the -day, Grace alternating between despair at Roy’s stubborn indifference -to every attempt to arouse his pride and ambition and admiration for -her mother’s courage and forbearance in the most poignant sorrow of her -life. - -Grace finally left them together and took a walk that led her far -from the campus. She had no heart for looking upon the familiar -scenes or meeting the friends she had left there only a few months -earlier. When she returned to the hotel Roy had been won to a -more tractable humor; and when he left them it was in a spirit of -submission, at least, to what he considered an ungenerous ordering -of fate. Mrs. Durland insisted on carrying out the plan, with which -she had left Indianapolis, of visiting the young woman who was now her -daughter-in-law. - -“She’s Roy’s wife,” she said when Grace tried to dissuade her. “I’ll -feel better to see her. And it’s only right I should.” - -She took the train for Louisville and Grace went home. - -Grace’s thoughts were given a new direction early the next morning when -Miss Beulah Reynolds appeared at Shipley’s shortly after the doors were -opened. - -“My dear child, the most astounding thing has happened!” the little -woman declared immediately. - -“Your house hasn’t burned down!” exclaimed Grace, amused by the little -woman’s agitation. - -“Worse! I’m to have a visitor,--that Mary Graham Trenton whose book we -once talked about. I’ve just had a letter from an old friend in Boston -warning me of the lady’s approach, and asking me to see the Indians -don’t get her. I’ve wired her at Cleveland asking her to stay at my -house--I could hardly do less.” - -“I suppose not,” said Grace faintly, wondering why Miss Reynolds had -come to her with the news. - -“I’m asking some people to dinner the night the lady -lectures--Tuesday--and I want you to come. Don’t look so scared! She -may not be as terrible as she writes but I’m going to invite Dr. -Ridgely, and my doctor and my lawyer with the hope that they’ll all get -a shock. And I want you to come; you’ve read her stuff, and I’ll count -on you to help keep the talk going.” - -“Why, I don’t know--” Grace began, her mind in a whirl of conjecture. - -“Come! That’s a dear child. Don’t go back on me; I need your moral -support. At six thirty, then? We have to dine early on account of the -lecture.” - -“Why, yes; Miss Reynolds,” Grace answered faintly. - -“By the little pink ear of Venus!” exclaimed Irene, coming upon Grace -just as Miss Reynolds left. “What’s Little Old Ready-Money done to you?” - -“Nothing,” Grace replied, her mind still in confusion. “She was just -asking me to dinner.” - -“From your looks I’d have guessed it was a funeral,” Irene replied, and -Grace, pulling herself together, hurried away to meet an approaching -customer. - -Of late she had given little thought to Mrs. Trenton, and it had never -occurred to her in her wildest dreams that she might meet Ward’s wife -in the intimate contact of a dinner table. The prospect kept her in -a state of excitement all day and at times she was strongly impelled -to trump up some excuse for refusing to go to Miss Reynolds’s. But -her earlier curiosity as to what manner of woman it was who bore Ward -Trenton’s name was rekindled by the thought of meeting her. Trenton was -in Syracuse and might not reach Indianapolis for a week or more. He -had said that he had not, in the letter he had written to Mrs. Trenton -from St. Louis, revealed the identity of the woman who had so strongly -appealed to him. Mrs. Trenton would hardly suspect that a girl she met -at a dinner party was the person her husband had described only vaguely -and without indicating her habitat. - -Grace decided against writing Trenton of the impending meeting till it -was over. Having quieted her apprehensions she began dramatizing the -scene at Miss Reynolds’s table and she reread “Clues to a New Social -Order” against the possibility that Mrs. Trenton’s book might become a -subject of discussion at the dinner. The thought of seeing her lover’s -wife in this fashion while she herself remained unknown and unsuspected -laid powerful hold upon her imagination. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - - -I - -The calamity that had befallen Roy cast a shadow upon the Durland -household. Ethel stalked about with an insufferable air of outraged -innocence. Roy had ruined the family; after all the sacrifices that -had been made for him he had flung away his chance and was lost beyond -redemption. She was merciless in her denunciation of her brother, and -hardly less severe upon her mother for spoiling Roy and condoning his -sin. - -Grace exerted herself to the utmost to dispel the gloom. Not since -her young girlhood had she felt so closely drawn to her mother, -and she endeavored by every possible means to lighten her burdens. -Mrs. Durland’s attempts to make the best of Roy’s predicament, even -professing to see in what she called the boy’s new responsibilities a -steadying force that would evoke his best efforts, were pathetic; but -Grace encouraged all these hopes though in her heart she was far from -optimistic as to her brother’s future. - -“Sadie isn’t really a bad girl,” Mrs. Durland had reported on her -return from Louisville. “Her family are not just what we would have -wanted, but they are respectable and we ought to be grateful for that. -Her father is employed in the railroad shops and they own their own -home. Sadie’s an only child and it wasn’t necessary for her to go to -work, but she was restless and didn’t want to stay at home. There’s a -lot of that spirit among girls these days. Sadie’s really fond of Roy -and I think she understands that now she must help him to make a man -of himself. She and her mother appreciated our kindness and I think, -Ethel, when you see Sadie----” - -“When I see Sadie!” cried Ethel, choking at the name. “You don’t mean -to say you’re going to bring her to this house!” - -“Not now, of course; she wouldn’t want to come. But in time we’ll all -know her. You must remember Ethel that she’s one of the family, your -brother’s wife, and no matter how much we may regret the whole thing, -we’ve got to stand by her just as we stand by Roy.” - -“I don’t understand you, mother; I don’t understand you at all! It -isn’t like you to pass over a thing like this, that’s brought shame -and disgrace on the family. And to think--to _think_--” she cried -hysterically--“that you even consider bringing the shameless creature -here to this house, with all its sacred associations that mean -something to me if they don’t to the rest of you!” - -“That’s right, Ethel,” said Grace ironically. “It’s perfectly grand of -you to defend the family altar! I suppose when Sadie comes you’ll be -for throwing her into the street and stoning her to death. And you’d be -the only one who could cast the first stone!” - -“Please be quiet, girls,” Mrs. Durland pleaded. “It doesn’t help any to -fuss about things. You haven’t taken this as I hoped you would, Ethel. -If we don’t stand together and help each other the family tie doesn’t -amount to much. I had hoped you were going to feel better about Roy. We -simply mustn’t let the dear boy think that just one misstep has ruined -his life. We must try to believe that everything is for the best.” - -“Certainly, mother,” said Grace. “That’s the only way to look at it. -Ethel doesn’t mean to trouble you. She’ll come round all right.” - -Ethel failed to confirm this sanguine prediction. She continued to sulk -and when her mother proposed plans for assisting Roy when he finished -at the law school she contributed to the discussion only the direst -predictions of disaster. - -“We all have a lot to be thankful for,” Mrs. Durland insisted. “It’s -a blessing your father’s going to be in a position to help Roy. The -first year will be the hardest for the boy, but after that he ought to -be able to stand on his own feet. I’ve about decided that it would be -better for him to open an office for himself right away and not go in -with any one else. The more independent he feels the better. We must -see what we can do about that.” - -“I think we’d better talk it all over with John Moore before we decide -about anything,” Grace suggested. “He knows all about Roy and certainly -has shown himself a good friend.” - -“John Moore!” sniffed Ethel, who had not forgiven John for meddling in -Roy’s affairs. - -“I hope you love yourself, Ethel; you certainly don’t love anybody -else.” Grace remarked, and added, “Oh, yes, there’s Osgood! I forgot -that you’re concentrating your affections on him.” - -“I’m not afraid to see him at home; that’s more than you do with the -men you run around with!” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t dare introduce my friends to you; you might vamp them -away from me!” - -“Now girls----!” - -Mrs. Durland sighed heavily; Mr. Durland, intent upon some computations -he was making at the living room table, stirred uneasily. Grace had not -been unmindful of the fact that after his first fortnight at Kemp’s -the elation with which he had undertaken his new labors had passed. -He was now constructing an engine embodying his improvements on the -Cummings-Durland motor and came home at night haggard and preoccupied. -He seemed to resent inquiries as to his progress and after the first -week Mrs. Durland, on a hint from Grace, ceased troubling him with -questions. Grace herself was wondering whether, after all, the ideas -that had attracted Trenton’s attention in her father’s patent claims -might not fail to realize what was hoped of them. But her faith in -Trenton’s judgment was boundless; with his long experience it was -hardly possible that he could be deceived or that he would encourage -expectations that might not be realized by the most exacting tests. - -Grace had not changed her mind about going to Miss Reynolds’s dinner, -though at times she had all but reconsidered her decision not to tell -Trenton of the invitation. There was really no reason why she should -not let him know of his wife’s impending visit to Indianapolis; what -really stayed her hand when she considered mentioning the matter in one -of her letters was a fear that he might advise her against going. Her -curiosity as to Ward Trenton’s wife was acute and outweighed any fear -of his possible displeasure when he learned--and of course Grace meant -to tell him--that she had deliberately put herself in Mrs. Trenton’s -way. - - -II - -On Saturday evening the delivery of a gown she had picked out of -Shipley’s stock to wear to the dinner made it necessary to explain why -she had purchased it. It was the simplest of dinner gowns which she -drew from the box and held up for her mother’s and Ethel’s inspection. - -“What earthly use can you have for that, Grace?” Ethel demanded. - -Grace laid it across her mother’s knees and Mrs. Durland took a fold in -her fingers to appraise the material. - -“It’s certainly pretty. This is one of the new shades, isn’t it, Grace? -It isn’t blue exactly----” - -“They call it hydrangea blue, mother. Please hurry and say I’ll look -scrumptious in it!” - -“I don’t think I’d have chosen just _that_,” remarked Ethel putting -down a handkerchief she was embroidering, in flourishing script with -the initials O. H., to eye the garment critically. “If I were in your -place and could afford to spend what that must have cost I think I’d -have got something in one of the more definite shades. You can’t really -say whether that’s blue or pink.” - -“That’s the artistic part of it, old dear,” replied Grace amiably. -“It’s out of the new spring stock and considered very smart. Wake up, -daddy! Tell me you don’t think I’m stung!” - -“I guess my views about dresses wouldn’t help you much, Grace,” -Durland remarked, glancing at the gown absently and returning to his -interminable calculations. - -“You’ll look sweet in it, Grace,” Mrs. Durland volunteered. “You think -it isn’t cut too low?” - -“It’s the very latest model, mother. I don’t believe you’ll think it -too low when you see me in it. I tried it on at my lunch hour yesterday -and a customer got her eye on it and did her best to coax me to let her -have it. But I sold her another gown that cost twenty dollars more, so -Shipley’s didn’t lose anything.” - -“You get so many clothes, Grace,” Ethel interrupted again intent upon -her embroidery. “I don’t just see what you can want with a dress like -that.” - -“Oh, this is for a special occasion. Miss Reynolds has asked me to -dinner Tuesday. She’s entertaining for Mrs. Mary Graham Trenton, who’s -to lecture here that night.” - -“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Mrs. Durland. “I read in the paper that -Mrs. Trenton was to speak here. I’d never have thought of connecting -her with Miss Reynolds!” - -“They’ve never met, I think. A friend of Miss Reynolds’s in Boston -wrote and asked her to see that Mrs. Trenton was properly looked -after, so she’s putting her up and pulling off a dinner in her honor. -I might say that she didn’t appear to be awfully keen about it. She’s -asking Dr. Ridgely and Judge Sanders and Dr. Loomis with their ladies, -so theology, law and medicine will be represented. She asked me, I -suppose, because I happened to mention to her once that I had read Mrs. -Trenton’s ‘Clues to a New Social Order.’ And it may be in her mind that -as a poor working girl I represent the proletariat.” - -“She may have thought that being a friend of Mr. Trenton’s it would be -pleasant for Mrs. Trenton to meet you,” said Ethel sweetly. - -“Thank you, sister, you’re certainly the little mind reader,” Grace -replied. - -“I’m sure it’s very kind of Miss Reynolds to ask you,” remarked Mrs. -Durland hastily, fearing a clash between the sisters. “There are no -finer people in town than the Sanders and I have always heard splendid -things about Dr. Loomis and his wife. It’s a privilege to meet people -like that. I hope you realize that a woman of Miss Reynolds’s position -can have her pick of the town. She’s certainly paying you a great -compliment, Grace.” - -“I don’t understand Miss Reynolds at all,” said Ethel. “She’s the last -woman in the world you’d think would take a creature like Mary Graham -Trenton into her house.” - -“It’s because she is Miss Reynolds that she can do as she pleases,” -replied Mrs. Durland conciliatingly. “And as she was asked by a friend -to show some courtesy to Mrs. Trenton, she isn’t doing any more than -any one else would do in the same circumstances. As I said when Grace -first spoke of meeting Mr. Trenton, his wife’s a dangerous woman. It’s -in her power to do a great deal of mischief in the world. I don’t -believe Miss Reynolds has any patience with Mrs. Trenton’s ideas, and -it can’t do Grace any harm to meet her. You ought to be glad, Ethel, -that Miss Reynolds feels that Grace would fit into a select party like -that.” - -“I’ll be surprised if Dr. Ridgely goes to the dinner,” replied Ethel. -“That woman is fighting everything the church stands for. If I had my -way she wouldn’t be allowed to speak here.” - -“That’s no joke!” replied Grace good-naturedly. “But there are -people, you know, who are not afraid of hearing radical ideas--a few -broad-minded people who think it safer to let the cranks talk out in -the open than to drive them into a cellar to touch off the gentle bomb.” - -“Many people feel just that way, Ethel,” said Mrs. Durland. - -Mrs. Durland’s disapproval of Mrs. Trenton and the ideas identified -with that lady’s name was much softened by the fact that Grace was to -be included in a formal dinner which Miss Reynolds had undoubtedly -arranged with care. And while Mary Graham Trenton might entertain and -preach the most shocking ideas she was nevertheless one of the best -known and most discussed women in America, besides being the inheritor -of wealth and social position. Miss Reynolds’s marked liking for -Grace afforded Mrs. Durland a satisfaction not wholly attributable to -veneration for Miss Reynolds’s money or unassailable position as a -member of a pioneer Indianapolis family. Grace’s unaccountable ways -and her assertions of independence often brought alarm and dismay to -the mother’s heart; but Grace was indubitably lovely to look at and -the fine spirit in which she had accepted and met the curtailment of -her course at the university excused many things. Grace had wits and -she would go far, but the traveling would have to be on broad highways -of her own choosing. It was not without twinges of heartache that -Mrs. Durland realized that this dark-eyed daughter was peculiarly a -child of the new order; that not by prayer, threat or cajolery could -she be made to walk in old paths or heed the old admonitions. But -there had been Morleys who were independent and forthright and Miss -Reynolds’s invitation implied a recognition of Grace as a well-bred and -intelligent girl. - -Mrs. Durland, busily sewing, had been giving Grace such information as -she possessed about the Sanderses, who were to be of Miss Reynolds’s -company. Hardly less than the sons and daughters of Virginia and -Kentucky, Mrs. Durland was possessed of a vast amount of lore touching -the families of her native state. Mrs. Sanders was a Shelton of the -old Bartholomew County family of that name. Some Shelton had once -been engaged in business with a Morley who was a second cousin of -Mrs. Durland. It was a tannery she thought, though it might have -been a brickyard. And Sanders’s father had been a prominent citizen -somewhere on the lower Wabash and had married into the Alston family -of Vanderburgh County. Grace lent a sympathetic ear to this recital -of ancient Hoosier history chiefly because her mother found so great -a pleasure in reciting it. It was the cruelest of ironies that her -mother, with all her adoration of the State and its traditions and her -constant recurrence to the past glories of the Morleys, lived a life of -self-denial apart from contemporaries capable of sharing her pride and -pleasure in the old times. - -The talk had wandered far from Grace’s dinner engagement when Ethel, -who had been quietly plying her needle, took advantage of a lull to -switch it back. - -“I suppose you won’t feel _quite_ like a stranger with Mrs. Trenton,” -she suggested. “Mr. Trenton has no doubt told his wife of his -acquaintance with you.” - -“No doubt he has,” Grace replied calmly. “In fact he told me he had -written her about me.” - -This was not wholly candid; Trenton had only said that he had written -to his wife, pursuant to an understanding between them, that he had -met a girl who greatly interested him. But Ethel’s remark occasioned -Grace a moment of discomfort. In her last meeting with Trenton his wife -had not been mentioned, but it was possible that by now he had made a -complete confession of his unfaithfulness. Irene Kirby had frequently -commented upon Trenton’s frankness; Grace chilled at the thought that -he might already have told his story to Mrs. Trenton in the hope of -hastening the day of his freedom. - -The newspapers were devoting much space to Mrs. Trenton’s impending -visit. On Saturday and Sunday her portrait adorned the society pages, -accompanied by sketches of her life and activities in the feminist -cause that did full justice to her distinguished ancestry and high -social connections. In the Durland home Mrs. Trenton continued to be a -fruitful subject of discussion. There were things which Ethel thought -should be said to Mrs. Trenton. She even considered asking Dr. Ridgely -to say them,--a proposition which Grace derided and Mrs. Durland -did not encourage. Ethel was further inspired with the idea that a -committee of the best women of the city should wait upon Mrs. Trenton -and try to convince her of the dangerous character of the doctrines she -was advocating. - -“You’re taking it altogether too seriously,” said Grace. “I don’t -suppose that woman’s ever made a single convert. About so many people -have always held her ideas--about marriage and things like that. The -real radicals probably look on her as a huge joke. A woman who visits -at Newport and goes cruising on yachts doesn’t just put herself clear -outside the social breastworks. There are other, women besides Mrs. -Trenton who talk free love and birth control and things like that just -for the excitement and the attention they get.” - -“They should be locked up, every one of them!” Ethel declared. “I’m -ashamed for our city that she can come here and be received by people -you’d expect better things of, and be allowed to speak. The police -should stop it!” - -“Well, she can’t ruin the town with one lecture,” Grace replied -good-naturedly. “The Twentieth Century Club brings all sorts of -lunatics here and the members are about the most conservative people in -town. You couldn’t change the minds of any of them any more than you -could knock over the soldiers’ monument with a feather duster.” - - -III - -Grace got excused from the store at five o’clock on Tuesday to give -herself ample time to prepare for the dinner. - -“That’s the prettiest gown you ever wore, dear,” Mrs. Durland exclaimed -when Grace was fully arrayed. “I’m glad you didn’t have your hair -marcelled; that little natural wave is prettier than anything the -hairdresser could do. Carried straight away from your forehead as -you’ve got it gives just the right effect. I guess Miss Reynolds -needn’t be ashamed of you. You’ve got the look of breeding, Grace; -nobody could fail to see that. Just be careful not to talk too much, -not even if Mrs. Trenton says brash things you feel like disputing -with her. And if you get a chance to speak to Judge Sanders without -appearing to drag it in you might say you’re the great-granddaughter of -Josiah B. Morley. Little things like that do count, you know.” - -“Yes, of course,” Grace assented, as she studied the hang of her skirt -before the mirror. - -Ethel came in and seated herself on the bed to watch Grace’s -preparations. Osgood Haley had walked home with her and she was in the -mood of subdued exaltation to which the young man’s company frequently -brought her. She apologized to her mother for being late; she and -Osgood had prolonged the walk by taking a turn in the park but she -would make up to her for the delay by doing all of the supper work. - -“That dress really is becoming to you, Grace,” she said in a fervor of -magnanimity. “It sets you off beautifully. You must tell us all about -the party. I hope you won’t let anything I said about Mrs. Trenton -spoil the evening for you. You know I’m always glad when any happiness -comes to you.” - -“Thank you, Ethel; I guess I’ll live through the ordeal,” said Grace -from her dressing table where she had seated herself to administer -the final touches to her toilet. Zealous to be of service, Ethel and -her mother watched her attentively, offering suggestions to which -Grace in her absorption murmured replies or ignored. Ethel brought -from her room a prized lace-bordered handkerchief which she insisted -that Grace should carry. Her generosity was spoiled somewhat by the -self-sacrificing air with which it was tendered. To help others was -really the great joy of life, Ethel quoted Haley as saying, adding -that she constantly marveled at Osgood’s clear vision of the true way -of life. Grace accepted the handkerchief, with difficulty concealing a -smile at the change in Ethel wrought by Haley’s talk. - -The car Miss Reynolds had sent was at the door and Mrs. Durland and -Ethel went down to see Grace off. They gave her a final looking over -before helping her into her coat. The veil she had drawn over her head -required readjustment; it was a serious question whether there was not -an infinitesimal spot on one of her slippers. - -“Oh, they’ve got to take me as I am!” said Grace, finally. “There isn’t -time to dress all over again.” - -“I’ll wait up for you, dear,” said Mrs. Durland. “I’ll be anxious to -know all about the dinner.” - -Grace was again torn by doubts as the car bore her swiftly toward Miss -Reynolds’s. She tried to convince herself that she was not in the least -interested in Mrs. Trenton; that she was no more concerned with her -than she would have been with any other woman she might meet in the -house of a friend. But these attempts to minimize her curiosity as -to Trenton’s wife failed miserably. It was impossible to think of the -meeting with her lover’s wife as a trifling incident. The newspaper -portraits of Mrs. Trenton rose vividly before her and added to her -discomfort. She feared that she might in some way betray herself. When -the car stopped she felt strongly impelled to postpone her entrance -in the hope of quieting herself by walking round the block; but to be -late to a dinner was, she knew, an unpardonable sin. Summoning all her -courage she ran up the walk to the door, which opened before she could -ring. - -“First room to the right upstairs,” said the colored butler. - -The white maid helped her off with her wrap and stood by watching her -with frank admiration as she surveyed herself before a long mirror. In -Grace’s perturbed state of mind the presence of the girl was a comfort. - -“Do I look all right?” she asked. - -“You look lovely, Miss; just like a beautiful picture.” - -“Oh, thank you!” said Grace, smiling gratefully into the girl’s eyes. -“Am I very late?” - -“No, Miss, Dr. and Mrs. Ridgely haven’t come yet.” - -A clock on the mantle began striking the half hour as Grace left the -room. She went down slowly with a curious sense of being an unbidden -guest in a strange house. - -From the stair she caught a glimpse of a man in evening dress in the -room below. She had attended few functions in her life where men wore -evening dress and the staring expanse of shirt front intensified her -sense of breathing an alien atmosphere. - -As she stood in the drawing room doorway the figures within dimmed and -she put out her hand to steady herself. Then the wavering mists that -blurred her vision cleared as Miss Reynolds came quickly forward and -caught her hands. - -“My dear child, I didn’t hear you come down! I’m glad to see you,--even -relieved!” she added in a whisper. “How perfectly adorable you are!” -Grace had not dared lift her eyes to the group of guests who stood -across the room talking animatedly, and as Miss Reynolds, with her arm -about Grace’s waist, moved toward them she was arrested by a young man -who had just entered and stood waiting to present himself. - -“Oh, Mr. Atwood! Miss Durland, Mr. Atwood.” Jimmie Atwood put out his -hand, smiling joyfully. - -“Good luck, I call this! It’s perfectly bully to meet you again, Miss -Durland.” - -“You two are acquainted?” Miss Reynolds exclaimed delightedly. “That’s -splendid, for you’re to take Miss Durland in.” - -“Mr. Atwood’s equal to the most difficult situations,” said Grace, -meeting his eyes, which were responding to the mirth in her own as both -recalled the night they had met at McGovern’s. - -“Ah! You have a secret of some kind!” said Miss Reynolds. “Far be it -from me to intrude but you’ve got to meet the other guests.” - -Jimmie Atwood’s appearance had lessened the tension for Grace and quite -composedly she found herself confronting a tall slender woman who -stepped forward to meet the newcomers. - -“Mrs. Trenton, Miss Durland--and Mr. Atwood.” - -Mrs. Trenton gave each a quick little nod, murmuring: - -“I’m very glad, indeed.” - -The Ridgelys at this moment arrived followed by two unattached men. -Townsend, a young physician who was looked upon as a coming man, and -Professor Grayling, whose courses in sociology Grace had taken at the -University. He was, she learned, a remote connection of Miss Reynolds’s -and had been summoned from Bloomington to add to the representative -character of the company. - -“Why didn’t you ever tell me you knew Miss Reynolds?” Grayling -demanded, as he and Grace were left to themselves for a moment during -the progress of further introductions. - -“Oh, I didn’t meet her till after I left college. I know why you’re -invited; you’re here to do the heavy high-brow work! I remember that -you once expressed views on the writings of the guest of honor.” - -“Did I? If I become quarrelsome tonight throw a plate or something at -me.” Grace had always admired Grayling; he was saying now that she had -been his star student and that he missed her from his classes. - -“I’d really counted on making you an instructor in my department but -you left without saying good-bye; and here I find you launched upon a -high social career--it’s a distinct loss to social science!” - -“If you knew just where and how I met Miss Reynolds you wouldn’t think -me in danger of becoming a social butterfly!” laughed Grace, her -assurance mounting. Grayling was smiling quizzically into her eyes; he -would never know how grateful she was for these few minutes with him. -The rest of the company were grouped about Mrs. Trenton, who had lately -been in Washington and was expressing her opinions, which were not -apparently complimentary, of the public men she had met there. - -“I’m Number Eighteen at Shipley’s,” said Grace, finding that Grayling -was giving her his complete attention. “Miss Reynolds was my first -customer.” - -“Ah!” he exclaimed. “You’re collecting data! I see it all! There will -be a treatise, perhaps a large tome, on your experiences in the haunts -of trade. Perhaps you’ll allow me to write the preface. We thought down -at the University you’d got tired of us, but I see that you’d grown -beyond our feeble aid. I’m infinitely relieved!” - -“Stop kidding me!” said Grace, glancing about to make sure they were -not overheard. “I’m a shop girl, trying to earn an honest living.” - -Atwood came up as dinner was announced and when they reached the table -Grace found that Grayling was to sit at her left. Mrs. Trenton’s place -was a little to her right on the further side, an arrangement that made -it possible for Grace to observe her without falling within the direct -line of her vision. - -Grace, turning to Atwood, who frankly declared his purpose to -monopolize her, found it possible to study at leisure the woman about -whom she had so constantly speculated. Mrs. Trenton was, she surmised, -nearly the forty years to which Trenton himself confessed and there -was in her large gray-blue eyes something of the look of weariness to -be found in the eyes of people who live upon excitement and sensation. -Her hair had a reddish tinge and the gray had begun to show in it. She -bore every mark which to a sophisticated feminine inspection announces -that a woman has a particular care for her appearance. She gave an -impression of smoothness and finish. She wore a string of pearls and -on her left hand a large pearl set in diamonds, but no wedding ring, -a fact which Grace interpreted as signifying that in this fashion -the author of “Clues to a New Social Order,” let the world know her -indifference to the traditional symbol by which womankind advertise -their married state. She found herself wondering whether Ward Trenton -had given his wife the necklace or the ring with the diamond-encircled -pearl. Mrs. Trenton’s gown had the metropolitan accent; it was the -product unmistakably of one of those ultra smart New York dressmakers -whose advertisements Grace had noted from time to time in magazines for -women. - -Mrs. Trenton had entered into a discussion with Dr. Ridgely of the -industrial conditions created by the war; and she was repeating what -some diplomat had said to her at a dinner in Washington. Her head -and shoulders moved almost constantly as she talked, and her hands -seemed never idle, playing with her beads or fingering a spoon she had -unconsciously chosen as a plaything. She laughed frequently, a quick, -nervous, mirthless little laugh, while her eyes stared vacantly, as -though she were not fully conscious of what she said or what was being -said to her. She spoke crisply, with the effect of biting off her -words. Grace was interested in her mastery of the broad _a_, which -western folk profess to scorn but nevertheless envy in pilgrims from -the fabled East. Her voice and enunciation reminded Grace of the speech -an English woman who had once lectured at the University. - -“Oh, that!” - -This was evidently a pet expression, uttered with a shrug and a lifting -of the brows. It meant much or nothing as the hearer chose to take -it. Grace had read much about the neurotic American woman and Mrs. -Trenton undoubtedly expressed the type. It was difficult to think of -her as Ward Trenton’s wife. The two were irreconcilably different. -Grace’s mind wearied in the attempt to correlate them, but she gained -ease as the moments sped by. By the time the meat course was served -the talk had become general. Every one wished to hear Mrs. Trenton -and she met in a fashion of her own the questions that were directed -at her. Evidently she was used to being questioned and she answered -indifferently, sometimes disdainfully, or turned the question upon the -inquirer. - -Atwood was exerting himself to hold Grace’s attention. He had never -heard of Mary Graham Trenton till Miss Reynolds’s invitation sent him -to the newspapers for information. He was not sure now that he knew -just how she came to be a celebrity and with Grace beside him he didn’t -care. - -“I’ve been wild to see you ever since that night we put on the little -sketch at Mac’s,” he said confidingly. “You were perfectly grand; never -saw a finer piece of good sportsmanship. I met Evelyn the next day and -we’ve talked about it ever since when we’ve been alone. But old Bob is -certainly sore! He’s really a good fellow, you know; but he was off his -game that night. You scored big with Evelyn. She was really hurt when -you refused her invitation to dinner. I was to be in the party--begged -for an invitation; I swear I did! Please let me pull a party pretty -soon--say at the Country Club, and ask the Cummingses. Really I’m -respectable! I’ve got regular parents and aunts and everything.” - -“We’ll have to consider that. Please listen; this is growing -interesting.” - -“My point, Mrs. Trenton,” Professor Grayling was saying, “is just this: -Your reform programme only touches the top of the social structure -without regard to the foundation and the intermediate framework. In -your ‘Clues to a New Social Order’ you consider how things might be--a -happy state of things if the transition could be effected suddenly. -Granting that what you would accomplish is desirable or essential to -the general happiness of mankind, we can’t just pick out the few things -we are particularly interested in and set them up alone. They’d be sure -to topple over.” - -“Oh, that!” Mrs. Trenton replied; and then as though aware that -something more was expected of her she went on: “But a lot of changes -have come in--in what you scientific economists would call the less -important things. Just now I’m laying stress on an equal wage for -men and women for the same labor. That I think more important than -such things as more liberal divorce laws, though I favor both. As -to divorce”--she gave her characteristic shrug,--“we all know that -more liberal laws came as the result of changing conditions--the -new attitude toward marriage and all that. We’re in the midst of a -tremendous social evolution.” - -“May I come in right here for a moment, Mrs. Trenton?” asked Dr. -Ridgely. “You plead in your book for a change of existing laws to make -marriage dissoluble at the will or whim of the contracting parties; -children to be turned over to the State--a direct blow at the family. -Do you really think that desirable?” he ended smilingly. - -“Dear me! That idea didn’t originate with me,” she replied. “I merely -went into it a little more concretely perhaps.” - -Again, her curious vacant stare, followed in an instant by a gesture, -the slightest lifting and closing of one of her graceful hands as -though her thoughts, having ranged infinity, had brought back -something it was not necessary in her immediate surroundings to -disclose. - -“But,” the minister insisted, “would such a solution be wise? Do you, -honestly, think it desirable?” - -“It’s coming; it’s inevitable!” she answered quickly. - -“How many women can you imagine driving up to a big barracks and -checking their babies? How strong is the maternal instinct?” asked -Judge Sanders. - -“Most mothers don’t know how to care for their children,” said Mrs. -Trenton, bending forward to glance at the speaker. Sanders was a big -man with a great shock of iron-gray hair. He was regarding Mrs. Trenton -with the bland smile that witnesses always found disconcerting. - -“Well, that may be true,” he said, “but the poor old human race has -survived their ignorance a mighty long time.” - -The laughter at this retort was scattering and tempered by the obvious -fact that Mrs. Trenton was not wholly pleased by it. - -Jimmie Atwood was hoping that there would be a row. A row among -high-brows would be something to talk about when he went to the -University Club the next day for lunch and an afternoon of sniff. - -“The idea is, I take it,” he said with his funny squeak, “that -there would be no aunts or in-laws; just plain absolute freedom for -everybody. Large marble orphan asylums all over the country. Spanking -machines and everything scientific!” - -“You’ve got exactly the right idea,” cried Mrs. Trenton. - -“Clubs for women and clubs for men; everybody would live in a club. -That _would_ be jolly!” Atwood continued, delighted that he had gained -the attention of the guest of honor. - -“Has anybody here,” began Grayling, “ever watched a bunch of college -boys listening to a phonograph record of Patti singing ‘Home, Sweet -Home?’ Well, I have and you could cut the gloom with a knife. Home is -still sweet to most of us.” - -“I’d be awfully sorry to miss the weddings we have at the parsonage,” -said Mrs. Ridgely;--“trusting young souls who pop in at all hours to be -married. They’re all _sure_ they’re going to live happy forever after. -Miss Durland, it’s your generation that’s got to solve the problem. -Maybe you have the answer.” - -“Oh, I think weddings are _beautiful_!” Grace answered, feeling the -eyes of the company upon her. The girlish ardor she threw into her -words won her a laugh of sympathy. - -“Don’t let them intimidate you,” said Mrs. Trenton with an indulgent -smile. “Miss Reynolds has been telling me that you’re a University girl -and you ought to be sound on the great questions if Professor Grayling -hasn’t spoiled you!” - -“No one could spoil Grace,” Grayling protested. - -Grace pondered, anxious for Miss Reynolds’s sake to say nothing stupid. -She was the youngest member of the company; they were merely trying in -a friendly spirit to bring her into the talk and no wise deliverance -would be expected of her. - -“I wouldn’t dare speak for all my generation,” she said, “but something -_has_ occurred to me. Our elders scold us too much! It isn’t at all -pleasant to be told that we’re terribly wicked; that we haven’t -any of the fine qualities of our parents and grandparents. We hear -nothing except how times have changed; well, we didn’t change them! I -positively refuse to be held responsible for changing anything! I took -the world just as I found it.” - -She had spoken quickly, with the ring of honest protest in her voice, -and she was abashed when Judge Sanders clapped his hands in approval. - -“That’s the truest word I’ve heard on that subject,” he said heartily. -“The responsibility is on us old folks if our children are not orderly, -disciplined, useful members of society.” - -“I’m afraid you’re right,” added Dr. Ridgely. - -“Aren’t you the Miss Durland that John Moore talks about?” Mrs. Sanders -asked. “I thought so! Isn’t John a wonderful fellow? Since he went into -Mr. Sanders’s office we’ve seen him a good deal at our house. He’s so -simple and honest and gives promise of great things.” - -“I’m very stupid,” said Sanders; “I didn’t realize that I had met the -paragon Moore brags about so much; but I might have known it!” - -He began describing Moore, and told the whole table how, as trustee of -the University, he had become acquainted with the young man and was so -struck by his fine qualities that he had taken him into his office. He -related some of the familiar anecdotes of Moore and called upon Grace -for others. Grace told her stories well, wholly forgetting herself in -her enthusiasm. Suddenly her gaze fell upon Mrs. Trenton, whose lips -were parted in a smile of well-bred inattention. Grace became confused, -stammered, cut short a story she was telling illustrative of John’s -kindness to a negro student whom he had nursed through a long illness. -Apparently neither John nor his philanthropic impulses interested the -author of “Clues to a New Social Order”; or she was irritated at being -obliged to relinquish first place at the table. Miss Reynolds, quick -to note the bored look on her guest’s face, tactfully brought her again -into the foreground. Grace was startled a moment later, when, as the -talk again became general, Sanders remarked: - -“I believe I’ve met your husband, Mrs. Trenton. He’s a friend of Mr. -Thomas Kemp, one of our principal manufacturers.” - -“Yes?” she replied carelessly. “I think I’ve heard Mr. Trenton speak -of an Indianapolis client of that name. He visits your city I know, -on professional employments. Indeed his business keeps him in motion -most of the time; but I can’t complain; I’m a good deal of a gad-about -myself! I wired for Mr. Trenton’s address to his New York office the -other day, hoping I might be able to see him somewhere. It’s possible -he may turn up here. There’s a case for you, Dr. Ridgely! The reason my -marriage is so successful is because of the broad freedom Mr. Trenton -and I allow each other. We haven’t met since--Heaven knows when!” - -A slight hint of bravado in her tone suggested an anxiety to establish -herself in the minds of the company as the possessor of a wider freedom -and a nobler tolerance than other wives. The other wives at the table -were obviously embarrassed if not displeased by her declaration. It -seemed to Grace that the air of the room chilled perceptibly. - -She found herself resenting Mrs. Trenton’s manner of speaking of her -husband. Trenton, she remembered, had always spoken of his wife in -kind terms. On the evening of their first meeting at The Shack he had -chivalrously taken upon himself the responsibility for the failure of -his marriage. He had spoken of Mrs. Trenton as a charming woman, but -Grace thought her singularly charmless. She was at no pains to make -herself agreeable to the company Miss Reynolds had assembled in her -honor. One thing was clear and Grace derived a deep satisfaction from -the reflection,--Mrs. Trenton not only didn’t love her husband, but she -was incapable of loving any one but herself. Grace, having accepted the -invitation to meet Mrs. Trenton with a sense that there was something -a little brazen in her going when Miss Reynolds believed her to be -a clean-hearted, high-minded girl, in bitterness of spirit yielded -to a mood of defiance. This woman had no right to be a burden and a -hindrance to the man she had married. It was her fault if he found in -another the love and the companionship she had denied or was incapable -of giving him. - - -IV - -The Twentieth Century Club had made the occasion a guest night and the -hall was well filled when Miss Reynolds’s party arrived. Places had -been reserved for them near the platform but Grace slipped into a seat -by the door with Atwood and Grayling. - -“Thank you for this!” exclaimed Atwood. “I always sleep at lectures and -I won’t be so conspicuous back here.” - -Mrs. Trenton, introduced by the president as one of the foremost women -of her time, laid a sheaf of notes on the reading desk and began her -address. Her subject was “Woman’s New Freedom,” and she summarized -the long struggle for suffrage before indicating the questions to -which women should now devote themselves to complete their victory. -She recited the familiar arguments against child labor and thought -existing laws should be extended and strengthened; and she pleaded for -equal pay for equal work for women. She advocated uniform marriage and -divorce laws on a basis of the widest freedom. There was no slavery so -hideous as that of marriages where the tie becomes irksome. She favored -birth control on the ground that a woman is entitled to be the judge -of her fitness and ability to bear and raise children. She advocated -state maternity hospitals with provision for the care of all children -by the state where parents lack the means or the intelligence to rear -them. She was not a socialist, she protested, though there were many -socialistic ideas which she believed could profitably be adopted under -the present form of government. Her “Clues to a New Social Order,” -she explained, contemplated the fullest recognition of the rights of -the individual. She expressed her impatience of the multiplication of -laws to make mankind better; the widest liberty was essential to all -progress. - -Grace had listened with the strictest attention. Once or twice Grayling -whispered some comment and Atwood, deeply bored, inquired midway of the -address whether the first inning wasn’t nearly over. At the conclusion -the president, following the club’s custom, said that Mrs. Trenton -would be glad to answer any questions, but the only person who took -advantage of the invitation was an elderly gentleman who asked Mrs. -Trenton whether she didn’t think the Eighteenth Amendment marked a -great moral advance for the nation. - -“On the contrary, a decided retreat,” Mrs. Trenton replied, so -incisively that the meeting closed amid general laughter. - -“Was it the event of a life-time?” Atwood asked Grayling. - -“Old stuff! Miss Durland could have taken the lady’s material and made -a better story of it.” - -“A doubtful compliment!” said Grace. “Come along; we must say -good-night to Miss Reynolds.” - -They went forward to where the other guests stood waiting while the -club president introduced to Mrs. Trenton such of the members as wished -to meet her. - -“Don’t forget that I’m taking you home,” said Atwood. “That’s my reward -for coming.” - -Grace had hoped to avoid speaking to Mrs. Trenton again but as Miss -Reynolds’s other guests were bidding her good-night she couldn’t very -well escape it. - -“Ah, you stayed to the bitter end!” Mrs. Trenton exclaimed with a -forced brightening of her face. The hand she gave Grace was cold, and -the look of weariness in her eyes was intensified. “I wish we might -have you as a convert. No hope, I suppose?” - -She turned away with a smile to greet the next in line. - -“It wasn’t so shocking after all,” remarked Miss Reynolds, as Grace -bade her good-night. “I’ll always remember this, Grace. You helped a -lot--you’d have helped a lot even if you hadn’t said a word! I was so -proud of you, dear.” - -When she reached home Grace found her mother and Ethel waiting up for -her and she sat down in the living room to recount the events of the -evening. Mrs. Trenton, she said, was not so terrible; she dismissed -her lightly and concentrated upon the other guests at the dinner. She -was at pains to give the impression that she had thoroughly enjoyed -herself, particularly her meeting with Professor Grayling. The -fact, carelessly mentioned, that Jimmie Atwood had brought her home -immediately obscured everything else. Mrs. Durland wished to be sure -that Jimmie was the son of the George Rogers Atwood who had made a -fortune in the stove business; Ethel thought he was only a nephew and -that Jimmie’s father operated coal mines somewhere near Terre Haute. -Grace, unable to assist in determining this momentous matter, left them -and sought the seclusion of her room. - -As she closed the door she was oppressed by an overmastering fatigue; -she felt that innumerable, mocking, menacing hands were plucking at -her. The jealousy that had assailed her fitfully all evening now tore -at her heart. A vast loneliness, as of some bleak unhorizoned waste, -settled upon her. She locked her door and spread out on her dressing -table the sheets of Trenton’s last letter, which had reached her that -morning, and read them over as she brushed her hair. - - ... and there is no hour in which I do not think of you. The thought - of you is like a prayer in my heart. You have touched the best in me. - I rebel against the fate that keeps me from you. Sometimes it becomes - intolerable--I want you so much, _now_--just to see your face, to - look into your eyes, to touch your hand. You are the flower of all - the world, I think, and quick upon that comes a sense that you have - greatness in you; that you are stronger than I am--possess a truer - and broader sense of the meaning of life.... - -Her deep sigh as she finished became a sob and she laid her head upon -her arms and the tears came. It was possible that he had written just -such letters to the woman who was still his wife; that once he had -found in her this same exaltation. - -But these thoughts she fought and conquered. As she moved slowly about -her room with its dingy old-fashioned furniture, its odds and ends of -memorabilia--her high school diploma, framed; a University pennant -hung over the mahogany bed,--she slipped back into her youth and her -heart went out to Trenton with a child-like faith and confidence. -The remembrance of him as he had held her and kissed her; his -tenderness, the wistfulness with which he regarded her at times, his -fine considerateness, the utter lack of anything common or coarse in -him--these memories wrought peace in her heart. - -Ready for bed, she huddled inside the window draperies before opening -her window, gazing up at the stars. The same bright orbs shone over -him, wherever he was. Perhaps at that very moment, he, in the manner of -lovers from time immemorial, was invoking their council as he thought -of her. - -“I love you! I love you, dear!” she whispered and repeated the words, -finding in them strength and solace. - -She unlocked the door and got into bed just as her mother entered. - -“Are you all right, Grace?” Mrs. Durland asked. She stooped and picked -up Grace’s party slippers from the middle of the floor and put them -away in the closet. - -“Yes, I’m fine, mother,” Grace answered. “Please don’t bother about my -things. I’ll straighten up in the morning.” - -“All right, dear,” said Mrs. Durland. “I’ll put your dress on a hanger -in the sewing room and press the skirt out tomorrow. It’s mussed a -little, I noticed.” - -With the gown over her arm she walked to the bed. - -“Are you happy, dear?” she asked, laying her hand for a moment on the -girl’s forehead. - -“Yes, mother. Thank you so much for coming in!” - -With an access of emotion she sat up and flung her arms about her -mother’s neck and kissed her. - -“You _are_ happy, Grace?” Mrs. Durland repeated solicitously. - -“Yes, mother; very happy.” - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - - -I - -The morning paper’s account of Mrs. Trenton’s lecture came in for -discussion at the breakfast table and Mrs. Durland read aloud the -society column’s report of Miss Reynolds’s dinner. The names of the -guests were not given, an omission which Mrs. Durland thought singular, -but which evoked from Ethel the comment that the people who had -countenanced Mrs. Trenton merely to please Miss Reynolds probably had -asked to have their names suppressed. Durland, deprived of his paper, -which Mrs. Durland and Ethel were clinging to in violation of his -long-established rights, asked Grace whether Trenton was in town. - -“Mrs. Trenton said she had hoped to see him here, but I don’t know -anything about it, daddy,” she replied carelessly, though the -possibility of Trenton’s coming to Indianapolis in response to his -wife’s summons was now uppermost in her thoughts. - -She eagerly opened the letter from him which awaited her at the store. -It was a hasty lead-pencil scrawl and said that he was leaving that -night for Indianapolis to see Mrs. Trenton, who was lecturing there -and had asked for a meeting. The summons was most inopportune as his -work in Syracuse was not completed and it would be necessary for him to -return as quickly as possible. “But I’ll see you, of course, if only -for a moment,” he concluded. - -The note served only to revive with keener malevolence the jealousy -that she had vanquished the previous night. Trenton had never written -so brusquely before; perhaps his wife’s demand for an interview had -alarmed him. She stabbed herself with the thought that this woman had -the right to demand interviews with him whenever she pleased. - -In the search for consolation she asked Irene to go to lunch with her. -To her relief, Irene, having already formed at long range her opinion -of Mrs. Trenton, asked only a few questions about the dinner. - -“Having seen Mary you will understand Ward better,” Irene remarked, -after her curiosity had been satisfied as to what the women wore and -she had suggested that the meeting with Atwood under Miss Reynolds’s -roof might lead to something. - -“Ward’s coming here to see her; he may be in town now,” said Grace, not -in the least interested in Atwood. “She told us at dinner she hadn’t -seen her husband for she didn’t know how long and had been wiring to -try to locate him. What do you make of that, Irene? Do you suppose----” - -“I’d suppose nothing! You can’t tell what women of that sort think -or what they’ll do. But you can be pretty sure they’ll do something -foolish every chance they get. Don’t you worry about her; you can trust -Ward to take care of you no matter what her ladyship knows or guesses -about him. If Ward loves you as I think he does he’ll go clear down the -line for you.” - -“Do you think that,--do you really mean that,” asked Grace tremulously. - -“Of course I mean it! Look here, my dear! Seeing that woman has made -you nervous. If you’d asked my advice in advance I’d have told you not -to go. But now that you went and gone and done it the sooner you forget -the whole business the better.” - -“Irene, I simply had to go! I was simply dying of curiosity and -jealousy. Can’t you understand that? You needn’t tell me I ought to be -ashamed of myself for going; I know well enough I ought to be.” - -“Cut it out, old dear! I’d probably have done the same thing myself if -I’d been in your place. Why, Grace, the first time Mrs. Kemp appeared -on my floor after I began playing around with Tommy, I nearly broke -my neck to wait on her. You ought to feel better now you’ve seen the -woman. I heard some of our valued customers talking about the lecture -this morning and they all knocked. It’s her money they listen to, not -her ideas. She’s no rival of yours, my dear. But, _speaking_ of rivals, -I’ve been keeping something from you. Good old John Moore has called on -me twice lately and I went to a movie with him Saturday night. Honest, -I did! Don’t faint, but I actually broke a date with Tommy to see a -picture with your old college chum! Go on and scold me!” - -“Why, Irene, I’m awfully pleased. John liked you from the first time -you met.” - -“Well, he oughtn’t to! Really it would be a lot better if you’d warn -him against me. He’s so square himself that he refuses to believe -anything mean of anybody; and if he should fall in love with me--or -worse--if I’d get a case on _him_----” - -She shook her head and compressed her lips to indicate the dire -possibilities of either predicament. - -“Why not?” Grace demanded. - -“Don’t be silly; you know why not,” Irene replied. “He thinks I’m -straight and you know I’m--well, you know what you know. And I just -wouldn’t fool that man! If I did I’d be punished for it and I’d deserve -to be.” - -“Why, Irene!” exclaimed Grace. “I believe you’re already in love with -him.” - -“Well, hardly _that_,” Irene replied reflectively, “but I’ve got one -of the symptoms. I’m going to quit my evil ways and chuck Tommy! Old -sackcloth and ashes stuff! I ought to have let him go when we had the -row about that girl in Chicago. You know, Grace, we’re always hearing -about the influence of a good woman, but, my dear, it’s nothing to what -a good man can do! I suppose,” she went on in her large philosophic -manner, “it’s because really fine men are so scarce that when you do -spot one you just naturally feel like prostrating yourself in the dust -before him. When I began lotus-eating with Tommy I thought I’d never -weary of the food, but John’s given me an appetite for corn bread and -cabbage! Just what will you take for your interest in John?” - -“I never could have loved John and he’s never thought of me in that -way,” Grace replied seriously. “But, Irene, for his friendship I -wouldn’t take a million dollars.” - -“Of course you wouldn’t! And just for his respect and confidence, I’d--” - -Grace marvelled to see tears in Irene’s eyes. - -The hour spent with Irene served at least to change the current of -Grace’s thoughts. There were other girl friends for whom she had a warm -liking but Irene continued to hold first place in her affections. The -girl’s poise and serenity, her flashes of wisdom, made her increasingly -fascinating. And there was a charm in her very unaccountableness. That -the luxury-loving Irene, who had so recently spoken of marriage as only -a means of attaining comfort and ease, should tolerate the attentions -of a young countryman who stood at the threshold of one of the most -difficult professions was all but incredible. But this was no more -puzzling than the attraction John apparently found in Irene. - - -II - -By the middle of the afternoon Grace was again enmeshed in a network of -doubt and apprehension. Trenton was making a journey for the express -purpose of meeting his wife; he had probably reached Indianapolis -at noon and gone at once to Miss Reynolds’s to see her. Grace’s -imagination was playing cruel tricks upon her; she pictured the meeting -between Trenton and his wife in a hundred ways. He would kiss her, -perhaps take her into his arms; and after their long separation it was -possible that both might experience a reawakening of the early passion -that had died in them. Grace, seeking the lowest depths of humility, -knew herself only as Number Eighteen at Shipley’s, a girl to be played -with and cast aside by another woman’s husband whenever it pleased -him to be done with her. In her self-abasement she recalled Irene’s -oft-reiterated declaration about Kemp, that she admired his brains and -was fond of him but never deceived herself with the idea that she loved -him. This was the wiser way. Grace lashed herself pitilessly for her -folly in giving her love so unreservedly when the result could bring -nothing but unhappiness. Her love and trust wavered like sunlight -struggling to penetrate a field of cloud. - -She was standing near the entrance to the ready-to-wear department, -inattentive and listless, when the rattle of the elevator door roused -her and Trenton stepped out. At the sight of him the blood rushed to -her heart till it seemed for a moment that she would die of joy at the -sight of him. - -He saw her at once and walked quickly toward her. He had never before -seemed so handsome and distinguished. His step had the elasticity of -youth, and there was a happy light in his eyes as he took her hand. -This was the first time he had sought her at Shipley’s and she assumed -that his coming meant that he had seized the only possible moment to -see her. - -“We can’t talk here, of course; I’ve got Kemp’s car and I can explain -things as we ride,” he said. “Can you get excused for the rest of the -day?” - -Miss Boardman, busily marking price tags, gave the permission with an -absent-minded nod and Grace hurried back to report that she was free -and would get her wraps and meet him at the main entrance. - -When they were in Kemp’s limousine Trenton ordered Craig to drive -straight north, without mentioning a destination. There was no hint of -trouble in his clear steady eyes. His air of perfect self-confidence, -of knowing exactly what he was about, restored her faith. She loved him -and she was proud that she loved him. - -“Please don’t be frightened!” he began, clasping her hand when they -were clear of the down-town traffic. “I’ve just seen Mrs. Trenton. She -wired me for an appointment to discuss some of her personal business -matters. As she’s going further West lecturing it was as convenient to -see her here as anywhere else. So I came here and have already seen -her at Miss Reynolds’s. It took some time to go over her investments -and explain some changes I had made in them. When that was finished -she suddenly asked about that letter I wrote to her last fall from St. -Louis. That settled the question as to whether she ever got it.” - -“Yes, I remember,” Grace replied faintly. - -In spite of his cheerfulness she was sure that he was leading up to -some disagreeable disclosure and involuntarily she drew away her hand. - -“It’s all right, dear,” he went on reassuringly. “She said she knew -we’d been drifting further apart for a long time and that she wasn’t -surprised by my letter. She hadn’t acknowledged it because she was -waiting for a chance to see me to talk it out. She seemed rather -amused. She has a way of being amused at things. And now--don’t jump!” -he caught her hand and clasped it tight. “She was always a woman of -surprises--she said she wanted to see the girl I had mentioned--but not -in a disagreeable way at all. If you knew her you’d understand.” - -“That’s it--I do understand,” Grace replied slowly. “I was at the -dinner Miss Reynolds gave for her last night. I ought to have asked you -if it was all right to go--but I was afraid you’d say no--and--and I -_had_ to see her.” Her voice broke in a sob, but lifting her head she -hurried on. “I was jealous--terribly jealous--and something tells me -that--that--we are--near the end.” - -“Please, dear; don’t give way to foolish fears!” he implored. “I’m glad -you went to the dinner; that was all right and I want to hear all about -it later. Having seen Mrs. Trenton you ought to know that her request -is quite characteristic. Don’t you see that she’s curious about you, -just as you were about her! I really think she means to be kind to me. -It’s unusual of course, but--Mrs. Trenton is a very unusual woman!” - -Grace looked at him in a kind of dumb wonder. - -“You--you told her my name--” she faltered. - -“No; certainly not! You weren’t mentioned. I think she assumed that the -girl I wrote her about lived in St. Louis. She was rather taken aback -when I said she lived here.” - -“And you told her you’d produce me--exhibit me for her criticism? Ward, -what can you be thinking of; what can you think of _me_ to ask such a -thing? I suppose you told her everything?” - -“Why Grace, this isn’t like you! You’re taking it all too seriously. -Mrs. Trenton has no cause to think anything except that I’ve met you -and fallen in love with you. You must be reasonable, dear,” he went on -patiently. “She knows nothing and has no right to assume--what we’d -rather she didn’t. It’s just a whim of hers. If I thought she wouldn’t -treat you as one lady should treat another I wouldn’t ask you to go. It -will be the most formal call--no chance for anything unpleasant, even -if she wanted to be disagreeable.” - -“She could be very disagreeable. I didn’t like her; I didn’t like -her at all! It seems to me sheer folly to put myself in her way -unnecessarily.” - -“I tell you it will be all right!” he protested. “She will be -surprised, of course, to find that she has already met you. You know I -wouldn’t cause you the slightest embarrassment or pain for the world.” - -For a moment she pondered, her confidence in him and her wish to accede -to his wishes struggling against suspicion and jealousy. - -“You’re sure this isn’t a trick--a trap?” she asked. - -“Of course not, dear! How can you think such a thing? Mrs. Trenton -really has a sense of humor; and she’s a woman of the world. Besides -she has no ground whatever for attacking you; I can’t imagine her doing -that in any circumstances. I’m just meeting her wish to see a girl I -told her I admire. But--I count more than I dare say on the result. I -want to give her a chance to practice what she preaches!” - -“Well,” said Grace, searching his eyes with a long gaze, “I’ll go since -you insist, but I think it’s foolish. It’s the most ridiculous thing I -ever heard of! But she can’t do more than murder me.” - -“She can’t do more than approve of you!” he cried and ordered Craig to -drive to Miss Reynolds’s. - - -III - -Mrs. Trenton was immediately visible, writing at a small table in the -living room, when they were ushered into the reception parlor. She -wore a pair of shell-rimmed library glasses, and it occurred to Grace -that the blank stare that had been so disconcerting the previous night -was probably attributable to some defect of vision. She did not lift -her head when the maid spoke to her but nodded and went on writing for -several minutes. Then she laid aside the glasses and walked unhurriedly -to the door. - -“Ah, Ward, back again!” - -“I believe you’ve met Miss Durland, May,” said Trenton. - -“Yes; of course,” she replied with a smile of recognition that faded -instantly. “It’s nice of you to come, Miss Durland. I didn’t know last -night that you were acquainted with Mr. Trenton. Dear Miss Reynolds -didn’t mention it or I should, of course----” - -She broke off in her odd way, her gaze wandering. Her indifference was -an achievement in itself, a masterly thing. She wore a blue house gown -of an exquisite simplicity. A string of crystal beads hung about her -neck and she put her hand to them frequently as though to make sure -they were there. As she sank into a chair her long figure relaxed into -graceful lines. She was much more composed than at the dinner, with -a languorous composure that might have been donned for the occasion -like a garment. She reminded Grace of those portraits of women done by -fashionable painters which satisfy the artistic sense without conveying -a sense of reality. - -“You forget, May, that I haven’t met Miss Reynolds,” Trenton remarked -to her; but she ignored him. - -“You are--what do you say--a Hoosier, Miss Durland?” she asked, her -gaze falling as if by chance upon Grace. - -“Oh, yes, I’m a native.” Grace answered with a faint smile; but her -courage was ebbing. She hated Mrs. Trenton. She tried to think of -something amusing to add to her confession that she was a native -Indianian but the atmosphere of the room was not conducive to -brilliancy. To make conversation Trenton reminded his wife that they -had once met a certain senator from Indiana at White Sulphur Springs. - -A “yes” charged with all the apathy that can be conveyed by the rising -inflexion, was the only reply that was evoked by this attempt to link -Indiana to large affairs of state. Trenton asked Grace whether Indiana -had ever produced more than one president, and she tried to ease her -discomfiture by replying that the state had rather specialized in -vice-presidents. - -“Oh, that!” remarked Mrs. Trenton. “How very droll! I suppose the -Indiana school teacher has a frightful time instilling in the young -Hoosier mind the names of all your vice-presidents. Do they pay -teachers well in Indiana?” - -“Not so well as farther West, I believe,” Grace answered; “but I know -little about it.” - -“That’s the next thing I’m going to take up. I’m having data collected -now,” Mrs. Trenton said with more spirit than she had before manifested. - -“That’s fine, May,” said Trenton cordially. “That’s a work worth doing.” - -“You’d really approve of that, Ward?” she asked. “You haven’t always -been so indulgent of my whims.” - -Grace, increasingly uncomfortable, started when Mrs. Trenton addressed -her directly. - -“Miss Durland, if you see too much of Mr. Trenton you will find him a -singularly unreasonable person. But,” with a shrug, “all men have the -ancient conceit of their sex superiority.” - -She had drawled the “if you see too much” in a manner to give the -phrase a peculiar insinuating emphasis. Grace caught its significance -at once and her cheeks burned; but she was less angry at the woman than -at Trenton, whose face betrayed no resentment. She rose and walked to -the door. - -“Dear me, don’t run away!” Mrs. Trenton exclaimed. “Miss Reynolds will -be back shortly. She was called away to some hospital--I think it -was--to see a friend. Do wait. There will be tea, I think.” - -Trenton was on his feet. No man’s mind is ever quite so agile or -discerning as a woman’s. He had just caught up with the phrase that had -angered Grace. - -“I have kept my word,” he said, rising and addressing his wife -directly. “When I promised you that if I ever met a woman I felt -I could care for I would tell you, I was in earnest. At your own -suggestion and in perfect good faith I asked Miss Durland to come here.” - -“My dear Ward! You were always a man of your word!” she said with a -hint of mockery in her voice. “I assure you that I’m delighted to meet -Miss Durland. She’s very charming, really.” - -“I don’t intend that you shall forget yourself!” he said sharply. “Your -conduct since you came into this room has been contemptible!” - -“I’m most contrite! Do forgive me, Miss Durland.” - -She lay back in her chair in a pose of exaggerated ease and lazily -turned her head to look at Grace. - -“I assume,” she said, “that you are my chosen successor, and I can’t -complain of my husband’s taste. You are very handsome and I can see -how your youth would appeal to him, but--there are things I must -consider. Please wait”--Grace had laid her hand on the door,--“I may -as well say it all now. I’ve probably led Ward to think that if such -an emergency as this arose I’d free him and bid him Godspeed. But, you -see, confronted with the fact, I find it necessary to think a little of -myself. One must, you know, and I’m horribly selfish. It would never -do to give my critics a chance to take a fling at me as a woman whose -marriage is a failure. You can see for yourself, Miss Durland, how my -position would be weakened if I were a divorcee. Much as I hate to -disappoint you--it would never do--really it would not!” - -“Just what are you assuming, Mrs. Trenton?” demanded Grace, meeting the -gaze of the older woman. - -“We needn’t discuss that now!” interrupted Trenton peremptorily. - -“No; I suppose you’d have to confer privately with Miss Durland before -reaching a conclusion. But, I suggest, Miss Durland, for the sake of -your own happiness, that you avoid, if, indeed, the warning isn’t too -late, forming any--what do we call such--” - -“That will do! Stop right there!” Trenton interrupted. - -Grace had swung round from the door, and stood, her lips parted and -with something of the look of an angry, hurt child in her eyes. It -seemed to her that she was an unwilling eavesdropper, hearing words not -intended for her ears, but without the power to escape. Then she heard -Trenton’s voice. - -“You’d better go, Grace,” he said quietly. “Craig is waiting. He will -take you home.” - -Grace closed the door after her and paused in the dim hall. A nightmare -numbness had seized her; and she found herself wondering whether -she could reach the outer door; it seemed remote, unattainable. -She steadied herself against the newel, remembering an accident in -childhood that had left her dazed and nauseated. Trenton had told her -to go; at his wife’s bidding he was sending her away and it wasn’t -necessary for him to dismiss her like that! - -She felt herself precipitated into a measureless oblivion; nothing good -or beautiful ever had been or would be. He had told her to go; that -was all; and like a grieved and heartbroken child she resented being -sent away. In her distress she was incapable of crediting him with the -kindness that had prompted him to bid her leave. - -She was startled by a quick step on the walk outside, followed by the -click of the lock, and the door, flung open, revealed Miss Reynolds. - -“Why, Grace, I had no idea--why, child! What’s the matter? You’re as -white as a sheet!” - -“I must go,” said Grace in a whisper, withdrawing the hand Miss -Reynolds had clasped. The door remained open and the world, a -fantastically distorted world, lay outside. With slow steps she passed -her bewildered friend, saying in the tone of one muttering in an -unhappy dream: - -“I must go! He told me to go.” - -“He--who?” - -The astonished Miss Reynolds, who at first thought Grace was playing a -joke of some kind, watched her pass slowly down the walk to the gate -and enter the waiting car. She went out upon the steps, uncertain what -to do and caught a last glimpse of Grace’s face, her eyes set straight -ahead, as the machine bore her away. - - -IV - -The thought of remaining at home was unbearable, and after supper Grace -telephoned Irene to ask whether she was free for the evening. - -“Tommy said something about taking a drive and I’m going over to -Minnie’s to meet him. You come right along. I saw Ward snatch you out -of the store. Pretty cool, I call it! Tommy said he was going back East -at seven, so you’re a widow once more!” - -Grace left the house with her father, who was spending all his evenings -at Kemp’s plant. To all questions at home as to the progress of his -motor Durland replied that he guessed it would be all right. On the -street-car he told Grace he was anxious to see Trenton; there were -difficulties as to the motor that he wished to discuss with him. He -said he had written, asking an interview as soon as possible, but that -Trenton had not replied. Grace answered that she knew nothing about him -and her heart sank as she remembered that Trenton was no longer a part -of her life and that in the future he would come and go and she would -never be the wiser. - -It was all over and she faced the task of convincing herself that her -love for him had been a delusion, a mere episode to be forgotten as -quickly as possible. She left her father at Washington street, cheerily -wishing him good luck, and took a car that ran past Minnie’s door. - -Irene was alone and, in a new gown of coppergreen crepe that enhanced -the gold in her hair, might have posed as the spirit of spring. Minnie -had remained down town, she explained, and Tommy was not expected until -nine. - -“What’s happened?” she demanded. “I know something’s doing or you -wouldn’t have called me up from home.” - -Grace took off her coat, hung it over the back of a chair and flung -herself down on the couch. - -“Console me a little, Irene,--but not too much--I’ve seen Ward for the -last time.” - -“His wife make a row?” Irene inquired. - -“Yes, he took me to see her and she----” - -“He took you to _see_ her! Grace Durland, what _are_ you talking about?” - -“Just that!” and Grace, no longer able to restrain herself, burst into -tears. - -“You poor baby!” - -Irene jumped up and thrust a pillow back of Grace’s head and sat down -beside her. “Tell me about it if you want to, but not unless you feel -like it, honey.” - -“I’ve simply got to tell you, Irene. Oh----!” - -“Grace Durland, don’t be silly! You know I’d _die_ for you!” - -She listened in patient silence while Grace told with minute detail and -many tears the story of her interview with Mrs. Trenton. - -“I loved him; I still love him, Irene!” she moaned pitifully when she -had finished. “And it had to end like that!” - -“If you want my opinion,” said Irene judicially, “I’ll say that Ward -Trenton is a perfect nut--the final and consummate nut of the whole nut -family! The idea that he would take a girl like you--and you’re a good -deal of a kid, my dear--to call on a woman like that wife of his, who’s -an experienced worldly creature, and as much as tell her that he’s in -love with you! It’s the limit!” - -“But,” said Grace, quick to defend the moment Trenton was attacked, “he -had every reason to believe she would be decent! She’d always let him -think that if there was any one else she’d--she’d----” - -“She’d hand him a transfer!” Irene laughed ironically. “Isn’t that just -like poor old Ward! I tell you men are even as little babes where women -are concerned. There isn’t a woman on earth who’d just calmly sit by -and let another woman walk off with her husband even if she hated him -like poison. It’s against nature, dearest. I can see how that woman -would make the bluff, all right, but all she wanted was to see what -you looked like and finding you young and beautiful she tried to make -you feel like a counterfeit nickel. The trouble with Ward is that he’s -so head over heels in love with you that he’s lost his mind. I wonder -what happened after you skipped! I’ll bet it was some party! But don’t -you believe he’s going to give you up--not Ward! Everything’s going to -straighten out, honey. His telling you to go doesn’t mean a blessed -thing! He just wanted to get you out of the scrap.” - -“It means the end,” said Grace with a sigh that lost itself in a sob. - -The bell tinkled and Grace ran away to remove the traces of tears from -her face. When she reappeared Kemp greeted her with his usual raillery. - -“I had only a word with Ward over the telephone,” he said. “He came -out to see his wife and as he borrowed my limousine I guess he showed -her the village sights. But, of course, you know more about that -bird than I do, Grace. You couldn’t scare me up a drink, could you, -Irene? Minnie’s got some stuff of mine concealed here somewhere. Just -a spoonful--no? Grace, this girl is a cruel tyrant. She positively -refuses to let me die a drunkard’s happy death.” - -He evidently wasn’t aware that Grace had seen Trenton and Irene -carefully kept the talk in safe channels. He had brought his roadster, -not knowing that he was to find Grace at Minnie’s, but he insisted that -the car carried three comfortably and he wouldn’t consider leaving her -behind. - -It was the same car in which Trenton had driven her into town after -the night they spent together at The Shack. In spite of her attempts -to forget, thoughts of him filled her mind like an implacable host of -soldiery.... - -After a plunge into the country they swung back to town along the river. - -“By Jove!” exclaimed Kemp suddenly. “There’s my little factory over -there in the moonlight. Have you ever seen it, Grace? We’ll just dash -in for a minute.” - -“I wonder if father’s still there?” said Grace as they drove into the -lighted yard. - -“We’ll soon find out. That’s his workshop yonder where you see the -bluish lights. I see O’Reilly’s light on in the main office. That -fellow works too hard.” - -“It’s a good thing somebody works around this place,” said Irene. “The -world knows you don’t.” - -“Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” Kemp retorted, and led the way down a -long aisle of one of the steel and glass units of the big plant. The -moon diffused its mild radiance through the glass roof, as though -mocking with a superior mystery the silent inert machinery. - -The sound of voices became audible in a room partitioned off in one -corner. The door was ajar and two men in overalls and jumpers were -pondering a motor set up on a testing block. - -The trio remained outside, watching the two intent, rapt figures. -One Grace had recognized as her father; the other, she realized -bewilderedly, was Ward Trenton. Trenton, unconscious that he was -watched, raised his hand and Durland turned a switch. The hum of a -motor filled the room; and Durland turned slowly from the motor to -glance at Trenton. Trenton signalled to shut off the power and dropped -upon his knees, peering into the machine. Durland took up a sheet of -paper and from it answered the questions which Trenton shot at him in -rapid succession. - -“Let’s have the power again,” said Trenton. He rose, bent his ear to -study the sound, turned to Durland and nodded. - -“Let’s see what they’re up to,” said Kemp and shouted Trenton’s name. -Grace drew back as the two men turned toward them, but Irene seized her -arm. - -“Don’t you dare run away!” - -Trenton came toward them snatching off his blue mechanic’s cap. There -was a smudge across his face and his hands were black from contact with -the machinery. - -“I didn’t really lie to you, Tommy: I meant to leave tonight but -remembered that Mr. Durland wanted to see me, so here I am.” - -They followed him to the testing block where Durland had remained, too -engrossed to heed them. - -“I’m glad you came just when you did,” said Trenton addressing all of -them but looking at Grace. “Mr. Durland will be ready to begin the -final tests tomorrow. I’m sure they’re going to be successful. I want -you to be here, Tommy, and see the thing through. Just look at this!” - -He deftly lifted out a part of the motor for Kemp’s inspection, -restored it and then bent over the bench, rapidly scribbling notes on -the back of a blue print. - -“Congratulations are now in order, I suppose,” said Kemp. He turned and -shook hands with Durland, who was regarding the motor with a puzzled -look on his face. Trenton said he would remain a while longer--he might -stay all night, he added with a laugh. - -“This is too important to leave, so I’ve changed all my plans and will -be here two or three days.” - -“When this bird works, he works,” said Kemp, laying his hand -affectionately on Trenton’s shoulder. - -Trenton followed them out, keeping close to Grace. When they were out -of ear shot of her father--Durland apparently hadn’t noticed that Grace -was in the room--Trenton said: - -“I called you at home this evening and found you’d gone out. I want to -see you; I _must_ see you,” he said pleadingly. - -Kemp had reached the main shop and was explaining to Irene some of the -points of the motor. - -“Kemp!” Trenton called. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” - -“Nothing; I’m ready for anything.” - -“Well, Grace and I would like to have dinner with you at The Shack.” - -“A grand idea! Only remember--none of this prohibition stuff you -pulled on me Christmas. I cannot dine without my wine!” he chanted. - -When they reached the yard Kemp and Irene were waiting by the car. -Trenton caught Grace’s hand and whispered: - -“Remember, I love you! I shall always love you.” - -“No--no--” she began. “Oh this isn’t kind! I thought you had -gone--or----” - -“Come along, Grace,” cried Kemp. “See you tomorrow, Ward. Good-night -and good luck!” - -To Grace, on the homeward drive, peace seemed an unattainable thing. -She had firmly resolved never to see Trenton again; but she had not -only seen him but the sight of him had deepened the hunger in her -heart. She was without the will to deny him the meeting for which he -had asked. It was sweet to think that he had remained if only to assist -her father when he had definitely said that he was leaving that night. -Yes; there was kindness in this; and even though he had sent her away -from Miss Reynolds’s and wounded her deeply in his manner of doing it, -she knew that it was always his wish to be kind and that no power could -keep her from seeing him again, if only for a last good-bye. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - - -I - -As she dressed the next morning Grace hummed and whistled, happy in the -consciousness that before the day ended she would see Trenton again. -The romantic strain in her warmed and quickened at the thought. Even -if they were to part for all time and she should go through life with -his love only a memory, it would be a memory precious and ineffaceable, -that would sweeten and brighten all her years. - -In his workman’s garb, as she had seen him at Kemp’s, she idealized -him anew. If it had been his fate to remain a laborer, his skill would -have set him apart from his fellows. He could never have been other -than a man of mark. It was a compensation for anything she might miss -in her life to have known the love of such a man. She was impatient -with herself and sought the lowest depths of self-abasement for having -doubted him. She should never again question his sincerity or his -wisdom, but would abide by his decision in all things. - -When she reached the dining room her father was already gone, and her -mother seemed troubled about him. - -“He was excited and nervous when he came home last night,” said Mrs. -Durland. “He hardly slept and he left an hour ago saying he’d get a cup -of coffee on his way through town. I’m afraid things haven’t been going -right with him. It would be a terrible blow if the motor didn’t turn -out as he expected.” - -“Let’s just keep hoping, mother; that’s the only way,” Grace replied -cheerily. “They wouldn’t be wasting time on it at Kemp’s if there -wasn’t something in it.” - -“I guess you’re right there,” interposed Ethel. “Kemp has the -reputation of being a cold-blooded proposition. And I suppose the great -Trenton values his own reputation too much to recommend anything that -hasn’t got money in it.” - -“Poor foolish men _will_ persist in going into business to make money, -not for fun,” Grace replied. “I suppose Gregg and Burley don’t sell -insurance just as a matter of philanthropy. Mr. Trenton would soon be -out of work if he didn’t have the confidence of the people who hire -him. I wouldn’t be so bitter if I were you.” - -“I heard you rolling up in an automobile last night,” Ethel persisted. -“You seem to be getting the benefit of somebody’s money.” - -“Ethel!” cried her mother despairingly. - -“Let her rave,” replied Grace calmly. “When Mr. Burley drives Ethel -home from the office it’s an act of Christian kindness, but if I get a -lift it’s a sin.” - -“Mr. Burley,” began Ethel, breathing heavily, “Mr. Burley is the very -soul of honor! He wanted to talk to me about some of the work in our -Sunday school and hadn’t time to discuss it in the office.” - -“Don’t think for a minute I have any objection! If he was just opening -up a little flirtation it would be all right with me.” - -“How dare you?” cried Ethel, beginning to cry. - -“Please, Grace,” began Mrs. Durland, pausing on her way to the kitchen -with the coffee pot. - -“All right, mother,” said Grace. “I resent just a little bit having -Ethel grab all the virtue in the family.” - -“I’m not ashamed to tell who brings me home anyhow,” Ethel flung at her. - -“Neither, for that matter, am I! It was Mr. Thomas Ripley Kemp who -brought me home last night. He’d taken Irene and me for a drive.” - -“So that _was_ it! I thought I recognized the car. That Kemp! I suppose -he’s getting tired of Irene and is looking for another girl!” - -“Well, dearie, he hasn’t said anything about it,” Grace replied. “But -you never can tell.” - -“Girls! This must stop right here! We can’t have the day beginning with -a wrangle. You both ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” - -“I’m through, mother,” said Grace. “I didn’t start the row. I’ve -reached a place where Ethel doesn’t really worry me any more.” - -“Well, you were always a tease and Ethel is sensitive. I do wish you’d -both exercise a little restraint.” - -Grace found a brief note in the society column of the morning paper -recording Mrs. Trenton’s departure, and an editorial ridiculing her -opinions. Elsewhere there were interviews with a dozen prominent men -and women on Mrs. Trenton’s lecture, all expressing disapproval of her -ideas. A leading Socialist disavowed any sympathy with Mrs. Trenton’s -programme and denounced her “Clues to a New Social Order” as a mere -rehash of other books. He characterized her as a woman of wealth who -was merely seeking notoriety by parading herself as a revolutionist and -who would be sure to resist, with the innate selfishness and greed of -her class, any interference with her personal comfort and ease. - -Grace carried the newspaper with her to the trolley and on the way -down town reread these criticisms of Mrs. Trenton with keenest -satisfaction. Mrs. Trenton was not a great woman animated by a passion -of humanity but narrow, selfish and cruel. She thought again of the -encounter at Miss Reynolds’s with renewed sympathy for Trenton. After -all he had met the difficult situation in the only way possible. He had -said once that he didn’t understand his wife and Grace consoled herself -with the reflection that probably no one could understand her, least of -all, her husband. - -In the course of the day Grace learned from Irene that Kemp, who was -on the entertainment committee for a large national convention, had -decided to ask several friends among the delegates to The Shack. - -“It won’t be a shocker, like some of Tommy’s parties, only a little -personal attention for a few of the old comrades,” said Irene. “You and -Ward can see as little of the rest of the bunch as you please. Tommy -has promised me solemnly to let booze alone. I suppose his wife will -never know how hard I’ve worked to keep him straight! Ridiculous, isn’t -it? Before that woman came back from California Tommy hadn’t touched a -drop for a month, and he’s been doing wonderfully ever since. The good -lady was so pleased with his appearance and conduct that she beat it -for New York last night to buy clothes and by the time she gets back -I’ll be ready to release my mortgage on Tommy for good and all. I’ve -broken the news to him gently and he’s been awfully nice about it. This -is really my last appearance with Tommy--it’s understood on both sides. -I wouldn’t go at all if it were not for you and Ward.” - -Grace envied Irene the ease with which she met situations. Irene’s -cynicism, she had decided, was only on the surface; she wished she -could be sure that she herself possessed the sound substratum of -character that Irene was revealing. Irene had sinned grievously against -the laws of God and man; but after disdaining those influences that -seek to safeguard society, and carrying her head high, with a certain -serene impudence in her wrong-doing, she now appeared to be on good -terms with her soul. It was a strange thing that this could be--one of -the most curious and baffling of all Grace’s recent experiences. Face -to face with the problem of her future relations with Trenton, Grace -was finding in Irene something akin to a moral tonic. Irene, by a code -of her own, did somehow manage to cling fast to things reckoned fine -and noble. Irene, in spite of herself, had the soul of a virtuous woman. - -It was to be a party of ten, Grace learned after Irene had conferred -with Kemp by telephone at the lunch hour. For the edification of the -three strange men Irene had provided three other girls who had, as -Irene said, some class and knew how to amuse tired business men without -becoming vulgar. Grace knew these young women--they were variously -employed down town--but she would never have thought of asking them to -“go on a party.” - -“Not one of these girls makes less than two thousand a year,” Irene -announced loftily. “God preserve me from cheap stuff! It makes me sick, -Grace, to see these poor little fools who run around the streets, all -dolled up with enough paint on their faces to cover the state house -and not enough brains in their heads to make a croquette for a sick -mosquito. If it hadn’t been for all this silly rot about emancipating -women they’d be at home cooking and helping mamma with the wash. As it -is they draw twelve a week and spend it all on clothes to advertise -their sex. Do you know, Grace, I sometimes shudder for the future of -the human race!” - - -II - -Jerry had been reinforced by a colored cateress and the country supper -produced at The Shack proved to be a sumptuous dinner. Kemp had brought -from his well-stocked cave on the farm the ingredients for a certain -cocktail, known by his name throughout the corn-belt. The “Tommy -Kemp” was immediately pronounced to be the last word in cocktails,--a -concoction which, one of the visitors declared, completely annulled -and set aside the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the -United States as an insolent assault upon the personal liberty and the -palate of man. Kemp was in the gayest spirits; the party was wholly to -his taste. The men he entertained were conspicuously successful, and -leaders in the business and social life of their several cities. Irene -had confided to Grace that there were at least ten millions of good -money represented in the party. - -The cocktails were served in the living room to the accompaniment of -much lively chatter. Grace found herself observing with interest the -readiness with which the young women who were strangers to The Shack’s -hospitality entered into the spirit of the occasion and met on terms -of familiar good fellowship the men they hadn’t seen before. It helped -her to forget her disappointment at the size of the party to speculate -about the men and the curious phase of human nature that made it -possible for gentlemen whose names were well known throughout America, -who looked as though they might pass the plate in church every Sunday, -to enter joyfully into the pleasures of such a function. Irene had made -no mistake in her choice of girls; they were handsome; they looked well -in their summer frocks; they were lively and responsive; they were -pastmistresses of the gentle art of kidding. There was no question but -that the visiting gentlemen of wealth and social position enjoyed being -kidded, and the fact that some of them had daughters at home much older -than the girls who did the kidding in no wise mitigated their joy. - -One of the gentlemen evidently preferred Grace to the girl who had -been assigned to him. Under the inspiration of his cocktail he told -Grace that he had long wished to meet her; that now they had met he -was resolved that they should never part again. Grace summoned all -her powers of flirtation and encouraged him, realizing that to snub -him would be to prove herself a poor sport; and she had heard enough -of parties from Irene to know that a girl must not when “on a party” -give cause for any suspicion that she is of the melancholy tribe of -kill-joys. She took a sip of the “Tommy Kemp” and handed it to the -gentleman who was so beguiled by her charms, who drained the glass, -murmuring ecstatically: - -“To the most beautiful girl in the world!” - -“Don’t let grandpa worry you,” whispered Irene. “Just tease him a -little and he’ll think he’s having the time of his life. We’re not -drinking--you and I. This is positively my last party! I’m going to -have my hands full keeping Tommy sober.” - -Trenton was talking during the cocktailing period to one of the most -attractive of the girls, and when Grace glanced at him he smiled and -held up his unemptied glass and put it back on the tray. He was not -drinking, not even the single cocktail he usually permitted himself. -There was serious business before them; both must keep their heads -clear for it. - -The dinner seemed endlessly long. Now and then Grace felt the -reassuring pressure of Trenton’s hand, but the gentleman on the other -side of her, under the mellowing influence of champagne piled upon the -“Tommy Kemps” he had imbibed, was making violent love to her; and his -elaborate tributes of adoration could not be wholly ignored. Seeing -that Trenton was talking little, Kemp, still sober, thanks to Irene’s -watchfulness, addressed him directly: - -“I’ve got news for you, Ward. At five o’clock this afternoon I closed a -deal for Cummings’s plant. Bought Isaac Cummings’s controlling interest -and for better or worse the darned thing’s mine. Please, everybody, -drink to good luck!” - -“We don’t know what it’s all about, but we’re for you, Tommy,” cried -one of the girls. - -“I thought you said you’d never do it, Tommy,” said Trenton, smiling at -his friend and lifting his champagne glass, reversed as it had stood on -the table. - -Kemp protested that this was bad luck and ordered Jerry to serve no -more food until every one had drunk to the success of the merger. This -brought them all to their feet with lifted glasses. - -“Oh, king, live forever!” cried Irene. - -“That’s something like it,” said Kemp. “I didn’t mention the matter -just to advertise my business. I wanted you to know, Grace, that it -gave me a special satisfaction on your account to see Cummings pass -out. It was a downright low trick he played on your father. Things do -sort o’ even up in this world and this struck quick and hard. When -Cummings threw your father out the business was ripe for bankruptcy. -Don’t let Ward scold me. He advised me against it.” - -“I advised you against taking on new responsibilities,” Trenton -replied. “You’ve got enough on your hands now.” - -“You think I’m a sick man,” said Kemp. “But I’m going to see you all -under the sod. I like this world and I’m going to live a hundred years. -Jerry, fill ’em up!” - -There was more food than any one needed or wanted and when Jerry began -serving dessert Trenton suggested to Grace that they leave the table. -Their leaving evoked loud protests. Irene was now furiously angry -at Kemp, who had been unable to resist the lure of the champagne, a -vintage without duplicate in all America, he declared. - -The gentleman at Grace’s left, reduced to a maudlin state by his host’s -generous distribution of wine, loudly importuned her not to go. Kemp -announced his purpose to make a speech and was trying to get upon his -feet when Irene pulled him down. One of the visitors began to sing and -seized a candle from the table with which to beat time. He was bawling, -“He’s a jolly good fellow,” as Grace and Trenton effected their escape. - -They breathed deep of the clean country air when they reached the long -veranda at the side of the house. - -“Poor Tommy; I suppose there’s no way of stopping him,” remarked -Trenton. - -Both were aware of a new restraint the moment they were alone. The -still night was sweet with spring and the earth seemed subdued by the -mystery of green things growing. - -Grace walked the length of the veranda, then back to the steps, Trenton -beside her. He was still troubled by a sense of responsibility for -Kemp. The discordant noises from the dining room followed them and -they debated whether they should try to break up the party but decided -against it. - -“Let’s get away from the racket,” said Trenton. “When I suggested -coming out for supper it didn’t occur to me that Tommy would be pulling -off a bacchanalian feast. Tommy’s incorrigible--dear old Tommy! But--we -must talk. Shall we go up yonder where we can look out over the river?” - -The stars and an old moon that stared blandly across the heavens made -the path easily discernible. As they loitered along he spoke of Kemp’s -purchase of the Cummings concern. - -“I did advise Tommy against it,” he said, “because of the additional -burdens he’ll have to carry. But it’s a good business stroke. He’s -wiped out an old competitor and with your father’s improvements on -Cummings’s motor Tommy’s going to be greatly strengthened.” - -“I’ve been afraid,” said Grace, “that father’s ideas wouldn’t prove -practical. He’s seemed terribly worried lately.” - -“Only the usual perplexities of a genius who’s worn out from long -application! He can breathe easy now. The motor’s going to be a wonder. -I was with your father all day and he’s attained every excellence he -claimed. You have every reason to be proud of him.” - -“It’s all your kindness,” she murmured. - -“Oh, not a bit of it! There’s no sentiment about mechanics. You’ve -either got it or you haven’t. And your father is sound on the -fundamentals where most inventors are weak.” - -They sat down on a rustic bench on the bluff above the river and he -threw his overcoat across her knees. Above them towered a sycamore; -below they heard the murmur and ripple of running water. He put his -arm about her, drew her close and kissed her. - -“I wish it were all true, as we can imagine it to be in this quiet -place, that we’re absolutely alone in the world--just ourselves.” - -“But it isn’t true; we’ve just run away from the world for a little -while,” she said, “but I’m glad for this.” - -She laid her hand on his and gently stroked it. - -“I hope you understood why I didn’t go yesterday as I’d intended. I -couldn’t leave without explaining. I couldn’t have you think that I -took you to Miss Reynolds’s just to make you uncomfortable. It was my -mistake and a stupid blunder.” - -“No; the mistake was mine,” she insisted. “I realized afterwards that -my first feeling was right, that it was foolish to go.” - -“I was honest about it. Mrs. Trenton had led me to think that she -wouldn’t resent meeting any woman who promised to give me the love and -companionship it wasn’t in her power to give me. I took her at her -word. You understand that, don’t you?” - -“You ought to have known, Ward, and so should I, that no woman would -ever have anything but hatred for another woman her husband falls in -love with.” - -“But what I’ve given you she never had! I want you to believe me when I -say that I was really deceived by what I took to be her wholly friendly -attitude.” - -“It doesn’t make the least difference now, Ward. I know you wouldn’t -have taken me to see her if you’d known what would happen. I’ll never -have any but the kindest thoughts of you. Please believe that.” - -She moved a little away from him and leaned back, her hands relaxed in -her lap. - -“It’s all been a mistake--everything--from the beginning,” she went on -in a low voice. - -“My loving you hasn’t been a mistake,” he said earnestly. “Nothing has -changed that or can ever change it.” - -“You merely think that. If you didn’t see me for a while you’d forget -me,” she said, following unconsciously the ritual of unhappy lovers in -all times. - -“No,” he gently protested. “That isn’t the way of it. You don’t really -think that. Please say that you don’t.” - -His tone of pleading caused her to turn to him and fling her arms about -his neck. - -“Oh, I love you so! I love you so!” she sobbed. - -His face was wet with her tears. He took her again into his arms, -turning her face that he might kiss the tears away. Her whole body -shook with her convulsive sobs. - -“Dearest little girl! Poor, dear little child!” - -In the branches above a bird fluttered and cheeped as though startled -in its dreaming. She freed herself, sought her handkerchief to dry her -eyes. With the impotence of man before a woman’s grief he sought to -brush back a wisp of hair that had fallen across her cheek and his hand -trembled. Her face seemed to hover in the star dusk; he saw the quiver -of her lashes, the parted lips, felt for an instant the throbbing pulse -in her throat. - -“I knew the end would come,” she said, with a deep sigh, “But I didn’t -know it would be like this. It’s been so dear, so wonderful! I thought -it would go on forever!” - -Her gaze was upon the dark uneven line of the trees across the river -where they brushed the stars. - -“But it isn’t the end, dear! A love like ours can’t die. It belongs to -the things of all time.” - -“Please, Ward,” she said impatiently, drawing her cloak more tightly -about her shoulders. “Let’s not deceive ourselves any more. You know we -can’t go on,” she continued, as one who has reasoned through a thing -and reached an irrefutable conclusion. “It’s all been like a dream; but -dreams don’t last. And this should never have begun!” - -“You break my heart when you say things like that! As we’ve said so -many times--it all had to be!” - -“We were fools to think it could last,” she said. “But it was more my -fault than yours. And you’ve been dear and kind--Oh, so beautifully -kind.” - -“You’ve trusted me; you’ve proved that! You’ve never doubted--you don’t -doubt now that I love you!” - -“Oh, it does no good to talk--let’s just be quiet--I do love you----” - -“I must talk,” he replied stubbornly. “You are the dearest thing in -the world to me. I couldn’t foresee what happened. It’s only right you -should know what occurred after you left Miss Reynolds’s.” - -“No! Please no! I have no right to know; and it can make no difference. -I knew it was all over when I left the house, but I did want to see you -once more----” - -She was trying to be brave but the words faltered and died. - -“I didn’t discuss you, try to explain you in any way. I only expressed -my indignation at the wholly unnecessary manner in which Mrs. Trenton -treated you, after encouraging me to believe that you would be treated -with every courtesy. I suppose it was jealousy that prompted her to -speak to you as she did. Miss Reynolds came in at once. You must have -met her--and I took leave after I’d tried to cover up the fact that -something disagreeable had happened. That was all.” - -“It was enough. There wasn’t a thing you could say. Mrs. Trenton had -every right on her side. I hope you’ll go back to her and tell her -that any feeling you had for me was just a mistake; make light of the -whole thing. Of course she loves you. If she didn’t she wouldn’t be -jealous. There’s nothing for you to do now but to make your peace with -her. Don’t trouble about me. I don’t want to stand in the way of your -happiness.” - -“Grace,” he said, patient in spite of her strained petulant tone, -“there’s no question of love about it. We know we love each other; but -we’ve got to be sane about this.” - -“Let’s not talk about it, Ward! You know as well as I do that we’ve -reached the end. And please, dear, don’t make it harder for me by -pretending it isn’t. I’m not a child, you know.” - -“We’re not going to pretend anything, Grace, least of all we’re not -going to pretend that everything’s over when we know we couldn’t -forget if we wanted to. But we’ve got to have a care for a little -while at least, now that Mrs. Trenton knows just enough to arouse -her suspicions. I feel my responsibility about you very seriously. -Please--won’t you believe me when I say that it’s of you I’m thinking -first? We might go on seeing each other as we have been, or I might -take you away with me--I’ve thought of that; but I’ve thought too of -the danger. I can’t promise you that Mrs. Trenton wouldn’t spy upon -us,--do something that would drag you into the newspapers, make an -ugly mess. Her prominence would make attractive newspaper material of -you and me, too. I love you too dearly to take any chances. Don’t you -understand? Isn’t it better----” - -“Oh, please stop, Ward! Don’t talk to me as though I were a child! It -all comes to the same thing, that we mustn’t see each other any more. -I knew it when I left Miss Reynolds’s yesterday. It would have been -better if we hadn’t come out here.” - -“It won’t be forever,” he doggedly persisted. “In the end I’m going to -have you. I want you to remember that.” - -“Ward, how perfectly foolish of you to talk that way! If we were to go -on as we have been we wouldn’t be happy. Let’s just acknowledge that -this is the last time.” - -“No,” he protested. “It’s not going to be that way! You’ve lost your -courage and I can’t blame you for seeing things black. If I had only -myself to consider I’d run away with you tonight; but that would be a -despicable thing for me to do. I love you too much for that!” - -The protestation of his love brought her no ease. She was half angered -by his stubborn refusal to face the truth, and his professed belief -that sometime in some way they were to be reunited. He was trying to -see the light of hope ahead where all was dark to her. - -It was strange to be sitting there beside him, thinking already of -their love with all its intimacies, that had seemed to bind them -together forever, as something that had been swept into a past from -which, in a little while, memory would cease to recall it. This was -love! This was the thing that had been written of and sung of in all -the ages; and it was a lure contrived only to bruise and break and -destroy. - -She touched the lowest depths of despair, snatched away her hand when -he tried to possess it; thought of him for an instant with repulsion. -The wistful tenderness of the night, the monotonous ripple of water -beneath, the very tranquillity of the stars seemed to mock and taunt -her. - -He waited patiently, silent, impassive, as though he knew what she was -thinking and knew, too, that such thoughts were inevitable and must run -their course. - -The silence fell upon her like a soothing hand. The tumultuous rush of -her thoughts ceased; she was amazed at the serenity with which suddenly -she viewed the situation. - -He was finer than she, wiser, more far seeing. Something in his -figure, in his dimly etched profile in the faint starlight touched her -profoundly. It was selfish of her to forget that he too suffered. He -was a man she had given herself to without reservation, and with all -the honesty and fervor of her young heart, and to think harshly of him -was to acknowledge herself a shameless wanton, no better than a girl on -the street. She could not think ill of him without debasing herself. -And she did love him; she had loved him from the first, and it was not -the way of love to wound. - -Perhaps he had been sincere in saying that he wished to protect -her--this was like him, and it was cruel of her to question his love, -to fail to help him when he sought with all kindness and consideration -to find some hope in the future. They must part and it might be for the -last time, but she would not send him away feeling that she had not -appreciated all that his love had been and would continue to be to her. -Without him, without some knowledge of his whereabouts and activities -and the assurance of his well-being, life would be unbearable. She was -all tenderness, all solicitude, wholly self-forgetful, as she softly -uttered his name. - -“Ward!” her arms found their way round his shoulders. “I’m selfish,--I -was thinking that you taught me to love you only to thrust me away. -But I know better, dear. You are dearer to me than anything in all the -world--dearer than my life even and I know you mean to be kind. I know -you want to do the right thing for both of us.” - -“Yes; yes!” he whispered eagerly and kissed her gently on lips and -eyes. “If we truly love each other there will be some way. It was not -of our ordering--any of this.” - -“Yes, we must believe that, dear! There can never be any man for me but -you!” - -“And no woman for me but you!” - -They clung to each other, silent, fearing to utter even the reassuring -and consoling words that formed on their lips. Beyond the river a train -passed swiftly with a long blast of the locomotive. - -They drew apart, listening till the whistle’s last echo and the rumble -of cars died away. Trenton sighed deeply. The disturbance had been an -unwelcome reminder of the energies of the world of men hidden by the -night. Grace was the first to speak. - -“It’s been so dear to have this hour! But, we mustn’t meet again. -Please don’t ask me to see you--ever--not in any way. We’ll both be -happier if what we say tonight is final. We can’t just begin over again -and be friends. That would mean forgetfulness--and we can’t forget. -Please don’t write me. I’m going to be all right. I’ll be happy just -thinking of you. We’re both brave and strong and knowing that will -help--won’t it, dear?” - -He knew that at the moment at least she was the braver and stronger. -He had nothing to add to what she had said. She rose and took his face -in her hands and kissed him gently, passionlessly; passed her hands -across his eyes, spoke his name softly. He neither spoke nor responded -to her caresses. - -“Come, dear!” - -She touched his arm lightly and started down the path. He waited a -moment before following. - -She talked in a cheery tone of irrelevant things, laughed merrily -when she lost the path; and so they came back to the garden where the -lights of the house confronted them. At the veranda steps he caught her -suddenly in his arms. - -“It can’t be like this! I’m not going to give you up! Tell me you -understand that it’s only for a little while----” - -“We’re not going to talk about it any more--” she said without a -quaver--with even a little ring of confidence in her voice. But she -suffered his kiss, yielded for a moment to his embrace. - -“I’ll love you always, always, always!” she said slowly. - -“I’ll love you till I die!” he replied. They stood with hands clasped -for an instant, then she turned and ran into the house. - - -III - -They had been gone more than an hour and the other members of the party -stared at them as though they were intruders. Two of the men, not too -befuddled by their potations to remember that they were leaving town -by a midnight train, were trying to convince Kemp that it was time to -go. Tommy was explaining elaborately that there were plenty of trains; -that if there was anything the city was proud of it was the frequency -with which trains departed for all points of the compass. - -Irene in her disgust with Kemp for exceeding the limits she had fixed -for his indulgence in the prized champagne had retired to the kitchen -to talk to Jerry. Hearing Trenton’s voice expostulating with Tommy she -appeared, and announced that she was going home. One of the girls, -overcome by champagne had retired and Irene went upstairs to see what -could be done to restore her. - -“Ask Jerry for some black coffee, Grace, that will fix her,” said Irene. - -She confided to Grace her indignation at the young woman for not -behaving herself; she was disappointed in her. A girl, she declared, -shouldn’t go on a party if she hadn’t any more sense than to get drunk. -However, she ministered to the young woman effectively and kindly. - -Trenton got the three visiting gentlemen and the young women who had -accompanied them into a machine and dispatched them to town and resumed -his efforts to persuade Kemp to go home. Kemp wished to discuss with -Trenton his business plans for the future. He wanted Trenton to promise -to move to Indianapolis immediately to assist him in the management of -his plant. Finding Trenton unwilling to commit himself Kemp fixed his -attention upon Irene. He became tearful as he talked of Irene. She was -the most beautiful girl in the world, and she had brightened his life; -he would always be grateful to her. And now that she had grown tired of -what he called their little arrangement, he wanted her to be happy. He -wished Trenton and Grace to bear witness that he bore no hard feeling -but wished her well. If at any time Irene needed help of any kind it -would break his heart if she didn’t appeal to him. - -Finding that the others were impatient at the delay these deliverances -were causing he assumed an injured air and bade them take him home. -They didn’t love him; nobody loved him. When finally they got him out -to the big touring car he insisted that he would do the driving and -this called for a long argument before he was dissuaded. He refused -to enter the car at all until the others were settled in the back -seat. He guessed he knew the demands of hospitality! Craig roused his -ire by attempting to help him in and he waited till the chauffeur was -seated and ready to start before he would move. Then he adjusted one -of the disappearing seats, got in and began an ironical lecture on -the instability of friendship. Some of his remarks were amusing and -they encouraged him to go on feeling that so long as they manifested -interest he would not revive the question of driving to the various -points he had proposed as attractive places to run for breakfast. He -announced suddenly that he had always wanted to visit the Tippecanoe -Battle Ground and demanded an opinion from Craig as to how long it -would take to drive there. He was irritated because the chauffeur -professed not to know the route; he declared that he would get even -with Craig for lying to him. - -He became quiet presently and Trenton tried to interest him in a -description of a mechanical stoker that had lately been put on the -market. - -“I mus’ look into it,” said Kemp. “Awfu’ nice of you to tell me ’bout -it, Ward.” - -Then before they knew what he was about he clutched the back of the -front seat and threw one leg over. He swayed toward the driver and to -steady himself grabbed the wheel. - -Craig, believing Kemp wholly interested in Trenton’s talk, was caught -off guard. The car, which had been running swiftly over the smooth -road, swerved sharply and plunged into the deep drainage ditch that -paralleled the road. As the radiator struck the further side of -the ditch Kemp was thrown forward and his head crashed against the -windshield with terrific force. - -The three passengers on the back seat were pitched violently to the -floor. Craig had shut off the motor instantly and jumped out, and when -Trenton joined him in the road he was tearing off the curtains. - -“Get your flash, Craig,” Trenton said. But without waiting for the -light he thrust in his arms and lifted Kemp out. Irene and Grace -had crawled out and stood in the road clinging to each other and -hysterically demanding to know what had happened to Tommy. - -Craig jerked out the seat cushions and Trenton laid Kemp upon them. The -flashlight showed Kemp’s face deathly white and smeared with blood. -Trenton was on his knees, his head against the stricken man’s heart. He -looked up with a startled awed look and shook his head. - -“God!” he said under his breath. - -“Oh, Ward! Not _that_!” faltered Irene, “Not----” - -“No--No! We must keep our heads! Craig! What’s the quickest way of -getting help?” - -“Ward--Oh, Tommy, Tommy!” cried Irene, dropping on her knees and taking -Kemp’s head in her arms. - -“Don’t Irene--don’t!” moaned Grace helplessly. - -“There’s a house a quarter of a mile ahead where I can telephone,” -Craig said. “I know the farmer; you can rely on him.” - -“Just a minute,” said Trenton, looking at his watch. “There are things -to consider. We’ve got to think of Tommy first of all. Craig, I can -count on you----?” - -“Yes, certainly, sir. I’m afraid it was my fault; I ought to have been -watching. But I thought----” - -“You were no more to blame than I was. We can’t discuss that now. We’ve -got to take care of this in a way that will protect Tommy, and you -girls mustn’t figure in it at all.” - -“We understand all that; we’ll do anything you say, Ward,” sobbed Irene. - -“I’m trying to think of some one we can trust to help,” said Trenton. -“There will be many things to do immediately.” - -“I wonder,” said Irene turning to Grace, “whether we could reach John -Moore.” - -“There’s no one better!” Grace eagerly assented. “We could telephone -him at his boarding house.” - -Trenton asked a few questions about Moore and began instructing Craig -as to the persons he was to call by telephone; first a physician, who -was also an intimate friend of the Kemps and two of Kemp’s neighbors, -well known to Trenton. - -“Kemp and I had been to The Shack for dinner--alone--Jerry and the -cateress must be taken care of as to that. Tommy was driving home. -Something went wrong with the car and it ran off into the ditch. How -about that, Craig?” - -“I wouldn’t say, Mr. Trenton, that Mr. Kemp was driving. The driver in -such accidents is seldom hurt. We’d better say the car simply struck a -stone and swerved.” - -Craig hurriedly suggested possible explanations of a deflection that -would ditch a car at this point. - -“Yes; that’s better,” Trenton agreed. - -“If the young ladies could go into town on an interurban car that would -help,” said Craig. “It’s only a little way to a stop on the crossroad -back yonder. There’ll be a car passing at half-past twelve.” - -These matters hastily determined, Craig hurried away, the quick patter -of his feet on the macadam suggesting the flight of a malevolent fate -that had struck its blow and was flying from the scene. - -Tommy Kemp was dead. There was no question but that he had died -instantly, either from the violent blow on the head or from a failure -of the heart due to the shock of his precipitation against the -windshield. - -No cars had passed since the accident, but as they were on a highway -Trenton urged Irene and Grace to go at once. - -“You mustn’t be seen here. It’s horrible enough without having you -mixed up in it.” - -Irene bent down and touched the quiet face, murmuring: - -“It’s cruel to leave him like this! Poor boy! Poor dear Tommy!” - - -IV - -Grace and Irene had worn hats on the tragic adventure and their long -dark cloaks covered their party dresses so that their entrance into -the interurban car awakened little interest in the half-dozen dozing -passengers. Fortunately Grace had her purse and paid the fares. The -swift rush of the car exerted a quieting effect upon them. Irene had -wrenched her shoulder when the machine leaped into the ditch, but Grace -had escaped with only a few scratches. They conferred in low tones, -still dazed by their close contact with death. - -“I ought to have insisted on going home earlier. But I did the best I -could. Tommy wouldn’t budge. Tell me that I did the best I could!” - -“Of course you did! We should never have gone--any of us!” said Grace. -“I’m as much to blame as any one. But Tommy would have gone anyhow, you -know he would.” - -“Ward’s wonderful,” said Irene. “I’ll never forget him as he stood -there beside Tommy as we left. Those men loved each other; and Tommy -was _good_, Grace. I’m glad I had it out with him--about quitting I -mean. He was sober then; perfectly all right. It was just before you -and Ward came back that he began drinking crazily. When I told him I -thought it was all wrong and that I wanted to quit he talked to me in -the finest way. He said he wouldn’t let me think I could be better than -he was and he was going to live straight the rest of his life. But -Tommy would never have quit. There would always have been some girl; -and he just had to have his parties. I suppose there’s no use worrying -about that!” - -“No,” Grace consoled her, “things just have to be. You can’t change -anything. Ward and I said good-bye to each other tonight. So that’s all -over.” - -“I’m not so sure,” Irene replied after a deliberate inspection of -Grace’s face. “I wouldn’t count much on Ward giving you up. Love is a -strange thing. You’ll go on loving each other and breaking your hearts -about it and then some day you’ll meet and things will begin all over -again. I’ve always been pretty cynical about these things, but I know -love when I see it. It’s----” - -“Don’t, Irene!” whispered Grace, a sob in her throat. “I can’t bear it! -To think of Tommy----” - -Her hand stole out and clasped Irene’s. The events of the night had -made upon both an impression that never could be effaced. Aware of -this, silence held them until the lights of the station flashed upon -the windows. - -Moore was on the platform, and they found a quiet corner of the waiting -room where Irene told the story of the accident. John expressed no -surprise, made no criticism; merely said that he was proud that they -had thought of him. Trenton had suggested that they ask Moore to visit -the newspaper offices and then go to Kemp’s house--Mrs. Kemp was still -away--and notify the servants. John’s practical mind had considered -every aspect of the matter after his brief talk with Craig over the -telephone and he had already dispatched the coroner to the scene of the -accident that there might be no delay or subsequent criticism. - -“The sooner you both get home the better,” he said. “We’ll decide now -that you were both with me all evening. I’ll account for my knowledge -of the accident by explaining to the newspapers that Mr. Kemp’s -chauffeur called me on the telephone after trying to get Judge Sanders, -who’s Kemp’s lawyer and an old friend. It happens that the judge left -for Washington tonight. I think that covers it all.” - -It was not until Grace had crept into bed that she was able to think -clearly. It was like a hideous dream that Kemp was dead--that she -had seen him die. His death obscured the memory of her parting with -Trenton, or blending with it, became a part of the dissolution of all -things. Alone in the dark, remorse stole upon her like a nightmare. -From the hour that she had met Kemp and Trenton a doom had followed -her. In a few short months she had played havoc with her life. She -groped back to her days at the University--happy days, they were; days -of clean wholesome living and buoyant aspiration. And she never could -be the same care-free girl again. - -It was not till near dawn that she slept, to be wakened by her mother a -little before the prompting of the alarm clock. - -“Something awful’s happened, Grace. Thomas Kemp died last night, on the -way home from his farm. There was an accident to his car but the paper -says he died of heart disease. Mr. Trenton was with him. Your father’s -terribly upset; he doesn’t know how it will affect his prospects. It’s -a strange part of it that only yesterday Kemp closed a deal for the -purchase of the Cummings Company. The paper says he’d gone out to the -farm with Mr. Trenton to talk over the merger.” - -It was necessary for Grace to hear Kemp’s death discussed in all -its bearings at the breakfast table. The talk was chiefly between -her mother and Ethel, Durland merely confirming or correcting, when -appealed to, their statements as to items of the dead man’s history. -They speculated fruitlessly as to the fate of Kemp’s business -interests, and how much he was worth and whether he had left large sums -to charity. - -Grace read the account of the accident and the long biographical sketch -of Kemp while this was in progress. Trenton and Moore had managed the -thing well. Trenton’s statement as to the manner of his friend’s death -bore every mark of veracity, and it was fortified by the coroner’s -report and a statement from Kemp’s physician. - -“I suppose,” remarked Ethel, “that Irene Kirby will be terribly -shocked. It’s a wonder she wasn’t with him. They were always gadding -about the country together. I’m relieved, Grace, that you weren’t mixed -up in this mess.” - -“Don’t speak so to your sister, Ethel,” admonished Mrs. Durland. “There -are things about Mr. Kemp I never knew. It seems he gave large sums to -some of our needy institutions and wouldn’t let it be known. And he was -beautiful to all his employees. It’s not for us to say he wasn’t a good -man.” - - -V - -“Well,” said Irene, the day after Kemp’s funeral, “I hope Tommy knows -all the fine things that have been said about him. I cried when I -read about the poor people who went to his house just to look at him -again--people he’d helped in their troubles for years, and you can be -sure he always did it with a smile. I met Ward as I was coming down -this morning. He was on his way to Judge Sanders’s office and didn’t -see me till I spoke to him. You’d think he’d lost his own brother! He -asked about you and said to tell you not to worry about anything. And -he smiled in that wistful way he has. He said he might be kept here -some time.” - -“Oh, I hope not!” Grace cried, and her eyes filled with tears. - -She was already trying to accustom herself to the idea that they were -never to meet again and the prospect of encountering him filled her -with mingled hope and dismay. A few days later when Kemp’s will was -published her heart bounded as she read that the testator had appointed -Trenton the managing trustee of Kemp’s industrial enterprises, and -that he would in all likelihood become a resident of Indianapolis. His -picture was published, with a laudatory account of his career. The -purchase of the Cummings concern, which was consummated on the day of -Kemp’s death, greatly increased the responsibilities of the trustee, -who was to serve for a period of ten years. - -It was with confused sensations of happy pride and poignant heartache -that Grace read all this. At home it was necessary constantly to -play a part, to feign indifference as to Trenton’s suddenly attained -prominence, while her mother and Ethel reviewed daily all the -potentialities of the situation as it affected Stephen Durland, who -stolidly refrained from expressing any opinion as to what bearing -Kemp’s death might have on his personal affairs. - -The complexities of her life seemed to Grace enormously multiplied. -Trenton was there--in town--no doubt walking at times the streets -she traversed going to and from her work, and she could not see -him--must never see him again! If only the family affairs were less -perplexing--Roy’s future, clouded by his marriage, dominated all the -domestic councils--she could leave; go where the remembrance of him -would be less an hourly torture. - -In combating her longing to see him she sought comfort in the thought -that his new duties would help him to forget; and she wanted him to -forget. With his nature he was sure to be profoundly affected by his -friend’s death and the confidence Kemp had reposed in him even from -the grave. She found a certain luxury of sorrow in these thoughts; she -wanted him to be happy, even if his happiness were to be won only by -forgetting her. - - - - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN - - -I - -Miss Reynolds called Grace on the telephone a week after Kemp’s death -and with her usual kindly peremptoriness demanded that Grace dine with -her the following night. - -“I went away unexpectedly and didn’t have a chance to let you know. -I’ve got something I want to talk to you about--just you and me. Please -come!” - -Grace was ashamed not to manifest more cordiality in accepting the -invitation but she was beset by fears lest Miss Reynolds was seizing -the first possible moment to question her as to her singular conduct at -the door on the afternoon when she had gone to the house with Trenton. -And that seemed long ago, hidden by the black wall of an impenetrable -past. - -Miss Reynolds called for her at Shipley’s at the closing hour and -greeted her as though nothing had happened. She had been summoned to -Baltimore on business, she explained. She talked in her brisk fashion -throughout the dinner,--of impersonal matters, not mentioning the -Trentons at all until they were settled in the living room. - -“After all, I think I prefer plain bread-and-butter people--plain -folks. A woman traveling with a maid and pretending to be keen about -poor suffering humanity seems to me a good deal of a joke. Mrs. Trenton -did one thing for me though and I ought to be grateful for that,--she -sent me scampering back to the conservatives! I’d been just a little -infected with some of these new ideas, but after having that woman -in my house two days and hearing her talk and seeing how fussy she is -about her personal comfort, I’m for hanging on to the old fogy notions -a while longer.” - -As Miss Reynolds continued her dissection of Mrs. Trenton’s social -program, Grace felt suddenly a strong impulse to tell her friend the -whole story of her acquaintance with Trenton. In a way Miss Reynolds -had a right to know. She waited, wondering how she could begin and what -her friend would say, when Miss Reynolds said in her characteristically -abrupt fashion: - -“Look here, little girl, you’ve got something on your mind; you haven’t -been listening to me at all! You needn’t be afraid of me; I’m a queer -old person but sometimes I do understand. I wouldn’t force your -confidence; you know that,--but--why you dear _child_!” - -Grace’s eyes had filled with tears. Miss Reynolds crossed to her -quickly. - -“How clumsy I am! I wouldn’t hurt you for worlds, dear!” - -She sat down on a stool at Grace’s feet and drew the girl’s hands into -her own. - -“Poor dear heart,” she murmured softly. “It’s an awful big old world -and little girls do sometimes get hurt--and lost. Maybe you’d like me -to call the car and take you for a drive.” - -“No; I want to tell you; I’ve got to tell you. But I’m afraid if I -do----” - -“You couldn’t tell me anything that would make me stop loving you,” -Miss Reynolds replied gently.... - -Grace spared herself in nothing. She told the whole story, told it as a -child might confess a grievous fault at a mother’s knee, described the -spirit of revolt in which she had thought to ignore the old barriers, -scorned the safeguards that had offered protection, exulted in her -freedom. And now, appalled by the consequences of her treason she found -herself defenceless, groping for the support of the very wall that she -had contemptuously disregarded. Her day of rebellion was past; she was -now eager to be received again into the ancient citadel. - -“I think,” she said finally, “that that’s all.” - -Then for the first time Miss Reynolds looked up at her. Her eyes were -wet. - -“Dear little girl,” she began and then was silent for a time, gently -stroking the girl’s hands. - -“I guessed there was something wrong, of course,” she went on, “when I -met you in the hall that day. When I went in I saw right away that my -interruption was unfortunate. But Mrs. Trenton very calmly introduced -me to her husband. We talked a moment and he left. As he went out he -merely bowed to her without saying anything. He struck me as being a -gentleman--none of the look of a dissolute person, certainly a handsome -man--a high-bred look and air.” - -“Oh, tell me you saw the fineness, the nobility in him! I couldn’t bear -to have you hate him!” - -“Why, no, I don’t hate him. I’m only sorry for both of you! But--I -don’t think you quite understand--well, that as individuals we are -responsible to those who have prior claims upon our consideration. For -the sake of happiness to the greater number we must often give up our -own happiness. Many beautiful and noble women have done that.” - -“Oh, I love him! I love him so!” moaned the girl. - -“Yes, I believe you do, dear. It’s pitiful--the whole thing. Be sure I -feel for you; I want to help you.” - -Miss Reynolds rose and took a turn across the room. - -“It’s in his favor that he realized the thing couldn’t go on; that for -your sake it had to stop. That woman might easily ruin your life; and -of course she has the right on her side.” - -“Yes,--yes, I know. I’ve no justification at all except--except--I love -him.” - -“Yes, I understand. I believe you truly love him; but now its my -business as your friend to urge you to forget. I realize that it won’t -be easy. It would simplify matters if you could go away,--see other -people, develop new interests.” - -“Yes; I’d thought of that,” Grace replied. “But I can’t leave home; -there are difficulties; it wouldn’t be kind.” - -“No; I understand that. But that brings me to the matter I asked you -here to talk about. I want to equip a house which self-supporting -young women can manage entirely by themselves with the fewest possible -restrictions, not an institution--I hate the word--but a club. You -notice I’m not smoking!” Miss Reynolds smiled. “Well, Mrs. Trenton -cured me of that; she left me bored with the whole business of being an -emancipated woman. I’ve got the idea that the house I propose can set -a standard of morals and manners--something that will be good for the -whole community. But there mustn’t be a lot of restrictions. I want the -girls who live there to use it as though it were their own home. I have -every confidence that they’ll make a happy household with just a little -sympathy and encouragement, and,” she smiled, “I hope--my example!” - -“It’s perfectly wonderful!” cried Grace. “And it’s just like you!” - -“Humph! It’s perfectly selfish on my part; I expect to have a lot of -fun getting it started; maybe the girls will let me dig in the garden -now and then. There’ll be a garden and tennis courts, and they must -have a dance once a week, and I might drop in occasionally.” - -“Oh, they’ll adore you!” - -“Well, I don’t mean to bother them. There are such houses in New York -and Chicago and I’m going to visit them and get all the practical -ideas I can before I say anything about it. I need some one to help me -collect data and look after the thousand and one details of planning. -We’ll call it a secretaryship. Now, Grace,” and Miss Reynolds beamed on -her, “will _you_ help me?” - -“Why, Miss Reynolds!” - -“It might be just what you need right now,” Miss Reynolds went on, -ignoring the girl’s questioning, troubled look. “In fact, my dear -child, you put the whole idea in my head by things you’ve dropped from -time to time about the problems of young business women.” - -“But now--since you know----” - -“Dear child, it’s knowing that makes me all the more eager to have -your help! It’s only people who make mistakes and suffer that really -understand. And we’ve got to have some heart in our club! So we’ll call -it settled and we’ll go to New York two weeks from today and begin our -work.” - - -II - -Grace’s announcement at home that she was to leave Shipley’s to become -Miss Reynolds’s secretary greatly pleased her mother, who saw in the -change a social advancement. It was much more in keeping with her idea -of the Durland dignity for a daughter of the house to serve a lady -of wealth as secretary than to be selling ready-made-clothing. And -Mrs. Durland hoped Grace would appreciate the privilege of becoming -identified with so praiseworthy a philanthropy. - -Ethel, possibly jealous of Miss Reynolds’s growing interest in Grace, -expressed at once her concern as to proper religious influences in -the proposed club. She confessed to disappointment that Miss Reynolds -had not manifested more interest in the girls’ club in Dr. Ridgely’s -church. Miss Reynolds might very easily have given the church the -benefit of the money she would spend on an independent work. It was -not quite loyal, she thought, to the church and all it stood for; but -she hoped the souls of the young women who lived in the club would be -properly cared for and that Dr. Ridgely would be on the board; she -favored strong boards to administer such institutions. - -“There ain’t goin’ to be no board,” Grace answered cheerily, “of the -kind you mean. The girls are going to run the place themselves.” - -“Then it won’t last long. I have no faith in such things.” - -“Better get some, Sis. Miss Reynolds knows what she’s about. She’s -hoping others will follow her example and make a chain of such clubs.” - -Grace learned from her father that there had been no developments -in the motor since Kemp’s death; he didn’t know where he stood, but -Trenton had been encouraging as to the outcome. The reorganization made -necessary by the absorption of the Cummings concern was causing the -delay, Durland thought. - -“Trenton’s a busy man these days, but he’s spent several evenings with -me at the shop. He’s a big man; he knows what he’s about and he’s been -mighty fine to me.” - -“I’m glad of that, daddy. I’m sure Mr. Trenton would tell you if he -didn’t mean to go through with it.” - -“I think you’re right, Grace. It’s a little hard waiting--and I’ve done -a lot of waiting in my time.” - -“You dear! We’ve got to believe the patient waiter gets the biggest -tips--that’s our slogan!” - -She tapped him lightly on the shoulder as she spoke, keeping time to -her words. He didn’t know how his praise of Trenton had warmed her -heart. The fact that he saw Trenton and no doubt would continue to meet -him frequently gave her father a new interest in her eyes. - -Grace saw Miss Reynolds every few days, and was finding relief and -happiness in the prospect of her new work. Irene expressed the greatest -satisfaction when Grace told her that she was leaving Shipley’s. - -“It’s more in your line, Grace. And I certainly hand it to Little Old -Ready-Money for having the sense to appreciate you. If she hadn’t been -the real goods she’d have backed away when you told her about Ward. -Some woman, I say! It does sort of cheer things up to know there are -people like that in the world. By the way, have you seen John lately?” - -“Not since Tommy died.” - -“Well, there’s another of the saints!” said Irene. “He’s pretending -now he doesn’t know we were on a wild party and that he saved our -reputations. He won’t talk about it; not at all! So don’t try to thank -him. Tommy’s estate is going through Sanders’s office and John’s no end -busy. He’s getting acquainted with Ward--funny how things work out! But -if John has any idea about you and Ward he never lets on. I thought -you might like to know that.” - -“Well, he’s probably done some thinking,” Grace replied soberly; “John -isn’t stupid.” - -“He’s my idea of a prince, if you ask me! He’s making a big hit with my -family; mother thinks he’s the grandest young man who ever came up the -pike. She’s got him carrying all his mending and darning out to her to -do and he’s so nice to her I’m getting jealous!” - - -III - -Roy came home for a week-end, but only after his mother had written him -repeatedly urging a visit. He had really been at work--Mrs. Durland -had this from the Dean of the Law School--but his enthusiasm for the -profession his mother had chosen for him was still at low ebb. He -wanted to find work on a newspaper; he wanted to go West; anything was -preferable to setting up as a lawyer in an office of his own. It was -disclosed that Mrs. Durland had arranged to mortgage the house to raise -money with which to establish him. But it was the definite announcement -of her purpose to bring Roy’s wife home immediately after commencement, -that the young couple might, as Mrs. Durland put it, begin their life -together, that precipitated a crisis in Ethel’s relations with her -family. - -The baby would be born in August and Mrs. Durland contended that the -family dignity would suffer far less if Roy announced his marriage when -he left the university and joined his wife in his father’s house at -Indianapolis. - -Ethel was outraged by the plan. She would not live under the same roof -with that creature; and she availed herself of the opportunity to tell -Roy what she thought of him. He had always been petted and indulged; -his mother had favored him over the other children; they had all been -obliged to practice the most rigid self-denial to educate him, and this -was the result! - -Roy surlily martyrized himself in meeting his sister’s attack. He had -never wanted to go to college; he hated the law and if it hadn’t been -for John Moore’s stupid meddling he would have extricated himself from -the scrape with the girl he had been forced to marry. - -“I never thought you’d really do it, mother,” Ethel moaned. “I didn’t -think you’d be cruel enough to visit this shame on me. Everybody will -talk; we’ll be ostracized by all our friends.” - -Grace’s attempt to restore harmony only infuriated Ethel. - -“I’ve told Osgood the whole story,” Ethel announced. “I felt that was -the only honorable thing to do and he’s been splendid about it. We’ve -been engaged since Easter and he’s ready to marry me at any time. I’d -hoped we’d be able to live at home for a little while, but now I’m -going! I can already feel that abandoned creature in the house! Osgood -has a good offer in Cincinnati and I’ll marry him tomorrow and go away -and never come back!” - -“I would if I were you,” said Grace, as Ethel stalked from the room. -“Safety first! Grab all the life belts.” - -Ethel paused and pointed an accusing finger at Grace. - -“You! You’re a pretty one to talk!” - -Stephen Durland raised his head, coughed and returned to his reading. -Roy announced that he was going down town. The front door slammed upon -him and Mrs. Durland burst into tears. - -“You don’t think--you don’t think Ethel _means_ she’s going!” - -“I certainly hope she means it,” Grace replied wearily. “Osgood’s not a -bad fellow and maybe he can beat some sense into her.” - - -IV - -Grace had never been in New York before and Miss Reynolds gave her -every opportunity to see the sights. The investigation of devices -for housing business women Miss Reynolds pursued with her usual -thoroughness, broadening her inquiry to include a survey of the -general social effort in the metropolis. She accepted no invitations -in which Grace could not be included, with the result that they dined -or had luncheon in half a dozen private homes, and were entertained in -fashionable restaurants and at the Colony Club. - -“You’re so good to me!” said Grace one night when they reached their -hotel after a dinner at the house of some old friends of Miss Reynolds. -“All the guests were somebody except me! I wonder what they’d think -if they knew that only a little while ago I was Number Eighteen in -Shipley’s!” - -“They knew you were good to look at,” Miss Reynolds replied, “and -talked well and had very pretty manners. Nothing else was any of their -business.” - -“But sometimes--sometimes, Cousin Beulah, when your friends are so kind -and treat me so beautifully, I can’t help thinking that if they knew -about me----” - -“My dear Grace, this busy world’s a lot kinder than it gets credit for -being! Even if the world knew it wouldn’t condemn you.” - -They had visited a settlement house on the East Side one morning and -were driving to Washington Square for luncheon with a friend of Miss -Reynolds who lived in one of the old houses which she said Grace ought -to see. - -“We’re a bit early for our engagement,” Miss Reynolds remarked as they -reached Broadway. “We’ve got half an hour to look at Trinity.” - -They walked quickly through the yard, that Grace might experience the -thrill of reading the historic names on the grave-stones, and entered -the church. It was the noon hour and sightseers mingling with the -employees from the towering buildings came and went. Miss Reynolds and -Grace sat down in a pew near the door. A service was in progress and -Grace, unfamiliar with liturgic churches, at once fixed her attention -on the chancel. The minister’s voice reciting the office, the sense of -age communicated by the walls of the edifice, all had their effect on -her. She felt singularly alone. The heartache that had troubled her -little since she left home again became acute. Here was peace, but it -was a peace that mocked rather than calmed the spirit.... - -... “We humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men.”... - -The mournful cadence of the prayer only increased her loneliness. She -was like a child who, watching night descend in a strange place, is -overcome by a stifling nostalgia. Her throat ached with inexpressible -emotions; her heart fluttered like a wild bird in her breast. She knew -she wanted Trenton; nothing else mattered; no one else could ever fill -his place. She bowed her head and her lips trembled. - -A man walked hesitatingly down the aisle and slipped into a pew in -front of her. Apparently he was one of the many who were seeking -relief from the world’s turmoil. She remained motionless, staring. It -was unbelievable that it could be Trenton; and yet beyond question it -was he. His coming was like an answer to prayer. She recalled what -he had written after his illness, that he had thought of her once so -intently that he had brought her into the room.... - -She remembered that he had once told her that his New York office was -near Trinity. Perhaps it was his habit to drop in as he passed. - -Miss Reynolds, turning the pages of a prayer book, evidently had not -noticed, or had failed to recognize him. Presently she glanced at her -watch, touched Grace’s arm and nodded that it was time to go. As they -paused in the entry to look at the bronze doors Grace decided not to -tell her friend that Trenton was in the church; but suddenly he stood -beside them. - -“This is surely more than a coincidence,” he said, smiling gravely as -he shook hands. “I pass here every day but I hadn’t been in before for -years. But today----” - -They walked together to the gate, Grace silent, Miss Reynolds and -Trenton discussing the weather to cover their embarrassment. Grace, -still awed by his appearance, saw that he looked careworn; even when he -smiled at some remark of Miss Reynolds his eyes scarcely brightened. - -“I have a taxi here somewhere.” Miss Reynolds was glancing about -uncertainly when the machine drew in at the curb. - -“Are you staying in town long?” asked Trenton as he opened the cab door. - -“Only a few days,” Miss Reynolds replied guardedly. “Grace and I are -here on a little business. I wonder----” - -Without finishing the sentence she stepped into the car and gave the -Washington Square address. Trenton rousing as he realized that they -were about to leave him, bent forward and took Grace’s hand. - -“It’s so good to see you!” he said steadily. “I’m going West tonight. -Mrs. Trenton’s been very ill; she’s in a sanitarium in Connecticut.” -Then, aware that he couldn’t detain them longer, “Miss Reynolds, I’m -sure you and Miss Durland will take good care of each other!” - -“Good-bye,” said Grace faintly and watched him disappear in the crowd. - -“I was going to ask him to come and dine with us,” said Miss Reynolds -when the car was in motion, “but I changed my mind. And now I wish I -could change it again!” - -“I’m glad you didn’t,” Grace answered colorlessly. “It would have been -a mistake.” - -“Well, perhaps.” And Trenton was not referred to again. - -But all the rest of the day Grace lived upon the memory of his look, -his voice. He was still in a world she knew; any turn of the long road -might bring him in sight again. - - -V - -A week in Chicago followed a fortnight in New York and Grace had filled -a large portfolio with notes and pamphlets bearing upon Miss Reynolds’s -projected house for business girls. Her mother’s letters had kept her -informed of family affairs and she was prepared to find Ethel gone and -Roy’s wife established in the house. Ethel had refused to be married at -home and the ceremony had been performed by Dr. Ridgely in his study, -with only Mrs. Durland present to represent the family. Ethel and Haley -had left at once for Cincinnati, where they were to make their home. - -“I did the best I could about it, Grace,” Mrs. Durland kept repeating -pathetically. “I hated to have her go that way, but she would do it. -She said some pretty unkind things to your father after you left, and -he didn’t go to see her married.” - -For Sadie, the new member of the family, Grace formed an immediate -liking. The girl was so anxious to be friendly and to do her share of -the domestic labor and so appreciative of kindness that she brought -a new element of cheer into the household. She was intelligent, and -amusing, after a slangy fashion; even Stephen Durland laughed at her -jokes. - -Grace found that her position as secretary to Miss Reynolds was far -from being a sinecure. She was present at all the conferences with the -architect who had now been engaged, and when the announcement of the -new club for business girls could no longer be deferred it fell to -Grace’s lot to answer the letters that poured in upon Miss Reynolds. A -bedroom was fitted up as an office and there Grace spent half of every -day, keeping accounts, typing letters and answering the importunities -of the telephone. - -One day in June Grace went to Judge Sanders’ office on an errand for -Miss Reynolds. It was merely a matter of leaving an abstract of title -for examination, but as she was explaining what was wanted to the -office girl John Moore came out of one of the inner rooms. - -“Caught in the act!” he exclaimed. “I’ve just been hankering to see -you. Can’t you give me a few minutes, right now?” - -She was really in a hurry, but when he earnestly protested that he had -business with her she followed him into a room whose door bore the -inscription: “Mr. Moore.” - -“That looks terribly important, John,” she said indicating the -lettering. “Onward and upward!” - -“Well,” he said, when they were seated. “Mr. Kemp’s death has thrown -a lot of business into the office and some of it that doesn’t require -much brain power they leave to me. Mr. Trenton just left a few minutes -ago. He came in to see if I’d go down into Knox County to inventory a -coal mine Kemp owned. I’m getting a lot of little jobs like that.” - -She smiled, as he wanted her to, at his boyish pride in his work. She -derived a deep pleasure from the thought that Trenton had just been -there. Trenton would appreciate John’s qualities; they would appreciate -each other’s qualities and talents. - -“Maybe you don’t know,” John went on, “and maybe I oughtn’t to tell -you; but right here on my desk are the papers for your father to -sign away his rights in his motor patents and his formula for that -non-breakable spark-plug porcelain you probably know about. Your -father’s coming in tomorrow to sign up. Mr. Trenton has left a check -here for advance royalties that will pay the Durland grocery bill for -sometime to come!” - -“Do you mean it, John! I’d been afraid Mr. Kemp’s death would end all -that.” - -“Trenton’s the whole cheese in that business now and he knows what he’s -doing. He says those two things are bound to earn your father a lot of -money.” - -“Father certainly deserves any success that may come to him. I’m so -glad for him and mother--just now when things at home don’t look -particularly bright.” - -“You’re thinking of Roy? Well, Roy will get his law degree but that boy -had no more business in the law than I’d have in a millinery shop. I -sneaked him up here last Sunday and had Mr. Trenton take a look at him. -You know Roy’s a smart, likable chap, with a friendly way of meeting -people and I thought maybe there was a job somewhere in the Kemp -organization that he’d fit into.” - -“I don’t know--” began Grace, doubtfully, remembering Roy’s anger at -John’s meddling. - -“Oh, Roy took it fine! Mr. Trenton’s taken a fancy to him; in fact -they liked each other immensely. Roy’s to get his sheepskin and then -go right into the Kemp factory for six months to get an idea of the -business and then transfer to the sales department.” - -“Why, John, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Grace. “You don’t _know_ how -relieved I am.” - -“You’re not half as relieved as Roy is to dodge the law,” John -chuckled. “That boy will make good. I’d told Mr. Trenton all about him -and he was as kind to him as a father. Roy wanted me to ask you to -spring the news on his mother. She’s so keen about having him a lawyer -that he’s afraid to tell her himself.” - -“Yes, John; I’ll do it tonight. And thank you! Oh, thank you for -everything!” - - -VI - -Stephen Durland’s announcement that the Kemp Company had taken up -the option on his motor and made a contract for the manufacture of -the porcelain tempered in some degree his wife’s disappointment when -Grace broke the news that Roy had renounced the law. Mrs. Durland took -comfort in the fact that Roy had really passed the law examinations and -was admitted to practice with the rest of his class. This measurably -satisfied her family pride by enrolling Roy on the list of attorneys -of his state in succession to his grandfather and great-grandfather. -Roy, however, was much less thrilled by this than by the prospect of -having at once employment that he felt was within his powers. The idea -of making machinery had never interested him, but the idea of selling -it appealed to him strongly and for the first time in his life he found -himself in sympathy and accord with his father. - -Stephen Durland had money in the bank and was reasonably sure of a good -income for the remainder of his life. The Kemp publicity department -had given wide advertisement to his discoveries, and several technical -journals had asked for photographs of the inventor, the taking of which -Grace joyfully supervised. A kind fate having intervened to prevent the -mortgaging of the old home Mrs. Durland was now considering selling it -and satisfying the great desire of her heart by moving beyond the creek. - -Ethel, hearing of the family’s unexpected prosperity, had been up for -a visit, and returned to Cincinnati with a supply of linens for her -apartment. Her mother thought it only fair that she should participate -in the good luck that had at last overtaken the Durlands and Grace -agreed with her. Haley’s earnings were meager and Ethel received the -gift graciously. She even volunteered a few generous words to her young -sister-in-law, about whom she admitted she might have been mistaken. - -Durland declined to become interested in the proposed change of -residence. In fact he continued to appear dazed by his good fortune and -Grace, for years familiar with his moods, was mystified by his conduct. - -One evening when they were alone on the front porch she asked a -question about affairs at the factory, really in the hope that he would -speak of Trenton. When he had answered perfunctorily that everything -was running smoothly and that they would be ready to put the new motor -on the market in six months he remarked that Trenton was away a good -deal. - -“His wife’s sick, you know; down East somewhere. I guess he’s had a -good deal to worry him. When he’s in town he works hard. There’s a lot -to do moving the stuff from Cummings’s old plant, and putting up the -new buildings.” - -“Mr. Trenton’s certainly been a good friend to you, daddy. But of -course he wouldn’t have taken your patents if they hadn’t been all they -promised to be.” - -Durland turned his head to make sure they were not overheard. Mrs. -Durland was somewhere in the house and Roy and Sadie had gone for a -walk. Durland cleared his throat and said in a low tone: - -“I’d never have got those things right, Grace. Trenton straightened me -out on a lot o’ points that were too much for me. He worked with me -every night for a week till everything came right. He oughtn’t to give -me the credit.” - -“Now, daddy, that’s just like you! Of course, they’re all your ideas! -But it was fine of Mr. Trenton to help you round them out.” - -“It was more than that, Grace,” Durland persisted stubbornly. - -This, then, was the cause of her father’s preoccupation and the -embarrassment with which he had been hearing himself praised. It was -Trenton’s genius, not his, that had perfected the motor! Something -sweet and wistful like the scents of the summer night crept into her -heart. She was happy, supremely happy, in the thought that Trenton had -done this, given her father the benefit of his skill, and for her. -Yes; it was all for her, and for those close and dear to her. But her -father’s confession moved her greatly. The light from the window fell -upon his hand, which seemed to her to symbolize failure as it hung -inert from the arm of his chair. - -“Oh, lots of inventors must accept help from experts, when they’ve got -as far as they can by themselves. Don’t you worry about that! I’m sure -it was a pleasure to Mr. Trenton to help you over your difficulties. -He naturally wouldn’t want any of the credit when you did all the real -work.” - -Durland shook his head impatiently. - -“I couldn’t have done it!” he said huskily. “I don’t understand even -now how he got the results he did!” - -“Oh, pshaw!” she exclaimed with a happy little laugh. “No man would be -so generous of his talents as all that; men are not built that way.” - -But she knew that it was true, and that it was because Trenton loved -her that he had saved her father from another and crushing failure. - - -VII - -She was able to keep track of Trenton’s movements through Irene, who -got her information from John. Grace and Trenton were holding strictly -to their agreement not to see each other. Once, as she waited for the -traffic to break at Washington and Meridian Streets, Trenton passed in -a car. Craig was driving and Trenton, absorbed in a sheaf of papers, -didn’t lift his head. He was so near for a fleeting second that she -could have touched him. This, then, was to be the way of it, their -paths steadily diverging; or if they met it would be as strangers who -had ceased to have any message for each other. - -Sadie’s baby was born in August and Roy manifested an unexpected degree -of paternal pride in his offspring. The summer wore on to September. -Now and then as she surveyed herself in the mirror it seemed to Grace -that she was growing old and that behind her lay a long life-time, -crowded with experience. She felt herself losing touch with the world. -Miss Reynolds, with all her kindness, was exacting. Grace saw no young -people and her amusements were few. Irene, who watched her with a -keenly critical eye, remarked frequently upon her good looks, declaring -that she was growing handsomer all the time. - -“You won’t really reach perfection till you’re forty,” said Irene, -“and have some gray in your raven tresses. I’ll look like a fat yellow -cucumber when I’m forty!” - -Unless all signs failed Irene and John were deeply in love with each -other--the old story of the attraction of apparently irreconcilable -natures. - -“I’ve told John everything--all about Tommy, of course, to give him a -chance to escape,” Irene confided. “But I didn’t jar him a bit. That -man’s faith would make a good woman of Jezabel. John’s already got some -little jobs--secretaryships of corporations that Judge Sanders threw -his way. He thinks we can be married early next year and I’m studying -real estate ads. I’ve got enough money to make a payment on a bungalow -as far from Shipley’s as a nickel will carry me and there’ll be a cow -and a few choice hens. Back to nature for me, dearie!” - -“Oh, it’s just marvelous!” cried Grace. “You and John are bound to -reach the high places. You’ve got just the qualities John needs to help -him get on. When he goes into politics after while you’ll be a big -asset.” - -“I think I might like a few years in Washington,” Irene replied -meditatively. “I’ve already joined up with a woman’s political club to -learn how to fool ’em all the time!” - -“Isn’t that just like you!” - -“But, Grace----” - -“Yes; Irene.” - -“I love John.” Irene’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve talked so much -foolish nonsense to you about men, and you must have thought me hard -and sordid. I wouldn’t want you to think I married John just to escape -from myself. He’s the grandest man in the world, and I’d die before I’d -injure him, or cause him a second’s heartache. You do believe that, -don’t you?” - -“Yes; and it’s dear and beautiful. I’m so glad for both of you! I -hope--I know, you will be happy!” - -A few days later Grace met John in the street and he turned and walked -with her a little way. - -“I guess Irene’s told you? Well, I want to tell you, too!” he said with -his broadest smile. - -“Well, I didn’t need to be told, John! I saw it coming. And I -congratulate you both with all my heart.” - -“Yes; I knew you’d be glad, Grace,” he said; then his face grew grave. -“You see Irene was troubled a lot--well about little mistakes she’d -made. She was mighty fine about that. When I found I loved her and -she loved me, nothing else made any difference. And she’s so strong -and fine and splendid you just know it was never in her _heart_ to do -wrong!” - -“Yes, John,” Grace replied, touched by his simple earnestness, his fine -tolerance, his anxiety that she should know that Irene had withheld -nothing of her past that could ever cast a shadow upon their happiness. - -Late in September Miss Reynolds proposed to Grace that they go to -Colorado to look at the mountains. The architect could be relied on to -watch the construction of the club house and Miss Reynolds insisted -that Grace had earned a vacation. - -They established themselves in a hotel that commanded a view of a great -valley with snowy summits beyond and Grace tramped and rode and won a -measurable serenity of spirit. Miss Reynolds may have thought that amid -new scenes the girl would forget Trenton, but the look that came into -Grace’s eyes at times discouraged the hope. Then one evening, as they -sat in the hotel office reading their mail Miss Reynolds laid a Denver -newspaper on Grace’s knee and quietly pointed to a headline: “Death of -Mary Graham Trenton.” - -The end had come suddenly in the sanitarium where Mrs. Trenton had been -under treatment. Her husband, the dispatch stated, was with her when -she died. - -“She seemed ill when she was at my house,” remarked Miss Reynolds; “she -was frightfully nervous and seemed to be constantly forcing herself. -That tired look in her eyes gave the impression of dissipation. I’m -ashamed to say it but I really thought she might be addicted to drugs.” - -“I’m sorry,” Grace murmured, numbed, bewildered by the news. She had -never taken the reports of Mrs. Trenton’s illness seriously, believing -Ward’s wife was feigning illness to arouse her husband’s pity--perhaps -in the hope of reawakening his love. It had never occurred to her that -she might die. - -As soon as possible Grace excused herself and went to her room, where -she flung herself on the bed and lay for a long time in the dark, -pondering. In spite of their agreement not to write she had hoped -constantly to hear from him; and his silence she had interpreted as -meaning that he had found it easy to forget. She now attributed his -silence to the remorse that had probably assailed him when he found -that Mrs. Trenton was hopelessly ill. - - -VIII - -Grace had been home a week when she received a letter from Trenton, -written in Pittsburgh. He was closing up his home; looking after -the settlement of Mrs. Trenton’s estate. She had bequeathed her -considerable property to the societies for social reform in which she -had been interested. He hoped to be in Indianapolis shortly, he wrote, -and continued: - - ... “My thoughts in these past weeks have not been happy ones; but I - must turn now to the future. In my dark hours I have groped toward - you, felt the need of your leading hand. I love you. That is the one - great fact in the world. Whatever I have left to me of life is yours; - and it is now my right to give it.... It was my fate, not my fault, - that I learned to love you. Nothing can change that. Let me begin - over again and prove my love for you--win you as it is a woman’s - right to be won, in the world’s eyes. I want you to bear my name; - belong to me truly, help me to find and keep the path of happiness.” - -She did not understand herself as the days passed and she felt no -impulse to reply. She loved him still--there was no question of -that--but she tortured herself with the idea that he had written only -from a chivalrous sense of obligation. Trenton was free; but she too -was free; and marriage was an uncertain quantity. She encouraged -in herself the belief that to marry him would be only to invite -unhappiness. While she was still debating with herself, she learned -from Irene that Trenton was again in town and working hard. - -The new club for business girls, which Miss Reynolds decided to name -Friendship House, was in process of furnishing and was to be opened on -Thanksgiving Day. - -Nothing in the preparations had proved so embarrassing as the choice of -the first occupants. It might have seemed that all the young women in -town were clamoring for admission and only fifty could be accommodated. -Miss Reynolds and Grace spent many hours interviewing applicants. -Then, too, there was the matter of working out a plan for the general -management of Friendship House until the club members took hold of it -for themselves. - -“The girls can make their own rules,” said Miss Reynolds. “But I’m -going to have one little rule printed and put in every room and worked -into all the doormats and stamped into the linen--just two words--Be -Kind! If we’d all live up to that this would be a lot more comfortable -world to live in!” - -Being so constantly at Miss Reynolds’s Grace had heard the Bob -Cummingses mentioned frequently. The merger had obliterated the name -from the industrial life of the city; the senior Cummings had gone West -to live with his eldest son and Miss Reynolds had spoken frequently -of the plight in which the collapse of the family fortunes had left -Bob. Evelyn came in one morning when Grace was alone in the improvised -office. - -“We’ve sold our house,” she announced, after they had talked awhile. -“It was mine, you know; a wedding present from my uncle. And I’ve -got about a thousand a year. So I’m going to turn Bob loose at his -music. He’s already got a job as organist in Dr. Ridgley’s church and -he’s going to teach and do some lecturing on music. He can do that -wonderfully.” - -“That’s perfectly splendid!” said Grace warmly. “But it’s too bad--the -business troubles. I’ve wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” - -“Well, I’m not so sure any one ought to be sorry for us. Our -difficulties have brought Bob and me closer together, and our chances -of happiness are brighter than on our wedding day; really they are! I’m -saying this to you because you know Bob so well, and I think you’ll -understand.” - -Grace was not sure that she did understand and when Evelyn left she -meditated for a long time upon the year’s changes. She had so jauntily -gone out to meet the world, risking her happiness in her confidence -that she was capable of directing her own destiny; but life was not so -easy! Life was an inexorable schoolmaster who set very hard problems -indeed! - -Irene, pretending to be jealous of Miss Reynolds, declared that there -was no reason why Grace, in becoming a philanthropist should forget -her old friends. This was on an afternoon when Grace, in Shipley’s -to pick up some odds and ends for Friendship House, looked into the -ready-to-wear floor for a word with Irene. - -Hard-pressed to defend her neglect she accepted an invitation to -accompany Irene and John to a movie that night. - -“John will have to work for an hour or so but we can get in for the -second show. You just come up to Judge Sanders’ office about eight and -we can have an old-fashioned heart-to-heart talk till John’s ready. You -never take me into your confidence any more,” she concluded with an -injured air. - -“I don’t have any confidences; but if I had you certainly wouldn’t -escape.” - -“You’re not seeing, Ward, I suppose?” Irene asked carelessly. - -“No,” Grace replied with badly-feigned indifference. “I haven’t seen -him and I have no intention of seeing him again.” - -“I suppose it’s all over,” said Irene stifling a yawn. - -“Yes, it’s all over,” Grace replied testily. - -“Strange but Ward just can’t get that idea! Of course he’s had a lot to -do and think about but he’d never force himself on you.” - -“No; he wouldn’t do that,” Grace assented. - -“Ward’s a free man,” said Irene dreamily. “He’ll probably marry again.” - -“Irene! It was silly of me to be as crazy about him as I was. That -freedom I used to talk about was all rubbish. We can’t do as we please -in this world,--you and I both learned that! And after--well--after -all that happened I could never marry Ward. And it would be a mistake -for him to marry me--a girl--who----” - -“Grace Durland!” Irene interrupted with lofty scorn, “you are talking -like an idiot! You’re insulting yourself and you’re insulting Ward. I -know a few things. He telephoned you at Miss Reynolds’s twice and asked -to see you and you refused. Don’t let Miss Beulah Reynolds intimidate -you! She took you to Colorado hoping you’d forget Ward!” - -“Miss Reynolds is perfectly fine!” Grace flared. “She’s never said a -word against Ward!” - -“Oh, she wouldn’t need to say it! She’s just trying to keep you away -from him. I’m not knocking Beulah--she’s all right; but when there’s a -man in the world who is eating his heart out about you, you just can’t -stick your nose in the air and pretend you don’t know he’s alive.” - -Grace had been proud of her strength in denying Trenton the interview -for which he had asked; but she left Irene with an unquiet heart. -Trenton was lonely, and his letter had been written in a fine and -tender spirit. She knew that she was guilty of dishonesty in trying -to persuade herself that the nature of their past association made -marriage with him impossible. He had said nothing that even remotely -suggested this. On the other hand he had declared plainly that sooner -or later he would have her, meaning, of course, through marriage. She -despised herself for her inconsistencies. She had told him that she -loved him; love alone could have justified their relationship; and -yet she was viewing him in the harshest light without giving him the -hearing for which he had asked at the earliest moment possible. - - -IX - -She looked forward eagerly to the promised talk with Irene and after -supper she hurried down town and was shot upward in the tall office -building. She found Irene and John sitting opposite each other at a -large flat top desk. Irene was helping John to compare descriptions of -property but she would be free in a moment. He showed Grace into the -big library and laughingly gave her a law magazine to read, saying it -was the lightest literature the place afforded. - -The dingy volumes on the shelves impressed her with a sense of the -continuity of law through all the ages. She glanced idly at the titles, -Torts, Contracts, Wills, Injunctions,--there must, in this world, be -order, rule and law! Life, nobly considered, was impossible without -law. It was the height of folly that she had ever fancied herself a -rebel, confident of her right to do as she pleased. She had made her -mistakes; henceforth she meant to walk circumspectly in the eyes of all -men. She envied Irene her happiness with John; as for herself, love had -brought her nothing but sorrow and heartache. - -Her speculations were interrupted by the rustle of papers in the -adjoining room. The door was half ajar and glancing in she saw a man -seated at a desk, busily scanning formidable looking documents and -affixing his signature. - -Absorbed in his work he was evidently unaware that he was observed. Her -heart beat wildly as she watched him. She stifled a desire to call to -him; checked an impulse to run to him. Irene had played a trick upon -her in thus bringing her so near to Trenton! She wondered whether he -had seen her and was purposely ignoring her. Or, he might think she -had suggested this to Irene. Her face burned; she would escape somehow. -As she watched him he lifted his head with a sigh, threw himself back -wearily in his chair and stared at the wall. No; she would not speak to -him; never again would she speak to him. Panic-stricken she turned and -began cautiously tiptoeing toward the hall door with no thought but to -leave the place at once. - -But, the door gained, her heart beat suffocatingly; she could not go; -she did love him, and to run away-- - -She stole into the room without disturbing his reverie, and laid her -hand lightly on his shoulder. - -“I couldn’t go--I couldn’t leave you--” - -Then she was on her knees beside him, looking up into his startled eyes. - -He raised her to her feet, tenderly, reverently, gazing eagerly into -her face. - -“How did you know?” he cried, his eyes alight. - -“I didn’t know; it just happened. I--I saw you--and I just couldn’t run -away!” - -“Oh, say that again! I’ve missed you so! You can’t know how I’ve missed -and needed you!” - -“Do you--do you love me,” she asked softly, “as you used to think you -did?” - -“Oh, more--more than all the world!” - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROKEN BARRIERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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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